“Tom and myself rode down this hill in a ropey old 1950′s Leyland bus, typical of the Maltese bus fleet, but driven by the stunt driver for the bus scenes in ‘Speed’ where the bomb would go off if they slowed to less than [...]]]> The photographer’s description of this image is as striking as the picture itself:

“Tom and myself rode down this hill in a ropey old 1950′s Leyland bus, typical of the Maltese bus fleet, but driven by the stunt driver for the bus scenes in ‘Speed’ where the bomb would go off if they slowed to less than 40mph! We were on high seats opposite the exit door and had to grip on whilst centripetal force took us and the bus closer to the outside wall. Tyres squealed on the hot tarmac and we were saved by some old dear in black who didn’t seem to need to hang on and dinged the bell as calmly as you like for the driver to stop and let her off.” (Source)

Life feels like this, sometimes, for each of us. Yet some people are more prone than others to careening through the days, whipped back and forth by forces they feel they can’t control. They complain of other people’s actions and influences on their lives: “He made me feel bad,” “She won’t let me go,” “They really have me tied down.”

In traditional psychology, this innate sense of where control lies in one’s life is referred to as the locus of control. In astrology — namely in Huber astrology — we can determine where a chart native’s locus of control lies in different areas of life by examining the dynamic calculations: a series of negative and positive numbers whose values reflect the strength of various mode and element combinations within the chart, based on planet, sign and house placements.

For example, someone with dynamic calculations of +33 mutable and +14 earth will end up with a “build-up” of +47 in Virgo energy (Virgo being the mutable earth sign). This means, in a nutshell, that the person tends to assume that Virgo-type control over life exists externally, out in the world, not within her own domain. So though she may have several planets in Virgo, she may feel their obligation, responsibility and critical analysis being imposed on her from others rather than from within herself.

Similarly, someone with dynamic calculations of -18 fixed and +10 water will end up with a “cut-down” of -8 in Scorpio (fixed water) energy. The person’s sense of emotional depth, intensity and control will lie more within himself than without; he is more likely to acknowledge that his strong feelings are generated internally rather than to blame someone else, or some external circumstance, for them.

This basic knowledge of dynamic calculations, alongside the psychological concept of locus of control, can be enormously helpful for clients who feel they are careening down a mountainside in a runaway bus with a crazy driver and a bomb on board. The astrologer may be the wise woman in black, calmly ringing the bell, telling the client it’s okay to get off, to see what it’s like to descend calmly and quietly on his own two feet.

Image: Harry Willis

In ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome, the frog [...]]]> Ask a friend to name an animal commonly depicted in literature, myth and culture, and the answer isn’t likely to be “frog.” But from the ancient Egyptian goddess Heket to The Frog Prince to Michigan J. Frog, the croaking amphibians have populated the cultural imagination for thousands of years.

In ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome, the frog was associated with fertility, probably in part because the animals appeared in droves following the annual flooding of the Nile, whose silt deposits fertilized the Egyptian soil. In Asia, frogs are harbingers of fortune and luck, as they are in Scotland: “Households often keep stone frogs in their gardens and they are often given as house warming presents.” (Source) And in the Celtic Druidic tradition:

[The frog] unites the elements of water and earth, bringing joy, delight and healing in its singing and hopping … The frog possesses an extremely sensitive skin, considered magical by shamans. A companion of the rain spirits, the frog can help you develop sensitivity to others, to healing and to sound through your skin and your whole body and aura. (Source)

This symbolic sensitivity actually shows up on a scientific level as frogs are a documented sentinel, or indicator, species. In recent years, deformities in frogs have been noted as an early indicator of chemical farm pollution impacting local ecosystems. (Source) As well, in nature, frogs occupy the space between water and land, much as Heket represents the final stages of childbirth, when the baby emerges from the amniotic fluid to come live on the drier earth.

The composition of the photo above (wittingly? unwittingly?) reveals this sensitive in-the-margins space that frogs occupy both in the scientific research and in the cultural imagination: The stone sculpture of the frog sits at the shoreline between foliage and bark, and its skin is painted both red and blue, as if it could flux back and forth between two innate ways of being. (In Huber astrology, different colors represent different energies: red squares and oppositions are active; blue sextiles and trines are restful.)

