My first instinct with this one was Saturn: the organization, the predictability, the safety of the grid-like pattern. But then I thought: No, Uranus: energy, electricity. Or Mercury: thousands of little connections [...]]]> Most of the time, when I look at the picture of the week, I see right away the astrological archetype with which the image aligns.

My first instinct with this one was Saturn: the organization, the predictability, the safety of the grid-like pattern. But then I thought: No, Uranus: energy, electricity. Or Mercury: thousands of little connections all bringing energy to an undefined, in-between space.

All of these archetypes are true to the image in their own way but they don’t really get to the core of it for me. What is most striking about this photo, in my view, is the stark, bright, white light against the utter blackness: the striking oppositeness come together. Secondarily (or perhaps primarily, depending on the viewer), the grid pattern kind of couches or embraces a cross, which in the Christian tradition is the symbol of light penetrating dark.

But what is light penetrating dark in terms of astrology? I don’t think I can choose a single planet or sign to reflect that idea, for light and dark are such basic archetypal energies that undergird and run through all of life, through all the energies we carry within us: Venus, Jupiter, Mercury, Sagittarius, Cancer — each of these and every other astrological energy carries its own brand of light and dark into embodiment, into the life of the person who carries that energy.

For instance, Venus is the goddess of love and beauty and, as such, represents merging relationship, sensuality, art and luscious enjoyment of life. But she can also be desperate and demanding, vain and superficial. These are two sides of the same coin, the light and the shadow of a single archetypal energy that lives in all of us.

There are others: Mercury’s quick wit, light laughter and adaptability is shadowed by detachment, fickleness and nit-picky-ness; Jupiter’s wisdom, perspective and generosity may be darkened by arrogance, excess and sloth.

When we accept, embody or live out only one side of an archetype, denying the other side’s potential within us, we run into trouble. This is the condition first identified by Sigmund Freud as projection and cast into mythic terms by Carl Jung as shadow.

Western astrologers have long identified shadow with the seventh house (the house of relationship), suggesting that we draw people to us who have the qualities we are not yet ready to accept in ourselves and integrate into our consciousness.

But we can experience shadow in any house of the horoscope, for example if we have a strong seventh house and little in its opposite house, the first, we may identify more completely with others than with ourselves, making the self into shadow material: fear of being alone, denial of one’s own worth, self-effacement or self-abnegation or self-mutilation, to go to the extreme. If our ninth house is dominant over the third, we may find ourselves in an ivory tower, alienated from community, and thus critical of people who have strong local connections and networks. And so forth.

This is all shadow material. Light penetrates shadow through the channel of consciousness, of becoming aware of where your shadows lie, where they’re sourced, how they’re triggered, how they grow.

Consciousness, in turn, is cultivated by self-reflection, self-honesty and ventures into the darkness, to discover and retrieve and reclaim what is there. It can be done, to some extent, on one’s own, but is more often effective with a faithful guide, a Virgil to one’s Dante or a Gandalf to one’s Frodo. Such guides can bring the wisdom, insight, faith, humbleness and even humor we need to believe in our own survival through the dark shadows of our own psyche. They can help us find our own light.

Image: Drake Guan

Jung said our [...]]]> Carl Jung used the term “shadow” to describe the repressed contents of the personal unconscious — those parts of each of us that we’d rather not admit to harboring. The problem with shadow material is that it comes out when we’re not looking — or, more precisely, it comes out because we’re not looking.

Jung said our shadow elements could not be directly accessed but could, instead, be understood through dreams, complexes, projections and similarly sideways media. So a dream that you’re being chased by a lion might suggest that you haven’t integrated your personal power very well. The perception that someone else is a ruthless gossip might suggest that you look at your own gossiping habits. And so forth.

