I’ve been experiencing the Uranus transit squaring my Mars in Aquarius in the 6th house. The last time I went through this transit—when Uranus was conjunct my Mars—I had an incident in the home. In the middle of washing dishes—just a mundane, earthly task—I sliced my little finger on a broken glass. I could see the bone, there was blood everywhere, and I ended up in surgery the same day. I wore a strange, robotic-looking cast afterward. It was traumatic and very shocking, so naturally, I’ve been dreading this current square. The 6th house governs everyday routines, work, and health, while Mars and Uranus together can indicate the potential for sudden accidents—making this transit particularly apt. I still remember the shock, the abrupt fracture of routine. Uranus and Mars can disrupt rhythms of daily life in this realm.

But surprisingly, this time around, while the transit is still exact, something quite different has happened. Instead of chaos or injury, I’ve found myself becoming more eco-aware, it’s all still Uranian.

Uranus rules greater awareness and consciousness. It is the sudden ping! of revelation. It’s the hand yanking back the curtain, often without warning, to show you what was always there but unseen, your blind spots, your habits, your unconscious compliance with the status quo. It rules awakening, but not always the comfy kind. Think epiphany with a side of electroshock. Uranus shakes you free from numbness. It startles you into seeing. It governs innovation, rebellion, genius, and all things outside the norm, because its mission is to disrupt stagnation and expose deeper truths. So when Uranus comes transiting, especially in aspect to Mars, the planet of will and action, you might suddenly find yourself waking up. It’s Uranus in action—pulling your awareness out of autopilot and hurling it into the vivid now. It’s awareness with voltage. It’s rarely a soft dawn, but the lightning bolt. An all-at-once seeing. And once seen, you can’t unsee it. It’s the Uranian way: permanent consciousness expansion, however inconvenient.

I’ve started changing my lifestyle: adjusting my diet, reducing energy use, and developing less wasteful habits in an effort to improve my carbon footprint.

Not a shattered glass but a shattered illusion. I’ve stepped into the chaos and a change of consciousness, a kind of eco-awakening birthed in the thick of my own everyday choices. Uranus square Mars, then, hasn’t sliced me open this time but opened me up, peeled back the distractions and said, “Look again.” The revolution hasn’t erupted in fire but in awareness, in the quiet revolt against wastefulness, against unconscious consumption. And it is a war (Mars) because the modern world is set up to keep us asleep.

Energy Consumption

Streaming TV uses an enormous amount of resources and impacts the environment far more than we realize. Even something as simple as boiling the kettle repeatedly for a hot drink throughout the day has an environmental cost. Same with internet use. I was shocked to find my main home page here had a D carbon rating, it improved to a B on all of the rest of the pages, but still, I don’t know how eco-friendly my hosting provider really is. And it isn’t just the pretty pictures or the autoplay videos, it’s the weight of our digital existence itself. Websites aren’t floating in the ether, they’re grounded in sprawling data centers gobbling electricity.

It isn’t easy realizing the internet isn’t this invisible magic thing, but a vast network of data farms guzzling energy and belching carbon. Recognizing every cup of tea has a cost on planetary impact. It’s a grief of sorts. A kind of mourning for the innocent pleasures once unexamined. But then come these small recalibrations of everyday behavior. Choosing not to stream. Boiling just enough water. Pausing before clicking. And understanding that these tiny revolutions aren’t futile, they’re potent. They’re revolutionary in the truest sense. They’re a declaration: I will live awake. I didn’t learn all this only to throw up my hands and say, ‘Well, the planet’s doomed anyway, so just pass me the plastic.’ I have been looking into the quiet, invisible workings of the things I once took for granted. It’s humbling to see how deep the rabbit hole goes. To realize that for years, even with a good heart, even with decent intentions, I was complicit in a culture of convenience. The world’s designed this way. Built to numb, to distract, to keep you scrolling and spending and snacking while the machine goes on. I don’t need to be perfect. It’s not about being a saint in sandals, making my own almond milk and weaving my own clothes from local nettles. It’s an awareness. The kind that makes me want to start asking questions. Where does this come from? What powers this? What impact does this choice make?

It’s been a wake-up call. For years, I’ve lived in ignorance, not thinking about how these seemingly minor habits add up. I’ve even started learning about what happens during food processing and have begun making more conscious swaps. I’ve also started unplugging devices when they’re not in use. I’m yanking plugs out one by one as if performing an exorcism of phantom power. It’s a little ritual that says, “I do not belong to the machines. They serve me, not the other way round. But here’s where it gets tricky. The household. My beloved family who, through no malice of their own, are still plugged into the Matrix, blissfully unaware that each episode streamed is a puff of digital exhaust from a server farm in a faraway land. I find myself walking a fine line between deep awareness and quiet alienation.

I feel like I’m the unlikeable one, the dreaded “nag” or the “killjoy.” But I’m not condemning pleasure. I’m not denying joy. My mother watches (streams) TV all day on a very old set, and I’m not sure if it’s the right time to say, ‘Did you know your telly time might be melting a bit of the ice caps? It’s all about lowering our carbon footprint where we can. I’ve even cut down telly watching, just an hour a day at most, usually during my main meal. But I admit, I’m probably not the most popular person in my household right now. I’ve been nudging the family to cut back on the endless TV streaming and gently suggesting they swap some of that screen time for fresh air or a good book instead. (Cue me ducking for cover!)

Even streaming music uses less energy when played through small devices with headphones. I used Midjourney without realizing how energy-intensive those AI image generators are. I’ve created so many images, completely unaware of the environmental cost. It’s easy to forget each breathtaking AI-generated image lies an invisible machinery: servers ablaze with activity, neural networks crunching computations. And I, like so many of us, wandered through this electric Eden with no sense of the carbon footprints.

Some people in my home might grumble when I pull the plug—literally and metaphorically. They might sigh when I question the endless bingeing or remind them that 4K means four thousand ways to warm the globe. But it’s being eco-conscious. It’s consciousness. I’m not saying, “Don’t enjoy.” I’m saying, “Enjoy wisely.” Every action adds up, and the goal is simply to reduce what I can. I never expected this Mars–Uranus transit to shift my lifestyle (6th house) so dramatically. So yes, I guess it’s turned me into a bit of an eco-warrior, maybe an unpopular one at home, pulling plugs and preaching minimalism. But the web isn’t weightless, the pixels aren’t pure, and modern life—convenient, comforting, clever—is also constantly costing the Earth.

And let’s be honest, there’s something rebellious (hello, #MarsUranus) in being the household eco-vigilante. Sneaking around unplugging things. But hopefully, somewhere, in a quiet, green corner of the universe, Mother Earth smiles and says, “Thank you.”