astrology, mystery & me

Image by Dorothe Wouters from Pixabay

i hear you

As soon as I utter the word "astrology," I know I lose people. It's just one of those subjects that can really get the eyes rolling, and if you think astrology is a total load of rubbish? Well, I completely understand. Really, I hear you. Objectively, it seems ridiculous to connect anything that happens here on earth to anything that happens way up there in the sky. The entire concept begs the puzzling question of: Why would any even remotely intelligent person ever subscribe to such nonsense? Because from a purely logical perspective, it does all seem kind of childish. Irrelevant. Maybe even a tad bit desperate. And if you’re one of those that scoff at the whole subject, then I can wholly appreciate your dismissal.

Now that I find myself on the other side of that divide, however, I’m forced to assume—and with a fair amount of confidence—that you and true astrology have yet to be properly introduced. Because far beyond the land of ambiguous love omens and inaccurate fortune-telling lies a realm of wild—and wildly accurate—guidance, hope, and wonder. I mean, sure, it's all somewhat mind-boggling to see my story outlined up there in the heavens, but it's also strangely comforting. And without fail, each time I ponder my birthchart, the planets speak to me loudly, clearly, and insistently. They reassure me that there’s a plan, there’s a purpose, and there’s a point to it all. And some days, a person just really needs to hear that.

My conversion is still in its infancy, though, because as a somewhat intelligent and rational being myself, I was once (and not so long ago) a staunch skeptic/disbeliever as well. The sincere doubts all arose way back in my teen years when I was first introduced to astrology through the intriguing weekly horoscopes in the Sunday paper. Those dry predictions were quickly tossed aside, however, once I'd graduated to the much juicier ones in my beloved issues of Cosmopolitan magazine. Sure, both terrible things (the Challenger explosion, Chernobyl, AIDS) and amazing things (goodbye Berlin wall, hello first woman Supreme Court Justice) were happening in the world, but my interests weren’t quite so global or universal. My interests were largely local, purely selfish, and virtually always in the realm of... boys. These boys varied in name, temperament, and appearance, but I always had my sights set on at least one.

juicy little snippets

So when the Sunday paper arrived, I didn’t care so much (at all) about the headlines, but only about those obscure and mysterious little snippets tucked away in the back. They were always quick to address my most pressing need, promising me one of two things: love… or dreaded heartbreak. I’m not sure how long it took me to realize that my knight in shining armor wasn’t riding over the horizon as predicted, but I did eventually smarten up. And once I lost faith, those horoscopes were firmly demoted to the realm of entertainment. Yes, they were fun. But they were also wrong virtually every single time. And they most definitely were nothing I would rely on—or even remotely consider—when it came to making any of life’s big decisions. Or making any decisions, actually.

Fast forward thirty-five years to the beginning of 2021 when I (unbeknownst to me at the time) was busy navigating some significant astrological happenings. In a nutshell: Neptune was beating the living shit out of me—day in and day out. Trying desperately to make some sense of my life through the haze and crippling confusion, I ended up at the feet of Steven Forrest. I didn’t think to check Cosmo at the time (is it even still in print…?), but if it had once again predicted the arrival of a sweetheart, then this time it wouldn’t have been wrong. By the time I reached the end of The Inner Sky, I’d already fallen head-over-heels in love with Evolutionary Astrology. And if I’m being honest, I was a wee bit smitten with Steven Forrest, too.

Image by Joe from Pixabay

mind blown

While impressively packed with information, that book still felt like something of a teaser and it didn't take me long to decide I absolutely had to learn more. Enrolling at the Forrest Center for Evolutionary Astrology (FCEA) was daunting to say the least, partly because I was studying alongside people who'd been believers for far (far) longer than I had. They already knew the lingo, whereas I knew virtually nothing beyond: I'm a Pisces. As such a newbie to the craft, it was all vastly overwhelming to me for many months. I considered throwing in the towel on more than one occasion, but how could I walk away from something so utterly riveting?

Almost daily, I'd find myself awed by something new, and slowly the gibberish morphed into some clarity. Some understanding. And a feeling like I'd just stumbled upon another one of those pitying breadcrumbs that the Universe leaves me when I'm floundering wildly. Those breadcrumbs are typically hidden in plain sight. They usually appear in response to a desperate plea. And they're almost always as "simple" and natural as the planets in the sky.

But while mesmerizing, this particular breadcrumb was more than a little shocking as well. I needed some time to acclimate to the surprise (and excitement) I felt when presented with proof that there might actually be some truth to this planetary nonsense. Unless I wanted to deny my entire history, the birthchart was presenting a plethora of really sound evidence. And the farther back into my past I traveled, the more evidence I found. But how could these silly, little symbols so accurately describe me and my life? Seriously, they were balls of rock or gas in the far distant sky—how could they possibly know anything of my struggles, my talents, my strengths, and my weaknesses?

mystery upon mystery

In time, the endless questions settled down into something I could live with: an inner understanding that said I would simply have to put logic aside. Unless my spirit guide was planning on making me privy to some classified information, I had to be content with not knowing the "how" or the "why" behind it all. And once I stopped trying to "logicalize" the mystery, it seemed kind of crazy to deny the truth of the chart. Far crazier, in fact, than believing that Jupiter had showered me with gifts at my astrological baby shower.

