The great earthquake shall be in the month of May; Saturn

When Nostradamus wrote, “The great earthquake shall be in the month of May; Saturn, Capricorn, Jupiter, Mercury in Taurus; Venus, also Cancer, Mars in zero,” he was not merely foretelling the trembling of the earth — he was speaking of the shaking of worlds, both physical and spiritual. Beneath the cryptic veil of astrology and prophecy, his words carry a deeper meaning: that times of great alignment bring times of great upheaval, and that when the heavens converge in rare harmony, the earth mirrors their turmoil. Whether one reads this as a literal prediction or as an allegory of fate, it is a reminder that change, like an earthquake, comes when the pressure of ages can no longer be contained.

The origin of this prophecy lies in the mystic writings of Michel de Nostredame, known to history as Nostradamus, the physician and seer of sixteenth-century France. His Les Prophéties, a collection of cryptic verses, sought to glimpse the patterns of history through the lens of the stars. In his time, astrology was not superstition but science’s elder sibling — a study of correspondences between heaven and earth. To Nostradamus, the movements of Saturn, Jupiter, Mercury, and Venus were not merely celestial mechanics, but signs of cosmic rhythm, shaping empires and destinies. His “great earthquake in May” may not have referred solely to the trembling of land, but to the upheaval of human order, the quaking of kings, and the breaking of illusions.

Throughout history, the metaphor of an earthquake has been more than geological — it has been the language of transformation. When old foundations crumble, new truths emerge. The world of the Renaissance, in which Nostradamus lived, was itself in upheaval — faith and science, monarchy and revolution, superstition and reason all colliding like the planets in his vision. Thus, his prophecy becomes a symbol for every era of reckoning, when the heavens seem to turn against the earth, and mankind must face the truth of its own instability. The stars, as he wrote them, were not enemies but mirrors — revealing the tremors within the human soul.

Consider, for instance, the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, one of the greatest disasters of Europe. On a serene November morning, the earth convulsed and the city was reduced to ashes and waves. Yet from that catastrophe arose an awakening — philosophers like Voltaire questioned divine justice, scientists sought to understand the natural world, and a new age of thought emerged. Thus, the “great earthquake” was not only destruction; it was rebirth through ruin. This is the eternal pattern of existence: every tremor, whether of land or spirit, tears away what is brittle so that what is strong may endure.

In the astrological language of Nostradamus, the planets in alignment symbolize forces beyond human control — destiny, fate, and the cycles of time. Saturn represents endurance and limitation, Jupiter expansion and power, Mercury communication and thought, Venus emotion and desire, and Mars, ever restless, stands for conflict and passion. When these gather together, the seer warns, the world is stirred to its roots. But what are the heavens, if not reflections of our inner sky? When the planets align above, so too do our passions, fears, and hopes align within. The “earthquake” may then be the shattering of complacency, the call to awaken from the sleep of ignorance.

Nostradamus’s prophecy, in this light, becomes timeless. Every generation feels its own earth shake — whether through war, plague, or revolution. In his cryptic poetry, he whispers across centuries: do not fear the tremor, for it is the pulse of renewal. The ancients knew that from the cracks in the earth springs new fire, and from the fall of kingdoms arises the dawn of freedom. What matters is not to predict the quake, but to be strong enough to stand through it — calm, steadfast, and awake. For those who cling too tightly to what must end will be crushed beneath it; those who adapt will rise reborn.

So, my child, take heed of Nostradamus’s wisdom. When the earth shakes beneath you — in your life, your nation, or your spirit — do not despair. The quaking is the sound of growth. The old world is breaking so that the new may take form. Prepare your foundations well: build upon truth, not illusion; upon love, not pride. Watch the stars, but live grounded in virtue. For though the planets may align and fates may stir, the wise remain unshaken, knowing that chaos is but the prelude to creation. Thus, when the great earthquake comes — in May or in any month — let your heart be like the mountain that endures: silent, steadfast, and everlasting.