Pluto: Cycles of Horror


Forgive the frivolity, but perhaps this is less frivolous than we know. For a few years now, I’ve pondered a theory that Pluto’s sojourn in the signs is reflected in society’s horror tropes. This first occurred to me at the time of all those vampire shows and movies, like Twilight and the Vampire Diaries. I can’t say I found any of them particularly engaging, but it resonated with some clarity the thematic principles of Pluto in Libra: love, death, blood, eternal union, all of that Venusian melange, darkened and stripped back by Hadean impulses.


It’s frightening, yes, but not truly terrifying. Venus softens most anything that she comes to influence. The Lost Boys was perhaps the first major cultural foray into this genre. And then there was Buffy. The Venusian theme became gradually more refined. We signed off with Twilight, adored and reviled in equal measure, but there’s no denying the powerful Venus-Pluto subtext there. So there is fear but also desire and dangerous, obsessive love.

And so, next we had Pluto in Scorpio, and the Zombie craze began to shuffle shambolically into our collective consciousness. Double death, Pluto in Scorpio. Even dying won’t release you. These archetypes are not new of course, but Scorpio on Pluto was already highly accessible to those with Pluto in Leo and Sun in Scorpio (and to a lesser extent those with Pluto in Cancer and Moon in Scorpio). While George Romero is popularly credited with being the progenitor of the zombie concept, the first Zombie movie, “White Zombie” starred Bela Lugosi and was released on August 4th 1932, with Mars on the Aries Point at 0 Cancer. Saturn at 0 Aquarius trines the zombie prototype Orcus at 0 Gemini.

Both of these themes are easy to spot, so one is naturally drawn to consider what came before? What is the nightmare vision of Pluto in Virgo, or Leo? These are less distinct, perhaps because the refinement of special effects and horror genres was not as advanced as it is in contemporary culture. I’d posit contagion and epidemiology as the primary Hadean anxiety of the Pluto in Virgo generation. Robin Cook’s novels (such as Outbreak) gave a voice to those lurking terrors. Usually the underpinning protagonist of such scenarios was that of science gone mad. Even Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park (most of his novels in fact) relied heavily on this exact device. As Jeff Goldblum’s character Dr. Ian Malcolm so presciently asked in the movie: “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” So the irresponsible scientist, playing with the fundamental forces of nature and unleashing terror on the world was the Virgoan device.

For Pluto in Leo, the formula is not so clear cut. But in my view, Leo is the most religious of signs, so it might be fair to say that movies such as The Exorcist and The Omen can give us a clue. Leo is concerned with all aspects of worship, and via the Hadean conversion, we are drawn to contemplate no less an archetype than the devil himself!


So, what of today? This struck me right away as a new horror trope emerged over the summer as unmistakably the handiwork of Pluto in Sagittarius. The Killer Clown. It’s no great coincidence that a remake of Stephen King’s ‘It’ is in the pipeline, with Pennywise the Clown as the lurking Hadean terror. The incidence of clowns in the woods is pretty creepy (whether you identify much with Sagittarius or not), and dressing up as a psychotic clown seems to be a hands-on pastime, unlike many of the preceding styles of terrorising folks, maybe that’s because in Jupiter’s domain, it’s just good fun to get involved. Not so much fun for those being chased by deranged clowns though.

My feeling is that the coming Pluto in Capricorn trope will be considerably less colourful. It’s not easy to predict how it will look before it appears, but once it does, it’s safe to say, we’ll recognise it immediately.

It seems that while every generation has its particular specter of doom, we seek out these reflections of our own darkness even as we repress them. But why should this be, really? I’d say that it’s to do with the fact that what scares us, also fascinates us. Fear, anxiety and obsession are all closely linked by the tenets of Pluto. As an example, take a look at this woman who was so terrified of spiders that even having one in her bedroom would reduce her to tears. The best Pluto work can be achieved by facing and overcoming our anxieties after all. And what method of facing our archetypal demons could be safer than watching a horror movie? We get to go to work on our subterranean darkness without ever being in true jeopardy. And, for all the warnings from social commentators about the corruption of youth and the inherent dangers of horror and the macabre, that is probably quite healthy.

