The Great Flood—humanity’s recurring dream of destruction and rebirth, is where the waters come to cleanse, to reset, to wash away the sins of the past. Liz Greene, in Neptune and the Quest for Redemption, beautifully articulates this idea of the flood as both destruction and the precursor to transformation. It’s a theme that transcends culture, appearing in everything from the biblical Noah to the Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh to the Hindu story of Manu. Why do we keep telling this story? Perhaps because we sense, deep down, that existence itself is cyclical. That the world—our world, personal or collective—must sometimes be submerged in chaos before it can be reborn into something purer. The planet Neptune, the great dissolver of boundaries, invites us into this watery realm where identity, certainty, and structure dissolve. And in that dissolution, we find the seeds of something new.

The flood is a chance to build anew, to redefine, to step onto dry land with a clearer understanding of who we are. Perhaps that’s why these myths resonate so deeply with the human psyche—they mirror our own internal cycles of loss, surrender, and eventual redemption.

A Neptunian transit is a time when reality seems to slip through your fingers like water, where the ego dissolves, and the old certainties of life come apart at the seams. It’s a period of profound transition, much like the mythical Great Flood, where the known world is swept away, not necessarily in a dramatic, catastrophic way, but in a slow, hypnotic dissolution that leaves you questioning what was ever real to begin with.

During a Neptune transit, you may feel lost at sea, unanchored, adrift on the tides of intuition and illusion. It is a time to surrender, to let go of rigid boundaries and to perceive the fluidity of existence. It’s a spiritual cleanse, a symbolic baptism where the self you once clung to is washed away, making room for something more expansive, more luminous.

But beware! Neptune’s waters are intoxicating. One might be lured into fantasy, escapism, or even self-deception, much like sailors drawn to the sirens’ song. Yet, if handled wisely—with an open heart and a steady awareness—this transit can be a time of spiritual awakening, of redemption, of stepping into a more compassionate, creative, and boundless version of yourself. If you find yourself under Neptune’s spell, remember: you are not drowning. You are being reborn. Let go, trust the current, and know that when the waters recede, you will step onto new ground with clearer vision.

Redemption is one of the most potent and deeply ingrained yearnings of the human soul. It’s the secret longing beneath our regrets, the quiet hope that even after we’ve stumbled, strayed, or shattered something precious, we might still find a way forward—not by erasing the past, but by transcending it. Great Flood myths, in their many cultural variations, are not only stories of destruction; they are stories of mercy. They do not tell us that the world ends—they tell us that it begins again. They speak of an intelligence greater than human folly, a rhythm that, despite chaos and collapse, moves inexorably toward renewal. The flood is a reset button, a divine recalibration, an opportunity for something new to emerge from the wreckage of what was. And isn’t that exactly what we crave on a personal level? A chance to wash away our mistakes, to step out of the weight of our past selves and into a lighter, more purer existence?

Neptune’s Redemption

Neptune, in astrology, embodies the same archetypal force as the floodwaters—dissolving boundaries, breaking down the illusions we once clung to as solid reality. Under a Neptune transit, there can be confusion, disorientation, a sense of being lost at sea. But just as with the Great Flood myths, the dissolution isn’t purposeless—it’s a cleansing, an invitation to surrender our small, ego-driven lives and merge into something greater, something boundless.

The redemption Neptune offers isn’t the kind where one atones and then returns to who they were before. It’s the kind where the old self is completely dissolved, like salt in the ocean, and something new emerges in its place. It’s the act of surrender, of allowing ourselves to be reshaped by forces beyond our control, trusting that what remains will be truer than what was lost. When we feel that deep, universal yearning for redemption, it is not simply a wish to be forgiven—it is a longing to be remade. To be cleansed of the weight of the past, and to step forward into life renewed, open, and ready to begin again.

The apocalypse—perhaps the most dramatic of all human myths. It is the tale of obliteration and rebirth, of reckoning and divine reset buttons. We fear it, we dream of it, we weave it into every major religion, every culture, every  fiction that dares to ask: What happens when it all comes crashing down? Liz Greene, in her exploration of Neptune’s symbolism, astutely connects this apocalyptic longing to the Neptunian dissolution of boundaries. The end of the world, in a psychological and spiritual sense is about transcendence. It serves as the birth of a new consciousness.

When people speak of Judgment Day, there is always an implicit promise buried within the fear: the world will end, but something better will take its place. The wicked will be washed away, the righteous will be vindicated, and a purified, luminous reality will emerge. Neptune, in astrology, is the great dissolver of reality as we know it. Under a heavy Neptune influence, personal identity can feel like it’s melting away. This can be terrifying—what are we without our stories, our roles, our familiar landscapes? But Neptune also hints of renewal. The apocalyptic impulse is, at its heart, a Neptunian desire: a longing for the dissolving of a corrupt world, the purging of guilt, the return to something untainted.

