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November 24 through November 30, 2025

Monday will be all about finishing things up as we prepare to celebrate Thanksgiving in the U. S. and close out the month of November. The Capricorn Moon will enable us to finish up work in record time, as its diligent nature insists we take action. The Moon will travel through Aquarius on Tuesday and Wednesday, encouraging us to break free from the mundane and “do things differently” whenever we get the opportunity. Saturn will turn retrograde on Thursday, marking the start of a four-month cycle that allows us more freedom and flexibility in the future. That doesn’t mean go all out on the Thanksgiving dinner, but if you do, trust you’ll have time to undo the damage pretty easily. The Moon will swim through Pisces on Friday and Saturday, making for some ethereal and easy movement as we gravitate to whatever calls our names. Mercury will also turn direct on Saturday after three weeks of backward motion, though it could continue to act up for another week or so. Venus will move into Sagittarius on Sunday, and combined with an Aries Moon, these two fiery planets will accelerate our energy and awaken our creative sides.

The Complex Offerings of Grief: Changing the Legacy of Loss, by Elisa Donovan

(Article originally published in The Llewellyn Journal.)

We live in a society that is uncomfortable with discomfort. Technology and progress are geared towards efficiency. The focus is on making our lives faster and easier, making our consumption greater, eradicating any waiting. When it comes to grief, however, there are no shortcuts. There's no new gadget that allows us to bypass the suffering that comes with loss. There's no easy way out; there is only through. We have to sit with the ache. Grief teaches us that sometimes discomfort is a necessary part of progress.

When we're grieving, it can feel like we are shutting down. As if all parts of us are withdrawing, far away from the world that we'd previously inhabited; a world that made sense to us. And that may be true. But I think simultaneously, we are experiencing an opening. This withdrawal is also a removal of the interference and the distraction of everyday life. A distraction that often muffles our deeper connections and stifles the soul's voice. I believe in some way grief can allow us to get quiet and find a stillness where the whispers of spirit can come through. Where we are clear enough to hear them.

The first person I knew who died was my grandmother; I was 8 years old. Her favorite flowers were African violets, a fondness for which my mother acquired. My mom was never very good at keeping plants alive (I grew up with a lot of dead ferns hanging around), so when the African violet in our kitchen started to brown and wilt on the same day that Grandma died, I didn't think much of it. But then when we returned from her funeral a week later, miraculously, the flower was in full bloom again. As if it had been replaced by a new one. I remember my mom catching her breath when we walked into our kitchen to be greeted by this flower, now vibrant purple and thriving. Mom said simply, "Grandma’s here." I didn’t understand what she meant then. But I certainly do now.

To me, part of the reason these kinds of connections with our loved ones in spirit are so powerful is because there is no interference. That static has been removed. I look at them like direct, pure, unadulterated communications. In all of my experiences with this, as varied as the details may have been— the who, the what, the where, the when—there is always a consistency to the way it feels. Like a pure, all encompassing sensation that is more powerful than anything I've experienced in the physical world alone.

I've had lost loved ones reach out to me in varying ways. Through music, through other people, through psychics, through dreams, through random acts in the physical world. When I was writing my book Wake Me When You Leave, a memoir about losing my father to cancer, I felt the nudges from him constantly. Sometimes in small ways, like a brief sensation, a sense of ease or peace washing over me. And sometimes in very concrete and jarring ways, via otherwise inexplicable events.

One such event occurred when I was writing the chapter about a visitation dream I had with my father. The dream opens with a girl walking a horse on a sidewalk in a sort of idyllic suburban neighborhood. A horse on a sidewalk in the physical world is a somewhat unusual sight, but in the dream it was nothing out of the ordinary at all. At the time I was writing that chapter, we lived across the street from an elementary school in a flat in the Marina district of San Francisco. This part of the city has a sort of suburban feel— no traffic lights, only stop signs. Relatively quiet, wide, streets. I would write in our living room that had a big picture window overlooking the street outside. At this particular moment I was feeling discouraged about the whole project— the book and the film associated with it that I was trying to get off the ground. I remember shutting the computer and saying out loud, "This is just never going to happen. Horses on the sidewalk?! This is stupid and no one will get it. What am I thinking?!" Tears started to well up, when I heard a strange sound coming from outside on the street. I thought it sounded like… horses hooves on pavement. I couldn't and didn't believe my ears. Until the sound got louder and louder and I looked out that window and sure enough, there they were: Not one, but two policemen on horseback. One walking in the middle of the street and one on the sidewalk. Needless to say, there were never horses in our neighborhood (nor were there ever policemen for that matter). In fact I had never seen a horse anywhere in the city whatsoever. I jumped up, flabbergasted and mouth agape, as I watched them mosey on down the block like it was the most natural thing in the world. Clip clop, clip clop. I felt that all-encompassing sensation throughout my body, flushing through me. A heightened yet softened reality, and I sat back down with a reassurance. And kept writing.

