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Two and a half weeks ago, the hard drive on my laptop crashed. … It seemed like a nightmare at the time.
Click to continue reading “Where I’ve Been Lately: The Astrology of Change”
This morning, as we do roughly every Monday or Tuesday, a friend and I got on the phone to discuss one dream each that we’d had over the weekend. Though this morning our respective dreams were quite different, they both had the same apocalyptic feeling that seems to be pervading the whole world lately.
In my astrologer’s mind, it was the feeling of Pluto moving into Capricorn:
- In my dream, I was with a group of friends in an outdoor mall where only one store was open and operating. We heard, and then saw, a huge, heavy military plane fly very low overhead. It looked like a stealth bomber. We watched as it slowly got lower and lower, skimming treetops and power lines, then finally crashed into the ground nearby.
- In my friend’s dream, she was with her teenage daughter on a hilltop in Los Angeles. The hill slowly gave way under their feet and came sliding down to the ground below. They were okay in the end, but the entire hill was just gone from underneath them.
Astrologers are fond of pointing out that, around the time Pluto was discovered in 1930, atomic bombs were developed and fascism and Nazism reared their heads — frightening metaphors for the kind of cataclysmic and totalitarian destruction that can be wrought by Plutonian power. Pluto breaks things down into their unseen parts, forces us to look at them and remixes them into new, unfamiliar and sometimes terrifying structures. Pluto is the life-death-rebirth cycle in all its imaginable forms.
A less truly frightening Plutonian metaphor of 1930 was the debut that year of the U.S. radio drama The Shadow – with actor Frank Readick, Jr. intoning the iconic introduction:
“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh! The Shadow knows…”
In Jungian terms, the shadow is psychological material that gains its power from the very fact that it is repressed. It’s usually repressed because it’s something we don’t want to admit about ourselves. The more we repress it, the bigger and more powerful it grows, creating projection situations where we can see it only outside of ourselves.
For example, did you ever despise someone for, say, her arrogance, only to be forced to admit that you’ve got a certain self-righteousness about you as well? Or have you ever been the President of a superpower who systematically shut down the freedoms of its own population while embarking on an international campaign for freedom in other countries? The larger and stronger the shadow grows, the greater power it has over you — precisely because you haven’t dared to look at it, to admit it exists, to confront it head-on. And the more you ignore it, the bigger ass-kicking is required to make you pay attention to it.
In the horoscope, any planet can contain shadow material, not just Pluto. But Pluto’s dynamic tends to be the archetypal shadow dynamic — the force of change through exposure of hidden powers — and its expression is generally large-scale and often scary. Yes, Pluto exists in each of our individual horoscope charts, but unless it’s touching a more personal planet in our chart, its effects tend to be wider-spread, more impersonal: across a generation, across a culture.
So we get situations like market “corrections” or terrorist attacks that force us (or should force us) to look at ourselves: Are we, as a culture, a bit too self-righteousness, say, or greedy, or giddy about imposing “freedom” on others without examining our own freedom complex? Are we really as free as we brag about being? As generous? As right?
When Pluto pulls the veil off our eyes, for example when it changes zodiac signs and highlights a different area of life anew, it can feel frightening in the extreme. The last 13 years of Pluto in Sagittarius have been marked by ubiquitous consumption, accelerating depletion of natural resources and idealism-cum-tyranny — the latter starting, I would argue, with the Taliban’s 1996 march across Afghanistan and reaching its climax with the U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq.
The weaknesses in the structures that have supported these trends are now emerging from the shadows. We are experiencing the breakdowns associated with dictating our ideals in foreign lands, getting drunk on oil fields and building castles on flimsy credit.
Pluto’s movement into Capricorn highlights the reality that the old code is slowly disintegrating. What might be more frightening than that — after all, many of us would like to see regime change here in the U.S. at least — is that we don’t yet know what will come to take its place. This not-knowing can whip up an atmosphere of crisis.
