It's the calm in between storms in my houshold. My husband and I are in between major Pluto transits to our charts (the last lot were some 5 years ago) and the new set of aspects to our Cardinal Signs (opposition to my Cancer Sun, squares to my Libra Mars, mutual Libra Pluto and his Aries Moon Chiron and Mars) have a few years before they start pumelling.
On the other hand as Jupiter and Pluto conjunct each other and the galactic center in Sagittarius, gearing up to transit into Capricorn everyone seems to be feeling it and for me this comes across as Pluto Amplified.
(And speaking from a long experience of Pluto transits, the fact that it's officially no longer a planet has not affected its ability to sucker punch me one bit).
And as a taster of all this Pluto-ey goodness, (and no doubt a preview of coming attractions to the natal chart) Pluto and Jupiter are starting to make a loose out-of-sign square to the Libra Sun of mine and my husband's composite chart.
In the composite Sun is conjunct Pluto anyway (with the IC sandwiched in between)
and from the start, the relationship had a feeling of union through a shared experience of hardship and oppression ie. "this world has teeth and little mercy for you and me, so watch my back while I watch yours and we'll take the bastard on together."
There is no negotiating with any of our planets but this is especially true of the three collective planets (Uranus, Neptune and Pluto). The forces they are symbols of are bigger than any single life, and the please and cries of the individual are as the beatings of a moth's wings in a hurricane.
Like the Tower card in the Tarot, Pluto is not interested in plea-bargaining. It cannot be swayed, or deterred, or locked out. Only accepted and rolled with, or fought tooth and nail against until it burns your house down.
Similarly, Plutonic experiences have little to do with justice. Earthquakes strike the innocent and wicked alike, and when burning ash is gearing up to fall onto your head, one of the least constructive things to do is ask "Why me?" (with or without the fist-shaking). Instead, I generally find it more productive to buckle down and get on with the business of breathing and surviving whatever is happening stage by stage.
And the transit to the composite has indeed coincided with irreversible changes to the relationship. December has been the month of Waiting For The Baby's Birth and Trying To Wrap Our Heads Around The Enormity Of Change That Will Mean, as well as the month of Fighting Shocking Assaults From Unseen Ennemies and Facing Up To The Threats To Our Home.
The stresses have been sudden and enormous, the Plutonic kinds of pressures that strip you down to your naked shivering core and challenge you to face up to what's truly real and fundamental to you. Pluto's transits are NEVER comfortable, but they can certainly be very exciting and if you play your cards right you are likely to emerge from its trials by fire singing "Je ne regrette rien".
And they're not all bad. December 2007 was the most challenging month so far for the relationship (previous record-holder, September 2006 when my mother in law died suddenly) but it's also been the most intimate. There are special kinds of bonds forged in the war against the world when your partner is the only one you can rely on and you realise how deeply (Pluto) love and trust go. When you finding yourselves turning to one another in your hour of need and see that both of you completely meant the whole "for richer, for poorer etc." thing.
Transits of Pluto last for years and they can be exhausting. They can also be intensely rewarding if you roll with them right. Pluto is an invitation to travel to the underground of the Self (or the relationship, or the family, or the collective), a primal force, a dare to see what you're made of and ultimately an invitation to truth.
Whereas the transits of Neptune mistify and cloud, transits of Pluto leave you in doubt about what's real and true what with the truth & reality constantly punching you in the eye.
The feeling of a Pluto transit ridden right is the euphoria of a hard test passed. The feeling of it ridden wrong is "Owwwwwwwwwwww, bloody hell this hurts". Either way though the long slow transits of this celestial body mean that frequent opportunities for re-testing present itself for better or for worse. And once you know they are inescapable it makes it so much easier to save your strength and face up to its invitations to dance or fight.
Friday 21 December 2007
Monday 17 December 2007
How to keep your marriage alive, by Venus in Gemini
1) Make prank phonecalls to your husband, every couple of days. (His paranoid nature will only benefit!)
You can indecently proposition him, ask him to clean your carpets and not take no for an answer, try to sell him some shingle for the roof, accuse him of seducing your teenage daughter and put on all kinds of snazzy accents. The possibilities are endless!
