When the Sun gallops into Sagittarius, the psychic landscape shifts from brooding gothic cathedral to temple of open skies. After weeks of emotional excavation in Scorpio — where we danced with our shadows, faced our demons, and possibly rage-cleaned our social media feed — the Sun now bursts out of the underworld dripping in revelation, smelling faintly of sage and singed karma.
But here’s the secret: Sagittarius doesn’t begin where Scorpio ends — it’s born out of it.
And to tell that story properly, we need to talk about a head, a horse, and a hero who flew too close to Olympus.
From Medusa’s Blood to Pegasus’ Wings
In Scorpio Season, we met Medusa — not as the monstrous femme fatale pop culture made her, but as the alchemical image of transformation itself. Her beheading by Perseus wasn’t just violence; it was symbolic decapitation — the ego’s annihilation before rebirth.
From her spilled blood emerged two beings: Chrysaor, a golden warrior, and Pegasus, the winged horse — child of Poseidon, born from death. And right there, mythology quietly writes astrology.
Scorpio is the Nigredo, the blackening — the dark night of the soul where the old identity decomposes. Sagittarius is the Rubedo, the reddening — the stage of illumination, the fire of spirit re-igniting after the storm.
Pegasus, rising radiant from the gore, is the literal bridge between the two — the moment when insight bursts out of suffering. He is the creature of divine inspiration born from trauma’s ashes, and he carries the fire that lights Sagittarius Season.
The Return of Fire
Every year, the Sun’s entry into Sagittarius marks the great exhale after Scorpio’s intensity.
If Scorpio is the descent into Hades, Sagittarius is the pilgrimage out.
It’s the morning after the dark night — you’re still haunted, but coffee helps.
This is the fire of Jupiter, not Mars — meaning we’re not battling anymore; we’re searching. Sagittarius fire wants purpose, pattern, story. It says, “Okay, I’ve slayed my monsters. Now what did that mean?”
In psychological terms, this is the ego reorienting around a new myth. We’ve faced the shadow (Medusa), survived transformation (the beheading), and now Pegasus — the divine idea — wants to fly us into the sky of new possibility.
Except, of course, there’s a catch. There always is.
The Bellerophon Problem
Enter Bellerophon, our Sagittarius protagonist. A hero of dazzling courage, he tames Pegasus with Athena’s help (symbolizing wisdom aligning with instinct), conquers monsters, and wins the favor of kings. But as with all Jupiterian stories, success breeds expansion. And unchecked expansion breeds… delusion.
Bellerophon decides he’s too divine for mortal life and attempts to ride Pegasus straight to Olympus. Zeus, unimpressed, sends a gadfly to sting the horse. Pegasus rears, Bellerophon plummets, and the moral of the myth hits harder than a Mercury retrograde email:
“You can ride divine inspiration, but you are not divine inspiration.”
That’s the Sagittarian paradox — to seek truth without claiming ownership of it.
It’s the difference between being a teacher and being a preacher. Between awe and arrogance. Between managing your talent and owning it. Between “I found meaning” and “I am the meaning.”
⚗️ Alchemy and Archetypes
In alchemy, after the blackening (Scorpio’s Nigredo), comes the Rubedo — the reddening, symbolized by fire, dawn, and the phoenix. It’s illumination through integration. But Rubedo can’t exist without what came before it; there’s no Pegasus without Medusa, no revelation without the breakdown.
Psychologically, this is the integration of the shadow. We’ve encountered the unconscious material, wrestled it into awareness, and now the psyche seeks to organize it into wisdom. That’s Sagittarius energy: the synthesis phase of individuation — the creation of meaning from chaos.
But if we stop mid-process — if we fly too high — we get inflation instead of integration.
That’s Bellerophon’s downfall. He mistook the insight for omniscience. He tried to live in the myth rather than translate it.
So as the Sun moves through Sagittarius (roughly November 22 through December 21), the challenge is this:
How do we live our revelations without losing humility?
The Jupiterian Mindset: From Philosophy to Comedy
Sagittarius energy loves a good story, and let’s be honest — it’s usually their own.
This sign is ruled by Jupiter, planet of wisdom, excess, and audacious storytelling. Jupiter gives Sagittarius the urge to connect the dots — sometimes brilliantly, sometimes like a conspiracy theorist with a corkboard.
At its best, this placement produces philosophers, teachers, comedians, and travelers — all roles devoted to expanding perspective. At its worst, it produces the friend who “doesn’t believe in labels” but somehow labels everyone else as “unenlightened.”
Still, Jupiter’s optimism is medicine after Scorpio’s depth work. We need a little buoyancy. The psyche can’t stay in the underworld forever; it has to believe again. Sagittarius Season is that belief reboot — the part of the myth where we look up from the ashes and say, “Okay, maybe the world’s not ending. Maybe, I just need a new map.”
