You know those moments when astrology just knows? When it doesn’t gently whisper, but instead leans over, looks you dead in the eye, and says, “So are we going to talk about this, or…?”

Yeah. My birth chart did that.

I was born with Sagittarius rising, which means people meet me and assume I’m outgoing, adventurous, unbothered, and ready for anything. I give off vibes like I’ve just returned from a trip to Machu Picchu and am about to lead a philosophy retreat on horseback. I seem open. Unafraid. Up for it.

But here’s the cosmic punchline: behind that brave, bold rising sign, I’ve got both my Sun and Moon huddled together in Cancer — emotionally tender, deeply private, and often more comfortable nesting than networking. And not just in Cancer. They’re conjunct, like two best friends clinging to each other in a blanket fort saying, “We’re not going out there. It’s weird out there. Let’s stay home and make lasagna.”

So yes, I appear confident and curious and ready to say yes to life. But underneath it all? I’m carrying a soul that prefers quiet. Familiar. Safe. I crave meaning, but I also crave comfort. I’ll say yes to the adventure — and then I’ll quietly pack sandwiches, an emergency exit plan, and a soft place to land.

That’s the beauty of the birth chart: it doesn’t give you one flat identity. It gives you a dialogue — a constellation of characters, some aligned, some in tension, all trying to help you figure out what it means to be you.

In my case, Sagittarius rising urges me to leap. Cancer Sun and Moon remind me to bring a parachute, a journal, and a few tissues. And they’re both right.

That’s the kind of insight astrology can bring — not just who you are, but how you are. And once you know the shape of your sky, everything starts to make a little more sense.

Curious what your chart is trying to tell you? I’d love to help you listen.