Just before Wake Me When You Leave went to the printer, I was in the midst of doing my final author proofread when dear friends of ours experienced an unimaginable tragedy—the violent loss of a 9-year-old son. As a parent myself, this is the unthinkable. I don't know that anyone has the proper words to articulate what that kind of loss does to you. I think of my friends—the boy's mother and her partner—and their loss daily, sometimes hourly. I long to help them. I so deeply long to have the magic salve that will relieve this mother of her grief, and to be able to comfort her partner who had planned to become the boy's stepfather. My logical mind tries to assemble the perfect concoction of words that will alleviate their pain. But every time I attempt to, I am stung by the harsh reminder that I cannot take away a mother's grief. I can't pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. And I can't remove the weight her partner feels supporting her, while simultaneously trying to process his own trauma. I see that it feels insurmountable for them both. So I do what I believe is the only thing I can do to assist them through this unfathomable time: I check in with them, I tell them I love them and am thinking of them. I listen. I am a witness to their pain and I acknowledge it, trying to reflect back the fierce love they have for that boy. Neither of their lives will ever be the same. But how they will be different remains to be seen, and is up to them.

I've been told that when a child that young is taken from their mother so tragically, that they will return back to her. My heart deeply hopes this will be true for my friend. It is still very recent and so fresh, but there have already been inklings that perhaps he might. Shauna, the owner of The Crystal Shrine in Los Angeles, helped me choose some crystals and stones for my friend. All I told Shauna was that I had friend going through unimaginable grief and loss, and I wanted her to have something she could carry with her to help process her grief. Without knowing me or my friend and the specifics of her situation, Shauna said, "Oh. Was he very young? A little boy with dark hair? He's letting me know it's him." She went on to say that sometimes the spirits will come through to her like that, but not always. Shauna's own husband had died suddenly and unexpectedly years earlier, and she believes that he often helps her with this kind of work.

Children also seem to be closer to these sorts of connections. My daughter, who is now 8, has always had a very tangible connection to the other side. I've been told that she met my own father over there, that he held her in his arms, before she was born to me in this life. And when she was 4, she knew that my father-in-law had passed before anyone else did. Then, coming out of the shower just the other night, she told me she had a "crazy dream" that we got all dressed up to go and meet our friends' new baby— the friends who recently lost the child. "Why would we get dressed up to meet a baby??" she laughed, as if that was the strange part, and not the fact that our friends had privately just told us that they are thinking about having a baby. They know that having a baby will not replace their loss, nor will it extinguish their grief, but if my daughter's dreams are any indication—perhaps the soul of that boy will indeed come back to them.

I often picture my father on the other side laughing with a kind of giddy glee. Like he's urging me to let go of my tedious frustrations and fly— to understand that there is so much more than this physical world we inhabit. I think our loved ones long to reach us to share with us the peace and clarity to which they've moved on. To help ease our struggles in this life and free us from the multitude of attachments that we cling to within it. And the companionship their spirits can provide us while we walk the path of this life is an unrivaled kind of support. They can help us to know we are being looked after. That we are okay. That we are enough. That we are free. Although there is a huge emptiness we feel when our loved ones die, I do not believe that it is really the end. In saying that, I do not mean to disregard the deep feelings of loss; sitting with the stages of grief is vital to moving through and beyond them. For me, going through that painful process is how I eventually came to give it, and consequently my whole life, greater meaning. So yes, that loss changed my life forever, but perhaps that's part of the point of this life. If we can reframe how we look at loss, maybe we can shift its legacy into something beautiful.

Sometimes it still makes me sad to think of all of the things that my dad has missed in my life. There has been so much joy and so many big moments in recent years… But then I remember that he probably hasn't missed anything at all. He's been with me the whole time.

Article originally published in The Llewellyn Journal. Copyright Llewellyn Worldwide, 2021. All rights reserved.

How can I encourage my two-year-old daughter in her abilities? She has visitations from spirits, both departed family members and others. She can predict the gender of unborn babies, and has told me about one of her past lives. I don't want her to lose her abilities until she is old enough to decide for herself. She recently gave me a message from a relative who had passed away and it caused me to cry, which frightened her. I want to be supportive but it just kind of threw me because it was so unexpected. I'm afraid it might prevent her from talking to me about stuff because she is afraid I'll be sad again. I should mention that my aunt passed on Tuesday evening and she told me the message from her on Wednesday morning, so her death hadn't quite sunk in yet.

Beverly

Susyn:

You are very wise to encourage your daughter's gifts, for your attitude and responses to her when she relays something of a psychic nature will definitely influence her perception of her abilities. As you mentioned, crying when you received the message from your aunt had a big impact on your daughter. Though it is natural to respond in this manner, you will want to practice caution in the future so that she does not feel that her gifts are upsetting to others.

From birth until the age of five or six, most children exhibit psychic abilities. They can speak to spirits, recall past lives and make amazing predictions. As they age, they tend to bury or repress these extraordinary gifts based on the skeptical or fearful reactions of adults.

One thing you can do to help your daughter retain and expand her gifts is to expose her to others with the same abilities. Given your daughter's young age, there may not be an appropriate group in your area, so here are some other ways to encourage her.