Master and Servant: Rulership Theory


With respect to the Saturn – Pluto conjunction Zack asks:

Do you feel the same dynamic is in effect for those with Saturn in Scorpio (ie, a Saturn ‘underwritten’ by Pluto)? The unconscious demanding of respect and resulting anxiety when that is not easily or immediately granted?
With Pluto in Scorpio as sole dispositor of my chart, life itself can feel like it’s run by unconscious anxiety. The only way out seems to be to continually let go, when Pluto wants to grip. Hardly a moment’s rest…

It’s worth getting to grips with rulerships. Astrology starts to make a lot more sense when you can begin to pick apart the avenues of causality that exist within our charts, and rulerships give you this exact perspective.

Except in the case of mutual reception, rulerships are a one way street. This means that in the example cited, with Saturn in Scorpio and (I’m guessing) Pluto in Libra or Scorpio – or indeed, Pluto anywhere except in Capricorn, the rulership means that Saturn is working for Pluto. Pluto in the chart is happy to get the help he needs to fulfil his duties and obligations. If Pluto is in Scorpio, then the buck stops there, but if Pluto resides in Libra, then Pluto is in turn working for the objectives and ambitions of the Venus placement.

Let’s say that you have Pluto in Libra in the 10th, and Saturn in Scorpio in the 11th. This would denote a situation whereby your friendships with older, more experienced and respected individuals would assist you in pursuing your career goals and enhance your reputation. You’d probably be quite anxious about getting ahead in your work, and maybe even manipulative about getting recognised for your focus and drive in your career. This career respect that you enjoy, would in turn likely serve as a means of enhancing your appeal to the opposite sex, making you a better marriage prospect and allowing you to enjoy the finer things in life (you see, because Pluto is in turn working for Venus).

In this way, a planet’s placement is explained by its ruler. If you have Mars in Libra in the 4th house then there will likely be considerable difficulties around fostering independence in the early years. Assertiveness doesn’t come easily. The approval of others is often a condition for independence. Getting one’s way is a struggle because you learned in the childhood home that compromise was required. Now let’s say that Venus is in Capricorn in the 7th house, we probably see that the parents’ marriage was difficult, money was likely not plentiful; the model for marriage is weighed down by Saturn’s concerns. Love and marriage are hard work, although – depending on aspects and other factors – not necessarily a lost cause, because we learn that in love at least, hard work pays dividends. By following these connections we can tease out the story and understand the life lessons.

To return to the original question though, Whilst the effect of rulership is far from the principle of conjunction, Saturn does still have Pluto’s concerns at heart. So if you like, Saturn is working to alleviate Pluto’s natural inclination to anxiety. Pluto’s anxiety – if in Libra – is going to be centred upon approval. Anyone with Pluto in Libra usually takes rejection pretty hard, especially in romantic scenarios. The same is true of course for anyone with a Venus – Pluto connection, but Pluto is not taking on the struggles of the planets he rules. In this scenario Pluto has anxiety about being liked, not respected. Of course the difference can be subtle! Since approval, lovableness and respect are such closely allied concepts.

There are interesting and curious subcategories. The mutual reception is just that, a mutual support of one another’s interests, like the best of marriages. There can also be a detrimental reception. Consider any of the classic detrimented receptions:

  • Sun in Aquarius and Uranus in Leo
  • Moon in Capricorn and Saturn in Cancer
  • Mercury in Sagittarius and Jupiter in Gemini
  • Mercury in Pisces and Neptune in Virgo
  • Venus in Aries and Mars in Libra
  • Venus in Scorpio and Pluto in Taurus

In these configurations there is a mutual insecurity. The Moon in Capricorn struggles to relax and takes criticism hard. She looks to support from Saturn in Cancer who has little stomach for hardship and just wants things to be easier. That’s not really the kind of support she needs. But this still improves the original placements somewhat, provided the native can overcome the difficulties inherent in the placements.

Even without reception, you can understand how Venus working for Mars’ interests is going to be tricky. Mars is running the show and Venus is like a delicate maiden running with the neighbourhood toughs. She’s going to be suffering before too long.

