Rene Magritte “The Castle of the Pyrenees”

December 21, 2020 

(0-1° Aquarius)

One thing I’ve concluded from witnessing and experiencing this year: you don’t have to like 2020, but you have to respect it. It has been as mythic and karmic as it has been painful and confronting. And after tracking it astrologically, major event after major event, hurdle after hurdle, one has to at least marvel at the planetary agenda that we were handed. Now that we have finally made it to the end, the sky does not disappoint. The divine watchmaker has timed it beautifully; the cosmic playwright has written in one final plot twist, the pièce de resistance of this unforgiving Emperor Year: A Great Conjunction on the day of the Winter Solstice. 

Jupiter-Saturn conjunctions are historical events. They usher in social, cultural and political change that defines eras, if not epochs. This one, which perfects on Monday, puts us at the confluence, and the inauguration, of three: one that will last for the next 20 years, one that will see us through the end of the 22nd century, and one that won’t come again for another 800 years. For the rest of our lifetimes and far beyond, Jupiter and Saturn will meet only in air signs (the realms of the mind, ideas and information), beginning here and now in the first degree of Aquarius. 

We are living in a Tale of Two Saturns: one the ruler of traditional Capricorn (where the planet has been for the past three years), and one the co-ruler of progressive Aquarius, where it will be until 2023. Aquarius gives birth to visionaries, to truth tellers, to revolutionaries and to humanitarians. It speaks to our concepts of time and place, and how we see ourselves within those frameworks. Jupiter speaks to possibility and Saturn to limits. A future commentator might one day describe this pivotal time in history much like the writer Charles Dickens (Sun in Aquarius) wrote about the era of revolution that defined the last quarter of the 18th century: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…” Because, for all the impassioned Enlightenment ideals of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” (the US has an Aquarius south node), and “liberté, egalité, fraternité” (the 1st Republic of France had Pluto in Aquarius), the slave ships and the guillotine told of a much darker reality. 

John Lennon, who was born under an exact Jupiter-Saturn conjunction (in Taurus), square to an Aquarius Moon, believed in the possibility of a kinder, gentler world; a utopia that could be achieved if only we put our cynicism aside and “Imagine.” He was eventually crushed under the burden of that conjunction and the fame and responsibility that it brought him, and met his Saturnian end far too soon. But nevertheless, born with rebellion in his blood, he dared to envision the future. That future is still a dream to this day, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause, or that we should stop imagining. For, as the poet Carl Sandburg (who also had the Moon in Aquarius) reminds us, ”Nothing happens unless first we dream”.

In Ancient Rome, the days leading up to and following the Winter Solstice were the feast days of the Saturnalia, when roles and rules were inverted and wild disorder prevailed. It was a time of revelry and liberation—a suspended reality, hearkening back to the Golden Age of Saturn, the Edenic time of plenty that characterized his reign, before Jupiter supplanted him. It was also a festival of light in the darkest days of the year, a dedication to Sol Invictus, the Invincible Sun. What would the citizens of that bygone empire say to those of us in this modern one? Perhaps, beware the idea of Golden Ages of yesteryear–they are tantalizing, but illusory…Utopian dreams often fail in the Saturnian light of reality…Celebration is necessary to the human spirit, but it cannot go on forever…And, when you elect the Lord of Misrule, remember he is only a mock king and a clown, and often ends up effigized once his time is up. Real leadership is hard work and responsibility. But, I would imagine, they would also tell us not to let past, or present, realities conquer our hopes and dreams of a better world, and a more humane and egalitarian way of living. Saturn reminds us of the importance of proper stewardship; Jupiter gives winds to our sails, and Aquarius offers the vision, and the courage to break the mold. Old generations die, new generations are born, the earth abides, and the Sun also rises.

Now, as these mighty planets change signs and the earth changes seasons, we stand before Janus, Roman god of doorways, time and beginnings (for whom January is named). With his two faces, one looking forward and one looking back, he represents the past and the future, the dark solstice and the light, the twin pillars of the earth. He is the gatekeeper of every new age, and through him all things must progress. His archetypal cognate, the Greek Hecate, triple-headed goddess of the crossroads, who presides over all transitions, moves into Aquarius on December 29. 