2) This all works significantly better if you manage not to crack and burst out laughing in the first 30 seconds. I am still working on that.
You can indecently proposition him, ask him to clean your carpets and not take no for an answer, try to sell him some shingle for the roof, accuse him of seducing your teenage daughter and put on all kinds of snazzy accents. The possibilities are endless!
2) This all works significantly better if you manage not to crack and burst out laughing in the first 30 seconds. I am still working on that.
Friday 14 December 2007
Living with and loving: 12th house moon
If I can point to one way which astrology has enhanced my life and the lives of those around me, it has been through increasing my tolerance of others and my understanding of innate difference. This has been a truly helpful development for someone who had very firm attachment to the ideas of being right, and my way being therefore the most logical and favourable way of being.
Over the course of my life so far I have had the privilege to meet many people and learning their charts has been ever so helpful in quieting the voice inside my head which wanted to hit them over the head with mallets. Being able to sit comfortably with difference is a challenge, and one I've nowhere near sussed but the Living With and Loving Posts will be a log of my attempts to do so.
Thus, on the subject of 12th house moons...
In astrology the Moon represents our emotional and instinctive self. Where the Moon falls in our chart (by sign, house and aspect) describes something about our primal, innermost self: our hungers, our needs, how and where we seek security.
The 12th house describes the unconscious, the hidden. It is the vastest, and the most mysterious of astrological houses. Trying to see its contents is as useless and as dangerous as trying to discern how deep the ocean by looking at its surface. The only way to experience the 12th house is to sink into it with eyes closed, using intuition and sideways senses and allowing its contents to rise up and meet you, like the distant ancestoral memories we carry unaware most often of the voices which sing in our blood, whisper in our bones.
The 12th house obscures whatever it contains, and its contents are not easily reachable. Attempting to grab a part of us that it's in the 12th is very much similar to fishing - direction and depth are illusory, things slip from our grasps, float to us in their own time, of their own accord.
On the subject of how to spot a 12th house moon, astrologer Alexander von Schlieffen gives a deeply helpful definition; namely that with a 12th house moon person their needs are hidden, elusive, both from themselves and others around them.
I verified the truth of that when I met my husband.
Although his Moon is in the fire sign of Aries (the warrior, the hero; the bearer of courage, arrogance, drive, aggression) and trine a fiery Sun in Sagittarius, its placement in the 12th house obscures everything. While this has its benefits for my rather sensitive nature (he is not aggressive, he doesn't yell) in most aspects it's taken a lot of adjustment (my own Moon is in the 3rd house of ideas and communication, my own needs and emotions are easily verbalisable and plain and obvious to me).
So, here's a list of useless questions to ask a 12th house Moon (unless you are looking for an excuse to work yourself into a froth of frustration):
How do you feel? ("Don't know, can't put it into words.")
What are your needs? (A wide-handed shrug that equates needs to vastness and unquantifiability of the sea; "I don't know")
What do you want? ("I don't know"; "What do you want?")
Can you remember how you felt about that? ("I don't know how to put it into words"; "I cannot find the words to explain how I feel about you either, words are so inadequate, I just feel".)
What are your boundaries? ("I don't know, but when you cross them we'll both know.")
What makes you happy? ("When you're happy.")
In short, a recipe for insanity if you're looking for any kind of a straight answer.
A recipe for suspicion or interest too, if you happen to have a probing Scorpio Moon intrigued by the fact that your normally very keen sense about other people (what makes them tick, where they shine, where they are vulnerable, what they're feeling) is being completely eluded by a 12th house moon person who is ephemeral, keeps slipping away. It takes a different tactic to catch this fish.
You must use patience, and subtlety. Enter its world. Wait with no probing questions, no sudden movements. Move with eyes closed, or using only peripheral vision. Do not startle, do not rush. Gather what information is given and wait for more, wait until the fish swims closer, reveals itself to you. And when the fish comes to you do not frighten it, do not violate its trust by grasping it and hurting it. Respect what you are shown, and honoured with. Swim in its own world, drift with it.
