Ask Christine Astrology

I didn’t mean it to happen… but I broke one of my most important rules of horary a couple of days ago. Namely…

DO NOT ACCEPT QUESTIONS ON MULTIPLE TOPICS FROM ONE QUERENT AT THE SAME TIME.

I was asking friends for seed questions for a small project I’m helping a colleague with, and when one person emailed me back with not one but TWO juicy questions (is my marriage in trouble? and when will my big career break come?), I thought, “Oh, I should really tell her to send these in separate emails.” But I didn’t, and now I’m wondering if I need to reject one question or ask her to resend or what.

What’s so bad about accepting multiple questions at once? Say you’re reading an email from a querent, and you read both (or all) of her questions within a few seconds. Then what you’ve got is one single chart for that place and time, and you’ll be stuck trying to answer two (or several) separate questions from the same chart. It’s not impossible, but it can get complicated.

Also, when the querent has multiple concerns, it can mean that they need to go back and think some more before asking. Horary astrology works on the premise that the question and its answer arise from the same moment. The more important the question is to you, and the more you really hone in on what you need to know before you ask, the better the results will be. John Frawley in The Horary Textbook remarks, “The asking of many unrelated questions suggests that none of them is the real issue. It is better to ask the querent to reflect on what is most important and then ask that.”

This doesn’t prevent querents from asking two related questions at once - for instance, “Will I get the job? Will it pay well?” or “Should I go out with X? Will he get along with my kids?” But getting a laundry list of questions is the red flag that tells you, the astrologer, to ask the querent to take some more time and focus on what they need to know.

In the end, I may attempt to read both the marriage and the career questions from the one chart I have. As I said: not impossible, just complicated. If the querent had sent the questions in separate emails, at least I could have read them at separate times, thus giving each one its own unique chart. That’s the wondrous thing about horary astrology: the chart is for the moment the astrologer understands what’s being asked. It may look like I’m imposing some free will on the situation and somehow “choosing” the chart for each question; but I find that the system works.

So now I’ll have to go see how the chart looks. I glanced at it on Friday and there’s an early degree rising. That’s one of those old-fashioned “strictures against judgment” that suggests the question is somehow premature. Maybe I can use that as my excuse to ask her to resend both, separately.

A recent comment from astrologer Jeffrey Kishner reminded me of one of the odder notions I had to wrap my head around when I first started studying old-school astrology. It’s this: the planet/house associations you’re used to making - Mars for the first house, Venus for the second house, and so on - are all wrong. Ha ha!

The ancients used only seven heavenly bodies, as you probably know. These were ordered according to their planetary spheres, based on each planet’s relative speed. The list goes from slowest to speediest:

1. Saturn
2. Jupiter
3. Mars
4. Sun
5. Venus
6. Mercury
7. Moon

Thus, the first seven houses of the chart are naturally ruled by those planets in order. Saturn, ruler of boundaries, governs our physical bodies and our entrance into life. Jupiter is all about wealth and plenty, and so is connected with the second house. Mars, natural ruler of siblings and action, is associated with the third house of brothers, sisters, and short journeys. As John Frawley explains, Mars also shows the impulse to speak, the motive behind the expression, thus the third house connection.

Sun, natural ruler of fatherhood, gets the fourth house, which in the tradition is always the house of the father. (Yep, always.) Venus finds pleasure in the fifth house, naturally associated with fun and games and entertainment and pastimes. Mercury, the servant and attendant to the Sun, is associated with the house of servants, the sixth. And the Moon, a constant reflection of the Sun’s light, connects to the reflection of the partner that is the seventh house.

What do we do with the eighth through twelfth houses? Start all over again with Saturn.

8. Saturn
9. Jupiter
10. Mars
11. Sun
12. Venus

Now Saturn who showed us into life at the first house shows us the way out through the eighth, house of death. Jupiter’s expansion takes us on the journey to the divine in the ninth house. Mars describes our action, honor, and reputation in the world through the tenth house. Sun is associated with the eleventh, house of good fortune and our greatest hopes. And Venus’s penchant for pleasure at any price leads to the dumb things we do to imprison ourselves in the twelfth.

