Become an Astrologer…
…the April Elliott Kent Way!
- First, plan to become a writer. If you’ve got a Gemini Moon and Mercury making all kinds of great aspects, it’s pretty much your destiny. Do not fight it.
- Then, spend about twenty years as a musician instead. Especially if you have a nice Venus/Neptune trine.
- As a morose pre-teen, pick up Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs and develop a taste for astrology. Vow to one day become an astrologer, even if you have absolutely no idea what that means. Spend a lot of time hanging out in the metaphysical section of your local bookstore, reading astrology books you can neither afford nor understand.
- If your mother is concerned about your impractical career objectives and prods you into high school secretarial courses, go with it, and kick typing and Gregg shorthand’s respective asses. If you have a Virgo Midheaven, proceed to spend nine years as a mediocre, yet ambitious and confident executive secretary to one of the chief officers of a major water utility.
- (If Mars and Pluto are close to the Midheaven, you will soon find that you cannot long flourish in a job that involves quite so much servility.)
- Befriend a kindly co-worker who will one day casually mention that he’s going to see his astrologer after work. Seek out the aforementioned astrologer and study with her.
- A couple of years later, leave your lucrative but tooth-numbingly dull job to become full-time, professional astrologer – thus fulfilling the destiny of Uranus conjoined your North Node.
- Spend 80% of your time as an astrologer writing. Behold: the circle of life!
Big Sky Astrology
It’s impossible to imagine what my career as an astrologer would look like if I hadn’t had access to the internet. Opportunities to publish astrology writing (other than horoscopes) in print media were scarce when I was starting out. So when the world wide life raft drifted by, I leaped aboard with enthusiasm.
When I began my astrology business years before, I had christened it “Gemini Moon.” That was fine for a business that focused on newsletters, teaching, and local clients. But somehow, a website begged for a larger, more Sagittarian name. In its first year, the site was simply called “The Big Sky” – a name that appealed to me because of the inclusivity it implied. (When it came time to get serious and register a domain name, in 2000 – see chart, right – I added “astrology” to the name.)
Now, this will be hard to comprehend for a generation of astrologers who cut their teeth on the internet, but in the dark, Paleolithic ages of the early 1990s, it was a lot more difficult to connect with fellow astrologers. Plus, as was ever thus and is still, my generation was trying to carve out a place amongst the deeply entrenched “old guard” of astrology, many of whom yielded no quarter.
Why, I wondered, did the business of astrology have to be so proprietary, so lacking in generosity? “It’s a big sky,” I often mused. “Surely there’s room for everyone.” And that’s been the underlying ethos of Big Sky Astrology. That each of us has a story to tell – a unique contribution only we can make to astrology, and to the world.