The tide always comes back.
Just when we thought Neptune had packed up his fog machines and drifted into Aries with a fresh cosmic playlist, the sea god does what sea gods do best — he reverses course. On October 22, 2025, Neptune retrogrades back into his own sign, Pisces, the final degrees of the zodiac, where he has reigned since 2011. Translation: the ocean isn’t done with us yet.
If Neptune in Aries was about “Let there be new dreams,” Neptune moving back into Pisces says, “Clean up the mess from the old ones first.”
And in mythic terms, that cleanup looks a lot like a Flood.
The Archetype: The Flood as a Psyche’s Pressure Wash
Every Flood story — from Noah’s Ark to Utnapishtim’s boat in Gilgamesh, to Deucalion and Pyrrha tossing stones over their shoulders — startsthe same way: humanity (or the ego) forgets its place. We get noisy. We build towers, empires, and illusions. We believe our press releases. And then, as Jung would say, enantiodromia strikes — the equal and opposite reaction from the unconscious. The waters rise, not to punish, but to purify.
When Neptune slides backward into Pisces, those waters are psychological, emotional, spiritual — the invisible currents that erode our false shorelines. The ego’s sandcastles crumble, but not because the gods are cruel. It’s because the psyche is merciful. It knows that some dreams need to drown before they can be reborn.
Neptune in Pisces has always been the collective dream sequence of our age — the era of filters, fantasies, and feelings as fact. It’s the Instagram aesthetic of spirituality, the romanticization of trauma, and the boom in everything “manifestation-adjacent.” Now, as Neptune retraces his steps, the floodwaters return to wash away the illusions that have outlived their aesthetic.
Building the Ark (Before the Deluge)
In every Flood myth, there’s always one figure who listens — Noah, Utnapishtim, or the nameless wise one who builds the Ark. The Ark, psychologically, isn’t a yacht for the chosen few; it’s the container for consciousness. It’s the temenos — the sacred space that protects what’s essential when the outer world is chaos.
This retrograde asks: What’s your Ark?
For some, it’s a creative discipline. For others, therapy, faith, or an art practice that anchors the emotions before they become tidal. The Ark isn’t about escape — it’s about preserving integrity in the flood. It’s the notebook, the altar, the breathwork, the morning coffee ritual that keeps your inner structure intact while the world drowns in its own projections.
If you’ve been feeling waterlogged — emotionally overloaded, psychically saturated, or drowning in other people’s energy — that’s the signal that it’s time to rebuild your Ark. Not from fear, but from faith that not everything deserves to float.
Pisces at 29°: The Last Wave
Astrologically, 29° Pisces is the anaretic degree, the final page of the zodiac. It carries the bittersweet ache of endings and the threshold of beginnings. It’s the place where the soul looks back one last time before reincarnating into Aries’ fiery new cycle.
As Neptune revisits these late degrees, the collective psyche is flooded with memory, nostalgia, and spiritual exhaustion. This is cosmic déjà vu — the replay of themes from 2011 to now: idealism, escapism, empathy, and the blurring of boundaries between self and other. We’re reviewing twelve years of Piscean cinema — from La La Land to Euphoria, from compassion culture to disinformation addiction.
And if you’re wondering, “Why does this feel like emotional déjà vu?” — it’s because Neptune’s final act in Pisces is both a baptism and a reckoning. The waters that once comforted now confront. The illusions that once inspired now demand accountability.
⚓ The Depth Psychology of the Deluge
In Jungian terms, the Flood is the unconscious reclaiming psychic territory the ego has monopolized too long. It’s what happens when we deny our emotions, suppress grief, or ignore our soul’s quieter callings. Neptune’s retrograde is not a tragedy — it’s the Self’s attempt to re-balance the system.
Water dissolves; it doesn’t negotiate.
So, the relationships built on projection? The business plans built on fantasy? The spiritual identities built on branding? Neptune’s tide gently — or not so gently — erases them.
What’s left afterward isn’t emptiness. It’s clarity.
If we can stay conscious through the flood — if we can name the waves instead of fighting them — the unconscious gives back treasure. The ark lands on dry ground, and the rainbow appears — not as reward, but as integration.