When you have a final dispositor, as in Zack’s case, then everything is working, ultimately, for that sole objective. It’s like a long line of employees, each working for their own manager, but ultimately, their smaller objectives only make sense in the context of the big boss sitting at the top of the building.

So if Pluto is a final dispositor then you really have a task to work on that Pluto, if for no other reason than the fact that until you do, your entire chart is working to manage Plutonic anxiety. If you can perform the spiritually neat trick of a Plutonic conversion, then all that energy gets refocused into easier, and ultimately beneficial channels.

But bear in mind, converting your Pluto (a kind of metaphorical uranium enriching programme) is made easier or harder depending on how big your Pluto is. It’s an easier road if your Pluto is in Virgo or Scorpio than in Leo or Libra. Like a lot.

Pluto and Me: the Two Great Invisibles


Today I want to discuss a couple of invisibles. Each has bearing upon the other and they’re inseparable.

First of all, there’s the great blind spot of human (un)consciousness: subjectivity. This is almost impossible to fathom, not least because its frequency is considerably higher than reason. It’s the great conundrum of science and the reasoning mindset that it cannot attune to states of being that are in excess of itself. So science cannot get to grips with love – whether personal or altruistic – except to say something banal and senseless about chemical activity in the brain. The only evidence that can be made in support of love is anecdotal; circumstantial even. The reasoning mind cannot say anything insightful about it at all. Philosophers and great thinkers throughout time have attempted to tackle these thorny subjects. Unfortunately, when Descartes concluded that ‘I think therefore I am’ he committed an act of genocide on higher states of consciousness for all future generations. Consciousness was a done deal; and for every person born since, operating at a sufficiently low frequency (that of reason or below: 99% of all earth’s denizens therefore) there was no need to think any more about it. Hence many of us find ourselves in this strange world that denies our entire experience of life while at the same time it fails to explain it. We are then condemned to spend our lives acting ‘normal’. (And acting normal is, like anything else, easier the more you do it; so that’s okay.)

But subjectivity is a vast fact of human life that due to its intrinsic quality, is invisible to ourselves. Sometimes it’s more visible to others, usually when their frequency (I’m sorry to use that word, it’s very new-age and I don’t like it, but it’s close enough that it’s useful) is higher than ours. And that person probably feels a little compassion when they see it, or maybe they know to cross the road when they see it. (In the opposite direction of course, the person with low consciousness sees high consciousness concerns as ridiculous, stupid.)

But whatever your level of consciousness, subjectivity is a blind spot. Unless you’re a great enlightened one that is. Maybe if we could get into the inner workings of subjectivity we could get around it somehow; nullify it, or at least ameliorate its worst effects, but even understanding it is nigh on impossible because it gets into the great mystery of the human condition, and such explorations have defeated the greatest minds in human history. The ones that weren’t astrologers at least.

Astrology gives us a glimpse into the secret heart of our own subjectivity. In fact, as we all know – those of us who haven’t reasoned the study of the stars into nonsense that is, (in pretty much every case forgoing actual study of course) – astrology can be a weapon if wielded by a clumsy hand. It’s possible to lay bare the unconscious soul to the shock and detriment of the consciousness within. We have all of us, in our serious study, been subject to painful revelation, that with unerring accuracy lays bare our raw and unhappy weakness. Our ‘fatal flaw’. This kind of subjectivity is one that we become increasingly aware and respectful of, as we study the workings of our own incarnation and struggle to become acquainted with our true selves. It brings us to greater and lesser certainty. We are more grounded. We are less pushy. We understand that opinion is our own via dolorosa, and we try to forge a new path. We grow in this way, and become acquainted with who we are.

The alternative is difficult, but as roads go, it’s positively thronged. The countless multitude asleep to their astrology, and blind to themselves. The great map of (un)consciousness that is the nativity remains unexplored. Each well-worn aspect remains to one extent or another, something between a preference and a compulsion. Always unquestioned. It’s difficult to explain this too, because it’s so very fundamental and intrinsic and innate. For most people it’s as invisible as breathing. We rarely get the inclination to relate to our respiration. The same is true of our astrology, our preference or compulsion. Perhaps, like breathing, we only get very focused on it when we’re drowning. In adversity we are introduced to ourselves after all.