The word crisis comes from the Greek krinein, meaning “to separate.” Also derived from that root are the words criminal, decree, discern, discriminate, excrement and secret: All Plutonian words in that they imply shadowy, secret or hidden elements that need to be separated, sorted and reconnected in new ways — a process that almost always implies crisis of some kind. Separation of a relationship, a limb or an atom requires careful handling in order to reconnect it or remake it or recreate it productively instead of destructively. When separation and reconnection occur, there is always the possibility of something going horribly wrong.
Like powerful military jets crashing in a calm sky and sturdy green hillsides collapsing underfoot, it is hard to imagine such apparently solid structures as markets and governments and capitalism and democracy separating into component parts and being remade in a different form. It might even be frightening to think about this happening: What crisis would ensue if we were separated from our money? If familiar government agencies and commercial storefronts disintegrate and reassemble in some other form? If oil-based energy disappears completely?
But confronting the possibility of change, and admitting where we’ve gone wrong, and remaking those institutions in the spirit of integrity and solidity may bring us together in a way that only true crisis can. Frightening as it may seem to live in this in-between period, we may someday look back at this time and think, “How did we live through that?” and then, “I’m so glad we did!”
Comment below: Have you had dreams about cataclysmic destruction lately?
Photo credits: Stealth bomber, Rose shadow
 Yesterday I went to the doctor to get a cortisol shot for a bulging disk in my neck. I expected to arrive at 10:30, get the shot and be on my way by 11:00. But instead, the receptionist cheerily handed me a big pile of paperwork that required my signature multiple times, acknowledging the possibility of my death because the procedure would involve anesthesia and sedation.
At first I balked, then I made sure it wouldn’t be a general anesthesia. “Oh, no,” the nurse said. “It’s a local, plus, you know, just a little sedation because they don’t want you to move. But you won’t be completely under.”
I changed into a robe, climbed onto a gurney and watched as a nurse poked an IV into my wrist. I have a grotesque love of watching myself get shots. The doctor came and introduced himself, then I was rolled 30 feet into the surgery room, where I flipped over, prone, onto a stationary table. Why I couldn’t have just walked in and hopped up, I don’t know. I double-checked with the anesthesiologist about the level of sedation and he assured me I wouldn’t be completely out.
As the doctor chatted with the nurse about a recent trip to Italy and the quality of gelato to be had at Whole Foods, I heard the anesthesiologist repeat, over and over, “The right side, she says. It’s the right side of the neck. The right side. We’ll do it on the right side.” I was relieved that at least one person in the room would get it correct.
The next thing I knew, I was mumbling senseless syllables and waking up, supine, back on the gurney in the room where I’d started.
“I’m surprised to be here,” I said to the nurse through a fog, without meaning to. She smiled.
I’d never been sedated before, and what surprised me wasn’t exactly that I came out of it so much as the complete and utter absence of experience during it. Usually when I awaken from a normal sleep, I have a sense of having slept: of turning, or dreaming, or grabbing covers back from Alan, or being climbed over by a groggy three-year-old. This time, there was none of that. It was utter nothingness for half an hour — though it could have been half a year for all I knew. Even the partial consciousness that exists during normal sleep was completely erased from my experience.
I think I understood, then, a little more of the horoscope’s 8th house dynamic.
Across from the 8th house, the 2nd house is where we possess things: money, valuables, values and even ourselves. It is the sphere of control over our lives, the place where we exert power over what we own, including our bodies. It is the space where we forge self-worth, self-control, self-possession.
The 8th house is exactly the opposite: It is where power, control and possession belong to others. We usually think of the 8th house as other people’s money, but that’s just a symbol of its underlying and deeply powerful dynamic: the ability of another person — including their possessions, valuables, values and motivations — to affect our lives without our consent.