This post borrows heavily from The Real Astrology by John Frawley. See pages 101-103 in his chapter on the houses. Then read the entire book. Highly recommended.

Why are the 12 houses of the chart arranged as they are? English astrologer Henry Coley, a protege of William Lilly, provides a neat explanation in his 1676 book Clavis Astrologiae or a Key to the Whole Art of Astrology. Dividing the houses into four triangles, each one grounded by one of the four angles, he explains that each set of three houses shares a single theme: life, love, action, or passion (not as in romance, but as in suffering; that which is done to us, as opposed to action, that which we do). Each house in each set expresses that theme in a complementary way.

The Life triangle is linked to the Ascendant and includes houses 1, 5, and 9. The 1st is the house of our present life and body: our self. The 9th is the house of religion, or, as Coley explains it, our hoped-for eternal life in God. The 5th is the house of our children and creative works; that is, our life carried forward into posterity.

The Action triangle, also called the triangle of gain, is linked to the Midheaven and includes houses 10, 2, and 6. It is concerned with worldly goods and honors we earn. The 10th, says Coley, is the house of immaterial resources: our mastery of a profession, our honors and dignities, even majesty and power. The 6th is the house of material, animate resources: those who work for us, or, as Coley expresses it, “subjects and servants.” The 2nd is the house of material, inanimate resources: our possessions and our capacity to earn money.

The Love triangle is linked to the Descendant and includes houses 7, 11, and 3. The 7th is the house of matrimony: the relationship of love. The 3rd is the house of siblings (”brethren and kindred,” says Coley): the relationship of blood. The 11th is the house of “simple benevolence and favour,” per Coley: the relationship of friendship.

The Passion triangle is linked to the Nadir, which Coley ominously calls the Dark Angle. Remember, “Passion” here means suffering. It includes houses 4, 8, and 12. The 4th is the house of parents and ancestors, or, as Coley darkly puts it, “a sorrowful expectation of the natural death of his parents.” He goes on to link this house to “the stain of Original Sin,” the suffering we each take on by being born. The 12th is the house of secret enemies, imprisonment, servitude - the misery and suffering imposed upon us during life. And the 8th is the house of death itself, the end of this temporal and temporary existence.

Funny I should write about receptions in the astrological chart the other day - specifically the hypothetical dynamic between Mars in Leo and Sun in Gemini. Tonight I wrote up a horary chart for a woman asking if the guy she has a crush on at work is “the one,” and if I could tell her when they’d be together, if ever. Scorpio was rising, so her significators were Mars in Leo and Moon in Taurus. With Taurus on the descendant, his significators were Venus and Sun, both in Gemini.

What could I tell her? Mars is ruled by Sun, Moon is ruled by Venus, she’s clearly smitten with him. But he, alas, does not reciprocate her feelings. Sun is in the face of Mars, Venus (in this chart) is just 10′ of arc from entering the face of Mars, so there is a teeny weeny bit of interest from him. But to quote John Frawley in The Horary Textbook, this is “better than indifference, but not by much.” Frawley’s example of reception by face continues, “Will she go out with me?… Yes, she will - if her boyfriend is out of town, her fridge is empty and there’s nothing on TV.” Ouch.

Very few horary charts are going to be grand-slam positive, all-systems-go affirmations of your intentions. Often they can give insight on a relationship; it’s just not always the insight you hoped to receive. I think, too, that some clients secretly expect that the astrologer will not only read the stars but also rearrange them into a more favorable alignment. Me, I’m just a translator, checking my cosmic phrasebook and consulting the old texts for a read on those particularly tricky idioms.

A fellow astrologer emailed me this week for some help understanding how receptions work in astrology. For example, she wondered, if Mars is in Leo, which way does the attraction go, and who is helping whom? Does the Sun, being the ruler of Leo, see Mars in Leo and say “hey, he reminds me of me!”, or does Mars, being in the Sun’s sign, say “I want to be just like Sun!”?

