You Can Make Astrology Prove Anything!

Dear Isabelle~




Sometimes I think you can make astrology prove anything. Isn’t it like the Bible—the way you can just pick the right verse and chapter, and prove anything?! I can imagine you can make a case for God’s approval or disapproval, or for Destiny’s "Astrological" approval or disapproval, on almost anything in the chart—?





Look at the choices we have—look at what astrology has in its toolbox: mid-points, solar return charts, transits, fixed Stars, progressions—just pick the question, choose your attitude and response, and you can back up anything you want to say with some aspect…why not? We can use Vedic, Sidereal, Placidus, or Koch systems, and then add an evolutionary, predictive, or psychological bias....and...does it really come out the same then... is it really all ‘under one sky’? And if so, how do I know what’s the best approach to use? Sorry if I sound like the great skeptic, but even you have called yourself the “reluctant astrologer.” What do you mean?

Warmly,

Kendra



PS Why are you going to Zurich? Is it to see Carl Jung’s house? Or are you going to meet Alistair at the Krishnamurti center near there? I hope Sophie can be open to all this….!

Saturn's Gift: Inspired Melancholy

 Saturn’s Gift: “Inspired Melancholy”


Today I was reading that the medieval astrologer, Marsilio Fincino, was the first to express the “gift of Saturn”—namely that the Saturn can be the midwife of insight. This is because depression, or “melancholia” as he called it, creates a permeable boundary between consciousness and unconsciousness, and allows us to adjust issues that have gotten out of hand—real issues—our personal unfinished business. This inner reflection, or depression, is experienced like a “falling into ourselves” that brings us to the point where we are no longer able to continue with life in the usual way. Because we’re not nourished any longer by what is—by what the ego has achieved and what the world has given us, we begin creating a bridge: first insight, then action, then change.



Sounds good, but at the moment I can feel the “melancholia” with Sophie, and I don’t have insight into what she’s thinking, so the feeling hangs in the air between us today like a gray mist. I wonder how we lost yesterday’s magical synchronicity at Whitby?



So I sit here reading and journaling-- reading about how Saturn times can return us to contemplation, peace and equilibrium—or it can lead to what Carl Jung called “enantiodromia” –a complete and opposite change of attitude. This is when a condition is so polarized or severe that it polarizes into its opposite. I wonder if some of that is brewing. I read on: “Saturn marks off the stages, the ages, separating time, history and the past. We often lose energy as we move through this passage, as we are called to dance with an invisible partner. The antidote to Saturn is Jupiter, the planet of expansion, grace and opportunities, and Venus, the planet of love and connection and beauty.” Who is my invisible partner?



During Saturn Returns and transits we are more permeable to feeling the defeats of the ego and often feel unseen and lacking in direction. Jung would say this space needs to be “held and allowed” until Saturn brings its gift of insight, creating a bridge for the Self to cross over into a truer destiny path. He talked about this in “holding the tension of the opposites” till the third way (the inspiration) is made clear. It can arise from the depths of melancholia and I wonder if this is all playing out with transiting Saturn conjuncting my Sun now….I guess I’m living into it, rather than merely writing about it. When Sophie wakes up, we will decide if and when we are really going to get on that train and go visit her father…or not. I’d like to visit Carl Jung’s place there…



Hmm….it seems as if astrologers either want to make light of Saturn transits, or tend to make them the opposite—fearful. I lean towards seeing the positive restructuring that Saturn wants to build, but I’m aware that it’s a mistake to turn the darkness of Kronos (Saturn) into too much of a good thing—for this would miss the fact that what appears to be the dark night of the Soul still is dark (!)--a “Nigredo” experience—even though it’s the awakening of imagination. Before movement, there is no movement, or stuckness.



Sophie is often a late sleeper. Yesterday she explored Whitby by herself for awhile as I retreated to my room to rest and read…yet even with my books and journal I feel this touch of melancholia—it’s true, Saturn is on my Sun, and I haven’t seen the bridge to the future yet. I wait for insight.



I wait for Sophie….and then…? Will I wait for Alistair? Is he waiting for us? I wish one could take a dose of Venus and Jupiter as easy as one can take vitamin supplements….ah…I hear a stirring from the bedroom….

 

Pilgrimage to Whitby~Where We Find The Stones

                                                             

Dear Alistair and Kendra~



“Whenever two or more are gathered in my name…”…there is love? Or there is Jesus? Or the synchronistic appearance of the “Holy Spirit”?



When Sophie and I got to the seaside town of Whitby, we checked into the hotel that sits right on the river that divides the Victorian side of town from the medieval side. On one side is where Bram Stocker wrote his novel “Dracula” and on the other side is the ancient monastery ruin where the future of the Christian Church was decided at the Synod of Whitby in 664 AD. Here is where the Celtic Christians lost out to the Roman Catholics. Here is where the monks and abbesses fought over such things as how to calculate the day of Easter celebration—here is where the astrological and pagan remnants of the church were finally squashed.