As the awareness dawned that there might be some truly helpful and relevant information here, I was briefly frustrated that I’d come to learn all of this so late in life. Why, I lamented, hadn’t I met my chart sooner? In retrospect, I can only deduce this: Steven Forrest and I hadn't yet crossed paths because the Universe knows exactly how I work. Knowing me better than I even know myself, It understands (and sometimes even accommodates) the fact that I'm very much a “prove it” kind of person.

Countless times over the years I’ve been forced to toss things aside, even things I'd really hoped to hold tight to, because they've consistently fallen short of my expectations. After giving them ample time to prove themselves, they've failed to do so; consequently—sometimes with relief, sometimes with regret—I'm pressed to move on. Basically, I'll keep an open mind about virtually anything, but I'm not going to believe it just because you told me so. Personal experience is king in my world.

And I expected astrology to be no different; in fact, it felt like something that would require years and years of data collection before I could promote it with any kind of confidence. But in an interesting twist, it turns out that astrology didn’t need to prove itself to me because my life had already done that.

Through the years (and countless hours of introspection), I’ve discovered many important things about myself and how I tick. My many quirks. Where I'm strong and where I'm weak. My talents and my shortcomings. What fills me with happiness, sorrow, rage, or hopelessness. The things that matter much to me and those that matter little. So as my chart revealed itself to me one symbol at a time, I realized that they were all echoing things I'd already come to appreciate about myself. They mirrored my life—both inner and outer—in a way that was surreal. A smidge unsettling. And unbelievably, undeniably fascinating.

Image by Hans from Pixabay

shortcuts for all

If any of you doubters are still with me, you might be wondering what's even the point then, right? If I was able to eventually figure out so much of the birthchart all on my own—without ever having seen it—then why would anyone want to pay an astrologer big bucks to analyze theirs? If we agree to conveniently ignore the obvious fact that not everyone ponders their life quite as excessively as I do, then I have a second very easy answer. Believe it or not, it’s even short and sweet. And it consists of these four simple words: because it's a shortcut.

I'm almost fifty-two years old and as I already mentioned, I've made contemplation a full-time job. I like to think—a whole helluva lot. One could even consider it a hobby of mine. If something's wrong? I think it out. If something's right? Think that out, too. Do I have a decision to make? Let's think it out. Regardless of whether the problem is big or small, rumination is always my go-to coping mechanism. And eventually, my solutions and answers do reveal themselves. And if they don’t? Well, clearly, I need to think some more.

But do you know how long it took me to figure out that in order to be happy, I need to set sometimes overwhelming goals and then persevere until I succeed (like, for instance, learning the language of astrology)? That I need to firmly define a personal code of ethics and then steadfastly live in accordance with them (like, for instance, my 15+ year vegan journey)? My birthchart condensed many years of self-analysis into two words: Capricorn Moon.

Do you have any idea how often I've pondered (with no resolution) why everyone isn't in search of samadhi? Why everyone isn't seeking higher levels of consciousness and the pure bliss and transcendence they offer? Can't we all see and appreciate the dream-like quality of life and strive for something beyond? My chart answered those open-ended questions in these two words: Pisces Sun.

And unless you're also someone who is compelled—on a deep, inner level—to march to the beat of a drummer that no one else seems to hear, then you don't know the struggle that comes with being a "black sheep." An outsider. How many times I've asked myself whether or not I'm being "difficult" just to be difficult. Why can't I be content to go with the flow, to live my life without ripples? Couldn’t I even, just once, do things in a normal way? My heart screams no, and my chart echoes that in another two (very deeply liberating) words: Aquarius Rising.

me? mercurial?

Those planets and those signs answered years of questions. Years of confusion. And brought me immeasurable comfort in their confirmation. And that's just the tip of the iceberg when we're talking about a birthchart (my written reports run about fifty pages in length). Some of the planets answer questions I haven't even thought to ask yet. The chart offers more information than a brain can comfortably decipher or hold. But am I implying that I could have bypassed all the pain of growing had I befriended astrology earlier? Not exactly, no. But I definitely would have made things just a tad bit easier on myself.

One small case in point? Years ago, a friend of mine jokingly called me “mercurial.” Truth be told, I took offense to that even though I knew he meant no harm. But in my mind, calling me mercurial was equivalent to calling me flaky. And I definitely wasn't flaky... was I? I mean, I am endlessly curious. And as soon as I've satiated my thirst about one thing, I'm immediately off in search of the next interesting subject. I do change my mind quite frequently depending on the day… or the weather… or how well I slept…

BUT I always stick with the truly important things. I'm still married after thirty-one years, and that hasn't always been a joyride. I homeschooled my girls from start to finish, and that wasn't always a joyride either. I've been a steadfast vegan for 15+ years, yet another adventure that hasn't been without its fair share of hiccups and stumbles. So see, he was wrong. I can most definitely stick with things when it counts. Who does he think he is, calling me flaky...