Perhaps an example will help.

Take the case of the greatest and most difficult of all compulsions / preferences. The Saturn Pluto conjunction. Here we introduce the second great invisible: Pluto. To see how this operates, understand that we’re usually quite conscious of aspects to the Sun because they represent our ideal way of being. We get a hit from them. People who embody them become our role models. But Pluto works the other way; they represent our most repressed way of being. We get a sense of anxiety from them. People who embody them become our enfants terrible. So when Pluto combines with another planet, he hides that planet’s influence from ourselves. He makes that paradigm into a blind spot. And since, aside from Pluto and his Hadean counterparts (Orcus, Ixion) there’s no more inflexible, tricky energy to work with than Saturn, the combination is especially challenging. Furthermore, because there’s no aspect that even comes close to the conjunction in terms of strength and reach, it’s little wonder that Saturn conjunct Pluto has always been known as old ‘hard labour’ by those in the know.

But what is ‘hard labour’ when it’s in our blind spot? It’s not hard for us because we don’t see it. In fact, it’s simply unquestioned. It has several manifestations of course, but usually, and most apparently it comes across as judgement. For anyone born in the early part of 1947, ( but to a lesser extent from late 46 to late 47, in Leo) or the later part of 1982 ( and again less intensely from early 1981 to early 83, in Libra), this is their great life challenge.

I grew up in close proximity to some of these energies, so I’ve always found them challenging. And I grew up too carrying the antithetic superpower of Uranus conjunct Pluto in Virgo, so Saturn-Pluto has always been my kryptonite – and vice versa of course. But that awareness has grown into a fine sensitivity. I can spot 1947 a mile off. I have to say, I’m getting to be able to spot 1982 from at least half a mile now that they’ve gone through their first Saturn return too. It’s a really tricky energy. I’m not going to judge it, God forbid, it is what it is. But I do reserve the right to cross the road when I see it coming. Which isn’t to say that it cannot be wonderful. Indeed, 1947 is usually a very strong character and you can think them very fine – provided you’re on the right side of them!

But what happens with Saturn – Pluto is that it judges. It doesn’t start that way, but it usually takes a position which it considers to be inviolate. It can take many forms but (unsurprisingly) it’s a Saturn position. So it’s always, in some sense of the word, status orientated, usually that’s coloured by its sign and house position and the influence of other aspects. In Leo, a proud, theatrical and highly religious sign (yes, few signs are as religious as Leo) it might take a position as high status in the arts. It might get onto the high ground through church membership. It might get up onto the stage and put on a show. It might take a leadership position. It’s important to remember that astrology is expressed through consciousness; so if the consciousness is low, you’re likely to have a religious zealot, looking down their nose at morally inferior types. Or a great artist whose rarefied talents set them above the plebeians. Or a self-proclaimed leader, blithely taking charge of those better qualified and more experienced.

In Libra, there is usually a tendency toward intellectual judgement. At worst, other people are deluded ‘idiots’ who clearly have no clue about how the world works. They’re muddle headed, fatuous and weak minded. The competitiveness of Libra in the air element (that repressed Arien polarity) is always a strong feature of the Libra typology.

If the consciousness is high then things are less likely to be catastrophic, but in some area of life, the Saturn – Pluto conjunction always makes hard work to one extent or another, and that hardship is always self-inflicted.

Why should this be? The problem is that the tendency to judgement is so innate that it’s intrinsically unquestionable. To the bearer of this particular cross it’s as obvious as the sun in the sky, so how can it be anything other than correct? What the aspect fails to appreciate is that the worldview it has created is not the result of inviolate natural laws. Their platform of judgement is not infallible. Indeed, they were simply born with a burgeoning need to judge, but cannot see it as anything other than common sense so they do not even realise they are sitting in judgement.