It has taken me three years (and some Pluto transits) to see my husband's naked core, his raw emotions. To be trusted with his secret self. And the experience was all the more special for the waiting.
Over the course of my life so far I have had the privilege to meet many people and learning their charts has been ever so helpful in quieting the voice inside my head which wanted to hit them over the head with mallets. Being able to sit comfortably with difference is a challenge, and one I've nowhere near sussed but the Living With and Loving Posts will be a log of my attempts to do so.
Thus, on the subject of 12th house moons...
In astrology the Moon represents our emotional and instinctive self. Where the Moon falls in our chart (by sign, house and aspect) describes something about our primal, innermost self: our hungers, our needs, how and where we seek security.
The 12th house describes the unconscious, the hidden. It is the vastest, and the most mysterious of astrological houses. Trying to see its contents is as useless and as dangerous as trying to discern how deep the ocean by looking at its surface. The only way to experience the 12th house is to sink into it with eyes closed, using intuition and sideways senses and allowing its contents to rise up and meet you, like the distant ancestoral memories we carry unaware most often of the voices which sing in our blood, whisper in our bones.
The 12th house obscures whatever it contains, and its contents are not easily reachable. Attempting to grab a part of us that it's in the 12th is very much similar to fishing - direction and depth are illusory, things slip from our grasps, float to us in their own time, of their own accord.
On the subject of how to spot a 12th house moon, astrologer Alexander von Schlieffen gives a deeply helpful definition; namely that with a 12th house moon person their needs are hidden, elusive, both from themselves and others around them.
I verified the truth of that when I met my husband.
Although his Moon is in the fire sign of Aries (the warrior, the hero; the bearer of courage, arrogance, drive, aggression) and trine a fiery Sun in Sagittarius, its placement in the 12th house obscures everything. While this has its benefits for my rather sensitive nature (he is not aggressive, he doesn't yell) in most aspects it's taken a lot of adjustment (my own Moon is in the 3rd house of ideas and communication, my own needs and emotions are easily verbalisable and plain and obvious to me).
So, here's a list of useless questions to ask a 12th house Moon (unless you are looking for an excuse to work yourself into a froth of frustration):
How do you feel? ("Don't know, can't put it into words.")
What are your needs? (A wide-handed shrug that equates needs to vastness and unquantifiability of the sea; "I don't know")
What do you want? ("I don't know"; "What do you want?")
Can you remember how you felt about that? ("I don't know how to put it into words"; "I cannot find the words to explain how I feel about you either, words are so inadequate, I just feel".)
What are your boundaries? ("I don't know, but when you cross them we'll both know.")
What makes you happy? ("When you're happy.")
In short, a recipe for insanity if you're looking for any kind of a straight answer.
A recipe for suspicion or interest too, if you happen to have a probing Scorpio Moon intrigued by the fact that your normally very keen sense about other people (what makes them tick, where they shine, where they are vulnerable, what they're feeling) is being completely eluded by a 12th house moon person who is ephemeral, keeps slipping away. It takes a different tactic to catch this fish.
You must use patience, and subtlety. Enter its world. Wait with no probing questions, no sudden movements. Move with eyes closed, or using only peripheral vision. Do not startle, do not rush. Gather what information is given and wait for more, wait until the fish swims closer, reveals itself to you. And when the fish comes to you do not frighten it, do not violate its trust by grasping it and hurting it. Respect what you are shown, and honoured with. Swim in its own world, drift with it.
It has taken me three years (and some Pluto transits) to see my husband's naked core, his raw emotions. To be trusted with his secret self. And the experience was all the more special for the waiting.
Monday 3 December 2007
The good, the bad and the retrograde - how I came to astrology
As part of my World Dominion Plans and leisure time afforded by sweet, sweet maternity leave I hope to spent a lot more time blogging(because the ideas they are always there; I just didn't fare so well on the actual turning-on-computer-when-I-could-be-sleeping-angle).
My first experiences of astrology were uniformly terrible ones. Readings so bad, that if they were not in the so-horrifying-they-are-quite-amusing category I would have banished the entire thing from my memory.
