Hi, doll.
As an intuitive who uses astrology in her work, I’m practically obligated to care about Mercury retrograde. Really, though, I don’t give a f*ck. If we still traveled by horse and used sun dials as time pieces, we would not even notice its blips, which happen so frequently they’re best regarded as reminders to look up from our phones.
But Venus retrograde—now, that’s a different story. Disregard Venus retrograde, which begins tomorrow and ends September 3, at your peril.
Venus is largely known as the goddess of romance and pleasure, but that’s just because we live in dumb patriarchy. The truth is she rules all values of love—romance and pleasure, sure, but also intimacies of every sort, arts, esthetics, ethics, etiquette, and money, honey. (At core, money is a resource of support.)
When Venus goes on holiday for 40 days every 18 months, we feel the impact even if we don’t know what is causing it. Nothing and nobody looks, tastes, smells, sounds, feels, or acts right. Financial problems surge. Tensions in relationships rear their heads, and old lovers and friends come out of the woodwork, not for reconciliations but to heal old patterns.
We’ve already been feeling this effect since June 19, when the planet went into its pre-retrograde shadow. Celebrity gossip has been positively riddled with controlling boyfriends and splits that are definitively not conscious uncouplings. (Crushing on Jonah Hill now feels as dated as calling yourself a Cuomosexual.) Fashion has been defined by life-sucking, unsummery colors like maroon, brown, and olive, and peekaboo garments and crocheted dresses that flatter no one.
Just no.
Venus Retrograde Goggles
When the Lady goes on holiday, we all wear Venus retrograde goggles. As in: whatever most appeals to us during these periods is invariably unappealing later. People, places, food, art, everything.
As I write this, I’m looking ruefully at a pile of yellow shoes. Canary yellow satin slippers and Birkenstocks, mustard high-heeled ankle boots, lemon flats, and citrine Air Jordans. Not pictured: The yellow crocs, knee-high boots, and Mary Janes I gave away last year in an uncharacteristic pique of spring cleaning.
Whenever Venus goes retrograde, I develop an undeniable urge to buy yellow footwear. This, despite the fact that I am a tall person with very long feet, so yellow shoes make me look like a 50-something Big Bird in lipstick. Every time I’m about to buy these shoes, I remember the VR curse, then think: But these are cute!
Only yesterday I slogged to the No. 6 sample sale and bought—wait for it—banana wedge sandals. Right now I still think they’re pretty jaunty. But I guarantee you that by the time I’m putting my summer wardrobe into storage, I’ll be wondering why I thought it was a good idea to strap big yellow bandages on my clodhoppers.
The answer, dear reader, is clear. Venus retrograde goggles.
Pride Goeth Before Venus Falls in Leo
This particular retrograde is in Leo, and it begins just as the Sun also enters this sign—its home sign, actually. Leo governs performance, pleasure, and self-worth. She is generous, expressive, self-possessed, loyal, and passionate, and her shadow traits include laziness, imperiousness, self-centeredness, and a penchant for melodrama.
A true queen, Leo does not lift a finger unless she deems the action worth her investment. She is possibly the most challenging placement for a Venus retrograde, if also the most productive.
When Venus is in Leo, the retrograde course-corrections are wicked dramatic (so dramatic that they bring out the Masshole in me, apparently). Here in NYC, where public space doubles as private space, I’m already witnessing kerfuffles everywhere—tears in restaurants, screaming fights on street corners, breakups on stoops. It’s also no coincidence that screen actors, woefully under-compensated since the onset of streaming platforms, just joined the screen writers in a strike for the first time in four decades.
During this period, especially if you have a Leo- or Venus-dominant natal chart, expect an uptick in zits, gas, cold sores, bug bites, bloat, financial stress, wrongheaded hookups and romantic gestures, temper tantrums, wardrobe malfunctions, bad breakups, bad scenes, bad manners, bad moods, bad art, bad style, bad breath, and general bad behavior.
Art- or aesthetically oriented occupations will hit snags. Strong relationships will survive but undergo major growing pains. Personal and professional relationships that have outlived their welcome likely will end.
Tried-and-true VR advisories: Avoid major beautification procedures, including cosmetic surgeries. (See Samantha’s disaster above!) Don’t cut bangs or chop off long locks. Don’t make major wardrobe or home improvement investments. (I avoid shopping altogether during VRs.) Don’t begin important creative projects. Definitely don’t start relationships or take existing ones to the next level.
