She looked lovely, of course, her hair, makeup and clothes tasteful and appealing. She spoke with a quiet, comfortable sort [...]]]> Retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor was Jon Stewart’s guest on The Daily Show last night and, befitting of the nation’s first female Supreme Court Justice, she did an exemplary job of demonstrating the Libra-Venus archetype.

She looked lovely, of course, her hair, makeup and clothes tasteful and appealing. She spoke with a quiet, comfortable sort of humor and an affability that moved in consort with Stewart’s traditional teasing and deadpan jokes. Unlike some guests, she did not try to match Stewart’s humorous style or skill but, instead, met his personality with a light and grace all her own. That is, she didn’t spar with him but allowed him to make the joke and then responded in a similar vein, mirroring him but not trying to become him.

This ability to move with another person is uniquely Venusian, and it finds its most familiar home in the sign of Libra. Whereas a Mars/Aries person might wear louder clothes, spar more competitively with Stewart and try to make a big splash, O’Connor seemed happy to share the limelight and make an impression with her mere presence. The way she matched Stewart’s style with her own calm self-possession — and a twinkle in her eye — made me think what a pleasure it would be to have lunch with her.

But the gracious manner and lovely appearance of strong Libra-Venus types are only the most outwardly-obvious signs of what underlies the personality. There were a couple moments in the interview that belied the archetype even more deeply than O’Connor’s visible style.

The first sign was early on (at about the 11:50 mark in the video). Stewart asked O’Connor about her latest project, the website www.ourcourts.org. She said she got the idea as a response to the growing criticism, over the last several years, of “activist judges,” adding that she had read, in a study by the Annenberg Foundation, that only one-third of Americans can name the three branches of government (while 75% can name at least one American Idol judge!). The implication was that something seemed amiss in her environment — she was feeling criticized, something Libra-Venus types don’t take lightly — and she had to do something to fix the situation to her satisfaction, to bring it back into harmony with her own experience.

The other telling moment came at about the 18:40 mark on the video, after Stewart noted that, “The Supreme Court is famous for its collegiate atmosphere,” and asked how the justices are able to maintain that cordiality with each other over so many years of making tough, sometimes controversial decisions together. O’Connor’s response was simple, profound and quintessentially Libra-Venus.

She said, “One of the things you have to start learning in law school is how to disagree agreeably. Because when you’re on a court like that, a collegial court with an odd number of people — which they all are — you have to learn to disagree agreeably. Because you’re going to be there together a long time.”

It is not that Libra-Venus types are always agreeable — not by a long shot. But both relationship and harmony are of paramount importance to them. It is uncomfortable for strong Librans to not be in relationship. Yet whenever two people are engaged together, differences will arise and have to be resolved. An undeveloped Libra-Venus type might lash out, get jealous or feel slighted — and definitely regret it later because the all-important relationship has been damaged or lost.

But the developed type finds a way to get along with people, even people with whom she disagrees. She learns to “disagree agreeably” so the relationship can survive, flourish and bring good things in the long-term — because she knows that disagreement does not have to mean dissolution.

This week, after much ado in my mind, I launched the Zodiac Signs section of my website, with the addition of four complete sign pages. The other eight signs will roll out over the next few weeks.

These pages go beyond the usual textbook descriptions of each zodiac [...]]]> If it’s Aries, Taurus, Libra or Scorpio, you’re in luck!

This week, after much ado in my mind, I launched the Zodiac Signs section of my website, with the addition of four complete sign pages. The other eight signs will roll out over the next few weeks.

These pages go beyond the usual textbook descriptions of each zodiac sign, digging deeper into each archetype to get at the psychological dynamics underlying each common trait and behavior. So even if you think you’re all read out on your Sun sign, check it out — you might get new insight after all.

The pages also include some shopping links so you can explore birthday or holiday gifts sign by sign. Currently there are shopping links for all four signs listed above, plus Gemini and Sagittarius. Enjoy!

Yes, power.

First, our local NPR station featured an interview with two Woodbury University professors: Architecture Department Chair Norman Millar and Architecture [...]]]> In the last 24 hours, without even trying, I came across two news stories that caught me up in the Libra energy now swirling around the ether: ideas of love, beauty, partnership, seduction — and power.

Yes, power.

First, our local NPR station featured an interview with two Woodbury University professors: Architecture Department Chair Norman Millar and Architecture Professor Paulette Singley.

The topic, delectably risque, was Architecture and Seduction.

Now, let’s just be up-front about this: Libra, by no means, corners the market on seduction. There are plenty of other signs — Scorpio, for instance, or Leo — with their own unique brands of come-hither. But Libra is the quintessential sign of relationship and art, so it was intriguing to hear the two topics linked up in discussion, with nary a mention of astrology.

