Astrology for Earthlings

Mercury will station retrograde early tomorrow morning (Eastern time) in the second decan of Taurus. To understand the meaning of this retrograde, I considered the decans it will take place in and the corresponding Tarot cards. If you’re interested in what this retrograde might mean and how it lines up with the Tarot, keep reading below the cut!

I write while Mars occupies the early degrees of Cancer. The first face of Cancer belongs to Venus, and here, by Luna’s healing waters, I imagine her presiding over a seaside sanctuary. This scene of Venus, accompanied by her aquatic wards (like the dolphin pictured in Bouguereau’s Birth of Venus), is entered by Mars, after his long journey through the sign of Gemini. It is in this ocean refuge that Mars can finally lay down his armour, bandage his wounds, and rest his ever-watchful eyes.

Astrology’s system of essential dignity tells us that Cancer is the fall of Mars. I think the dignity system tells us a great deal about what we value. Planets that lack essential dignity are said to be weakened or corrupted. We don’t call on them for magic because they aren’t at full power. What this tells me is that we value those who have power, and we devalue those who do not.

Mars has minor dignity throughout Cancer, introducing nuance and complexity to the story we tell here. To give background to this story, it may be helpful to consider the sign opposite Cancer, where Mars is said to have his exaltation. This most rock-solid sign of the zodiac is Capricorn, a place where we remain steadfast in the face of adversity. It makes sense that we like having Mars here, where our fierce protector stands as solid as a mountain. Mars in Cancer, then, is the story of how we respond when the mountain no longer stands.

The first chapter of the Mars in Cancer story is about Mars and Venus. Our Martial hero may have suffered a blow, but he is not without resources. Here, Mars is like a knight, un-horsed and wounded, but with enough remaining strength to deliver the killing blow. The monster is defeated, and our valiant hero is thus worthy of our love. Mars enters the embrace of Venus – his wounds cleaned and bandaged, his deeds celebrated by his people, his story set to song. But what happens when the celebration is over, and our hero remains unhealed? What happens when this is the last battle, and our knight must hang up their armour for good?

If we approach astrology relationally, understanding Mars as a living being, it is worth considering that Mars might want to be loved, valued, and listened to, wherever we find him in the zodiac. Places of power are not the only places with value. It is in places of vulnerability where the planets (and we, ourselves) may demonstrate the greatest strength. The dignity system teaches us that even the ageless stars understand vulnerability. When the great god of war must hang up his armour and allow himself to be as vulnerable as a child, that is when we see him most clearly. We see his true self, beyond all the expectations we have placed on him.

I want to close with the words of King Harrow in The Dragon Prince:

“Advisors and scholars will tell you that history is a narrative of strength. They will recount stories of the rise and fall of nations and empires. They will be stories of armies, battles, and decisive victories. But this isn’t true strength. It’s merely power…

The Moon in Leo is separating from a trine with Jupiter and applying to an opposition with Venus as I write. In a few hours, she will enter a sextile with Mars, before beginning the long and arduous journey towards an opposition with Saturn that will perfect tomorrow night.

I think most astrologers would agree that the Moon separating from one benefic and applying to the other is a pretty fun, cozy time. In my morning meditation I imagined her preparing for whatever lies in store during the Saturn opposition by doing things that nurtured her soul and uplifted her spirit. Perhaps the sextile with Mars would be her training montage before heading out on her Saturnian mission. I could immediately see a parallel with my own morning of meditation and cat cuddles—getting myself into a relaxed, focused headspace before the mountain of chores and responsibilities I would have to take on over the next couple of days. The Moon often speaks to us about our daily tasks. But when I drew The World card from my Tarot deck, I knew the Moon had a more far-reaching message for me.

The World is the card of Saturn, who is acutely aware of what kind of world we live in and how it might limit us. The dancing lady on The World card made me think of Saturn as a goddess, and the Goddess Saturn reminded me of how limited the expression of female divinity is in astrology. Only two of the seven classical planets are traditionally associated with goddesses, and both are given the significations of motherhood, caregiving, and birth. As profound and important as those roles are, shouldn’t the “feminine” planets have a little more range? I think the Moon in Leo, a sign that represents sovereignty over one’s own destiny, might want to resist the limitations imposed on her by tradition.