I believe the shadow can be seen most clearly in the horoscope chart, since the chart provides a graphic map of the individual psyche. Here are several ways we can detect the contents of the shadow in the horoscope:

• Knowing the dark and light of each archetype. Planets, signs, aspects and even houses carry energy that can manifest in positive, negative or neutral ways. Talking through situations, events, feelings and behaviors can begin to reveal how each archetype is being expressed on a daily basis.
• Attending to polarities. In Jungian terms, an astrological polarity would be called the “tension of opposites,” wherein two competing energies vie for dominance in the personality. We can see polarities in the horoscope in the form of oppositions (when two planets are 180 degrees apart) as well as imbalances — for example, many planets in the fifth house and none in the 11th.
• Noticing sign-house conflicts. These occur when an external force (house) demands that the person acts against the innate (sign) energy. For example, a Pisces Moon in the 10th house may suppress its natural softness to satisfy people who demand its leadership. (Of course, it may instead use its softness to be a “servant leader”-type; we won’t know without talking to the person.)

But perhaps the most powerful way of perceiving the whole of one’s shadow is by reading the nodal chart.

Developed by Bruno and Louise Huber, the nodal chart is the nerve center of astrological shadow material. In essence, it turns the natal chart inside-out, displaying, in full view, the suppressed contents of the personality — those traits that need to be accepted and integrated in order to move closer to the wholeness of the true self. In short, the nodal chart is a profound and transformative tool that can quickly shine a light on problems that have confounded you for years.

Want to know what your nodal chart says? Schedule a reading today.

Next up: Carl Jung’s nodal chart

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You know [...]]]> You know that drawer, or closet, or back room where you throw all the crap you don’t want to throw away, but don’t want in your regular living space, but don’t really have another place for? When I was growing up, it was the junk drawer. In my grown-up house, it’s mysteriously called the studio.

You know what I’m talking about. You avoid that space at all costs, and when you find you need something from there, you throw up a lot of resistance before going in.

Maybe you try to find a substitute for the serving dish that’s in there that you’d like to use for the party tonight. Or maybe you hope against hope that you haven’t really put it in there after all – maybe it’s just wedged behind a tray in the much-cleaner kitchen cupboard. But it’s not, and you know it, and finally you just hold your nose and open the door to the mess.

In Jungian psychology, that room might be called the “shadow.” It’s the part of you that has all the stuff you really don’t want to acknowledge, much less look at, deal with, dust off or throw out once and for all. You walk around life all day long as if your thoughts and words and consciously-chosen actions are all that exist of your psyche.

But then every once in a while you burst out in anger, much to everyone’s surprise. Or you hole up, encased in depression, not really sure why. Or you manage only a shallow little chuckle when you’d really like to bellow out with a belly laugh with the rest of the crowd. Or you’re tongue-tied when someone asks about your mother.

These unintended, often under-the-radar reactions belie a deeper part of the psyche that’s hinted at in a traditional astrology reading – but revealed much more fully in the Huber nodal chart.

If you’ve had only your natal chart read,  you’re in for a surprise with a nodal chart reading. Though the shadow reveals itself through other means, such as dreams, complexes, addictions and obsessions, I don’t know of another way to look at the full shadow head-on, to get a sense of its shape and purpose, to understand how its structure fits into the structure of your psyche. Where your conscious mind balks, the shadow may go ahead full-boar. Where you think your choosing west, your shadow may choose east. It can really screw you up if you’re not aware of it. Seeing it laid out graphically can help you bring it to consciousness, manage it better and be more in control of the choices you make.

The natal chart and the nodal chart intersect at two critical times in each person’s life: once in the first 36 years of life, then again in the next 36 years. The Hubers liken these times to “going through the eye of the needle,” times of transformation that may be exceedingly difficult but – if survived – can lead to a more conscious, grounded and successful way of life. Knowing when those times are coming can help us build an ark so we can survive it. Knowing when they’ve occurred in the past can give us new perspective on what might have seemed a random string of bad luck, or incompetence, or frustration.

Instead of allowing the shadow to overcome us, we can look at difficult, frustrating and frightening times of life as times when the junk drawer really needs a good, careful cleaning. A nodal chart reading can help you know where, and how, to begin.

Photo: Guillermo Esteves