Aslesha rising? Everyone’s reading you wrong — on purpose

Ashlesha rising walks softly, but never unnoticed. There’s something coiled beneath the surface. Something old. Something others feel but can’t name. It makes people uneasy. Not because you speak — but because you don’t. Because you see. Because you don’t flinch when things turn strange. This rising sign doesn’t chase attention. It draws reactions. People project their fears onto you. Their envy. Their confusion. You become the mirror. Unasked for. Unwanted. But always accurate.

You learn this early. The way glances shift. The way people smile, then step back. Your silence feels like judgment to them. Your calm — a challenge. So they fill in the blanks. They call you cold. Distant. Arrogant. But none of that fits. You’re just protecting something delicate. Something they don’t see. Ashlesha doesn’t come with softness on the outside. It wraps it deep inside. Tightly. Quietly.

Enemies here don’t shout. They linger. They whisper just enough to be heard. They talk in circles. In glances. In half-truths. You sense them before they act. Before the tone shifts. Before the air turns. This is serpent energy. It doesn’t strike first. It waits. It watches. And when it moves, it does so with purpose. No wasted words. No wasted time. You don’t fight every battle — only the ones that matter.

There is pain in being misread. A loneliness that settles in the bones. You wonder why they don’t see you clearly. Why they only see what they fear. But still, you move through. You adapt. You wear masks, not to deceive, but to survive. In Vedic astrology, Ashlesha rising is both the wound and the healer. You carry poisons, yes — but also the antidote. You feel too much, but speak too little. That’s the cost of seeing too deeply.

In time, you learn to stop chasing clarity. You stop explaining yourself. You let people misunderstand. You stop offering softness to those who only want to bruise it. And slowly, your power returns. Quietly. Firmly. Not in rage — but in knowing. You don’t need to strike to be strong. You only need to stay standing. Ashlesha does. Wrapped in silence. Wounded, maybe. But still watching. Always knowing.