The answer is that when Mars is in Sun’s sign, it is ruled by the Sun; therefore, Mars in Leo loves the Sun and wants to help it. It’s not that Mars wants to be like the Sun; but Mars in Leo is most interested in whatever the Sun represents in that chart.

Just because Mars is in the Sun’s sign doesn’t mean the Sun automatically reciprocates Mars’ interest, though, or reciprocates it to the same degree. To learn who the Sun likes, look at the sign it is in. Right now, for instance, the Sun is in Gemini, in a degree where Mars has dignity by face. Face is the very least of dignities, only very slightly positive. It tells us that Sun likes Mars just a little bit, not with any grand passion or anything, but could be persuaded to do something nice for Mars if it isn’t busy doing something else.

If the Sun were in a part of Gemini where Mars has no dignity nor debility, then Sun would neither like nor dislike Mars. It would be indifferent to whatever Mars wants, however much Mars in Leo might adore it. (Mars, meet Morrissey: “The more you ignore me, the closer I get.”)

But let’s imagine that Sun is in a sign like Taurus, where Mars is in its detriment. Now there’s a difficult dynamic! Mars in Leo adores the Sun; Sun in Taurus hates Mars and brings him harm.

Just for fun, take your own birth chart and a table of essential dignities (like this one from Skyscript) and figure out who likes who and who hates who: who plays well together. A note: in this table, the numbers are ordinal. For instance, when you look across the Aries row to the first column under The Terms of the Planets and see “Jupiter 6″, that means that Jupiter is in its term from 0 Aries 00 to 5 Aries 59: the first to the sixth degrees of Aries.

Let’s say you have Sun at 13 Gemini 19 or so (and if you do, happy birthday!). Look at the table at the Gemini row, and follow across to find each planetary dignity at that degree of Gemini. This Sun is…

• in the rulership of Mercury
• in nobody’s exaltation (don’t worry about the North Node in the table, not part of this discussion)
• in the triplicity of Saturn (it’s daytime where I am writing this now, and Saturn is daytime triplicity ruler of air signs)
• in the term of Venus (because, see, it’s past the 13th degree of Gemini, so it’s out of Jupiter’s term)
• in the face of Mars
• in the detriment of Jupiter
• in nobody’s fall

So Sun loves Mercury, likes Saturn, gets along okay with Venus and Mars, and hates Jupiter.

Have fun doing this for each of the seven traditional planets in your chart. Do your planets get along? Does everybody seem to hate one particular planet? Any mutual receptions (two planets liking each other reciprocally)?

It’s a risky business to draw too close to a king - you could get burned. Astrology has a word for planets within 8.5 degrees of the Sun: combustion. It’s a very serious debility indicating that the planet’s power is burned up, roasted to a crisp.

But there’s an even briefer span in which the planet is NOT damaged by the Sun’s relentless heat, but elevated to kingly status. A planet that is within 17 minutes of arc (about 1/4 of a degree) of the Sun is known as cazimi: in the heart of the Sun. This is an extraordinary dignity, like being plucked from the masses to sit beside the monarch. In horary, a cazimi significator is exceptionally positive, in an honored place.

In early June, we’ll see two different planets enter and exit cazimi for a few brief hours. First, Mercury, currently retrograde in Gemini, comes within 17 minutes of arc of the Sun on Saturday, June 7th. It’s such a peculiar combination: Mercury strong in its own sign, but retrograde; and then cazimi and, of course, disposing of the Sun in Gemini. Who comes out on top: the king or the scribe? Will the message get through, or, with Mercury retrograde, will it be misinterpreted?

On Monday, June 9th, it’s Venus’ turn to be cazimi, as it conjoins the Sun around 18 Gemini 30. Venus has dignity by term in this region of Gemini, and it is direct in motion. A good time for artists, songwriters and the like to team up and collaborate on something royally beautiful.

