Okay, Venus and Mars are still in
me me me Aries, and this post is suitably about me. If you’re bored already, read my
lovescopes, and come back next week. Or book me for a
consultation and I promise it will all be about you.
We’re now at the mid-point of the Mercury retrograde phase and, so far, the only casualty of this oft-maligned transit that I’ve experienced is my tote bag. One of the loops on the zipper keeps falling off. Not exactly the legendary stuff that Mercury retrogrades are made of. What happened to fried computers and broken telephones? Well - in my case - technology snafus haven’t been an issue because Mercury is doing as little damage as possible whilst transiting my 12th House. The 12th House is the Dreamscape - that quiet place where the imagination roams freely and seeds new possibilities for a future barely in the making. It’s the realm of symbols and transcendence – the hermitage.
Not surprisingly, I have been re-thinking (now there’s a Mercury retrograde word) my place in the world of organized religion. Organized religion and Christianity in particular - a 12th house concept. The 12th House is associated with mystic Pisces, the Fish – the symbol of Christianity. In fact, we are moving from the Age of Pisces (Christianity) into the Age of Aquarius. For many months now, I’ve been pondering the various ways to link astrology and Christianity. It’s been more of a background noise or an inner conversation that sort of nestled comfortably on the backburner, where I didn’t necessarily have to deal with it strenuously or come to any conclusions.
However, a couple of weeks ago, as I sat in Church where I sing in the choir, I listened to a sermon that denounced astrology. And there it was, in my face: the Universe had provided me with the perfect opportunity to look at the tortured association between Christianity and astrology. Mercury retrograde (in the guise of the preacher) was exerting its influence on my spiritual 12th house. I wasn’t at all as composed during that sermon as I am while I write this article, however. Picture me squirming in the front pew, with a big lump in my throat. If ever there was a time and a place where it occurred to me, “Oh-oh, I don’t belong here” that was the moment. I felt conspicuous. I felt guilty. I wondered if I had been led down the road to evil by taking up astrology years ago.
But what’s a church choir-gal who attended an Anglican school for thirteen years doing in the world of astrology in the first place? Is it a mistake to have my Piscean feet in both worlds? Though there are numerous references to astrology in the Torah and the Bible, the jury seems to be out on whether or not it’s the Creator’s intention for us to use astrology. It depends on whom you ask. It depends on what branch of Christianity you align with. Obviously, Christianity is not a monolith. But neither is astrology. Me, I never saw a conflict of interest. After all, I believe that God created the Heavens. I mean, that seems a given, so I feel almost silly stating it. But it has to be said, given the nature of the minister’s negative comments. And I think that astrology has a role to play in deepening one’s relationship with the Divine. It has certainly had such an effect on me.
So, back to the minister’s sermon: I had just been symbolically branded with a scarlet letter for Astrologer, and smacked up the side of the head. Now at the time, transiting Venus (personal values) was squaring transiting Pluto (power and transformation), so this was just the kind of incendiary sermon one might expect to hear. Indeed, there is always a co-relation between the minister’s sermons and the transits of the time – not a surprise. The problem for me was that this attack against astrology felt so personal. I was born with Venus at the apex of a t-square from both Jupiter and Neptune. So I’m always confronted by the need to assess my philosophical (Jupiter) and spiritual (Neptune) values (Venus). And my Venus lives in the 8th house of transformation, which intensifies this complex. The sermon wasn’t personal, most certainly wasn’t aimed at me directly, but I felt the full force (Pluto) with a directness and urgency that had me sobbing (as discreetly as possible, if you can imagine.) Though I did try to save my tears for the ladies’ room, some of them wouldn’t be contained in the sanctuary, and came spilling out during the
Lord’s Prayer, no less. Now
that was humbling.
Did I exit stage left in a glorious trail of righteous indignation? It would make for a great scene, but no. I am a Pisces, for starters. Preferring a mysterious exit, we tend to swim away while no one is watching (that’s Neptune for you). I also have a Libra Moon. We can’t bear to make anyone else feel uncomfortable, even if we’ve just been on the receiving end of someone’s insulting remarks. Besides, I come back to the fact that I’m a choir singer at the church. Leaving would mean leaving my choir family, and losing the income that the job provides. I also enjoy the time of worship, the chance to pray, and the opportunity to make a joyful noise unto the Creator. And I generally learn a great deal from the sermons.
I gave myself a week to cool down and asked friends and colleagues for a reality check. Seeing as retrograde Saturn (reality) was getting ready to resume direct motion in analytical Virgo, this seemed a timely idea anyway. One of my friends - also an astrologer - suggested I keep the choir job, take the money, and suffer in silence. A few agreed with him that it would do no good to speak to the minister. He’s my boss, in a sense, and you don’t argue with your boss. Other astrologers suggested I open my mouth and clear the air. I received a great deal of help from a community of astrologers, actually. Lucky for me that I was born with Jupiter in the 11th House of groups and associations. I do feel blessed by the richness of wisdom that I received from many of them.
I decided that I couldn’t cope with the hypocrisy of staying in a place where I might be viewed as spiritually suspect. Neither did I wish to trespass on hallowed ground. So I decided to meet with the pastor. I wasn’t going in with a tirade; I went in peace. I had no clue how our conversation would progress, but I needed to see if there was any hope of common ground between my views and the minister’s or church’s. When we met, I “came out” as an astrologer and expressed my views on astrology’s place in the development of one’s spiritual life. (That’s one illustration of how transiting Sun and Uranus work together in a sextile aspect, as they were at the time.) Out of respect for the pastor’s privacy, I won’t share the details of our conversation. But in a nutshell, it went exceedingly well. Just as the current conjunction of Chiron with Jupiter and Neptune promises, a bridge has been built. Am I naïve to imagine that there’s room for all of us on this bridge, regardless of spiritual or religious background? Furthermore, do you think there’s a place for astrology in religion? Please share your views with me.
As for me, let me assert here and now with the full confidence that transiting Venus and Mars in Aries (I AM!) bestows: I believe in a righteous and benevolent divine force that governs this realm and every realm under the heavens. Sometimes I call this energy God, or the Creator, or Source or Spirit or the Universe or Mystery, or the Divine. Whatever one chooses to call it, I have experienced the flow of this unconditional love. I hope that you have too. And I believe that each of us has our own very personal relationship with the Divine. I don’t believe that “getting to Heaven” is incumbent upon anything other than meeting each moment with your greatest self. I don’t actually believe that heaven is a place “up there” but rather a state of being, right here. And we have the chance to be re-born each minute. Astrology speaks to me of some of the Divine possibilities. I was called to it, just as the minister was called to his vocation. We’re both children of the same God. There’s precious little else that I know so far. I have a healthy respect for mystery, after all. Like nature, it cannot be completely fathomed.
In the meantime, I’ll keep singing on Sundays and the pastor can preach to the choir. Praise the Lord, and pass the ephemeris.