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All right, Leos, you've been found out.

All season, I've been tiptoeing around how I want to talk about you...and for what!

There’s this projected Mean Girl persona that gets slapped on Leo—this idea that they’re arrogant, full of themselves, and expect to be worshiped just because they’re ruled by the Sun.

But honestly? That's some pop astrology nonsense.

When I think of Leo energy, I don’t think of Regina George.

I think of my stepdad—one of the gentlest souls I know. A nurse. A quiet man who meditates in his woodshop, crafting heirlooms with his hands. Christ-like in the way he loves people through presence, not performance.

I think of my cousin, raised in chaos, who somehow emerged soft-spoken and deeply sensitive (qualities I cherish about him and love that remained, despite the family values of his upbringing).

I think of one of my dearest friends, who is loud and proud about her Leo-ness—and is also the first to notice when your vibe is off. She doesn’t demand the spotlight; she radiates, and you just want to be near her. Not to take her light, but to warm your bones by it.

So no, I’m not buying this whole “royal diva” caricature. Y’all aren’t fooling me.

Leos, you are some of the most tender-ass signs I’ve ever known. And that tenderness is your radiance.

Because yes, the Sun rules Leo (and our Suns also rule our egos). But the Sun isn’t just about ego. Here, it’s about warmth. The Sun regulates daylight, seasons, climate zones. It powers this planet. And in human terms? Our proximity to the Sun dictates how much warmth we receive.

Same goes for Leos.

If you love a Leo—or if one loves you—you’re experiencing the blessing of life with the Sun in your sky. And that’s no small thing.

TL;DR: Leo isn’t a diva—it’s divine radiance with a side of soft hands and fierce loyalty.

​ Here’s the thing: you don’t need to be a Leo to work with Leo energy. You’ve got Leo somewhere in your chart—and that placement is like a built-in compass for tenderness, warmth, and play. ​ In my (rapidly evolving, more on that soon) signature 1:1 coaching experience, I do what I call a Muse Reading. The muses of the chart aren't always about strategy—they’re about spark. They’re the parts of you that remind you why life is worth showing up for when things feel heavy or hard. ​ Leo is one of those muses. Because Leo rules the 5th house, it speaks to your joy, your play, your creativity, your sensuality, your inner child—all the places where life feels radiant again. So here’s your woo homework: ​ 👉 Look to the house Leo rules in your chart. That’s the zone where your warmth lives. It’s where life wants you to play, create, and light yourself back up when you’ve gone dim. ​ If you’re stuck, stressed, or spiraling, that Leo house is where you’ll find your reminder of why life is still good. ​