After Sun sign, the one thing you can count on non-astrologers to have heard of is Mercury retrograde. It happens often enough; maybe three times a year, for three weeks at a time. And apparently it has a very busy public relations agent, because it’s the first thing a lot of my non-astro friends start asking me about when their computers break down or they miss their flight: “Is Mercury retrograde?”

In 2008, Mercury’s retrograde periods are all in air signs. In January/February, Mercury backed up from 23 Aquarius 52 to 8 Aquarius 19. Coming up on May 27, Mercury stations at 21 Gemini 32, backing up to 12 Gemini 59 by mid-June. And around September 24, Mercury stations at 22 Libra 49, reversing to 7 Libra 34 by mid-October.

This means that Mercury is spending an exceptional amount of time in Gemini, the sign of its rulership. It entered Gemini on May 3, performs its retrograde shimmy, and finally leaves Gemini around July 10.

In Gemini, Mercury is its merry amoral self, the trickster and lover of word games (and mind games) who can talk you in circles and outwit you before you know what’s what. Planets in their own signs do what they do best; so this is super-Mercury we’re talking about: absolute mastery of communications.

How would Mercury in its own sign behave when retrograde? In horary, a retrograde significator indicates that someone or something is going in the wrong direction. Mercury retrograde in Gemini might mean, “right reasoning, wrong conclusion.” The message is perfectly crafted, only the sense has gone astray.

It could also be about reviewing your own thoughts - really examining what you tell yourself about the world. One thing I’m doing while Mercury is retrograde in Gemini is attending a weekend workshop with Byron Katie, whose program The Work is all about questioning your own thoughts until they let go of you. Retrograde means backwards, but it also means reviewing, going back to the past. In Byron Katie’s Work, when a painful thought comes up, you ask yourself four questions about it:

• Is it true?
• Can I be absolutely sure that it’s true?
• How do I react, what happens, when I believe that thought?
• Who would I be without the thought?

And then - another apt activity for Mercury retrograde - you turn the thought around, to see if a rephrase could be as true as, or truer than, the original thought.

Mercury turns retrograde in five days. What’s on your mind today? Who would you be without your story?

Jupiter’s been slowing down for the past week or so, preparing to turn retrograde on May 9th. (To correct a common astrological misunderstanding: the change from direct to retrograde motion isn’t instantaneous, like flipping a switch. It’s gradual. I always see people saying things like “Saturn just turned direct today and I feel so much better.” Okay, but it took its time getting there and it’s still moving extremely slowly, like trying to maneuver an 18-wheeler around a hairpin turn. You don’t just slam it into reverse while driving and hope for the best.)

The horary charts I’ve worked on lately all seem to pick up the Jupiter in Capricorn / Mars in Cancer opposition. It’s ugly. Jupiter is a very naughty Jupiter in Capricorn, the sign of its fall. Mars is just as mean in Cancer (and I’m still trying to understand whether and how its being in triplicity takes the edge off the fall). And they adore each other! Jupiter is in the exaltation of Mars, Mars is in the exaltation of Jupiter. So each one is a thug, palling around with another thug it thinks is the bee’s knees. The opposition shows that whatever they do won’t last, or will be utterly regrettable. For all they adore each other, their priorities, shown by the Cancer/Capricorn opposition, are completely at odds.

Just as Jupiter reaches its station around 22 Capricorn 22 on May 9th, Mars finally breaks the opposition/exaltation cycle a few hours later. Mars enters Leo sometime on May 9th. That’s when it finally drops its misguided hero worship of that nasty Jupiter. Mars will still be in Jupiter’s triplicity in night charts, so you will still see some charts where it’s friendly toward Jupiter, but it’s not that same sense of “ooh, my darling Jupiter can do no wrong (crash!).”