The discussion was a preview of a panel held last night at UCLA’s Hammer Museum, which is running an exhibition on John Lautner’s work, “Between Earth and Heaven,” through October 12th. The pair (of course!) exchanged opinions and insights about how a home could be laid out (pun intended) and accessorized to seduce a lover from front porch to kitchen to hallway to bedroom. It was agreed, for instance, that there was something very, very sexy about an open floor plan, about glass.

This struck me as very Libran: A whole environment designed not to bonk a potential bedmate over the head with garish flirtations but, instead, to evoke an atmosphere that slowly draws the lover into your embrace. Venus in Libra might be a little headier than, for example, sensual Venus in Taurus — perhaps engaging in a lively debate that stirs the passions — but it still knows how to evoke an atmosphere. After all, at its best, Libra, ruled by Venus, wants you to agree to follow her lead through the house. Where’s the fun, the challenge, in dragging you?

I drove home slowly, thoughts of a seductive house twirling about in my brain. I parked the car in the driveway, grabbed the mail from the box and slowly opened the door.

There were model train tracks on the floor, a pile of clean diapers on the easy chair and breakfast dishes still strewn on the kitchen table. The lair of a temptress this was not.

I sighed and forgot about the story. I had an evening packed with power struggles with my preschooler. I went to sleep feeling unsettled and pessimistic. When and how would these power struggles ever end? Would we ever just have fun together again? Why can’t he just do what I say?

I didn’t sleep well.

When I logged onto my e-mail this morning, another unwittingly Libran message awaited me. The same message, really, just from a different perspective. It read, in part:

When parents model the “healthy selfishness” of partnership and don’t resist their children’s narcissism, the children eventually learn that it feels good to care for others.

Today, notice all the ways in which *giving* makes you feel good, and how others feel good when you allow them to give to you. Let the line between giving and receiving dissolve. That’s the magic of partnership! (Source)

Hmmmm, indeed.Perhaps I don’t need to seduce my husband as much as I need to charm my child.

Because between the lines of the Libra impulse to compromise, agree and charm is really a question of power. As one of yesterday’s radio panelists put it, a bachelor pad is a place designed to get someone to give up a certain amount of power, to bend that person to your will, to make them want to go to bed with you.

To make them want. There is power there, no matter how much sugar you pour on it.

We often tell our child that hitting us isn’t a good way to get what he wants. Ditto whining, yelling and stomping. So why would I think anger would work well going the other direction? Last night, and many nights before, I tried to force this child to bend to my will and go to sleep before he’s ready. But Louise Huber’s seed thought for Libra goes like this:

I choose the way which leads between two great lines of force. (Source)

What way leads between the two forces, instead of toppling everyone over to one or the other? How can we move beyond either-or into a space where all boats rise, where a third alternative is viable and good? How can we acknowledge the powerful forces that snarl within each of us, but not enable them to dominate? How can we reframe our goal to be not power-over but power-with?

What would happen if we asked questions like this in public life as well as in our private lives?

Photo credits: bachelor pad, messy house, candidates

Last night, I held the Dragon in my arms outside the Terminal B security gate at Bob Hope Airport. We waved goodbye, amidst tears, to my younger sister as she negotiated the gray trays, crisp uniforms and conveyor belts of contemporary airline travel.

A marketing professional with a public library system in [...]]]> The First in a Three-Part Series

Last night, I held the Dragon in my arms outside the Terminal B security gate at Bob Hope Airport. We waved goodbye, amidst tears, to my younger sister as she negotiated the gray trays, crisp uniforms and conveyor belts of contemporary airline travel.

A marketing professional with a public library system in Washington state, Jenny’s official purpose for the trip was to attend a highly reputable one-day power training in Web 2.0 promotion.

But her real purpose was to see the Dragon — and maybe Alan and me a bit, too.

We spent five days relaxing in the comfortable gladness of siblinghood, which we hadn’t done, just the two of us — outside of oft-interrupted exchanges in our parents’ kitchen during boisterous family gatherings — in almost 16 years of post-graduate adulthood (for sadness! for shame!). As we caught up on years of lost togetherness, I shared with Jenny the way my eyes had changed since I started studying astrology ten years ago, the way I now experience the world from two simultaneous perspectives: first as just a person, like any other person, coping with the present moment and leaning toward the next; second as a giant scope taking in the archetypes that pulse through the world around us, largely unnoticed, in every successive instant.

And so, below, Part 1 of an astrological photo essay (with lots of commentary: come on, it’s me!) of our five days together.