What the Sun Illuminates
When the Sun transits Sagittarius, it spotlights the search for meaning. Collectively, we move from psychological death to spiritual renewal. Personally, the house Sagittarius occupies in your chart shows where you’ll crave adventure, expansion, or a better philosophy of life.
In general, though, the Sun’s light here encourages:
- Re-enchanted thinking — finding the sacred in the absurd.
- Restoring faith — not necessarily religious faith, but faith in process, people, and possibility.
- Speaking truth — bluntly, if necessary, but ideally with humor and heart.
- Exploring — the world, ideas, or your own limits.
And yes, it’s also the season of foot-in-mouth disease. Sagittarius honesty can be weaponized as “I’m just telling it like it is,” which usually precedes someone being escorted out of Thanksgiving dinner.
But that’s the point — Jupiter teaches through excess. You learn the right dosage of truth by first overdosing on it.
The Inner Work: Riding Pegasus Responsibly
Every myth contains an instruction manual, and Bellerophon’s reads like this:
- Tame your Pegasus — Inspiration and intuition are wild forces. Channel them, but don’t try to own them.
- Slay your Chimera — Face the hybrid monsters of your psyche: mixed motives, contradictory desires, split identities.
- Beware the flight to Olympus — Don’t confuse revelation with superiority. The gods get prickly about that.
- Return to Earth — Translate what you’ve learned into lived wisdom. That’s the real Rubedo: spirit embodied.
In practical terms, during Sun in Sagittarius, you might feel the urge to start grand new projects, rebrand your entire life philosophy, or spontaneously book a flight to Iceland to “find yourself.” All valid. Just remember: the journey’s meaning comes when you bring something back.
Things To Do While the Sun Is in Sagittarius
- Feed Your Inner Student.
Read widely. Take a class in something unrelated to your career — mythology, cooking, improv, archery. Jupiter rewards curiosity. - Travel — Even Locally.
You don’t need a passport to feel expanded. Drive to a nearby town, hike a new trail, or just wander without GPS. Sagittarius thrives on perspective shifts. - Tell Your Story.
Start that blog, record that podcast, write that manifesto. Your insights have value — share them, but remember: story first, sermon never. - Cultivate Humor.
Life after Scorpio’s heaviness needs levity. Laugh at yourself; it’s the quickest way to deflate Jupiterian ego. - Seek Teachers — and Be One.
Mentorship, spiritual study, or teaching others what you know all align beautifully with this transit. The key is mutual growth, not one-upmanship. - Ritual for the Rubedo.
Work with fire. Candles, bonfires, solar magic, or even cooking rituals. Symbolically, you’re re-igniting the inner light that Scorpio extinguished. - Celebrate What Survived.
Scorpio stripped you bare; Sagittarius reminds you that you’re still here — wiser, rawer, and a little funnier for the pain.
Things To Avoid While the Sun Is in Sagittarius
- Over-Promising.
Jupiter makes everything sound doable until you realize “launching a podcast, writing a book, and running a marathon” all require a body. - Spiritual Inflation.
Finding meaning doesn’t make you the Oracle of Delphi. Keep your feet on the ground, your ego on a leash, and your Twitter (X) fingers holstered. - Escapism.
Adventure can turn into avoidance. If your “vision quest” is really a way to dodge intimacy, check yourself. - Brutal Honesty Masquerading as Truth.
If your truth burns down the village, it’s not wisdom — it’s arson. - Neglecting Integration.
The insight means nothing if it doesn’t alter your choices. Don’t just talk philosophy — live it.
️ Preparing for the Next Chapter
By late December, when the Sun crosses into Capricorn, the myth continues.
Saturn will reappear as the mountain the ego must climb after Bellerophon’s fall — the place where wisdom becomes discipline. That’s why Sagittarius’ work is so essential: it restores faith so that we can build again.
But until then, this is your season to gallop toward meaning. To take the revelations Scorpio demanded and turn them into purpose. To ride Pegasus — not to Olympus, but through life.
Closing Thoughts
The Sun in Sagittarius is the spark that rises from Medusa’s ashes. It’s the laugh that follows the tears, the light at the edge of the abyss. It’s Pegasus, still wet with blood, realizing he can fly. It’s Bellerophon daring to mount him — and learning, painfully, that inspiration must be guided by humility.
In Jungian language, Sagittarius is the Rubedo, the reddening — the soul’s dawn after descent. It’s when the Self reveals its pattern and invites the ego to serve something larger.
The trick is to remember: we’re not gods. We’re translators. We take the fire, we make meaning, we share it, and we keep moving.
So this season, ask yourself:
What did Scorpio teach me that I can now live out loud?
How do I carry Pegasus’ wings without losing my balance?
Because the point isn’t to stay in heaven. The point is to bring heaven back to earth — with a wink, a story, and maybe a little too much eggnog.
In short:
When the Sun rides through Sagittarius, don’t just survive your myth. Interpret it.
Tell it. Teach it. Laugh about it.
And for the love of Jupiter, don’t forget your helmet — the gods still keep gadflies.