Underneath the tendency to judgement lies a huge and compulsive insecurity. Remember that Pluto imbues any point it touches with anxiety. So if Pluto relates to Saturn in Leo, then the great fear is that the person is not loved (in Leo) and more broadly not respected. Saturn is a harsh critic at the best of times after all, but when he is hidden from oneself, there is a great unconscious reaction. And the major problem here is that this high level of respect is unconsciously craved, demanded even, without – very often – having been earned. The interpersonal feedback that Saturn – Pluto gets causes a short circuit. They get treated just like anybody else, not necessarily disrespected, but certainly not with the automatic deference the aspect secretly craves. So the ego goes into overdrive building a platform from which to be superior. Then, because for reason x.y or z they are in fact superior to most everyone, they can meet such indifference with the cool repose, or even contempt, it deserves.

This of course is just one example, and a bad case in prospect. The pity of this collusion between subjectivity and Plutonic compulsion is that it becomes impossible to forge the authentic self in the context of such mindlessness. And while we have focused here on the sole example of the Saturn – Pluto conjunction, the same principle operates in the presence of any contact between these planets, since as we know: all aspects are squares!

Furthermore, the two great invisibles have this effect on any planet that is contacted by Pluto. With Venus it is the need to be approved of that becomes invisible. With the Sun, the need to be admired. Coming to awareness of these hidden anxieties is painful and difficult. Some people will go to great lengths to avoid waking up to them. In such short term blissful ignorance lies long-term tragedy. Imagine living a whole life having done no work! And yet that is what the majority of us do, in order to preserve our dearest and most cherished compulsions.

More soon.

A Change of Perspective


With the inconjunct and semi-sextile, you have aspects that are vaguely out of tune with one another. Planets that are 150° apart are awkward, and whilst the aspect creates a desire for connection, there is an discomfort, and a vague clumsiness surrounding the association. They’re like strangers thrown together on a blind date, both hoping it will work out, but a little anxious and uneasy with the process. The semi-sextile is a little easier, it’s a superficially harmonious aspect that still suffers from some awkwardness because in both cases, these measures of astrological association don’t have much in common. Planets in these aspects are inherently self-conscious.

This ought to be self-evident, and I’m writing today about awkward sign combinations not because I want to explore the dynamics of basic aspectual complexes, but rather I want to explore a phenomenon that is relatively unaddressed in astrology, but which is of almost critical importance in understanding the arc of human life, and the subjective experience of ‘beingness.’ Sounds pretty dramatic, right? Well, it is, and it affects every person in profound ways, and indeed, it is the cause of much difficulty in life, so it deserves considerably more attention in the astrological press than it currently receives.

What I’m referring to is the phenomenon of progressed sign change. This is the principle whereby every planet moves on the day for a year system, and gradually moves through the extremes of its birth placement until it finds itself in new territory. It is my firm belief that this shift of core astrological principle is rather profound and has undoubtedly far-reaching consequences. This shift is also entirely under-emphasised in the contemplation of inner drives and motivations, and an exploration of these ‘shifts’ is essential to the good understanding of oneself, and of one’s study subjects.

The most easily accessed of all sign-shifts is that of the Sun. And because the progressed system operates on a day for a year ratio, it’s also the easiest to gauge, since you can assume that your progressed Sun moves about a degree every year. That’s not 100% reliable because the earth’s transit about the Sun isn’t perfectly circular, it is vaguely elliptical, so the progressed Sun may move fractionally faster or slower than the mean, but even so, a degree for a year is a good rule of thumb. So if you’re born on July 1st and you’re 30 years old, you can rely on the estimation that your progressed Sun will be in the region of 10° Leo.

Which means that at around the age of 20, (give or take a year or two), your Sun began to shift from a lunar-focused paradigm, to an entirely solar outlook. The implications are many and diverse. Not least because the Sun gains enormous power at age 20, but also because one’s entire way of being undergoes a radical change of focus. If the Cancer Sun is ruled by a second house Moon, then sentimentality around items from one’s past are incorporated into one’s identity. There is material connection to the past, both personal and historical. Security is found in the tangible, and you portray that worldview in your self-expression, such that you might become known for what you own, or what you value. And then at age 20, that changes. The shift of emphasis begins tentatively and slowly at around the age of 17, and ramps up exponentially until you find that you are somehow inwardly ‘replaced’ with new priorities, and it becomes like the shedding of a skin, or the post-larval emergence. You might feel bewildered by your former views and values and there is a period of adjustment. Fortunately, as the Sun moves gradually into the final degrees of the preceding sign, this process does occur by shades, and your consciousness is shaped gently until it is ready to emerge into the new paradigm, but it is this very gentleness which masks the often profound measure of the inner change.

