A Little History Before the Haunting
Before we get to haunted hotels and typewriters gone mad, let’s rewind the clock. Samhain (pronounced sow-in) is the ancient Celtic fire festival marking the end of harvest and the beginning of winter—the hinge of the year when the living and the dead cross each other’s paths like ships in the fog. It was the original Halloween, minus the Spirit Halloween pop-up stores and pumpkin spice lattes.
For the Celts, Samhain wasn’t about spooky fun; it was about survival. Livestock were culled, stores were counted, and bonfires were lit to keep chaos at bay. It was also when the veil between worlds thinned, allowing the spirits of the dead (and a few mischievous nasties) to roam freely. Ancestors were welcomed with food and drink, while turnip lanterns warded off anything unfriendly.
Fast-forward to today, and Samhain still carries that liminal, otherworldly flavor. But astrologically speaking, Samhain isn’t fixed to October 31. Its true power point arrives when the Sun hits 15° Scorpio—the exact midpoint between the autumn equinox and winter solstice. This year, that moment occurs with a chart that looks like it was storyboarded by Stanley Kubrick.
Enter the Overlook Hotel
To unpack Astrological Samhain 2025, I want you to imagine walking into the Overlook Hotel from Stephen King’s The Shining. It’s gorgeous, vast, and dripping with history—but behind the chandeliers and gold ballroom lurks a deeper truth: you are standing in the ancestral basement. The walls whisper with unresolved trauma, contracts, and curses. You’re not just a guest—you’re a caretaker, and the job description is simple: Repeat what has already been done.
Unless, of course, you decide to be Danny and not Jack.
Let’s break down the chart.
Sun in Scorpio, 4th House: The Haunted Hearth
At Astrological Samhain 2025, the Sun sits in Scorpio in the 4th house—the place of roots, ancestry, and endings. In other words, the cosmic flashlight is aimed squarely at our haunted basements: family secrets, ancestral baggage, unresolved grief, and the foundations we’re standing on.
In The Shining, the Overlook is the 4th house made manifest: a building stuffed with ancestral ghosts. Jack Torrance steps into his role as “caretaker,” only to discover he’s not just keeping the hotel warm—he’s reliving its darkest scripts. The chart is asking: Are you illuminating your ancestral shadows, or are you repeating them unconsciously?
Mars in Sagittarius, 5th House: The Storyteller’s Sword
Scorpio’s rulers tell us how this Sun expresses itself. First up: Mars in Sagittarius in the 5th house. This is bold, fiery, and dramatic. The 5th house governs children, creativity, and storytelling. Mars here demands we pick up the editor’s pen and rewrite the family script.
Jack, remember, was supposed to be a writer. But instead of creating something new, his manuscript dissolved into endless repetition: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” That’s what happens when Mars in the 5th goes wrong—we keep reenacting the same stories our ancestors wrote for us.
When Mars is used constructively, however, it’s the sword that cuts the cycle. It’s courage, play, and myth-making. Mars says: Don’t be Jack. Be Danny. Write the new story.
Pluto in Aquarius, 7th House: Contracts With Ghosts
Then there’s Pluto in Aquarius in the 7th house—the sector of relationships, contracts, and mirrors. This is where ancestral curses get activated through other people. Every time Jack interacts with the hotel staff (Grady, Lloyd the bartender), he’s really dealing with Plutonian contracts. They offer him alcohol, recognition, belonging—but at the cost of his soul.
In our lives, Pluto in the 7th forces us to examine the contracts we’re in, both literal and energetic. Do your partnerships reflect ancestral patterns of betrayal, power struggles, or silence? Or can you break the curse by forging relationships built on conscious choice rather than repetition?
The Moon in Gemini, 11th House: The Story Weaver
The Moon in Gemini in the 11th house sets the mood of the chart. Gemini is restless, curious, and communicative. The 11th rules community, networks, and the collective story. This is not a solitary Samhain. The ancestors don’t just show up for private visits—they want their stories woven through the tribe.
Danny embodies this Moon. His “shining” is not just personal—it connects him to others (like Hallorann) and makes him the carrier of communal memory. This year, the chart says: Don’t keep your ancestral work locked in the attic. Share it. Tell the stories. Weave them into your communities.
The Water Trine: The River of Memory
Now let’s talk about the chart’s secret sauce: a wide water trine linking the Sun (4th), Jupiter in Cancer (12th), and Saturn conjunct Neptune in Pisces (8th).
Jupiter in Cancer, 12th house: Hidden blessings, ancestral protectors, dreams, and quiet sanctuaries. Help arrives behind the scenes, but only if you’re willing to slow down and listen. This is Danny’s gift—the shining itself.