I mean, obviously you can, but know that you’re building on a shaky foundation. When Venus goes on sabbatical—technically, when she moves backward rather than forward—we are introduced to our personal deficits in all the areas she governs. Translation? Our taste, grace, and judgment goes out the window.
Where’s the Love?
Right around now you might be thinking: Gee, Lisa Ruby is really peeing on my petunias. So let’s parse out what’s good about Venus Retrograde in Leo.
Honestly, a lot.
Artistic, financial, and emotional growth spurts are not only possible but probable. We are prompted to improve our relationship with money and earnings, the worth we place on our skills and creativity, and the security we feel in our self-expression and self-esteem. Case in point: I feel confident that this VR will help screen actors and screen writers achieve better settlements, though it probably won’t happen until after the retrograde dust settles.
We’re learning how dependent we are on other people’s positive perceptions of us, how much we project on others, how much space we claim for ourselves in our relationships, and what really gives us pleasure.
By the time Venus emerges from its post-retrograde shadow on October 7, everyone will have received a crash course in the difference between selfishness and self-possession, and transactional behavior and reciprocal love.
As always, how we use this information is up to us. Human free will is such a pesky, persistent reality.
Rituals, not Rules
With both the sun and Venus in Leo, we will be craving more direct action than usual.
Begin by considering what you were doing July-September 2007 and 2015, the last two times Venus retrograded in this sign. Those patterns around intimacy, worth, and attraction may be coming up again for deeper healing. You also may hear from people important to you during those times.
Streamline your home and health. Sew on buttons. Upcycle clothes you haven’t worn for more than a year. (Now is a good time to offload my yellow shoes of rue.) Declutter cabinets, closets, cars, and rooms. Fix whatever you have been putting off fixing.
Reevaluate your fitness habits, not to attract others but to ease your physical embodiment. Be aware that substances like sugar, alcohol, and drugs have a heightened effect during VR. Eliminate allergens and emphasize foods that make you feel better in the short and long run.
Breathwork has never been more important. Cardio and weight-bearing exercise is incredibly helpful—especially boxing and martial arts—as it provides a benign outlet for the high-octane impulsiveness of this aspect. Ditto for masturbation.
Reevaluate investments of time, money, and good will. It may hard to score a raise or promotion right now, but you can decide whether you’re receiving and remitting proper payment and make a post-retrograde plan. Go through your monthly expenditures for hidden fees and unnecessary expenses and extravagances. (Anything affordable that confers non-dissociative joy does not qualify as an unnecessary extravagance.)
Revisit creative projects or abilities you’ve put on the back-burner. Pull that abandoned novel out of the drawer. Pick up that guitar.
Rethink your self-promotion, including how you allow yourself to shine. If you use marketing in your work, reevaluate your approach. Try a social media diet to detox from the instant gratification of likes and the hegemony of public approval.
Last but not least, set healthier boundaries while remembering that other people’s emotional realities are as valid as your own. Say please and thank you. Express appreciation as often as you complain. Try to make the inevitable confrontations of this retrograde constructive. Whenever possible, forgive everyone—even yourself—for being so woefully human.
If all else fails, consider a cord-cutting ritual to release anyone or anything that destabilizes your wellness.
Now is the time to be a subject, not an object. Decide who you are, what you like, and what you can do without external approbation. This may not be a grand time to write anything new, but it’s wonderful for rewriting narratives that have outlived their welcome.
Think of this as your summer of self-repossession.
I have devised three special Venus tarot spreads—love, financial/professional, and spiritual/creative—to activate your practical magic during this hot-headed summer. Book an intuitive reading or a special Venus package of two sessions to realign you with an optimal path in the areas she governs.
The Ruby Report is very much a work in progress. Over these next weeks, I’m posting a special Venus Retrograde edition of the Metaphysical Culture Club (it features Closer!) and a long-brewing essay about my recent interactions with the deceased medium and painter Hilma af Klint. Paid subscribers also will receive special Venus Retrograde solidarity, a how-to essay about improving intuition, and a Spotify list.
If you find this newsletter to be of service, I would be very grateful if you helped it grow. Spread the word, subscribe, and buy a subscription for another.
No matter what, your presence is a present.
With waggling eyebrows and slow feline blinks,
Oh wow, these are always GOLD - not yellow - my skin's tingling thank you for the usual Advice and help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!