The astrological archetype that first jumps to mind when I think about these characteristics of the frog is Mercury: it is light, flexible, sensitive, magical; it traverses the margins between defined worlds. But Mercury is a bit “drier” than a frog, airier and more detached than water and earth would suggest. So I want to say the frog, perhaps, is Mercury in a water sign (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) or, under the right conditions, in an earth sign (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn). Or perhaps it is Mercury coupled with Virgo or the Moon or maybe even Jupiter: a planet that brings it a waterier, earthier sensibility, that deepens its sensitivity in an intuitive and sensual way.

There is one more element in the photo above that deserves comment: the paint is peeling. The frog is obviously old and may be neglected or forgotten (or, on the other hand, intentionally left to the weather). Whatever the case, there is a whisper of Saturn here, of the slow decay that comes with time. In our culture, we tend to turn away from such things.

But the photo instead shows how, over time, the bravely sensitive — and patient — person exposes what is underneath, makes raw and available what is inside, perhaps to help others, perhaps to move closer authenticity, perhaps to become more fertile with the deepening of each passing year.

Photo: lisa_eglinton

Sometime during the evening, our thoughts turned to telekinetics — [...]]]> The other night my husband and I were discussing psychic phenomena and related curiosities with a skeptic friend. I enjoy these kinds of discussions very much because they force me to do some challenging mental acrobatics, to grapple with important concepts like doubt and proof and faith.

Sometime during the evening, our thoughts turned to telekinetics — spoon-bending, moving things with your mind, et cetera. Our friend said, “Moving things requires energy. How could something move if you weren’t applying energy to it?”

I pointed out that mental energy could be very powerful and, if applied correctly, who’s to say it couldn’t move things from a distance? I concluded my argument with what I believed to be ironclad fact: “After all,” I said triumphantly, “if we only use 10 percent of our brains, who’s to say what’s possible if we used much more of them?”

I got scoffed at.

Our friend challenged the “10 percent myth,” saying the claim is bandied about too much without any real evidence or backing. He said he doubted, very much, that it was true. I was flummoxed — no one had ever argued back on that point before — so we did what any self-respecting group of forty-ish Americans would do: We consulted the Internet.

Sure enough, my friend was right. Scientific American said so. The University of Washington said so. Even that sacred guardian of Internet truth and legend, Snopes, said so.

Yet I also know, from my work in early childhood development, that psychoneurobiologists have discovered that brain neurons are malleable — they can change and adapt according to input from the self and the environment. So although we might use all of our brains, our brains can also change. So I still contend that there is a possibility they can change in ways we’re not, as a species, even aware of yet, even to the point of bending spoons and lifting oak tables with our minds. I’m sure there are rules and structures and limitations governing how neurons can change (Saturn!), but for now I’d like to maintain my belief in at least the possibility of more than we know.

Interestingly, what the facts did, instead of dashing my hopes, was to bring me back to the sticky questions of faith, proof and doubt, to understand more about the nature of these things than I did before. I got, suddenly, how different people require different things for faith. There are a lot of people, our friend included, who require physical proof of things: “Seeing is believing”-type people. On the other end of the spectrum are the “I just know it in my heart”-type people — those who require no proof other than their own intuition.

These differing attitudes correspond to the Jungian typologies Sensate and Intuitive which, in turn, correspond to the astrological elements Earth and Fire. I would expect those heavy on Earth energy in their horoscope charts to require more solid proof of things and those with more Fire to follow their intuitive beliefs much more readily.

I think, though, that it is not an either-or question. We all have both Earth and Fire in our charts, requiring us to weigh which beliefs we approach from an Earthy perspective and which ones are more Fiery for us. Each of us carries a spectrum along which we fall according to the belief in question. Rare is the person who requires hard proof for everything, or for nothing.

What about you? Where do you fall on the spectrum? Do you require physical verification or strong intuition when it comes to, say, your beliefs about an afterlife? About God/Spirit/Divine? About human nature? About love?

How certain are you of your beliefs? What makes you so sure?

Photo: blondyimp

Astrology is the convergence and interpretation of time and space. Space contains four basic elements that, because of their very essence, seep into the way we speak. Without even knowing how to calculate a horoscope chart or read its criss-cross of symbols and lines, you can intuit [...]]]> You already speak astrologically, whether you know it or not.

Astrology is the convergence and interpretation of time and space. Space contains four basic elements that, because of their very essence, seep into the way we speak. Without even knowing how to calculate a horoscope chart or read its criss-cross of symbols and lines, you can intuit the meaning of fire, earth, air and water — which astrologers use as metaphors for human temperament — just by considering the colloquialisms you use every day.

