Friday, July 18, 2025, at 07:45 AM, Mercury goes retrograde in Leo, and the energy of this retrograde period will feel like a cosmic pause urging us to slow down in order to speed up, to reconnect with our inner child, to use our minds to live with our hearts.

I don’t think there’s a myth more well-known—or more feared—than that of Mercury retrograde. Even though Mercury goes retrograde 3–4 times a year, only 18% of the global population (about 1.45 billion people) are born during Mercury retrograde. These three-week retrograde phases, recurring 3-4 times a year, spook the entire world—while I and the other 1.45 billion were either forced or destined to accept Mercury retrograde as a part of who we are.

My natal Mercury isn’t just retrograde—it’s also my South Node Karmic Ruler (governor of the South Node, the energetic point through which karma is burned). So not only do I natively “speak” the language of retrograde Mercury, I fluently speak my karma.

People, especially those born during Mercury retrograde, complicate simple things by using the filter of the mind. But through writing (or any other form of communication), Mercury retrograde natives simplify things—even the most complex. That’s why I decided it’s time to set the record straight for Mercury—by speaking of the gifts carried in the heart of my South Node.

Sabali. I spent the entire week at my childhood home, alongside my father, who recently celebrated his 61st birthday. In a profound display of the Universe’s wisdom, right in the penumbra of Mercury retrograde in Leo (including its first days), this house I grew up in is under renovation. These days are literally filled with rubble, dust, my father’s repetitive soul-questions, anger, impatience, and inevitably, the rhetorical questions of my heart.

I’m sitting in the room where my father now spends most of the time he has left, with my back to the mirror that reflects the room’s only window. My father, rooted in his armchair, sits with his back to the window and keeps asking me—while looking in the mirror—about the pigeon perched motionless on a pole:
“Why is it sitting there alone? Maybe it has a nest nearby?”
I look out the window, amazed by how such a small, faraway detail could capture his attention so deeply. My mind jumps straight to the symbolism: Could it be that my father himself is the lone pigeon?

It was only later that I realized I was standing inside what felt like a portal—between the window and the mirror that reflects the window, and all the objects and people in the room. What a reflection of my destiny axis! I instantly fly in thought to my karmic rulers: Mercury, Jupiter, and Neptune.

Mercury retrograde is the closed window to the outside world, to reality, through which I see life—and the pigeon idling away its time perched on a pole. Mercury is the perspective through which life moves forward.

And Neptune? Neptune is the mirror reflecting the face of an old father lost in time, projecting his loneliness onto the lone pigeon in the real world. Neptune is the illusion that there’s nothing new under the sun and that all is in vain. I only see Mercury’s window, while my father sees everything: he sees himself, he sees me—front and back—he sees the room where he’s spending his final days, and he sees the mirror reflecting the window reflected in the mirror.

Mercury retrograde is what taught me to see with the mind the smallest details—and then, to see beyond all those details. Mercury, hand in hand with Jupiter—both retrograde—are laying down the words you’re reading now.

“Did you see that pigeon? Why is it sitting alone? It must have a nest nearby.”
Mercury retrograde taught me to be patient until I feel I have no patience left—and then, at the edge of my endurance, to endure just a little longer:
“Yes, Dad, I saw it. It doesn’t seem alone—there are other pigeons there too.”

Mercury retrograde always reminds me to stay present in the here and now, because the place I’m rushing to is a mirror of forgetfulness and loneliness. If Mercury retrograde could be summed up in one word, understood by all, that word would be Sabali.

The word “Sabali” comes from the Bambara (or Mandinka) language spoken in Mali and other parts of West Africa—and carries a rich, complex cultural meaning: patience, calm, tolerance—the ability to wait in peace or to forgive. It originates from the classical Arabic ṣabr (patience), and in Bambara culture, Sabali is not just an abstract concept: it’s a way of life—an inner strength, a wisdom available when life brings uncertainty or obstacles.

Ralenti. If Mercury retrograde were a story in the world of men, it would be called “The Yang Path: Relanti and Sustainability.” If Mercury retrograde were a word in their world, it would be Ralenti.

Ralenti is the operating state of a combustion engine (especially a car’s) when it’s running but not accelerating, and not under load (i.e., not actively being driven). It’s the minimum engine speed needed to keep the motor from stalling while stationary.

In everyday speech (especially among drivers or mechanics), ralenti is sometimes informally referred to as the “zero point” or “dead point.” It describes how the engine is running, but the car isn’t moving. “To run in ralenti” or “to be in ralenti” is also used figuratively to describe a state of inactivity or passivity, a slow or relaxed pace—a period of pause or regeneration.

But if ralenti is misused, or if an engine is left running idle for too long under poor conditions, a range of problems can occur: carbon buildup (the engine runs rough, performs poorly), unnecessary fuel consumption (idling for 30 minutes a day wastes dozens of liters of fuel per year), premature wear of components, or increased pollution. At idle, engines emit pollutants (CO₂, NOx, particles) in disproportionate amounts compared to the distance traveled. In some countries (like Canada and Germany), idling without cause is illegal. Lucky are those whose cars come equipped with Start-Stop!

And since this article is entirely written by a woman, I hope you men that are reading it, caught the story’s subtlety. For those who didn’t—fulfilling the prophecy that men don’t understand women—here’s just one piece of advice:
Hombre, let go! Of your mind, biensur.

Savasana. If Mercury retrograde were a fairy tale about the world of women, it would be called “The Yin Path: Perfectionist Leadership and Yoga.” If Mercury retrograde were a word women would understand, it would be Savasana. The best piece of professional advice I ever received was:“You have to slow down to speed up.”

While the perfectionist in me tried to make sense of this paradox, I realized it sounded familiar. Where had I heard that before? Was it from my driving instructor? Or maybe my former manager? Believe it or not, my yoga teacher said it—during Savasana.

For those who are unfamiliar, Savasana is the relaxation posture that ends every yoga practice. It’s also called Corpse Pose. Though all you’re supposed to do is close your eyes, lie on your back, and relax every muscle while breathing normally, Savasana is considered one of the most difficult asanas. Its purpose is to release all forms of stress and regenerate the body, mind, and spirit.

Naturally, it promotes mental calmness through surrender and openness to the next step. One of its key benefits is integrating the yoga practice—both physically and energetically—by returning to the authentic self.

Imagine your workplace as a yoga mat: Yes, you still need to learn breathing techniques. And yes, you need to work on your balance (between work and life). But when words bring you back down to earth, remember that you are (enough). Stay grounded.

When perfectionism clashes with productivity, focus more on your purpose than your achievements. Focus more on being than on becoming.
And above all, don’t forget to breathe, to Savasana often, and let this professional mantra sink in: Woman, slow down to speed up!