And this in part is the reason why it is so interesting to contemplate the awkwardness of adjacent signs. A soul born into a Cancerian solar consciousness has to undergo a near incongruous change of perspective to accommodate an all-new Leonine identity. And when you contemplate this principle, it is easy to appreciate that there is no sign-change which is straightforward, since all adjacent signs are inherently contradictory.

The move from insular, private Cancer to attention seeking Leo is self-evidently discordant, but every shift contains these same vague antagonisms. Think of the shift from Jupiter ruled Sagittarius, to Saturn ruled Capricorn for example. Or from Mars ruled Aries, to Venus ruled Taurus. The movement is usually inherently revolutionary.

And as an addendum to these principles we should not lose sight of the fact that even after the shift, your essential nature still describes your ‘baseline’ of personal expression. A Cancerian will never abandon his or her lunar nature entirely in favour of the new exciting Leo dynamic. Rather it is incorporated into the totality of one’s personality, adding a new dimension to one’s individual nature. It is as though the lunar way alone is fully explored, it has run its course and something extra is desired. So the new Leonine ingredient is added to create a more serviceable (to oneself) melange.

The Moon moves relatively quickly, and every two and a half years there is similar shift of emphasis in the inner life that is usually quite simple to accommodate and discern: the Moon is by nature tidal, plastic, osmotic. The Sun, Mercury and Venus all follow a generally similar annual pattern, and so their progressed cycles are often analogous in terms of duration, although the action of retrogrades complicates their effects. As we move further out, the progression of planetary cycles becomes ever more ponderous and shifts are rare. But you can be sure they are quite profound when they do occur. Think how much weight Saturn will accrue when shifting from Sagittarius to Capricorn.

But these changes are often accrued gradually enough that they are not entirely noticeable, even if – with hindsight – it is possible to appreciate how fundamentally a person (yourself, someone else) has changed over a span of years. What is more drastic, and often shocking is the progressed retrogradation of an outer planet moving through the beginning degree of a sign and falling back into the preceding sign.

MLKThis is especially true for those born with Pluto retrograde in the early degrees of Libra, where Pluto is supremely potent. The subsequent shift into Virgo equates to an almost complete loss of Hadean force, virtually overnight. Technically there is some small overlap, but the first degree of a sign is so self-contained that very little of the preceding sign’s energy can infect it. This is certainly not true for the final degree of the sign, whose power is waning fast (both reasons why these are ‘critical degrees’). And since astrology does not operate in a vacuum, there is usually some corresponding loss of power (or a paradigm shift in the sense of personal control at least), to accompany the event.

Consider the Bee Gees. That’s not a joke, but Andy Gibb, died aged 30 – of a heart problem, as Pluto retrograded to within 5 minutes of the sign boundary with heart-centred Leo. The enormous and relatively sudden increase in Plutonic force could not be processed by his soul in a timely fashion, so that energy found its way out through the body, as any overwhelming Hadean energy is wont to do eventually, if not catharsised in some way. Or consider Martin Luther King who became a martyr just as Neptune retrograded out of Virgo (where Neptune struggles immensely) and into Leo (where Neptune is astonishingly strong). And furthermore, King delivered his seminal “I have a dream” speech within 6 weeks of the sign change. But while these cases are dramatic, and far from the norm, nonetheless, the shift of sign by progression cannot be underestimated. It will in every case have powerful effects upon the inner life, and almost certainly have some influence on behaviour and motivation, thus affecting the outer life also.

