… until you learn to listen for them, and then it’s more like a shout.
We’ve were visited last week by Australian astrologer Lynda Hill, the Queen of Sabian Symbols. For the uninitiated, Sabian Symbols are a set of 360 word pictures – one for each degree of the zodiac – given to astrologer Marc Edmund Jones through spiritualist medium Elsie Wheeler. Wheeler channeled the symbols in an epic 8-hour session conducted here in San Diego’s Balboa Park in 1925; Jones transcribed the symbols and later published them in his book The Sabian Symbols in Astrology. Dane Rudhyar also included the symbols in his book The Astrology of Personality.
Lynda Hill is astrology’s foremost champion of both the symbols and Elsie Wheeler, and she is passionate about researching Wheeler’s life and honoring her contribution to the Sabian Symbols legacy. If you’ve ever had any interest in them, you can imagine what a treat it’s been to have astrology’s premier Sabian Symbols expert hanging out at my dining table. Lynda eats, drinks, and breathes the symbols, and her passion for them is contagious.
Last night Lynda gave a lecture about Elsie and the symbols for the San Diego Astrological Society, and in her introduction VP Deborah Parker said that after hearing Lynda speak for another group on Wednesday, Deborah spent the night “dreaming of sabian symbols.” I wonder if I did the same thing last night, because this morning I woke up to a rather lovely realization about the Sabian Symbol for my natal Sun, 14 degrees Leo: “Cherub-like, a human soul whispers, seeking to manifest.”
Is it any wonder that in 1988 (with absolutely no knowledge of the Sabian Symbols) I fell hopelessly in love with a German film called Wings of Desire, the story of two angels in modern-day Berlin?
Although Damiel and Cassiel are pure observers, invisible to all but children, and incapable of any physical interaction with our world, one of the angels, Damiel, begins to fall in love with a circus trapeze artist named Marion…Eventually, Damiel too longs for physicality, and to become human.
One of the film’s more effective techniques is the low buzz of whispers that accompany the angels as they move through the city, listening to the thoughts of everyday humans. Eventually, as Damiel tires of his role as a dispassionate observer of humans, the whispers become louder and louder, until he must cover his ears to get a rest. (I can relate; as anyone who knows me can testify, I’m freakishly sensitive to noise.)
It’s hard to overemphasize the impact this lyrical, poetic film had on me. I saw it numerous times in the theater, bought it on VHS the minute I could find it for a reasonable price, and finally, some years ago, tracked down a print of the original promotional poster, which now hangs in my office. More importantly, I’ve used themes from the movie, again and again, as metaphors to illustrate various astrological placements.
It’s a lovely, critically acclaimed film, but I’ve seen plenty of those without becoming semi-obsessed with them. To call Wings of Desire “my favorite movie” is woefully inadequate; it’s become part of my personal mythology. Now, with the help of the Sabian Symbols, I understand why. It’s my personal story, and that of all the listeners born with the Sun at 14 degrees Leo. We’re the world’s observers, bearing witness to the world’s worries, hopes, fears, and dreams; who long to fully inhabit our own humanity and to make our own voices heard.
The world speaks to us in symbols, if we will only listen.