Saturn–Neptune in Pisces, 8th house: Contracts of death, inheritance, and merged energies. Saturn insists on structure, Neptune dissolves it. Together, they create both spiritual depth and dangerous fog. These are the Overlook’s ghosts: alluring, glamorous, but binding. Without Saturn’s structure, Neptune’s illusions can swallow us whole.
Sun in Scorpio, 4th house: Anchors it all at the hearth—the place where endings are composted into new beginnings.
Together, these three points create a River of Memory. It flows through private spaces: the home (4th), the underworld (8th), and the dream temple (12th). The current is powerful, but it’s inward-facing. This Samhain is not about spectacle. It’s about inner work, private ritual, and choosing whether you let the river carry you toward healing or drowning.
Neptune’s Shadow Role
Let’s pause on Neptune. In Pisces and fused with Saturn, it colors everything. Neptune without boundaries is the Overlook’s ballroom: dazzling lights, endless drinks, spirits whispering promises. But it’s all illusion. Without Saturn’s grounding, you can get trapped in delusion, addiction, or psychic overwhelm.
Jack fell into Neptune’s glamour and Saturn’s contract: the hotel offered him belonging in exchange for his freedom. That’s the risk of this chart. You can get seduced into repeating ancestral patterns because they feel familiar, even comforting.
The antidote? Saturn. Structure. Boundaries. Rituals with containers. Psychic hygiene. The ghosts aren’t inherently evil—they just want recognition. But you have to meet them on your terms, not theirs.
The Archetypal Cast
Let’s line up the players:
Sun in the 4th: The Haunted Hearth—the ancestral flame, the house of memory.
Mars in the 5th: The Storyteller’s Sword—cutting cycles, rewriting myths.
Pluto in the 7th: The Shadow Contract—the ghostly allies and enemies we mirror ourselves against.
Moon in the 11th: The Story Weaver—community, collective memory, the tribe.
Water Trine: The River of Memory—the flow of grief, dream, and ancestral blessing.
In The Shining:
Jack is the failed storyteller—consumed by repetition.
The Overlook is the haunted 4th house, repository of ancestral curses.
Danny is the child with Jupiter in the 12th—the shining gift that perceives the truth.
Wendy is the protector Moon—keeping the family line intact.
The ghosts are Saturn–Neptune in the 8th—contracts with the dead, fog disguised as glamour.
Are You Jack or Danny?
The question this Samhain asks: Are you going to be Jack or Danny?
Jack repeats the script. He denies the shadow, succumbs to glamour, and becomes the caretaker of the curse.
Danny witnesses, names, and escapes. He inherits the gift of “shining” and uses it to break free.
This year, we’re all standing in the Overlook, holding the keys. The chart doesn’t promise safety—but it does promise choice.
How Not to Become the Caretaker
Here’s your survival guide for Samhain 2025. Think of it as “How Not to End Up Typing the Same Sentence 5,000 Times.”
Do Your Ancestral Check-In (Sun in 4th):
Journal: “Which patterns in my life echo those of my parents, grandparents, or ancestors?”
Build an altar with heirlooms or photos. Light a candle. Invite them in consciously.
Rewrite the Script (Mars in 5th):
If your family story is “we never talk about addiction,” you become the one who names it.
If the script is “we always struggle with love,” write a new chapter. Boldly, loudly, Sagittarian-ly.
Watch Your Contracts (Pluto in 7th):
Examine your partnerships. Are you replaying old betrayals? Falling into unconscious bargains?
Ask: “Am I choosing this, or repeating it?”
Tell the Story in Community (Moon in 11th):
Share your ancestral stories. Host a storytelling night, post a memory online, or simply speak aloud the names of those who came before you. Ghosts hate being ignored.
Contain the Spirits (Saturn–Neptune in 8th):
Do not open the ballroom without Saturn’s rules. Create ritual containers: salt, circles, time limits, grounding practices.
If you’re dabbling in mediumship or ancestor work, always close the door when you’re done.
Dream with Jupiter (12th):
Pay attention to your dreams around this time. Keep a notebook by the bed. Hidden blessings and ancestral guidance arrive in whispers, not shouts.
Final Word
Astrological Samhain 2025 is a season of haunted hearths and rivers of memory. The ancestors are present—not as cartoon skeletons or jump scares, but as contracts, patterns, and whispers in the bloodline. They’re asking us: Will you repeat the script, or will you write a new one?
Jack Torrance chose repetition and lost himself to the Overlook. Danny chose recognition, witness, and escape. This year, the choice is ours.
The wheel of the year turns, the veil thins, and the haunted house of memory creaks open its doors. The question is not whether the ghosts will show up. The question is: What will you do with them when they do?
