I knew my first child was going to be a boy, and I was right (call it intuition if you want), but I was 99% sure my second child — the one still twisting and gestating in my belly — would be a girl.

Nope. Bubbaloo, as he’s been dubbed till he emerges, is full-on boy as well. Two sons!? I never really considered the possibility that I would be the only family member without a Y. Or, on a more positive note, with a very fine double-dose of X.

And then there’s this freelance work I’m doing, writing grant proposals for a boys’ mentoring program. I’ve been engrossed in distressing research about how the school system is stacked against boy energy; how boys receive messages that set up a struggle between traditional masculinity and contemporary ideals; how, despite appearances, boys’ self-esteem is actually quite fragile; and so on.

The knee-jerk part of me wants to say, Oh, waaah. Get over it. Let me tell you about being female. But the therapist, the mother, the wife and — yes — the feminist in me shush the reactionary, not just with concern for the boys and men I know and love but also with increasingly clear glimpses of how very, very important it is for women that men, too, are deeply understood and valued. Not valued for their traditional power/control/management roles but for their natural, wild, authentic maleness.

And, while we’re at it, how very important that women can claim and integrate traditionally masculine features and that men can claim and integrate traditionally feminine features.

One of the traditional elements of maturing in our society — the rite of passage — has largely been lost to both genders. Oh, the trappings are still there among some sub-populations: confirmation, debutante balls, fraternity hazings. But none that I know of (and admittedly I don’t know them all) carries the deep drumbeat of the initiation process that characterizes a traditional rite of passage: the conscious, ritualized separation from the former, more childish self; the dreamlike hang-time in liminal space; the sense of accomplishing feats of physical and mental survival; the deliberate opening to and cultivation of adult spiritual wisdom; the reincorporation, as an adult, into the society where one was once a child.

In astrological terms, the rite of passage is/was a sort of “graduation” from unconscious, undifferentiated Mars/Venus energy into a firmer grasp of gender energies on a more subtle, conscious, individual level — from Mars to Sun (mental will and awareness) and from Venus to Saturn (physical security and awareness). In other words, it is the movement from the communal energy of the lower half of the chart to the individuated energy of the upper half through the fires of the most fundamental questions of identity: What does it mean to be a man? What does it mean to be a woman? With luck, depth and wise guidance, the initiate may even glimpse Pluto and Uranus energy during this process.

When a boy or girl can claim their gender birthright, not as prescribed behaviors like flirting or competing or giggling or dominating, but as unique, self-aware expressions of their individual mix of gender — XX, XY or some lovely soup of the spectrum in-between — then a rite of passage has taken place. We move away from stereotyped gender roles and into the embrace of all possibilities within, able to move in and out of stereotypical maleness, femaleness and gender-neutrality with much more ease, assurance and spiritual wisdom than we did as children.

And we become able, as it seems too few do in contemporary life, to turn around to the generation that follows, to become mentors and guides to the boys and girls behind us, who still struggle to understand what it means to be a boy or a girl or a man or a woman — or anything else, for that matter — in today’s society. The astrological archetypes are not the only container for these energies, for this process, but they are vivid and tangible ones that can be useful guides along the way.

Can you identify a rite of passage in your life? Was it intentional or not? How did you grow through it? What did you sacrifice and what did you gain? Who guided you? What archetypal energies — masculine, feminine or anything else — were important in that journey?

Image: John Paul Bosbolo

The entrance of the beautiful, shining Venus into the dark, murky waters of Scorpio brings a more personal, more intimate perspective to issues of power and seduction. Whereas Venus in Libra may have tried to equivocate, compromise and create the right atmosphere for seduction, in Scorpio she becomes more forthrightly demanding, possessive and controlling. She’s done talking about abstractions and ideals. She’s finally able to admit that, as every Don Juan knows (or should!), you’re always more attractive when you talk about me.

This kind of power-seduction dance could happen anywhere — in the bedroom, at the movies, in the grocery store — but we saw it play out clearly last night in George W. Bush’s speech appealing for Americans’ support of his $700 billion bailout plan. The President made a point to personalize the financial crisis for Americans, saying that if the situation is not addressed fully and rapidly:

More banks could fail, including some in your community. The stock market would drop even more, which would reduce the value of your retirement account. The value of your home could plummet. Foreclosures would rise dramatically. And if you own a business or a farm, you would find it harder and more expensive to get credit. More businesses would close their doors, and millions of Americans could lose their jobs. Even if you have good credit history, it would be more difficult for you to get the loans you need to buy a car or send your children to college. And ultimately, our country could experience a long and painful recession. (Italics and boldface added)

The seduction here is undeniably the dark side of the Scorpionic: controlling, based in fear, based in loss. While evoking partnership in true Venusian fashion, it is clear that the speaker (not surprisingly) wants control of that partnership placed squarely in his court. So he talks about us, which makes us listen, and then rivets us further by evoking our scariest fantasies of personal catastrophe and unthinkable loss. Then he goes back to the benevolent dictator role by promising to take care of us: Don’t worry. Daddy is in control. Trust me.

The speech also can’t help but evoke the central symbol of the current crisis: money, our culture’s quintessential mechanism for self-possession, self-control, self-determination. Who has it? Who doesn’t? The beauty of a democracy is that everyone (in theory) has one vote. The beauty of capitalism is that (even more in theory) everyone has control over their money. But if we don’t have personal control over a little cash, or if we have no cash at all, then who exactly is in control of our lives? It’s one of the central things counselors tell women who are being abused in their homes: Stash a little cash away, if you can, for the time when you have to run — when you can finally take control of your own life.

It’s a paradoxical appeal, in a way. In asking us to bless his bailout package, Bush asked us to entrust power and control to him in the short-term so that we can be more assured of personal power and control in the long-term. But how do we know he will use the power for good? And how do we know we’ll get it back?

This week’s planetary positions indicate there is a key choice in response to this moment of crisis. On one hand, we could work toward a greater understanding of the crisis for the purpose of moving ahead with new structures and perspectives. (Granted, this possibly might have to allow for the total breakdown of the current system — not because of urgency but instead because the power of knowledge sometimes leads naturally to change.) Or, on the other hand, we could try to placate the situation through sweetly-phrased power-grabs and drowning the whole ugly mess in a thick, sugary coat.

Of course, a greater understanding requires more learning, more information, more data. The brevity and vagueness of Bush’s bailout plan don’t appear to support that path, at least in the short-term. That’s what really frightens me.

Look, I’m not scared of massive, systemic Plutonian breakdown and change. I believe if it comes, something else — and, optimistically, something better — will come in its place. But I don’t know that you can make the best go-forward decisions without the full scope of important information, without shining a light into the darkness. This, rather than sugar-coating a gunky swamp, is what Venus in Scorpio could really do over the next few weeks: lighten the dark.

Sure, knowing ahead of time what’s in those murky waters might still kill you, but at least you’d know enough to pack your snakebite kit.

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P.S. This is my first foray into astrological political blogging. Please let me know what you think in the Comments section below! Should I forge ahead bravely or go back to more personal reflections? Or some combination of both?

(Photo credit)