 In her wonderful book Archetypes of the Zodiac, Kathleen Burt describes the energy of Scorpio (the sign associated with the 8th house) through the ancient Egyptian story of Queen Isis and King Osiris. Osiris was killed by his brother, Set, who desired the throne for himself. But that was just the beginning of the story; what became of Osiris’s body after his death was the real plot. Set killed Osiris by taking possession of his body in a coffin and disposing it in the Nile River. But Isis later found the mutilated body, took possession of it, reconstructed it and, with it, became pregnant with Horus.
There is much more to the story, of course, but a major theme is the importance of trust when control is not ours. When we are not self-possessed — when others are in possession of our bodies, or our money, or even our values — we must trust them completely to do right by us. If we believe the other person isn’t trustworthy, we feel jealous, or instigate power struggles, or try to thieve or trick to regain self-possession. We want to grab our toys and hightail it back to the 2nd house.
And, whether we trust or not, if those 8th house people don’t act in a way that’s worthy of our trust, we lose: The wrong limb gets amputated, or sexual abuse occurs, or our money is used for bad loans, or grave robbers heist our belongings. When we are not in control, our possessions — our money, our valuables, our principles, our integrity — are vulnerable to pillaging.
Someone, or something, has to be in control, and if it’s not us, we tend to feel at risk. Witness the themes and dynamics of the world financial crisis: Who possesses what, anymore? Who controls decisions? How do fear, possession and trust play out between people and institutions? These themes, as Pluto (ruler of Scorpio and the 8th house) moves into Capricorn, are bouncing around world politics and economics with incredible intensity and anxiety these days.
I believe this fear of lost control is a huge element in our fear of death. Of course, when faced with the possibility of death, we fear losing connection, love and familiarity; of course we also fear not doing everything we want to do in life. But there is also a distinct fear of losing control. If we lack consciousness, movement and speech, if we cannot affect what happens around us, we simply cannot have control over anything that occurs.
When Alan and I honeymooned in Costa Rica, we climbed 60 feet up into the rainforest and strapped ourselves into harnesses so we could swing on rope lines through the canopy. I was terrified beyond belief. But the guide kept saying, “Trust the equipment. You have to trust the equipment.”
How could I? I thought. I haven’t checked it out. Maybe a possum chewed through it. Maybe lightning struck it when no one was looking. I imagined falling through the branches to the hard ground below.
But I gritted my teeth, held on and swung anyway.
It was exhilirating.
I thought, Maybe control is overrated. But just for a second.
Photo credits: Surgery, Osiris
While visiting my hometown this weekend, an old friend asked me, on finding out I’m an astrologer, “Do you really believe that? That the planets and stars affect our behavior?”
He wasn’t rolling his eyes. He genuinely wanted to know.
I gulped down my coffee and said, reflexively, “Reflect. Not affect.”
Then I hobbled through an unpondered explanation of astrology that I knew from word one was inadequate. I left understanding only that I had a lot to think about.
So I spent my trip home scribbling madly on 20 sheets of college-ruled notebook paper, trying to iron out my relationship with the metaphors in the stars. What I came to was this:
 What Astrology Is: Astrology convenes five critical components of the human experience — time, space, energy, matter and awareness — into a single metaphorical map that reflects the very nature of existence. The map shows where matter, in the form of each planet and sign, exists at a certain time and place. The astrologer’s job is to interpret the nature of energy emanating from the planets and signs in order to expand the client’s awareness.
What’s so remarkable is that the map — the horoscope chart — is different for each individual life, depending on the time and place of birth. What’s more, the symbols on the map shift as time and space shift, showing how energy and awareness change as people grow and experience life.
What I Believe: I don’t know whether the planets and stars actually affect or merely reflect events, feelings and behaviors here on earth. But I do know that, when a horoscope chart is read with intelligence, insight and integrity, it virtually always resonates with the chart “native” — that is, the person whose chart it is.