They were extremely useful though, in some respects. Firstly, I'm quite thick skinned and filter opinion with a healthy handful of salt so I didn't feel personally damaged by the readings no matter how often my mind went 'I can't believe you're saying this. Or this. Or that.' Secondly, it was an excellent tutorial in What Not To Do As A Practitioner Unless You Have A Hankering To Lose Clients And Alienate People. Thirdly, it made me take up the study of astrology just to satisfy my inner intuition that the astrologers in question were talking out of their asses.
So, for the purposes of amusement and education here are some extracts from those astrology readings reproduced verbatim.
Astrologer 1:
[upon placing the birth data of the person I was seeing at the time in her ephemeris, cries out in disguist] A Taurus! With a Sagittarius Moon! This is the worst sign and the worst moon placement a person can have. I'll tell you something for free: stay away from Taureans. They are cold hearted psychopaths who would ply you with flowers until they get you into bed and then reject you. Their hearts are made of stone. And as for the Sagittarius Moon... that my dear is the very worst partner placement for you.
She did not mind you extrapolate on why a Saggi Moon was such a bad thing for me to have in a partner. Or contemplate whether there might be a way of actually making a relationship with a Taurus work. Or view as anything but hostile my response that plying people with flowers until they get them into bed might be more of a feature of the Y chromosome than a Taurus Sun. She did however go on to regale me with further gems.
Your will fall in love with an artistic man who lives in a different country from you, an artist or musician of some kind who is a little bit famous. He will be your greatest love. But you won't last and you'll never love anyone the same way again.
Leaving aside the question of what constructive thing comes from giving someone a prediction like that, and that indeed distant loves and pining are not unusual expressions of my Venus-Neptune, I'm still not sure what alchoholic binge she was getting her information from. Happily she was blatantly wrong on all counts, and while my marriage isn't founded on the hopeless romanticism that gave rise to my previous relationships it's certainly in no way diminished by that (in fact, the opposite).
Your natal Mercury is retrograde and your Mercury sextiles Saturn. Unless they are scientific, your writing endavours will all come to naught.
An interesting perspective, and one that would have afforded much mirth to my MSc Supervisor, considering how little he thought of the quality of my written scientific work. In fact as a Mercury in Cancer fiction always came fairly easily to me, as did communication.
Astrologer 2:
Started off consultation with:
I can see from your chart that you are opinionated. Too opinionated. And that you talk too much. In fact you should shut up.
Skimming over all the ironies inherent in that message, it was certainly a novel approach to establishing a connection with a client.
And you're promiscuous. It's all sex sex sex to you. You flirt too much, and choose your lovers badly. You'll never be able to stay faithful to one person. In fact, you kind of have a deceitful nature.
The promiscuity bit came from the fact that I have a Scorpio Moon which was mostly a demonstration of shoddy astrology and the dangers of imposing a personal value system on a zodiac sign. For Scorpios it's less about physical sex and more about intimacy and deep connection. I did find her vision of me as a raging nymphomaniac rather comforting though, considering that at the time of the reading I was single and hadn't had sex with anyone for over a year. And if we interpret 'ability to have perfectly satisfying sex with people without being in a loving, long-term relationship sanctioned by priests' then she was correct and I was a Jezebel. On the other hand if we interpret it as 'having sex without much thought' then she is wrong since Scorpios worth their salt are not only extremely adept at self-control but also choosy about where they invest their energy.
Although my Venus in Gemini was affronted by the idea that there was a thing as 'too much flirting' and aware of the ability to love more than one person at the same time (oh mental sluttery!) I still fortunately didn't feel the need to scrub my thoughts out with soap (no doubt a product of my deceitful nature). And although my single status at that point made my ability to stay faitful or not an interesting academic point, I would have still liked more input into why I choose partners badly and what could be done about it none was forthcoming.
I'm not sure where in my chart it said "Won't sue for libel" but it was pretty much the most accurate interpretation that came out of it.
Part II to follow. If anyone has particular experiences of readings (whether good or bad) which they'd like to share, don't be shy and drop off a comment.
My first experiences of astrology were uniformly terrible ones. Readings so bad, that if they were not in the so-horrifying-they-are-quite-amusing category I would have banished the entire thing from my memory.