This Aquarian time, this era of air, is an opportunity to cleanse what William Blake called the doors of perception, and open ourselves up to our greatest potential. Blake, a man truly ahead of his time, had Saturn in Aquarius, and operated on a wavelength that connected him to other iconoclasts like Aldous Huxley (Aquarius MC) and Jim Morrison (Aquarius Rising). Meditate (if you like) on the idea of doorways, passages, bridges and crossroads—both literal and metaphorical. These liminal spaces contain deep wisdom and symbolism. What is closing and what is opening? What do they lead to and what are they inviting in? Poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (Pluto in Aquarius) said, “a prophet is someone who can see into the present.” We may not all be the boundary-pushers that these figures were, but we all have Aquarius somewhere in our charts, and therefore, we are all prophets in some way. That sector of our life is where we will be birthing a new reality, so dream big (says Jupiter), but dream smart (says Saturn). The time has come, to open the door, and break on through to the other side.

“Immaculate Heart of Mary with Doves and Lace” found via Pinterest

December 15, 2020 - January 8, 2021

Today, Our Lady Venus begins her pilgrim’s progress, rushing headlong into Sagittarius with stars in her eyes and her heart on her sleeve. After all, why should you hide your feelings? Why deny your affection, when it is born out of truth and beauty? When she encounters connection, the heady combination of passion and fate opens up a world of possibility to the goddess of desire, and she is ready to run off into the sunset, hand in hand. She is searching for love through experience, and experience through love. 

In this place, love is an act of devotion. It seeks, like Romeo appealing to Juliet, to “let lips do what hands do.” Pulsing with the mutable fire of Sagittarius, the heart can get carried away by passion (and then carried away again, when the wind changes direction). It lives by the arrow and, at times, bleeds by the arrow, and yet the beat goes on. But though it may wander, the heart is not fickle; it is just open, and needs plenty of freedom to pursue its desires. To live, love, and learn.

Venus’s transit through Sagittarius offers us the opportunity to see ourselves in the mirror of those who are different than ourselves; to find value in diversity; to see the appeal of the exotic; and to appreciate the viewpoints of those who appear older and wiser. In partnership, it encourages us to find the space to learn and grow together. Where Sagittarius falls in the  chart is an area of life where we seek meaning and inspiration, and any planets that find themselves born there or passing through are blessed with abundance and optimism. So open your heart—there is plenty of love to go around in Jupiter’s sign. 

“Mister Tambourine Man” Martin Sharp

December 14, 2020 

23° Sagittarius

There is high drama in the skies this month—fitting for the finale of such a year. I am hard-pressed to think of an aspect of private or public life that has not been tested, questioned, threatened or reshaped over the past twelve months. It seems clear at this point: we are entering an age of renaissance and reform. And the times, they are a-changing.

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast. On Monday (the Moon’s day) the skies will be host to a total solar eclipse in the sign of Sagittarius, amidst the stars of Ophiuchus the Healer. Whatever we are downloading as a collective, it contains both centaur wisdom and serpent dreaming, both venom and resurrection, and reaches above and beyond human parameters.
These potent celestial events have been observed by skywatchers for millennia, and treated as harbingers of power curtailed, as the Moon, symbol of the people, briefly blocks out the light of the Sun, symbol of leadership and authority. Jupiter, the ruler of this Sagittarius eclipse, must watch handicapped from the last degree of Capricorn, the sign of his fall. The pawn puts the king in check. A blow is dealt to the zealot and to the autocrat, but also to our sovereignty and vitality. The order is rapidly fading. 

Mercury, our mouthpiece, is conjunct the South Node. All over the world, the troubadours are singing, protestors are crying out, the twittersphere is abuzz, journalists and teachers are struggling mightily, and the voices of future generations are being born. They keep their fingers on the pulse, their ears to the zeitgeist, and keep us informed of the battles outside raging.

This eclipse, with its Gemini polarity point, is about the importance of listening and learning. Keep an open mind, and don’t criticize what you can’t understand. Like improv actors, let us remember our “yes, and…” thinking, to encourage and expand communication when in unfamiliar territory. The Sagittarian challenge: let go of the commitment to certainty. Don’t speak too soon, for the wheel’s still in spin. And to all who are watching and awakening—keep your eyes wide, the chance won’t come again. 

It is said that history doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme. This eclipse has a resonance with the solar eclipse of December 2001, and before that, December 1982. We’ve been here before, and yet, this time is entirely new. The message of Sagittarius and Gemini in the coming year: pay attention and try to keep up. And the fundamental lesson of these mutable signs, and of astrology as a whole: We are continually revolving and evolving. The present now will later be past. The times are *always* changing.