This is your personalized breakdown of where this astro energy is hitting — and how to work with it, not get worked by it. Depending on where you have Leo in your chart is going to tell you where you keep your tenderness and where you're invited to PLAY to find your spark. This is one of your Muses of life. Leo Rising (Leo in the 1st House): 🔥 You are the spark. You are the main character. Life isn’t happening to you—you're choreographing the damn show. Dress like your aura has a stylist, walk like you invented the sidewalk. Cancer Rising (Leo in the 2nd House): 💎 Luxury is not a dirty word. Your radiance refuels when you savor the life you’ve built. Velvet robes? Fancy coffee? Weekly flower hauls? Yes. Because you are the investment. Gemini Rising (Leo in the 3rd House): 🎤 Wit = your weapon. Your spark lives in wordplay, side-eyes, and clever captions. Gossip like a bard. Write like your diary has a publishing deal. Speak like everyone’s listening (because they are). Taurus Rising (Leo in the 4th House): 🏡 Sacred coziness. Home isn’t just where your heart is—it’s where your spark curls up with a throw blanket and purrs. Family, roots, rituals. Light a candle, cook grandma’s recipe, tell the stories again. Aries Rising (Leo in the 5th House): 🎨 Joy is your religion. Double Leo = double drama, double dazzle. Make art, make out, make TikToks, make a mess. You're here to create, perform, and shamelessly delight in being alive. Pisces Rising (Leo in the 6th House): 🧼 Make the mundane magical. You shine when the everyday becomes art. Put on lipstick to do the dishes. Curate your calendar like a gallery wall. Work, wellness, and self-devotion can all sparkle. Aquarius Rising (Leo in the 7th House): 💞 Warmth through we. Your spark ignites in connection—in the deep devotion of showing up for your people. Give love like a rom-com. Receive it like royalty. Intimacy is your sacred mirror. Capricorn Rising (Leo in the 8th House): 🖤 Play in the dark. You shine where others flinch. Sex, shadow, soul truth. You alchemize intimacy into power and pain into poetry. The deeper you go, the brighter you burn. Sagittarius Rising (Leo in the 9th House): 🌍 Expand to ignite. Your spark is philosophical. Spiritual. Borderless. Get on a plane or get lost in a book—just go. You're here to live like life is one big cosmic classroom (and you're the hot guest lecturer). Scorpio Rising (Leo in the 10th House): 🌟 Spotlight with purpose. You’re not here to hustle for scraps—you’re here to lead. Legacy matters. Your spark catches fire when you’re doing meaningful work that leaves a trail of gold behind you. Libra Rising (Leo in the 11th House): 🎭 Your crew = your stage. You light up in groups that let you be your big, weird, brilliant self. Start the club, make the meme, lead the revolution. Spark through shared dreams and chaotic good vibes. Virgo Rising (Leo in the 12th House): 🌌 Private radiance. Your sparkle comes in whispers. In dreams. In the hush after a prayer. Retreat, reflect, float in the liminal. The unseen world is where your soul rehearses before stepping into the light.

​

From Ash's Corner

Leo season always lands tenderly for me. It feels like a little divine blessing after trudging through the depths of Cancer season in my 8th house. Like, “Congrats, you made it—here’s a cookie.” And sure enough, August tends to bring me the sweetest surprises.

Twelve years ago, my beloved shepherd Stihl came into my life during Leo season—just a scrappy 10-month-old rescue pup who became my best friend for over a decade. He’s since passed (RIP to the goodest boy).

And this year? Another tender Leo blessing: our family welcomed a new German Shepherd puppy, Freya. She’s adorable, she’s chaos, and God help me—I forgot how rough crate training is. It really is like having a newborn again. I am so sleep deprived… but watching my boys play with her, and feeling the joy of a dog back in the house, has been pure medicine.

And it’s not just the puppy. Leo season always ushers in tenderness: my boys heading back to school, the rhythm of fall beginning to creep in, the evening sunsets turning more gorgeous because summer knows it’s in its final yawning stretch. The heat breaks, the air shifts, and mornings sharpen into a quiet promise of autumn.

That’s where I’m at: sleep-deprived (oh my God, so sleep-deprived) but basking in the tender warmth Leo season offers before we begin our descent into fall—with its crisper mornings, busier schedules, and the return of reality.

But wait—one more layer.

Because while I’ve been navigating puppy chaos and back-to-school tenderness, I’ve also been navigating clarity in my work: Where is my warmth? What actually lights me up? Where does the Sun want to guide me?

I keep circling back to this: even the best-laid plans can’t compete with the serendipity of following what makes you feel most alive. Spirit doesn’t always work in spreadsheets, and I’m learning (again) to trust that.

Which… totally tracks with the astrology. Eclipse season kicks back up in September, and if you’re sensitive, you can already feel the ground shifting. These things always show up in my life before I look at the transits—and then, sure enough, the sky confirms it.

I’m not going to deep-dive nodes here (we’ll save that for another time), but I will say this: the eclipses ahead are asking us to loosen our grip on hyper-practical strategy and lean harder into the soulful, the serendipitous, the “guided by warmth” way of being. And let me tell you, I’m already seeing it play out for me.

I don’t know exactly who I’ll be on the other side of these eclipses—but I have inklings. And honestly? I’m both eager and anxious to meet her.

Thanks for reading!

In cosmic camaraderie,

​

P.O. Box 532, Cedar Springs, MI 49319
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