Scorpio does not have a reputation for being especially happy. “Intense,” yes; “brooding” and “extraordinarily perceptive,” sure. But while the occasional Goldie Hawn or Sally Field can skew the averages, Scorpio is seldom characterized as “perky” or even “upbeat.” The Sun, the ultimate astrological symbol of life force, struggles in Scorpio, a sign that is keenly attuned to mortality.
And yet, one of the most infectiously joyful people I know was born with the Sun in this sign. (She also drew the Moon-conjunct-Saturn card; perhaps in astrology, as in grammar, two negatives create a positive?) While I doubt she’d describe her life as perfect, and she certainly hasn’t enjoyed a uniformly happy past, she is the person who comes to mind when I try to envision what I would call authentic happiness. That is, a kind of happiness that seems grown-up, that seems earned. A Scorpionic kind of happiness. (more…)
One day, driving back from an otherwise uneventful trip to Trader Joe’s, I became so angry at a fellow motorist that I screamed – and it felt so good that I screamed some more. I screamed so enthusiastically that my husband, over in the passenger’s seat, started to get kind of concerned. He later told me that my screaming and anger had made him feel “as though someone was standing on my chest.”
Oh, dear. I know that feeling. I’ve been on the other end plenty of times, watching otherwise rational people rage out of control in a way that makes me fear for their safety and their sanity. I feel that way at family gatherings when talk turns to politics and controversy quickly ensues, and when I don’t click past the cable news shows fast enough while channel-surfing.
It’s worth noting, at this week’s Full Moon in Aries – ruled by Mars, the god of war – that anger has its place in the vast scheme of things. It’s a warning sign that something or someone is being threatened, and acts as a motivator to remove the threat. And in my defense, I will say that although I overreacted, my fellow motorist had jumped his turn at a four-way stop and nearly rammed his SUV into the side of my tiny Toyota. I was, indeed, threatened. Except that I can’t see that anger really helped me in that situation. And in fact, it probably harmed me, stoking up my blood pressure and upsetting my sweetie as well.
My over-the-top reaction to a minor traffic incident got me thinking, and it dawned on me that earlier that morning, I’d had my feelings deeply hurt by someone who I felt hadn’t recognized and appreciated me. I had swallowed those feelings whole, because they embarrassed me; but they were still there, festering, until an inattentive motorist “overlooked” me and triggered my little emotion bomb.
No matter how old we get or how confident we may seem, there’s a vulnerable, newborn Aries baby inside all of us who wants to come first. And when it doesn’t we scream bloody murder, like an infant who hasn’t been fed quickly enough. (more…)
Back when I did a lot of electional astrology work, choosing good wedding dates for couples, everyone wanted the same thing: a Saturday wedding at sunset, preferably in June. It was the rare client indeed who was willing to deviate from this formula (though most were flexible about the month, at least). And I get it: There’s something very romantic about the hours when the Sun, spent from its day’s adventures, begins to float drowsily toward the western horizon like a happy, exhausted child returning home from a day at the beach.
It’s the time of day when the Sun occupies the part of the sky that astrologers characterize as the seventh house, the territory of marriages, legal partnerships, and weirdly enough, open enemies. It’s the house with considerable sympathy for the sign of Libra, in which planets mostly do their work by contrast and collaboration with The Other.
The New Moon this month is in Libra, close to Jupiter, which recently entered Libra for a one-year stay. Astrologers rejoiced when Jupiter left Virgo, figuring that since Jupiter is supposed to be a “lucky” planet and Libra is the sign of relationships, everything would soon be coming up rainbows and unicorns.
Call me cynical, though, or at least contrary. Because anytime someone starts talking about how wonderful a transit is going to be, it makes me itchy. (more…)
The Full Moon/Lunar Eclipse at 24.20 Pisces is on Friday, Sep. 16, 2016 at 12:05 p.m. Pacific Time. See this link to find the timing for your city.