It is no coincidence that Neptune rules the ocean—the primordial abyss from which life emerged, and to which everything eventually returns. In apocalyptic myths, as in personal Neptune transits, there is always the moment of drowning—the ego gasping for breath, the known world slipping beneath the waves. But after the flood what remains? A new world. A fresh start. The promise of something vast waiting just beyond the veil. And so, perhaps, our obsession with these myths is not about destruction at all. It is about the secret, unshakable belief that something more beautiful awaits us on the other side.

The Waking Dream

The planet Neptune obscures and reveals in equal measure. Under its influence, the rigid contours of identity soften, and life itself can feel like a waking dream. And yet, beneath this hazy, amorphous quality, Neptune holds one of the most profound spiritual tasks: the confrontation with the Self—not as we present it to the world, but as it truly is, beyond ego, beyond illusion.

According to Liz Greene, the afterlife through Neptune’s lens is particularly poignant. It is idea that judgment is not handed down by an external deity but is instead an intimate reckoning of the soul with itself. This isn’t the fire-and-brimstone reckoning of Pluto or the the karmic judgment of Saturn; it is something far more oceanic. It is the process of reviewing one’s life not with punishment in mind, but with understanding, with compassion, with the realization that we were always moving toward dissolution, toward merging, toward something greater than ourselves.

In astrological terms, this often manifests in the later years of life—when the sign of Pisces, Neptune’s domain, begins to take precedence in the psyche. It’s the final stage, the letting go, the great surrender. But Neptune’s influence is not limited to old age—it visits us in moments of illness, loss, or deep introspection, in those periods when we feel as though we are retreating from the world. A Neptune transit can feel like a slow fading, a withdrawal into the self, where the edges of reality blur and time itself seems to disappear. And what happens in this space? The psychological closets are opened, the memory is swept clean. Regrets, loves, mistakes, moments of kindness, moments of cruelty—they all rise to the surface, not to condemn us, but to be understood. Neptune does not judge in a punitive way; it asks us to dissolve the shame, to relinquish the  negative beliefs we’ve clung to, to see our lives with the compassionate, all-encompassing vision of the divine.

This is why so many people report life reviews in near-death experiences—not as a court of law, but as a vast and loving witnessing of their existence. Neptune’s waters reveal not just what we have done, but how we have felt, how we have loved, how we have longed. And in that witnessing, there is a kind of redemption—not through punishment, not through suffering, but through the realization that all was meaningful, all was connected, all was leading us home.

So whether one is in the twilight of life, in the throes of a Neptunian illness, or simply experiencing a deep inner retreat, this phase is a important one. It is the soul’s opportunity to sift through its own story, to understand it not as a series of successes and failures, but as a journey toward unity, toward wholeness, toward the great and endless ocean of existence.

This Neptunian dissolution—is not simply an ending, but a transformational process. It is the soul’s quiet reckoning, a chance to step back from  life and see the fullness of one’s existence.  It is the gentle but unrelenting tide pulling us inward, away from the noise of the external world and into the vast inner landscape of memory, emotion, and meaning. Here, we do not judge ourselves in the way that society does. There is no jury, no punishment, no external decree of guilt or innocence. Instead, there is a time to reconcile, to integrate, to forgive. And what is forgiveness if not a Neptunian act? Forgiving others, forgiving ourselves—this is the final act of healing, the true closing of life’s unresolved chapters. Many traditions recognize this phase. In spiritual practice, in mythology, in the rituals of cultures across time, there is an understanding that before one can truly transition—whether into old age, into death, or into a new state of consciousness—there must be a moment of reflection. The Tibetan Book of the Dead speaks of the Bardo, the liminal space where souls face their own projections. Even in modern psychology, we see the importance of life reviews in hospice care, therapy, and personal growth. Neptune invites us into this space with a quiet, compassionate awareness. It asks: Can you see yourself fully? Can you acknowledge both the beauty and the sorrow? Can you make peace with the contradictions of being human? Renewal is not a reward; it is the natural consequence of surrender. It is the ocean reclaiming the river, the self dissolving into something greater, something whole.

The Year 2012

2012 was the year when half the world was bracing for the apocalypse, and the other half was rolling its eyes at yet another doomsday prophecy. But beneath the media-fueled hysteria about the Mayan calendar and planetary alignments, something deeper was at play—a collective stirring, a heightened sensitivity to the unseen, a subconscious readiness for transformation. And in the background, Neptune had just made its grand return to Pisces, its home sign, setting the stage for a global deep dive into the mystical, the illusory, and the transcendent.