The Gift of the Flood: Compassion with Boundaries
One of Neptune in Pisces’ sneakiest tricks is convincing us that compassion means self-erasure. Spoiler: it doesn’t.
As Neptune backtracks, we’re learning that true empathy has form. It requires edges. Boundaries are the boat that keeps compassion from becoming codependency. Otherwise, we end up performing mercy while silently drowning.
This retrograde, your superpower isn’t spiritual bypassing; it’s spiritual discernment. Knowing where you end and others begin. Loving deeply without dissolving completely. It’s the art of being the ocean — vast, empathic, but still containing salt and structure.
What the Collective May Feel
Expect the world to feel a little… liquid. The line between truth and myth continues to shimmer like heat over water. The media (Neptune rules imagery) may lean further into spectacle, spirituality becomes both more mainstream and more commodified, and emotional contagion surges through social networks like psychic Wi-Fi.
But remember: floods don’t last forever. They recede, revealing the new soil underneath. Neptune back in Pisces is the final wash — the rinse cycle before Aries lights the match.
Things to Do During Neptune’s Retrograde in Pisces
- Build your Ark.
Create containment for your emotions. Journaling, therapy, ritual baths, or literal water time (showers count). Anything that helps you stay afloat without suppressing the tide. - Curate your media diet.
Neptune governs what we Vet your sources — including your inner narrative. Not every feeling deserves a headline. - Honor grief.
Pisces rules endings. Let yourself mourn what didn’t work out. Grief is the water that clears the channel for new inspiration. - Dream with discernment.
Keep a dream journal, but interpret symbolically, not literally. Neptune loves metaphor — take it as poetry, not prophecy. - Create art from chaos.
Write, paint, sing, dance, sculpt the flood. Artistic transmutation is Neptune’s healthiest outlet. When words fail, color speaks. - Practice compassionate detachment.
Love everyone; rescue no one. Neptune’s empathy can overwhelm — keep your heart open but your boundaries anchored. - Ground spirituality in the body.
Meditation, breathwork, yoga, or just walking barefoot. Pisces dreams; the body translates. - Stay humble before mystery.
The Flood reminds us: no matter how enlightened we think we are, the sea always has secrets.
Things to Avoid During Neptune’s Retrograde in Pisces
- Emotional escapism.
Whether through substances, fantasy relationships, or chronic doom-scrolling, escapism turns the flood into a whirlpool. Face what you feel; it’s less terrifying than it looks. - Messiah complexes.
You can’t save everyone. Even Noah built a boat, not a cruise ship. Keep your compassion scalable. - Spiritual bypassing.
“It’s all love and light” sounds cute until you’re waist-deep in unprocessed emotion. Don’t whitewash your darkness — integrate it. - Romantic delusion.
Neptune blurs reality. If your love story sounds like a Lana Del Rey song — beautiful but doomed — reality-check it with a trusted friend. - Financial fog.
Neptune rules idealism and confusion; don’t invest in anything that feels “vibrationally right” but lacks paperwork. - Over-identification with victimhood.
Pisces can martyr like nobody’s business. Empathy doesn’t mean self-sacrifice — it means remembering your own humanity, too. - Chasing mystical shortcuts.
No crystal, course, or coach can outswim your unconscious. Do the inner work; skip the snake oil. - Floods feel endless, but they always end. Don’t mistake the washing-away for loss — it’s preparation for rebirth.
After the Flood
By January 2026, Neptune finally re-enters Aries for good. The ocean gives way to flame; the mystic becomes the pioneer. But the transition demands completion. You can’t start a fire until you’ve dried off.
So, take this last swim through Pisces as an invitation to release — illusions, attachments, identities that have outlived their myth. Let them float away. The ego might panic, but the soul sighs with relief.
Because beneath all the fog and foam, Neptune’s lesson is simple and sacred:
“Everything you cling to must one day become ocean again.”
So, light your candle, pour your bath salts, and raise a glass (of water, obviously) to Neptune’s encore in Pisces. The Flood has returned — not to punish, but to purify.
And if you listen closely, you can already hear the faint crackle of Aries’ fire waiting just beyond the waves.