If you’ve ever seen a movie protagonist dramatically subsumed by quicksand, you may be surprised to learn that such a fate is highly unlikely. Usually, even if you should accidentally stumble into one of these wet, sandy pits, you’ll only sink to waist level. That said, if you thrash and struggle to get out, you will be pulled under a bit deeper. And eventually, unable to escape, your greatest peril comes from predators, hypothermia, or dehydration, not from drowning.
It’s not the quicksand that takes you down. It’s the panic.
Most of us wander into metaphorical quicksand from time to time, into situations that overwhelm and incapacitate us. The instinct is to struggle mightily for escape, but that’s the wrong approach. What’s called for instead is a variation on the advice for escaping actual quicksand: Very gently move your legs to increase viscosity, and turn your body slightly so you can gradually float to the top.
Gentle motion, flexibility, and floating: These are your survival tools for this Pisces Full Moon/Lunar Eclipse. Because if there is an astrological equivalent to quicksand, a Pisces eclipse would pretty much have to be it. At times like this, surrender—not struggle—is the key. (more…)
I work at home, almost exclusively by email, phone, or Skype. From the time my husband leaves for work until he returns home in the evening I rarely exchange non-work-related words with anybody, other than a visit with my neighbor or the occasional brief chat with the UPS guy.
Recently, a gregarious friend asked me whether I get lonely working like this, spending whole days alone. “Absolutely not,” was my lightning-fast response. “It’s heaven.”
And it’s the truth. The thing I hated most about my years working in an office was being forced to socialize. I particularly loathed the never-ending office potlucks, baby showers, and retirement parties. I was at work to work, not to stand around eating cake and listening to speeches. (Though heaven knows, I have nothing anything against cake.)
Mind you, I’m not a total hermit. After all, I do have approximately 50,000 planets in Leo, a Sagittarius Ascendant, and a seventh house Moon. But when it comes to pursuing my life’s ambitions, one need look no further than my Virgo Midheaven, straddled by Mars and Pluto, to locate my abhorrence of workplace “team building” exercises. When it comes to work, I’m not a team player. At best, I’m a quiet craftswoman, toiling away in her musty studio with a cat at her feet and the phone off the hook, humming a happy and contended tune. (more…)
Here are some of modern astrology’s contradictory messages about Aquarius, the sign of this Full Moon: Aquarius symbolizes weirdness, iconoclasm, and innovation, but also friendship and membership in groups. So which is it?
Well, I guess it’s both, really. Aquarius signals sensitivity to the collective, whether it’s because you feel an affinity for it or something a bit like horror. And the truth is, humans are social creatures, so this is something that pertains to each of us.
Prowling Facebook early this morning, I spied some photos from a recent reunion of my high school class. Seeing them made me feel vindicated in my decision not to go. To my socially-anxious eyes, the entire scenario—from the windowless hotel banquet room to the manic gaiety of the conga line—resembled some little-known circle of Dante’s Inferno.
There seem to be at least two kinds of people in the world: Those who never miss their high school reunions, and those wouldn’t dream of going to one. I’ll leave you to guess which kind I am. (more…)
September 2016 will bring a Solar Eclipse in Virgo (Sep. 1) and a Lunar Eclipse in Pisces (Sep. 16). Many astrological calendars and websites also list the August 18, 2016 Aquarius Full Moon as a lunar eclipse. When I noticed that this eclipse did not appear in the calculations for my Moonshadow personal eclipse report, I went looking for the reason.
First, I noticed that this eclipse did not appear on NASA’s list of eclipses. It seems that the earth’s shadow just misses touching the Moon; it will not produce a visible eclipse event anywhere on earth. It’s a kind of phantom, “almost-eclipse.” I checked with Astro.com, creators of the Swiss Ephemeris (tables of planetary positions used in many software programs). They told me that they listed the August 18 Full Moon as an eclipse in earlier versions of the ephemeris. They later discovered that this was an error and subsequently removed it. Other ephemerides do include the eclipse, however, and that is most likely why it appears in so many astrology calendars.
So … is it a lunar eclipse?