I started to feel like the Moon and Saturn were speaking to my own experience of gender dysphoria, to the struggle of transitioning in a world that tries to cage me within its strict definition of what I am allowed to do and be. And I am one of the lucky ones—like the Moon gathering strength from Venus and Jupiter, I am fortunate to have access to gender-affirming care, to live in a country where my legal rights are protected (law and justice being Jupiter’s domain, of course!). All the same, it is trivially easy for companies to deny people work or fire us for being trans, for our families to reject us, for social safety nets to fall apart beneath us. The daily task of resisting limiting cultural messages and facing down an endless barricade of transphobic slights in every public or corporate space we enter is exhausting. I am profoundly blessed, but I need to count on every one of those blessings to keep fighting the opposition I face at every turn.

If you’re looking for a way to engage with this transit of the Moon you might meditate on your relationship to The World. Are there times when you feel as though powers much larger than yourself dictate who you get to be? Who or what in your life supports your right to define yourself on your own terms? If you’re a Tarot person, pull The World and Strength out of your favourite deck and consider the story they might be telling you. Was there a time in your life when you felt like it was you against The World, when you showed Strength in the face of adversity? And if you’re looking for something a little lighter to do, I recommend watching Pixar’s Brave—the conflict between the traditional Queen Elinor and her headstrong daughter Princess Merida is a great example of how Saturn opposing the Moon in Leo can look, and how the tension between them can be resolved.

Luna waxes in Sagittarius, and I consider the absolute freedom of the sign. To refuse a set path and go where one pleases. To allow one’s beliefs to change from moment to moment, unbound by orthodoxy. There is a looseness and a weightlessness in Sagittarius, the sign where everything is possible.

When I imagine Sagittarius, I imagine a mountain, and the hope of an encounter with the gods should one reach the summit. At the top of the mountain, perhaps, within the limits of our mortal senses, we may catch a glimpse of Zeus towering over Mount Olympus.

But Luna’s journey over the Sagittarian mountain has not been straightforward (is it ever?). As I write, she separates from an opposition with Mars in Gemini that occurred a few hours earlier. The Sagittarian trance of optimism was momentarily broken by a warning call from Mars. Beware of danger on the mountain: an unseen stone jutting up from the path, risking a broken ankle; a hungry mountain lion stalking from above. Did Luna heed the call of Mars and wait out the danger, or did she press on, risking confrontation and injury? As with everything in astrology, there are endless variations on how this story played out, and all of them are true.

By now, the danger has passed, and our young adventurer (for this lunation is less than two days old) is applying to a square with the ruler of Sagittarius, Jupiter. I like to imagine her standing now at the top of the great mountain, the whole world laid before her feet, her perspective forever changed by what she sees—the square, after all, is a dynamic aspect. After the perfection of the square she will spend some time void of course, and I imagine her lingering for awhile in this place, outside of space and time.

The transition of Mercury from Aquarius to Pisces is meaningful to me as someone who holds a rational, scientific worldview and an irrational, magickal worldview simultaneously. I know I am not alone in trying to reconcile these two sides. They often feel like the two fish of Pisces, pulling in opposite directions. 

In Saturn’s sign, Mercury’s ideas must endure careful scrutiny. Mercury in Aquarius communicates when there is hard evidence for what they have to say. But in Pisces, Mercury is tasked with finding words for subtle feelings, flights of imagination, and experiences of unity and beauty that plain language cannot adequately capture.

Noted Piscean Albert Einstein once said “It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense. It would be a description without meaning—as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure.” Mercury’s transition from Aquarius to Pisces is the transition from describing everything scientifically to describing things in terms of what they mean and how they feel. We need Mercury in Aquarius to help us examine our ideas critically—especially in this age of conspiracies and extremist ideologies posing as the truth. But we need Mercury in Pisces to inspire our imaginations as well. Mercury in Pisces encourages us to listen to musicians, storytellers, and poets—weavers of worlds that are simultaneously real and unreal.

In which I write about the Sun in Aquarius using the fictional characters of Aragorn and Loki as examples. There will be a couple of spoilers.