Depth Astrology » Age Point

Age Point, Low Point and Birthing the New Self

Kathy — Fri, 01 May 2009 20:10:01 +0000

Right around our son’s second birthday, many more experienced parents seemed to delight in warning us about the “Terrible Twos.” Our usual response was to smile quietly and ask them not to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy by repeating the phrase within earshot of the boy. I felt rather self-righteous when we sailed through that year with few difficulties.

Then came three. Three and a half, to be precise.

We already knew the Dragon had a pretty sensitive temperament, but we thought we’d gotten through the worst of separation anxiety, emotional intensity and knee-jerk defiance (at least until adolescence). But three and a half brought new highs and lows to his personality that we had not seen before. I recalled several older moms of sensitive kids telling me that 3 1/2 to 4 years old was the most intense time for their children.

Astrologically, this now makes sense to me. Through years of research, Bruno and Louise Huber developed a mechanism called the Age Point that acts much like the hour hand of a clock: It starts at the horoscope chart’s Ascendant at the moment of birth, sweeping across the circle counterclockwise at a rate of one house every six years.* At three years and eight months old, everyone’s Age Point hits a place — also discovered through the Hubers’ detailed research — called the Low Point of the first house.

Unlike the house cusp, when we tend to be bursting out all over, the 12 Low Points of the chart are, at best, times of greater introspection and solitude in our lives. We can learn much about ourselves during these times by cloistering, meditating, journaling, doing therapy and taking part in any other kind of work that engages our interior lives with energy and grace. It is preparation for the next phase, gestation of the new self. At worst, Low Point periods are frustrating and isolating, bringing the sense that no one sees us or understands us, that none of our projects or ambitions are working out, that we are profoundly alone, separated from others.

Like much in astrology, the difference in experience of the Low Point derives from the person’s natural inclinations and his or her support (or lack thereof) from the environment. If you are naturally an introspective or solitude-seeking person, the Low Point might come as a bit of relief to you because the world will give you space to process, in solitude, the changes that the world now demands of you. But if you are normally more outgoing, ambitious and action-oriented, the Low Point will likely be a time of incredible frustration. Even those who feel treated more gently by the Low Point period, however, will still come up against walls that require great wisdom to scale.

I liken the Low Point to a fetus getting too big for the womb. He knows he must find a way out, must make the move to birth himself, but the familiar is so comforting that he resists. He resists and resists, curling tightly inside, not wanting to come out, enjoying the dark, damp, pink softness he’s come to know as home — as his house. The new world — the next house — is still unknown and therefore frightening. He doesn’t want to learn all he needs to know to get there, doesn’t want to do the work. But the time comes when he simply must. Through some mysterious alchemy, contractions begin and the work of transition is underway. This marks the mutable zone of the house, when new learning and movement and pushing begin to direct us toward a new phase of life.

The Low Point comes at the same ages for each person in life. How you experience yours will depend not only on your natural temperament and the environment you’re in but also on which zodiac sign the Age Point is in, whether it’s making any significant aspects to natal planets and other factors as well. Do you remember times of particular difficulty moving forward, or being heard, during these periods of your life?

3 1/2 to 4 years old
9 1/2 to 10 years old
15 1/2 to 16 years old
21 1/2 to 22 years old
27 1/2 to 28 years old
33 1/2 to 34 years old
39 1/2 to 40 years old
45 1/2 to 46 years old
51 1/2 to 52 years old
57 1/2 to 58 years old
63 1/2 to 64 years old
69 1/2 to 70 years old
75 1/2 to 76 years old

These will, of course, not be the only difficult times of life — difficulty is caused by things other than Low Point experiences. But it can be helpful to note whether hard times have coincided with any Low Point periods and to check your temperament and environment for support or further obstacles. It can also be helpful knowledge for negotiating relationships, whether you or the other is the one dealing with Low Point angst.

As a mom, I can only do my best to be aware, empathize, give our son language and awareness, and hope we’re providing the support and resources he needs to get through his first Low Point period (especially since his father and I are going through our Low Points during the same year!). And I’m looking forward to seeing what new self he is busy birthing for his next phase of life.

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* For the astrologers in the audience, we are talking Koch houses here.

Image: Or Hiltch

Turning Inward, Turning Outward: Natural Cycles of Expression in the Horoscope Chart

Kathy — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 19:33:15 +0000

Bruno and Louise Huber, pioneers of Huber astrology, conducted painstaking research over many years to conclude that each horoscope house contains a cycle of energy that gets reflected in the patterns of the chart native’s life. When combined with the Hubers’ Age Point research, it is easy to look at a horoscope chart and identify the cycle of life in which a person is currently engaged.

Mysteriously, but perhaps not surprisingly, the division of each horoscope house into three cycles is based on the Golden Mean, which is found everywhere in nature: in the spinning of stars and the vein patterns in leaves and the anatomy of human beings. It is a profound testament to our interconnectedness.