We evoke Fire energy when we say “Fire away!” or “rapid fire” or “He really lit a fire under me.” A fireball is someone with lots of energy, about whom people say things like, “She’s on fire!” and we create fireworks when we argue heatedly with someone. Heat is also evoked — literally and figuratively — in the presence of sexual chemistry as well as in the friction between two people, two hands or two sticks.

Our language tells us what someone with lots of fire in his horoscope chart is like: quick, energetic, motivated, active, bright, magnetic, idealistic, creative and — yes — crackling, sometimes, with tension and impatience. Albert Einstein, Che Guevara, Leonard Bernstein and Jim Morrison all had considerable amounts of native fire in their horoscope charts, as does Sir Elton John.*

Earth is the antidote to fire — the solid container that gives form to restless or runaway energy. When someone is “earthy,” she’s in touch with the physical qualities of the world around her. The best of these people are grounded and down to earth. But if her mind wanders airily (see below!), or she gets a little airy-fairy, we might knock on her forehead and say, “Earth to Kathy!” She’s the one inclined to do the groundwork, so she and her cohorts can hit the ground running (though she’s really more likely to walk) and produce tangible, physical, productive results. But you’re not likely to find her at the center of the party. More fiery people might even call her a stick-in-the-mud.

We know intuitively what people with earth-heavy horoscope charts are like: slower, more plodding than fire, quiet and contained. Their creativity is fertile (especially when watered), steady-going, patient, deliberate, solid and genuinely productive. Their efforts are logically connected to physical and sensory evidence. It’s true that quicker-moving people can see earthy ones as boring or dry, but you have to admit these folks deliver the goods. Sean Connery has lots of native earth in his chart, as did Walt Disney, John F. Kennedy and — I hesitate to say it — Adolf Hitler.*

When we talk about what’s “in the Air,” we’re talking about Zeitgeist: the ideas, ideals and attitudes that circulate through a society. We talk about airheads as though that’s a bad thing, but maybe those folks are so lost in thought that they need a little grounding. Airtight rooms, airtight theories and airtight alibis are ones that can’t be penetrated — that are sealed so tightly that no new ideas or information can enter. In those rooms, breaking wind with an air biscuit can be especially embarrassing! (Though laughing it off with a breezy attitude can help put everyone at ease.) “Letting the air out of our tires” means we’re going nowhere, which is a terrible thing for a person strong in air.

From the language we use, we already know about people with lots of air in their horoscope charts. They’re the social butterflies of the zodiac and, as such, need to circulate. They thrive on taking things in (inhale!) and communicating things back (exhale!). To these folks, there is beauty in the exchange of information, ideas and ideals. As the dealer of data, people with lots of air like to analyze, but because air is dry it can be relatively objective and democratic, especially in Gemini form. Yet there is excitement, interest and movement here: The winds of change are blowing!

Gene Hackman, Henry Kissinger and Vladimir Putin have lots of native air in their horoscope charts. So did Sophia Loren and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.*

You know you’re in deep Water when the dam breaks and it’s all you can do to tread water and keep your head above it. Diving in to uncharted waters can be both exciting and frightening because of the element of the unknown. If there are no sympathetic parties around, you might have to turn on the waterworks to get some help — or just bail yourself out before the whole ship sinks.

Our language informs us that people with lots of water in their horoscope chart bubble with emotional depth and, because of this, they can empathize easily and protect you (and themselves) instinctively. But many of us like to stuff our negative emotions, so the watery person — who very well may not — can be mysterious and even scary to the uninitiated. That they’re comfortable with discomfort means they’re also able to look at life’s shadows: sex, death, drugs, taxes and such. People with lots of native water in their horoscope charts include Drew Barrymore, Kurt Cobain, Hugh Hefner, Charles Manson and Edgar Allen Poe.*

Do you know instinctively what element is prominent in your chart? Do you want to know? E-mail us for a chart reading today.

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* Every chart is a unique combination of all four elements; not everyone is strictly one or the other. That means that, though we tend toward one or two elements more than the others, we can all draw on all these qualities at different times in our lives. That’s why you’ll see an earthy man like JFK giving a fiery speech or a moody musician like Mozart work in the intricate details and data of composing classical music.

Photo credit

I ended it yesterday — Friday, February 15, 2008.

Whew.

These days I’m reading about the Age Point in Huber astrology. It starts at birth at the Ascendant and moves through each house over a period of six years. So, for example, the day you [...]]]> I started my career in the California nonprofit sector on Monday, January 26, 1998.