Orcus in Leo and the 5th house – a beginning


Here, among other effects, Orcus complicates issues of identity and creativity. Rudyard Kipling, with Orcus conjunct Sun in Capricorn and the 5th house, squaring Neptune, was perplexed by who he was, where he came from, and what he would become, from the age of 7 and on. It became an obsession to him after he was sent away to England for schooling, leaving his parents behind in India. The woman of the boarding house was a merciless bully who determined that the young Rudyard be “made to read without explanation, under the usual fear of punishment. And on a day that I remember it came to me that ‘reading’ was not ‘the Cat lay on the Mat,’ but a means to everything that would make me happy. So I read all that came within my reach. As soon as my pleasure in this was known, deprivation from reading was added to my punishments.” The simple enjoyment of reading (5th) became a means of punishment (Orcus). For Thomas Hardy, who shared this placement, demonstrating his erudition in his novels became something of an obsession for a man who was not considered to be of the right class to require a university place. Mary Shelley, another famous writer with Orcus in the 5th wrote of Frankenstein’s monster, a true rendering of Orcus if ever one existed in all literature. But these examples aside, Orcus in the 5th is not an easy placement for this uncompromising entity. The all-or-nothing nature of Orcus creates great artists and writers for sure (Leo Tolstoy, Henri Matisse and Vincent van Gogh all share Orcus in the 5th), but that obsession with self-expression and too, with leadership can become a great burden to those whose motives are at all egotistical.

Ted Kennedy, Barack Obama, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman all share Orcus in the 5th. There is this difficult potential that an obsession with being in the spotlight, taking the king role is in the DNA somehow, but with sufficient deepening and authenticity, it is possible for this placement to come good. Leo and the 5th are not the easiest places for solitary Orcus to operate, Orcus transformed needs no audience after all.

The Astrology of the Mayan End Date


Much has been written about the astrology of the Mayan end-date tomorrow, with particular reference being made to the Yod formed from a Saturn Pluto sextile to Jupiter, retrograde in Gemini. For me, this Yod holds no especial promise. Indeed, it has some intimation of a fixation with communicating a glib set of values to mask an authoritarian agenda. I do not believe that the chart of the heavens for the solstice here on earth has much to do with the Mayan calendar and its implications.

Since the Mayans worked with a cosmic perspective, it might make more sense to look at the heliocentric chart for the Solstice. At the point where the Sun crosses into Capricorn, from the Sun’s perspective, the Earth crosses the opposite point into Cancer.

The helio chart for the solstice has much more power and spiritual potential than the geocentric map. In this chart there is a Grand Water trine, signifying the potential for emotional abundance, and deep connection to the feeling realm. Since this is very much a birth chart for the new Golden Age, then its portents are nothing short of excellent, at least for those able to respond to them appropriately.

Venus is closely conjunct Saturn in Scorpio which tells us something about deep inner balancing and responsibility of relating. The trine to Neptune spiritualises, and the trine to Earth grounds these energies into our reality for the coming period.

When we dig a little deeper we see that Orcus opposes Neptune and makes a Kite from this configuration. This tells us that our emotional security is won at the behest of experiencing the undermining and disingenuous illusions of those who seek to control, rather than to share. In a way therefore, this gives us a line of interconnection with the geocentric chart.

In fact, dear friends, if you are aware of these subtleties of connection, you will see that the geocentric chart and the heliocentric chart reflect their implicit natures through this bridge. My friend Michael Erlewine has a better grasp of these matters than I do, but he will tell you that these two charts are a synergy between the ego and the spirit. They are not a duality, but they represent different, and at the same time, interlocking objectives for the human soul. Your choice at this time, and this is the same for all humans alive today, is whether you are going with the ego or the spirit. Of course to choose one or the other is not truly possible – we cannot choose wealth or poverty after all, but you must set your intention to one or be condemned to drift within the consciousness of your field and of those around you.

Are you going to be represented by the Yod to glib, superficial Jupiter, seeking to mask compulsive control agendas under a barrage of rhetoric and expedience? Or are you going to open your eyes to the illusion of our world today, of your own certainty and make the commitment to love, truth and absolute, unwavering spiritual integrity?

Whatever you decide, I wish you happiness.