In the first cycle of each horoscope house, the energy is outward, extraverted, manifesting. There comes a particular time, then, when the energy makes a slow turn toward a more internal, introverted, reflective way of being. The energy becomes deeper and heavier, and traditional productivity can be hard. After a period of time, then, the energy turns again, becoming lighter, searching for the next path, pushing up out of darkness into light.

We go through the set of three phases in roughly six-year cycles, and the phases are marked by different neuroses depending on the particular planets encountered and — importantly — the basic makeup of the chart native’s personality. If you’re an especially fiery, extraverted person, it can be hard to cope with the slowness and heaviness of an Age Point period that is quieter, more introverted. If you’re generally contemplative, those external phases can be demanding and exhausting.

And if your Age Point comes upon a place in the horoscope chart that demands action — such as Mars or Aries — during an internal phase of life, the extra energy can be turned inward, resulting in a hypercritical attitude toward the self, or depression, or inexplicable anger. Similarly, if you’re pulled toward silence during a period of intense external demands, people may perceive you as “clamming up,” or ineffective, or shy, or stand-offish.

Alignment between the external and the internal always makes it easier to cope in life. But even with the best intentions and plans, that alignment is not always possible. When tension arises from conflicted expectations — that is, when your energy naturally gravitates toward one way of being while the world is demanding something different of you — it’s easy to get alienated from deep instinct and self-knowledge. It’s almost impossible, sometimes, to balance your own needs with the things that others need and expect of you.

It’s always bothered me when politicians are criticized for “flip-flopping” — changing their positions on certain subjects over the course of their careers. If we’re honest with ourselves, we can see that we all flip-flop, in fairly predictable cycles. For a period of time, we feel confident and extraverted; for a period of time we are brooding and solitary; and then we move back into sociability and productivity. These are all okay ways of being, even for one person. We cannot expect to always be exactly the same from day to day, throughout the life.

If we welcome ambiguity and change, we’re much better able to move with the rhythms of our Age Point rather than fight against them. If we can do this, we honor the whole self and not just the self others expect us to be.

Photo credit

Reader Question: When will my overwhelm and anger end?

Kathy — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 22:21:09 +0000

Reader Andromeda writes:

“yesterday was an angry day for me and i had felt it bubbling up for a few days. after a fight with the SO, snapping at the Dictator, slamming the door (4 times, i kept forgetting things) i FINALLY made it out the door to school – late, beaten, angry, down. i didn’t start to feel better until i spent about 5 hours in the darkroom.

“things are starting to make sense now. i suppose it would be a good time to channel all this energy into writing 2 term papers, an artist statement, do artist research, rewrite the art history essay that i completely failed, read 2 books for history, and study for 2 upcoming midterms. any planets coming into play soon that will help me from feeling completely over-whelmed?”

This certainly does sound like anger and overwhelm not just running amok, but smashing right into each other! Andromeda has external forces (her husband, her child, her school work) making lots of demands on her. At the same time, she’s getting down on herself for not managing it all perfectly. The result is anger and resentment. There are a few horoscope elements coming into play that reflect this development in Andromeda’s life.

First, her natal horoscope chart shows someone who values stability and reflection — and who needs sufficient “down time” to recharge before she has to motivate to action again. If she doesn’t get that down time, she likely starts to feel frantic and overwhelmed. This is not a natural state of being for her: Though she is by no means a slacker, she simply doesn’t thrive on constant Type A activity. It’s counterproductive.

Second, with her Age Point early in the 6th house of her natal chart, Andromeda has recently been thrust from more pleasurable life pursuits into facing the demands and realities of the world — and, at the same time, learning to cope with them. The Age Point in Aries adds a more demanding dimension to the life of someone who prefers to think and reflect before acting: The world is asking her, now, to just do it: Move, produce, create, react with little respite or reflection. That can create a sense of helpless resentment for someone who’s not used to this level of demand. Andromeda would do well to be a little selfish in this area right now: Set some boundaries and schedule some time when she need only focus on her own health and well-being. Otherwise she runs a serious risk of burnout.

Third, Andromeda’s progressed chart (which progresses the natal chart forward to show how her internal life has developed over time) shows a continued need for stability but confirms the greater level of activity she’s involved with now. It also shows that she’s putting a lot of energy into higher education and processing her experience on a deeper level — making what she learns an integral part of herself. This effort is also connected to a restlessness that is striving, but not yet finding, a strong outlet for expression.

It’s as if the productivity she’s engaging on one level wants to blossom into individuality, but the time is not yet at hand. And that can be frustrating. She should start feeling more directed with this energy after the new year — definitely by February — and its direction should become more and more clear with each coming year.