They were extremely useful though, in some respects. Firstly, I'm quite thick skinned and filter opinion with a healthy handful of salt so I didn't feel personally damaged by the readings no matter how often my mind went 'I can't believe you're saying this. Or this. Or that.' Secondly, it was an excellent tutorial in What Not To Do As A Practitioner Unless You Have A Hankering To Lose Clients And Alienate People. Thirdly, it made me take up the study of astrology just to satisfy my inner intuition that the astrologers in question were talking out of their asses.
So, for the purposes of amusement and education here are some extracts from those astrology readings reproduced verbatim.
Astrologer 1:
[upon placing the birth data of the person I was seeing at the time in her ephemeris, cries out in disguist] A Taurus! With a Sagittarius Moon! This is the worst sign and the worst moon placement a person can have. I'll tell you something for free: stay away from Taureans. They are cold hearted psychopaths who would ply you with flowers until they get you into bed and then reject you. Their hearts are made of stone. And as for the Sagittarius Moon... that my dear is the very worst partner placement for you.
She did not mind you extrapolate on why a Saggi Moon was such a bad thing for me to have in a partner. Or contemplate whether there might be a way of actually making a relationship with a Taurus work. Or view as anything but hostile my response that plying people with flowers until they get them into bed might be more of a feature of the Y chromosome than a Taurus Sun. She did however go on to regale me with further gems.
Your will fall in love with an artistic man who lives in a different country from you, an artist or musician of some kind who is a little bit famous. He will be your greatest love. But you won't last and you'll never love anyone the same way again.
Leaving aside the question of what constructive thing comes from giving someone a prediction like that, and that indeed distant loves and pining are not unusual expressions of my Venus-Neptune, I'm still not sure what alchoholic binge she was getting her information from. Happily she was blatantly wrong on all counts, and while my marriage isn't founded on the hopeless romanticism that gave rise to my previous relationships it's certainly in no way diminished by that (in fact, the opposite).
Your natal Mercury is retrograde and your Mercury sextiles Saturn. Unless they are scientific, your writing endavours will all come to naught.
An interesting perspective, and one that would have afforded much mirth to my MSc Supervisor, considering how little he thought of the quality of my written scientific work. In fact as a Mercury in Cancer fiction always came fairly easily to me, as did communication.
Astrologer 2:
Started off consultation with:
I can see from your chart that you are opinionated. Too opinionated. And that you talk too much. In fact you should shut up.
Skimming over all the ironies inherent in that message, it was certainly a novel approach to establishing a connection with a client.
And you're promiscuous. It's all sex sex sex to you. You flirt too much, and choose your lovers badly. You'll never be able to stay faithful to one person. In fact, you kind of have a deceitful nature.
The promiscuity bit came from the fact that I have a Scorpio Moon which was mostly a demonstration of shoddy astrology and the dangers of imposing a personal value system on a zodiac sign. For Scorpios it's less about physical sex and more about intimacy and deep connection. I did find her vision of me as a raging nymphomaniac rather comforting though, considering that at the time of the reading I was single and hadn't had sex with anyone for over a year. And if we interpret 'ability to have perfectly satisfying sex with people without being in a loving, long-term relationship sanctioned by priests' then she was correct and I was a Jezebel. On the other hand if we interpret it as 'having sex without much thought' then she is wrong since Scorpios worth their salt are not only extremely adept at self-control but also choosy about where they invest their energy.
Although my Venus in Gemini was affronted by the idea that there was a thing as 'too much flirting' and aware of the ability to love more than one person at the same time (oh mental sluttery!) I still fortunately didn't feel the need to scrub my thoughts out with soap (no doubt a product of my deceitful nature). And although my single status at that point made my ability to stay faitful or not an interesting academic point, I would have still liked more input into why I choose partners badly and what could be done about it none was forthcoming.
I'm not sure where in my chart it said "Won't sue for libel" but it was pretty much the most accurate interpretation that came out of it.
Part II to follow. If anyone has particular experiences of readings (whether good or bad) which they'd like to share, don't be shy and drop off a comment.
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