Day 1: After spending the morning catching up, then eating lunch in our laps at the Dragon’s daycare, Jenny and I and the Dragon hopped in the car and cruised out to the beach. We spent the day splashing, sunning and sauntering along the Santa Monica pier.

Traditionally, the ocean is associated with Pisces, which is “moving water” energy: the waves go back and forth, back and forth, seeking the seashells they have lost, the edges of sand, the toe-tips of little boys and girls.

Though the wide-open ocean can be fearsome and fierce, at the edges, usually, it just finds what’s there, curves around it, laps it up, pulls back. Sometimes shells, sand and sandcastles return with the waves; sometimes they escape the water’s prodding. The ocean’s edge mostly works with the landscape instead of against it; even on cliffsides and jutting rocks, the impact of each moment is not hammering so much as tendering: an offer, a waiting to receive. Pisces, at its best, is a gentle moving-with.

And astrologically, water is feeling, empathy, intuition: a knowing, a responding, without words. Indeed, while Jenny and I employed our Mercurial sides on the drive there — talking up a sisterly storm as the Dragon napped — being on the beach itself was an exercise in just opening to the elements, allowing the flow of sun-streams and water-waves to wash over us, to wear us down, bit by bit, as we gave ourselves over in return. Rhythmicity, reciprocity, response. Relaxation.

Even up on the pier, when the Dragon got restless, we donned a Piscean go-with-the-flow: Play on the railing? Sure! Have an ice cream cone? Yes! Toddle through the restaurant where we had no intention of eating? Why not? It wasn’t so much indulgence as just following the tide of the child as he ran back and forth, seeing and responding to the landscape of the pier, being at one with his guiding hand, with the little bundle of feeling and response walking around on two legs right beside us.

Happy. relaxed enablers, we were.

Day 2: Last year, I won (lucky Jupiter!) a $200 gift certificate to Glen Ivy Hot Springs and Spa for being one of the first customers to patronize my friend Lissa’s new Dream Dinners store. I’d been waiting for just the right time and person to spend it with. This was it.

Glen Ivy has lots of opportunities to frolic in Venus energy, Libra style: facials, body wraps, soaps and washes and delicate aromas; delectable food and drink (Jenny sipped almond-spiked champagne while I reveled in a peach smoothie); even the sumptuous cascades of bougainvillea that wrap their arms around the precisely-landscaped grounds fairly ooze Venus-in-Libra.

But it wasn’t the warm breezy beauty of Libra’s Venus I was after so much as the earthy ground of Taurus — Venus’s other preferred domicile. So after a quick dip in the sulfur hot springs (your nose gets used to the smell fast!), we found Club Mud and, standing hip-deep in muddy water, slathered ourselves in the red clay meant to open the skin and cleanse it deeply. Then we laid out in the 95-degree Sun to let the mud do its magic. Jenny, who’s never lived in such heat, couldn’t bear to stay out in it long.

Whereas Pisces is moving water, Taurus is still, silent earth. Like the Earth herself, Taurus at its best is persistent, enduring and resourceful. Out of balance, though, Taurus can be indulgent, lazy and impervious to input: It’s hard to get up and get moving when you’re as heavy and solid as the whole world. And so, for today, I gave in. I lay there for an hour, my body baking like a quiet clay figure in a kiln.

My mind dropped slowly, like a reverse periscope. I felt myself move away from the bounds of my skin while the clay went about its work.

I knew my mind wouldn’t wander too deep here, with strangers’ voices babbling and outdoor showers percolating all around me. So I just let it drift. It started with the sense of being encased in hard, dry earth, of my skin cracking every time it moved, of slowness and patience, of the stubbornness of time, of Taurus, which is opposite my own sign, Scorpio, still water: icebergs, deep dark lakes. Speaking of impervious.

Jenny and I are both water signs, but Alan’s a Taurus and from inside the layer of drying earth I caught a glimpse — a shadow of my shadow, the opposite I’d quite literally married. It’s important, say the Jungians, to integrate your opposite, make tentative friends with your shadow. If we deny our darkness, we give half our power away — at least.

Alan gets to shower in my element, in water, which is his opposite, every morning. Sometimes he goes swimming. He waters the lawn. He does the laundry. When, but once before, in this same place, have I ever been covered in earth? Maybe we could all start knowing ourselves better by playing with our shadow element. I imagined all the ways we could do just that. I’ll try to retrieve them and spin them out into a post in a few days or so.

Lying there in the quiet darkness of my own mind, my whole body encased in dried mud, I slowly realized that, in the midst of all that unmoving earth, the epicenter of our recent earthquake was very close by.

When Taurus moves, it’s big.

Stay awake for Part 2: the energy of children, global parties and Internet marketing.

Photo credits: Beach, Sand dollar, Bougainvillea