How might a Jupiter station in Capricorn feel? Jupiter, expansion. Capricorn, knees. Severely swollen joints, literally or metaphorically, would be my first guess. Richard Saunders in The Astrological Judgement and Practice of Physick states that “Jupiter in the last 18 degrees of Capricorn is [extremely] cold and dry… ingendring diseases of thin Melancholy, corrupting the blood, and Melancholy having the dominion, causing Diseases in the Throat, and swelling in the Jaws and Glandules.” (What’s a glandule? A gland, but smaller.)

I wasn’t going to post today, but you have to look at this. It’s so rare.

(Click to enlarge the chart.)

I ran an ordinary chart this morning on a whim of my own and sat down to look at the Moon. First remarkable thing: I asked my question just as the Moon entered Aries (0 degrees 2 minutes). Second and more remarkable thing: It’s not going to make a single Ptolemaic aspect to another classical planet all day long. In fact, it’s not going to do anything until sometime on Sunday, when it reaches the square to Jupiter at 22 Capricorn.

We all know that the unaspected time between the Moon’s last aspect and its entry into a new sign is known as void of course. But what about its time before making its first aspect? When the Moon takes, say, 15 degrees or more to aspect another planet, that’s actually a kind of void of course state, too. In life, it translates to that sense of just taking forever to muster up the energy to do whatever it is you need to do.

Taking 22-plus degrees to get around to something isn’t typical. But there’s an even more rare scenario, when the Moon can get from one end of a sign clear to the other without making a single Ptolemaic aspect. That’s called a feral Moon, as in, completely untamed. I mentioned this in that earlier post about the void of course Moon. I understand feral to mean that Nothing Gets Done, like an extreme void of course situation, but I’ve never taken the time to look for a 2.5-day period when the Moon is feral. I’m sure I’ll get around to it… eventually…

(Curious about why I put up a chart in the first place? I wondered out of the blue whether anything interesting would happen to me today. Lord 1 void of course Mercury; Moon pretty much void too; I think it’ll be pretty emphatically uneventful. Maybe I’ll go make some tea. Eh, maybe later, at the office.)

(Hey! I can hear you! “Pluto! It’s RIGHT THERE! Moon’s going to square it any second now! Aagh!” I know.)

Venus returns to her domicile, Taurus, later today. Her journey through this part of the zodiac every year takes a path of riches-to-rags-to-riches. In classical astrology, Venus is exalted in Pisces, in its detriment in Aries, and in its rulership in Taurus.

To understand what these dignities and debilities mean, imagine Venus as a queen in her travels. In Pisces, she is exalted: treated as the highly honored guest for whom no request is too difficult to carry out. She is placed on a pedestal and revered. But upon leaving this friendly realm, she falls into enemy territory: Aries. Worse than being peregrine - traveling unknown and unrecognized - she is in her detriment, her crown stripped, her essence defied. Venus cannot behave like the true benefic it is when in Aries. After Aries comes Taurus, showing her escape from the foe and return to the land of her rule. In Taurus, what Venus says goes: she does not need to ask anyone’s permission to do exactly as she pleases.

I’ve been listening to CDs of John Frawley’s lectures about the fixed stars from a workshop he gave in San Francisco in February 2006. (Thank you, AB!) In the course of his fascinating explanations of mythology and its astrological correlations, Frawley mentions in passing the roles of cardinal, fixed, and mutable modalities in the various elements. It’s given me yet more insight into Taurus and its role in the earth triangle.

In earth, we start with cardinal Capricorn, the initial earth impulse. It is the seed buried in the earth at the winter solstice, whose teleology is to grow and push upward. From there to fixed Taurus, where Venus finds herself starting this afternoon. In the fixed modality, we explore all the possibilities of that element, so Taurus is an exploration of all the possibilities of earth, the material world. Venus wants the comfy bed, the bonbons, the 401(k), and the diamonds. One way or another - or all ways, really - Venus in Taurus explores every aspect of the sensual world.

What about mutable signs? These show where we take what we have learned and carry it forward. Virgo, the discriminating one, is the sign of the harvest. From the crops we have gathered, we separate what we plan to use now from what we will set by for future use - or reserve as seed to sow in the new year.