Neptune in Pisces is the time when a veil is being lifted. It dissolves rigid perceptions of reality, making way for imagination, intuition, and spiritual curiosity. In 2012, as this transit began, people around the world were not just asking, Is the world ending?—they were asking, What does the world even mean? So, did the world end? Not in the way people feared. But perhaps a version of it did.

The Pandemic

The COVID-19 pandemic was a Neptunian event of massive proportions, dissolving the familiar, blurring boundaries, and plunging the world into a surreal, dreamlike state of uncertainty. Neptune in Pisces, the final sign of the zodiac, mirrors the closing of a chapter, the dissolution of one reality before another can emerge. The pandemic was, in many ways, a planetary reckoning, forcing humanity to confront its fragility, its illusions of control, and its deep, inescapable interconnectedness.

The nature of Neptune is both compassionate and chaotic—it heightens empathy but also confusion, it dissolves barriers but can also overwhelm. During the pandemic, we saw the full spectrum of Neptune’s influence. On one hand, an extraordinary outpouring of global solidarity—people singing from balconies, frontline workers being hailed as heroes, communities coming together in ways unseen before. On the other hand, a fog of misinformation, conspiracy theories, and fear spirals, with reality itself becoming slippery, elusive, difficult to pin down.

Neptune in Pisces amplifies the unknown. And the pandemic was nothing if not an encounter with the unknown—an invisible, shape-shifting force that disregarded borders, and our illusions of safety. The fear of an impending apocalypse wasn’t only about the virus itself; it was the deep, primal fear of dissolution, of systems crumbling, of life as we knew it slipping away. There was a sense of drifting—days blending into one another, time losing its meaning, reality feeling surreal, like a long and eerie Neptunian dream.

But Pisces is also the sign of surrender. And perhaps that was one of the great spiritual lessons of this period—the realization that control is an illusion, that the only certainty is change, and that in the face of great dissolution, we must learn to flow. We were forced into isolation, yet we were more connected than ever. We faced loss, yet we also saw acts of extraordinary kindness and sacrifice. We were reminded, on a global scale, that suffering is universal, and that in the end, we belong to something greater than just ourselves.

The pandemic was a Neptunian moment of reckoning. A moment of reflection, of collapse, of questioning what truly matters. And as Neptune continues its journey through Pisces, the great lesson remains: we are all drops in the same ocean, bound together by forces greater than we can see, learning—again and again—how to surrender, how to trust, and how to begin anew. Neptune in Pisces dissolves and erases, but in doing so, it reveals hidden depths. The pandemic, unfolding under this transit, mirrored Neptune’s duality. It was a time of loss and uncertainty, but also, for some, a strange kind of awakening. The rapid spread of COVID-19 reflected Neptune’s boundless nature. Neptune does not respect borders—it flows, it seeps in, it spreads invisibly, much like the virus itself. There was no containing it, no clear enemy to fight, only an unseen force moving through the collective. This mirrored Neptune’s shadow side—fear, misinformation, paranoia, and a sense of helplessness in the face of something vast and unknowable. Some were gripped by isolation, anxiety, or grief, feeling as though they were drowning in an ocean of uncertainty. And yet, for others, this same Neptunian wave carried them somewhere unexpected—into deep creativity, into contemplation, into a slower, more introspective way of being. With the routines of daily life suddenly washed away—the commutes, the expectations, the social obligations—some found themselves tapping into an inner world that had long been neglected. Musicians composed, writers poured words onto pages, painters turned their emotions into color and form. The enforced stillness became, for some, a kind of sanctuary.

Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac—the place where endings merge into beginnings, where dissolution precedes rebirth. For some, this period was painful, a time of suffering and disorientation. For others, it was a moment to breathe. And for many, it was both—a strange blend of grief and gratitude, of loss and renewal, of fear and quiet peace. This is Neptune’s way. It does not bring one singular experience—it washes over everything, dissolving rigid distinctions, making space for multiple truths to coexist.

The pandemic was, in many ways, a Neptunian mirror, reflecting back to each person what was already stirring within them. Some found terror in the unknown; others found something healing. Some suffered; some thrived. Many did both, in waves, moving between sorrow and serenity, between feeling lost and feeling found. And that is the essence of Neptune in Pisces—it does not dictate a singular reality. It opens a portal into the infinite, and in that vast, formless space, each person finds their own meaning, their own reckoning, their own way forward.