There are now many shows on television that feature a variety of psychic phenomena. (Please be sure they are not programs of an upsetting or frightening nature.) Some channels even have shows specifically targeted to the subject of psychic children. A few programs such as Long Island Medium take a light-hearted approach to these topics. If you watch them together, you can answer any questions she might have and point out the similarities between her own experiences and those of these television personalities.

There are also books and online forums on the subject that you may want to share with her; look for ones that are not too advanced and are validating of the abilities she is displaying. You can also find psychic exercises through these venues, which you can use to test and challenge her to develop further. We live in exciting times, for the internet is a source of endless information on this and other subjects.

As her gifts and awareness continue to grow, you may want to take her for a psychic reading. A psychic can affirm what she is doing and may be able to help her decipher past life impressions and the messages she regularly receives from spirits. Having more than one adult validate what she is doing will give her the confidence to continue.

The most important thing you can do is overtly encourage your daughter. So many young children are discouraged from practicing and developing their gifts. She is blessed to have your support and willingness to help her expand her abilities. The more you are open to and appreciative of her gifts, the stronger they will grow.

*****

Oceania:

It's only natural that you would cry upon hearing a message from your aunt the day after she passed. There's no need to walk on eggshells around your daughter. You can rest assured that your outburst of tears did her no harm. Her abilities aren't going anywhere, and there's no way you're going to get a two-year-old to stop talking!

She's at a good age to start learning more about feelings. I would focus on the four basic categories of happy, mad, scared and sad. Since two-year-olds learn well through imitation, you can be a role model for how to put feelings into words.

Children identify what they feel through physical sensations and cues, so talk about where you notice your feelings in your body. My face is smiling, my voice is laughing, I feel happy! My tummy hurts, my eyes have tears, I feel sad.

You can help her begin to understand the messages behind feelings. We feel happy when we like something, mad when we don't, scared when something's unknown, and sad when the familiar is gone. When you notice your daughter experiencing an emotion, help her put it into words.

In time, you'll teach her that the intensity of feelings can vary from a little to a lot. You'll add more words to her feeling repertoire to convey this. For example, happy can range from calm to excited, mad from annoyed to furious, scared from worried to terrified, and sad from disappointed to grief-stricken.

Awareness of one's body and emotions is often the first line of input for a psychic; to fine-tune our abilities to discern subtler energies, we must build upon this foundation. As far as you encouraging her abilities, it sounds like you're doing a great job by listening to what she shares and not invalidating her experiences.

My only words of caution would be to not put too much emphasis on her gifts. For example, don't make a fuss if she correctly predicts the gender of an unborn child; everyone has a 50/50 chance of getting that right!

It's more important for children to feel loved just for being than for being special. A too-celebrated gift can become a burden in that the child may come to feel their worth depends upon it. In some cases, children may feel that the worth of their parents depends upon it.

When children present themselves to other kids as being important, special, talented or gifted, it can create distance between them and their peers. More important than being a stand-out is for a child to feel part of a community where they come to be valued for their strengths and are able to enjoy the strengths of others.

Astrea:

Many times in life we hear, "You will always have what you NEED, but not necessarily what you WANT." Your spirit must have needed to experience the feeling of leaving your human body, and the suggestion in the next chapter of Sylvia Brown's book was all it took to get you there.

Even though you hadn't read it yet, your SOUL recognized the title of that chapter as something it had been seeking, and your soul, knowing that you had that reference to read after your experience, got with it and out you went!

While I don't usually recommend her books, Sylvia Brown has a wide reaching and powerful effect on lots of people. A Gemini like you would be able to relate easily to her writing and put it to good use. Synchronicity - you gotta love it!

I like your description of "getting caught." That's exactly what it feels like, isn't it? One minute you're free and hovering above the room, and the next minute, ZAP! back down into your corporeal form you go!

As a little kid, I loved that "feeling of return." With practice, most of the time we can control that event, but sometimes, when our physical ears hear a distracting noise or something else occurs to knock us back into reality, back we go. With practice you will be able to control your return better.

I find it interesting that you were visiting your mother-in-law and not someone in your own genetic family. Evidently, you and your husband got married for reasons that are even deeper than love. His family's interest in "psychic stuff" will nurture your children in such matters and help them to grow into their own abilities.

You'll never have to be concerned that when your daughter visits them, she'll be discouraged from exploring her own psychic life and power. My parents encouraged me to develop my psychic senses in a time when it wasn't nice to even discuss such things in public. Heck, it's STILL not considered a great topic at the dinner table in some families!

Your kids will get to talk about it ALL and ask questions and read and study. This is going to give them such an edge in life! Talk with your husband about how you want to present this to your kiddos, so that you are united in your approach and ready to tell them their experiences are all natural and okay.

A word or two of warning: Geminis often have difficulty staying grounded in REAL LIFE. Don't get so strung out on your ASTRAL life that you neglect what you're doing here on Earth.

You are at the beginning of a long journey to learn where your power really lies. Try to be patient with this process and take your time.