Finally, at the time of Andromeda’s question to me, Mars was (and remains) conjunct her natal Uranus, which is strong by house placement. This transit can indicate sudden intrusions, rash responses and resentfulness, not unlike those described by Andromeda in her message to me. It can also indicate an urge to unique self-expression and intense desire to go your own way — to buck authority, break the rules and forge out on your own. (It can also be an accident-prone period if a person is not aware of herself — so a time to be cautious as well.)

So I would warn Andromeda to slow down, pay attention to her surroundings and be absolutely sure that any rash decisions she makes now are either easily reversible or truly good for the long-term. This influence remains for Andromeda* until next Sunday or Monday (October 26-27), so until then she should be especially aware, and more careful than usual, of how she expresses her individuality, anger or impatience.

She could actually make use of a longer-term Jupiter transit, square her natal Pluto, to carve out time for emotional self-reflection and growth. If she is disciplined enough, she could do this on her own (that darkroom she describes could be the perfect place, if she sees it as a place for deepening instead of a place for escape); or she could seek out a wise person to be her guide. In any case, this kind of daily practice in self-reflection could be a steadying, long-term, maturing force in her life.

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*Please note: This interpretation is specific to Andromeda’s chart only. Please e-mail me if you have a question about your own chart that you’d like me to answer in my blog. Include your birth date, birth time and birth place in your message.

The Bearded Lady, the Cycle of Life and Meditations on the End of Summer

Kathy — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 17:09:06 +0000

Last night I dreamt I shaved off my beard — a stylized goatee that came to a perfect point at the bottom, the sides curving around my jaws like little arms.

For the record, I don’t have a beard in waking life.

I awoke in the full mood of fall and went about the tasks of the morning without thinking much about it. But when the boys were gone, NPR was turned off and the dishes had settled in their stacks, the dream came back quietly.

In essence, I think, it was about shedding what had grown: saying goodbye to the old, getting ready for the new. It was an appropriate, if funny, dream for the change of season.

Even though it’s not officially fall yet, the summer cycle is definitely closing: Ask anyone who has school-age children, or arthritis. Last week on our midwest visit, there was talk of sweaters, hayrides and apple presses. Even here in southern California, the air is a little crisper and the traffic much thicker than last week. And Starbucks has mercifully brought back its pumpkin spice latté.

This is the time of year when, in my quieter moments, I tend to remember the ancient myth of Persephone, who picked a flower and was whisked away into the underworld by Hades (Pluto) himself. Persephone’s mother, the earth goddess Demeter, mourned the loss of her child and withheld the harvest from the people until Zeus (Jupiter) brokered a deal: Persephone would stay in the underworld with Hades for one-third of each year and reunite with her mother during the remaining eight months. The separation, disappearance, change in cycles was necessary for the growth of both mother and daughter.

There are more complexities to the story, but its core truth lies in these simple details; and we see that truth reflected, also, in the horoscope chart. Bruno and Louise Huber identified a way to interpret the chart as a “life clock” — starting with birth at the ascendant and spending six years in each house. At a certain point in each house, people tend to turn inward. They feel their active energy thwarted or stilled. They are forced to take stock and turn the season of their life toward the next more active, more outwardly-effective cycle.

This internal period can often be felt as a crisis point — the point where, like Demeter, no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot get what you want. Waiting is necessary, and that can be frustrating. It can even feel like death — like being dragged into the underworld against your will, like being taken away from everything light and abundant and familiar.

But the Demeter story, and the Hubers’ work, and astrology in general remind us, each in their own ways, that life happens in cycles, and thus the underworld period is essential. Shortcuts and bypasses are decidedly not advised.

See: The flower germinates; it blossoms; it dies. The school year begins; it proceeds; it ends. Babies are born; the family coheres; the children grow up and move away. Before the third phase of each cycle, we must catch our breaths, because in truth that third phase is just the preparation for the next cycle: As it dies, the flower must seed the next crop. As the school year ends, the student must make ready for the next. As they grow up and move away, our children prepare to give birth themselves.

I know a lot of people who say they feel nostalgic every year as fall begins. Maybe some of the nostalgia is a longing for eternal summer, but there’s something deeper going on there, too, I think: a wistfulness for the cycle that was, perhaps; an uncomfortable acknowledgment that time always urges us forward; a wish for the familiar footprints we’ve already put down. We know that place behind us. Why can’t we just stay there, or jump forward to the next activity? Why must we power down a bit now?

And yet we know the fall, too. Its familiarity, it smells and its slower tempo are ancient and comforting. Its darker days cloister us indoors, where we are forced to face the internal. We survive the cold, and the dark, and the frightening because we must — and because our fiber is thicker and heartier than we give ourselves credit for in the bright sweat of summer.

Yet it’s often as surprising to remember our own strength, and our own tenacity, and our own depth, as it is to dream of a woman shaving off her pointed goatee to prepare for what’s next.

Go to Meditations for the End of Summer

Photo credits: Bearded lady, life cycles, autumn

…and, Curtain.

Kathy — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 03:53:00 +0000

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)