That doesn’t mean the chart tells the person which career to choose, partner to marry or days of the week to avoid ketchup. Astrology is actually on the side of free will, not against it. What this means is that a solid chart reading gives the native insight into his or her essential psychological makeup — allowing that person to make choices in a way that’s more informed and free than before.
There are two reasons this is so valuable. First, with greater awareness of how matter and energy move through the time and space of your life, you can better harness them to fulfill your will. For example, when you start to understand why your relationships always end in an argument over money, or why you can never seem to find a job that satisfies you, you can begin to make conscious changes that better align with your essential core — and discard the parts of your behavior that aren’t truly you.
But this is true for any discipline that increases self-awareness: journaling, therapy, whatever. So, second, the horoscope chart is especially valuable because it’s extremely efficient — and that’s because it’s particular to you and you alone. The symbols ringing the chart show where the planets were at the time you were born, from the place you were born. They each contain a particular energy that reflects, or perhaps even affects, the direction and drive of your inner life. That is something that therapy can take years to uncover.
Some people get the impression that the chart is static, and I want to address this misperception before I move onto the question of why. The chart is not static at all. It reflects the first imprint of the universe on the individual being — but then the universe and the individual keep on moving. Each of us carries with us that first impression, but neither it nor our surroundings nor our behavior remains unchanged. So although we might respond to the world, from an unconscious level, according to the impulses of our horoscope chart, growing self-awareness gives us the freedom to choose exactly how our basic drives are expressed.
For example, if Venus is strong in a person’s horoscope chart, she might, as a young woman, be very flirtatious and coquettish. But as she grows into self-awareness, she might use that energy differently — to create beauty around her, perhaps, or to render compromise in the midst of conflict. Or, if she has limited nurturing and does not mature much, she might always rely on her surface charms, becoming frustrated or unhappy when they fail.
Even if you don’t believe in astrology, the horoscope chart is an intriguing springboard for self-reflection. The planets, signs, houses and aspect lines collectively symbolize all human impulses, feelings, behaviors and experiences. Read well, the chart expresses eternal truths that help us drop deeper into ourselves and understand our lives better. And whether you believe the planets reflect, affect or do nothing at all, a map of human experience is a wonderful path to self-awareness.
Why I Believe It: I believe in astrology most of all because it’s worked for me — not just once, like a fluke, but over and over and over. And not just with random bits of information here and there, but with regard to the most profound challenges and central experiences of my life: Why did that happen? What compelled me to make that choice? What can I learn about myself from that event, or relationship, or change of course? My self-awareness has deepened immensely because of astrology.
 I also believe in astrology because its existence can be traced back at least five thousand years and to every corner of the world. While this is not always a reason to recommend something (women have been subjugated and harmful folk remedies have also been widespread throughout human history, for example) it is a reason, at least, to be open to astrology’s legitimacy. When a way of thinking has been in existence for so long, it’s a good idea to understand why, before dismissing it wholesale: If it weren’t useful somehow, it would probably have died out long ago.
Finally, I believe in astrology because it is based on the natural world. It’s true we don’t know why or how it works, but its components — time, space, energy, matter, awareness — are not fabrications of our collective imagination.
Time and space constitute the canvas on which we paint our lives.
Matter and energy are our brushes and colors.
Awareness is the approach we take toward creating.
Without these things, and especially without awareness, we are impoverished and impulsive, powerless and reactive. Our free will is limited. We cannot create the lives we envision.
The horoscope chart is a profound and efficient tool for that awareness, for that vision, no matter your opinion on what the planets affect, reflect or anything else.
Image credits: Universum, painter
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What People Say “Truly gifted astrologers are a rarity. Kathy Crabb is one such person. She is a brilliant, original thinker, an intuitive and empathic counselor and a superb workshop facilitator.”
Pam Tyler, Dip. API (1981), Dip. FAS (1979),
AFA Teacher Cert. (1978); Astrologer since 1977;
Co-founder of Astrological Psychology Institute (UK);
Author of Mercury: Anatomy of a Planet
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