I ended it yesterday — Friday, February 15, 2008.

Whew.

These days I’m reading about the Age Point in Huber astrology. It starts at birth at the Ascendant and moves through each house over a period of six years. So, for example, the day you turn six, your Age Point enters the second house; the day you turn 12, your Age Point enters the third house; and so on.

Each house is divided into three sections: cardinal, fixed and mutable. You enter the fixed zone two years, three months and 15 days after the multiple-of-six birthday.

I mention this now because on Thursday, February 21, I’ll reach that “balance point” in the seventh house, having also just moved into Pisces from Aquarius on November 29, 2007.

For non-astrologers, or even non-Huber astrologers, this probably sounds pretty technical. But what it means is that I’ve spent the last couple years trying to extract myself from a way of life that was very cerebral, idealistic, systems-oriented — and, yes, sometimes psychosomatically maddening — and into one more concerned with empathic, intuitive engagement in relationship.

I don’t mean to disparage my work in the nonprofit sector. I did lots of good stuff over the last ten years: raised funds for good causes, wrote helpful articles, managed people for better or for worse (I hope for better) and supported positive change in the world.

But in a way, I also wasn’t greatly suited to it. Though I am a good writer, a good manager, a good employee, I also felt the confines of my work strongly. I am not an institutional enthusiast, and I prefer interchange and mutuality over hierarchy and dependence. The deeper I worked my way into the nonprofit sector, the more of the latter I felt.

Charitable giving is an honorable and generous act — yet it bothers me deeply that our most-needed institutions spend inordinate amounts of time and resources simply struggling to survive, to get the money and please the donors they need to keep the lights on. And even in the context of self-sufficiency, nonprofit organizations have to work so much within the bounds of what is socially, legally and politically acceptable that that, too, eventually began to grate on me.

As I moved out of sixth-house Aquarius and into seventh-house Pisces, the hardness of thought and airy analysis that I had to put into my everyday work began to wear me down, to wear me thin. I operate so much better through feeling and intuition than through thinking and research. So much so that, just a month before I left my career, my neck — the gateway between heart and mind, between feeling and thinking, gave out as if it had finally had enough of simply trying to shoulder the density of my thoughts. I was laid up for a week, popping Vicodin and musing on the metaphor.

Today was my first day of my new life. I woke up sick: sore throat, cough, general aches and malaise. I know what this is; it happens every time. It’s gunk I’ve been carrying around throughout a cycle I wasn’t suited to — gunk I needed to make it through, which my body can now expel in anticipation of a new cycle that’s more aligned to my truth.

I can’t wait to see what this cycle brings.

(Photo credits: curtain call, Pisces)

Aquarius is, in fact, an air sign.

There are [...]]]> Lots of people assume Aquarius is a water sign. After all, its patron is the water-bearer … aqua = water … her glyph looks like two waves … seems like a no-brainer, huh? But many depictions of Aquarius actually show the water-bearer dumping out the water from her vessel.

Aquarius is, in fact, an air sign.

There are four elements associated with the zodiac signs: fire, earth, air and water. Each one carries a different energy that informs the temperament of the person or planet involved. The characteristics of each element mirror those found in the natural world. In very general terms:

• Fire signs are intuitive, quick and creative; impulsive, reckless and showy.
• Earth signs are deliberate, realistic and hard-working; materialistic, stubborn and cautious.
• Air signs are intelligent, rational and social; restless, removed and flirtatious.
• Water signs are deep, passionate and insightful; emotional, sensitive and elusive.

So while Aquarius is an air sign she is also a carrier of water. Her nature is still air — more focused on ideas and information than on compassion and empathy. But her progressive, egalitarian understanding of the world, coupled with her social nature, gives the impression of empathy as people tend to feel accepted and welcome in her presence. She carries water, and readily shares it, but she doesn’t get personally and emotionally invested in it in the way of a water sign.

But she might get invested enough in her ideas and especially her ideals that she’ll surprise you with her obstinacy when she doesn’t get her way. If something is important enough to her, she’ll dump out the waters of compassion and dig in her heels until she gets what she wants. And as a stubborn fixed sign, that obstinacy can last a good long time.

Everyone has Aquarius in their chart. In what house does your Aquarius reside? Do you have any planets in Aquarius? If you do, how are you using them?

(By the way: Two more so-called no-brainers debunked: Scorpio is a water sign and Aries, the ram, is a fire sign.)