The Three-Phase Eclipse Ritual
Planting, Offering, and the Phoenix Rising
(All times PST)
Some eclipses feel dramatic.
This one feels initiatory.
On February 17, 2026 at 4:01 a.m. PST, the Sun and Moon unite at the final degree of Aquarius and the light goes out. Not as catastrophe. Not as punishment. But as compression. As planting. As the moment when a seed disappears beneath the soil.
This eclipse is not about spectacle.
It is about sequence.
When we work consciously with an eclipse, we are not trying to control destiny. We are aligning ourselves with its rhythm. And this particular rhythm unfolds in three distinct movements:
Planting. Offering. Rising.
Phase One: Planting
February 17 @ 4:01 a.m. PST
The ritual begins before the exact moment of eclipse.
In the hours leading up to 4:01 a.m. on February 17, the Moon is dark. Invisible. Interior. Aquarius governs space—the subtle field in which all form arises. So before this eclipse plants its seed in space itself, we prepare by creating space in our own lives.
This does not require elaborate ceremony. It requires clearing.
On February 16 and into the early hours of the 17th, simplify your environment. Clean a small corner. Clear your desk. Turn off unnecessary noise. Let your nervous system soften. Reduce the informational flood.
If you are awake at 4:01 a.m., sit quietly for a few minutes. If you are asleep, set your intention before bed and allow the unconscious to participate.
This phase is not about declaring what you want.
It is about acknowledging what no longer fits.
Write down what feels misaligned. What feels wobbly. What feels like the washing machine that has gone off balance. Simply name it. You are pressing the clay into the center of the wheel. You are placing the seed into soil.
When the light disappears at 4:01 a.m., something internal is planted. You do not need to force it. You need only to witness it.
Phase Two: Offering
February 17 @ 10:19 p.m. PST
Later that same day, at 10:19 p.m. PST, the Moon crosses the North Node in Pisces. This is the moment of offering.
In many spiritual traditions, there is a practice of “dedicating merit.” That phrase can sound esoteric, but the meaning is simple and deeply human: when we commit to an effort, we consciously offer the benefit of that effort to something larger than our own ego.
Instead of asking, What do I get?
We ask, How does this serve?
At or near 10:19 p.m., pause again.
Speak your intention—not as demand, but as offering.
You might say:
“May my work contribute to stability.”
“May my healing ripple outward.”
“May my discipline strengthen not just me, but those around me.”
“May this effort serve something larger than my fear.”
Offering shifts the center of gravity. It removes the desperate grip on outcome. It transforms intention from personal craving into participatory alignment.
This matters especially now because Pisces dissolves boundaries. Under this sky, what we do does not stop at the edge of our own skin. Energy moves through networks—familial, communal, global.
When you offer your effort, you widen the field.
If you cannot be awake exactly at 10:19 p.m., make the offering earlier and consciously anchor it into that time. The act of alignment is what matters.
This phase is water—soft, devotional, expansive.
Phase Three: The Phoenix Rising
February 19 @ 12:52 p.m. PST
Two days later, at 12:52 p.m. PST on February 19, the Moon forms an exact conjunction with Saturn and Neptune at 1° Aries—the very beginning of the zodiac.
This is ignition.
If February 17 was the burial of the seed, February 19 is the spark in the ashes.
Saturn represents structure and responsibility.
Neptune represents vision and transcendence.
Aries represents the first flame.
When the Moon joins both Saturn and Neptune simultaneously, vision meets form. Spirit meets action. Dream meets discipline.
This is the Phoenix moment.
The phoenix does not rise randomly. It rises because something has already burned away.
At or near 12:52 p.m., take one concrete action that reflects your offering.
One.
Not an overhaul of your entire life.
Not a dramatic proclamation.
One embodied step.
Send the email.
Begin the practice.
Make the appointment.
Have the conversation.
Start the plan.
Aries does not require perfection. It requires courage.
Saturn ensures the action is grounded.
Neptune ensures it is meaningful.
The Moon ensures it becomes lived experience rather than abstraction.
This is the rising.
After the Rising
Do not obsess over results.
Eclipses unfold over months. Seeds germinate underground before they break through soil. The phoenix rises in stages—first smoke, then ember, then flame.
This eclipse activates all three qualities of time:
Aquarius (Fixed) — the continuity beneath change.
Pisces (Mutable) — the dissolving and reshaping of direction.
Aries (Cardinal) — the beginning that follows the ending.
Past, present, and future are pressing on the clay at once. If we cling to fear or hope too tightly, the wheel wobbles. If we remain centered, something steady emerges from the spin.
Planting.
Offering.
Rising.
The sky does not ask us to control it.
It asks us to participate consciously.
And what rises from this eclipse will not be loud at first.
It will begin as a quiet flame.
But quiet flames, tended carefully, are the ones that last.