I may be proven wrong, but I doubt the August 18 Full Moon will really behave like an eclipse, astrologically speaking. It may, however, act as a kind of early warning signal for eclipses near the same point on Feb. 11, 2017 (22.28 Leo) and Aug. 21, 2017 (28.52 Leo). If your birth chart has planets or angles in the last ten degrees of a fixed sign, you will likely find those eclipses bring more change and drama to your life than the August 18 Full Moon.
There is, however, a connection between this Full Moon and a Lunar eclipse in the same series on August 8, 1998; that time period may emerge as relevant at the August 18 Full Moon.
© 2016 April Elliott Kent
Creativity is a quality that most astrologers associate with Leo, the sign of this New Moon, and with its ruler, the Sun. We’re all creative, with a mad desire to connect with a powerful and loving Source. You’ve probably known people who deny that they’re creative at all. But ask them to remember when they lost all track of time because they were doing something they enjoyed. Nearly everyone can come up with something. It might have been something as simple as dead-heading roses, organizing a closet, or playing fantasy football. “But that’s not creative!” we might object, imagining that creative people wear berets and wield paintbrushes.
On the contrary—passionate absorption in anything is the hallmark of creativity. The moment when you’re fully and happily engrossed in some activity, delighting in its nuances and solving its delectable puzzles, you’re engaged in what therapist Phil Stutz calls The Grateful Flow. In his book The Tools, Stutz describes five techniques he uses to help his patients build happier and more fulfilling lives. The Grateful Flow uses gratitude to retrain the mind away from the endless loop of negativity and toward joyful engagement. (more…)
“I’m not here to say please. I’m here to tell you what to do.”
~ Mr. Wolf (Harvey Keitel), Pulp Fiction
Jules and Vincent, professional hitmen, have a mess on their hands. They’ve accidentally shot someone in the backseat of Jules’ car, and they need to get rid of the evidence fast. They retreat to the nearby suburban home of their friend Jimmy, who anticipates the imminent arrival of his volatile wife, Bonnie. With the clock ticking, Jules contacts his boss, who immediately dispatches Mr. Winston Wolf to the scene to manage the situation.
Poised and impeccable in a suit and tie despite the early hour, Mr. Wolf assesses the situation and quickly lays out a course of action: get some towels, clean the car, camouflage the gore with quilts. “Boys, get to work,” he finishes.
“A ‘please’ would be nice,” protests Vincent. Mr. Wolf’s smooth, professional façade turns sharp and bristly. “I’m not here to say please,” he retorts. “I’m here to tell you what to do. If self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better f—ing do it, and do it quick.”
Mr. Wolf could only be a Capricorn. Smooth, civilized, professional – but just beneath the genteel surface is someone even a hitman wouldn’t want to mess with. After all, Mars, the planet of war and knife-play, is exalted in this sign. In restrained, tactical Capricorn, the savage Mars warrior becomes a general, and the butcher, a surgeon. (more…)
Thanks to a generous colleague with an Ancestry.com account, I recently got my hands on a copy of my mother’s birth certificate. For years, I’d used a chart based on her recollection that she was born “just as the men were coming home from the fields for their supper.” Mom was born at home on a backwater farm in the early 1930s, so I’d never searched for her birth records, assuming her time of birth wouldn’t have been recorded. But there it was, crowded next to the doctor’s signature like a precious afterthought. I might actually have squealed when I saw it. (Maybe you have to be an astrologer to understand.)
So I now have a proper birth chart for one of my parents, at least, and I’m having one heck of a good time tearing it apart. Astrological signatures seem to run in families as surely as high arches or a Roman nose, and it’s always good fun to compare the birth charts of parents and their children to see the recurring patterns. Not to mention that each of us were little transits to our parents’ birth charts, and it can be sobering to realize that your natal Mars conjoined your mother’s Moon represents the sweltering August afternoon hours of your agonizing birth. (Sorry about that, Mom. Guess you got back at me with that Saturn/South Node connection.)
How is it that when we think of soulmates, our parents seldom come to mind? Or for that matter, siblings, first cousins, and the grade school nemesis who unfailingly edged us out as the top student in our class? We seem to assume soulmates present themselves only as romantic partners or maybe the rare lifelong friend. That usually disqualifies the people who grounded us or gave us wedgies. (more…)