Image by Bernard FLEURANDEAU from Pixabay

curiosity queen

That mental tug-o-war lasted right up until I analyzed my chart. And you know what I found? (This might sound like gibberish, just bear with me for a second…) Mercury in the 1st House—the House of Personality. And two planets plus my south node in the sign of Gemini. You know what that translates to? I was born to be curious. It’s an intrinsic part of my character and even ties into who I was in a previous incarnation. I AM mercurial. And that’s exactly how I'm supposed to be. If personal experience is my king, then curiosity is its queen. Seriously, I'm a bottomless pit of the stuff.

When I see something like that heavy "mercurial" influence, the birthchart is reassuring and encouraging; at other times, however, it's a sharp reminder that I can do better and I can be better. It highlights—with unflinching honesty—where I am definitely not living up to my potential. And as a tool for self-development (especially when used with the same unflinching honesty), it's proven invaluable. But even though those two high/low beacons are hugely significant and helpful all by themselves, there's more. Because I came to appreciate something else, too—something truly fundamental—while learning the language of astrology.

In general, people give a lot of lip service to the idea that we're all distinct individuals; how wonderful it is that we come in so many different sizes, shapes, and flavors. But if that's truly the case, then why are we so damn quick to render harsh judgments on anyone who dares to differ from the accepted norm? We disapprove of their dress. Their occupation. Their choices, personality, hair color, political party, the car they drive. Sadly, the list could go on forever. And those judgments are the fuel that sets into motion the vicious gossip, hate speech, and bitter condemnations that run rampant in our diseased world.

But lest you wrongly assume that I'm above all of this wretchedness, let me assure you that I am not—yet. Because even though I've worked diligently for years to become the person without judgment, I still sometimes fail. On occasion, I can still delude myself into believing that I have all the answers. Trick myself in feeling that my every opinion is worth sharing. Justify my worth and insecurities by engaging into petty gossip.

blessedly unique

But after seeing numerous charts, there's one crystal-clear thing that stands out about each and every one. One thing that can instantly humble me and effectively deflate my sense of righteousness. And that one thing is this: Every single birthchart is vibrantly and blessedly unique. Beautiful and complicated. An original work of art. Spirit made it impossible for us to all mimic each other; we'd have to deny the very truth of ourselves—for the entirety of our lives—in order to accomplish such an utterly boring feat.

We all have different things that motivate us. Different paths to take and lessons to learn. Different clothes to wear and choices to make. Some of us are mercurial, and some of us aren't. Astrology helped me to see that. To deeply appreciate that. And to marvel at the absolute ingenuity of divine wisdom. Learning evolutionary astrology didn't only help me to stop judging myself, it helped me to stop judging others. And as soon as I fall back into old habits? The birthchart sternly reminds me to shut the hell up because I have more than enough on my plate already. Like for starters, how exactly is that 10th house Neptune going to play out? And, by any chance, do my beloved soaps factor in?

I could have taken my studies further at the FCEA but after two years, I hit pause. Firstly, because I needed time to assimilate all of the new info I'd just devoured; and secondly, because I needed some critical "prove it" time. I had to actually live it before I could move forward with confidence. Or, even more possibly, ditch it altogether. How much could I lean into the birthchart? How reliable would its guidance be? Would it simply frustrate me? Or would it free me to move forward with mercurial confidence? My past had proven the truth of astrology, but what about my present?

therapy, anyone?

Since then, I've analyzed quite a few charts. I've sat across the table from people and watched them come to personal epiphanies and realizations just as I had. I've listened to them sigh with relief when they realize that what others call "wrong" about them is, in fact, blessedly right. I've seen many present lifetimes mimicking the errors of past lifetimes. I've compared charts to the lives they mirror—just as I did mine—and been just as delightfully shocked at the accuracy. My girls call my readings therapy sessions and with good reason; after all, the entire reading is all about you.

Steven Forrest defines the birthchart a "blueprint for the soul," and I'm more and more certain as the days pass that that description is dead-on. And I don't know about you, but there are a lot of days when getting a sneak peek at the larger plan of my life is just the kind of miracle I need.

Fifty-one years ago, my journey began. The planets kindly equipped me with an impressive array of tools, strengths, and motivations—the very ones I'll personally need to succeed in this life. Some days I use them wisely, some days poorly. Some days I don't seem to use them at all. But I've made significant progress without the aid of the birthchart, so with its guidance, I hope to make really great leaps forward. Who knows? Maybe I'll even skip a grade. I'll be sure to keep you posted on how it all turns out. Then again, I've been told that I'm flaky, so maybe it's best not to hold your breath waiting on the sequel...

We still consider Pluto a planet in astrology--and a mighty one at that!

more astrology

P.S. Stay tuned for my new upcoming series on the Sun signs! I used to include this info free with the purchase of a zodiac bar, but I feel it should be available to all ♥