But Sophie knew I had a bit of an agenda by bringing her here, and she wasn’t in a good mood about it. She knew I wanted to impress her with the fact that there was once a different kind of Christian Church other than the fundamentalist one she is connected with now—and—that there were women—like St Hilda, who was the head abbess here, and who once had a powerful position in the church. Sophie knew that I was hoping that the “supremely romantic ruins with panoramic ocean views” (that’s how the brochure described it) would open her mind. I suspect she was steeling herself against it. But she came on this journey with me because I begged her…



And so after we settled in, I suggested we walk up to the monastery as it was sunset and we still had enough light left. However, I’d forgotten how long a walk it is—and it’s uphill. As we climbed the foot path via the “199 abbey steps” Sophie got cranky. She was still weak from her ordeal in Lindisfarne, and I began feeling guilty for pushing her to do this pilgrimage with me.



“This isn’t going to prove anything to me, you know….” Sophie fingered her cross chain as she continued: “I don’t really care about history, I care about Jesus…and feeling connected with the Spirit.”



“The Holy Spirit? I asked. “Did you know, the 3rd person of the trinity was originally called ‘Hagia Sophia’ which meant feminine wisdom in the original Greek? But then it was changed by the Roman Catholics to the Holy Ghost, and the feminine mysticism of it was suppressed. They did a thorough job of ousting the feminine at the first Council of Constantinople.”



“Okay. So that happened. Is that why you named me Sophia?” She was frowning, and we were getting out of breath going up the steps.

“Well…I thought of it. Maybe I wanted more feminine wisdom myself.”

“And you didn’t get it, eh?”

“No, Sophie, I love you no matter what! And I love that you’ve got such a spiritual passion. But I’m just hoping we can find a way not to be so divided on these things—don’t you think there’s a middle-ground, a place where we can meet on all this?”



We stood on middle ground for a moment—underneath a towering stone celtic cross. She leaned up against it to catch her breath. “This is what I believe in.” She pointed up to the cross.



“Me too…But do you see it Sophie? There’s a circle around that cross which changes its meaning. It focuses on the resurrection, the continuity of life, and that the pain of bearing the cross of life is changed by the belief in—“



“—reincarnation?” Sophie stroked the green moss on the cross and then looked out to the sea that surrounded us. A strong wind seemed to be gaining on us, turning the waves rough and the light was fractured by heavy clouds.



“That’s one way to look at that—you know reincarnation was originally part of church doctrine, until the 2nd Council of Constantinople took that one away as well—and then the Roman Inqusition considered it a heresy, punishable by death—such as what they did to the Cathars in France. But the Christian Gnostics and the Essenes taught reincarnation, as well as this old theologian…Origen….but it’s not just about that, you know…?” My voice began rising higher almost as if I was questioning her, rather than retelling the facts.



“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about history, I care about Jesus. What he stands for—why not Jesus, Mom? Why not just him and not the church? Why are you and Dad always arguing these things! I don’t care about theories about God! I don’t care! I want to feel it—here—“ She banged her chest like a true pilgrim. “Have you ever experienced that—that warmth of God, in here? I don’t think you have, Mom.” She took a deep breath—“Come on let’s get to the top of this hill.”



We climbed the rest of the way up the cliff silently, watching the light breaking through the clouds onto the stone arches, lichen-covered tombstones and “circled crosses”. It was as if all of nature, all the stones, light, ocean, and wind were saying: “Talk all you want, but I am here.”



So we stopped talking. The abbey was situated on a plateau, and behind it was a shallow pond. We circled around it slowly, and Sophie reached down to pick up something. We honored the silence with each other and the silence of the place. I could see the last of the visitors heading down the cliff-side as it was getting dark, and so we began retracing our steps, with no words…just the ocean breeze and the dappled light on the angel faced gravestones around the chapel next to the monastery. It was too much for words.



I picked up a smooth round “touch stone” on the ground as we walked and began rubbing it between my fingers. I once called these stones, “worry stones”, but now I wasn’t worrying, just wondering-- why was I re-loving Celtic Christianity again? Was it the resonance between the mandala of the astrological chart and the pre-Christian Cross...? Was there room in my heart for the Christian Cross—for Jesus? I remembered the Irish poet, John O'Donohue saying: "The circle around the beams of the Cross rescues the loneliness where the 2 lines of pain intersect--the circle contains and resonates with the mysterious nature of God's love..." The circled cross held hope for me.



Sophie saw me pick up the stone. She looked at me quizzically, and as I turned to her I could see a spark of sunlight reflecting off the ocean surface over her head. Nothing unusual really, but stunning nevertheless…wasn’t that what happened at Pentacost, when Jesus returned to his disciples? Didn’t it give them the gift of understanding and communicating in all “tongues?” And as I pondered this, we lowered our heads watching the steep steps again, as we began heading down.



Suddenly a wild-looking young man--- a John-the-Baptist-type if I ever saw one--- came racing up the steps, muttering: “The Holy Spirit is not for sale….not for Sale!” He stared at us as he rushed by, and we burst out laughing. Then Sophie turned to me with a sly grin, and took a black stone with a circle around it, out of her pocket.



“Here, this is for you---if you give me yours, I’ll give you mine,” she put it in my hand. “But for you--for free…! No sales pitch needed…” We laughed. I took her stone as if it was a great gift, imbued with magic, and I gave her my worry stone.



When we got to the bottom, we ducked into a little tea shop. There was a soft warm light permeating the rustic shop and I knew it was time to tell Sophie my other story. But it was going to take some effort to try to explain the unexplainable to her.



--and that will be my next email to you both. I guess it’s time I spoke to you all about this….

Till then~

Isabelle

"Cultivating the Witness"

“Do not speak for those who can speak…but for those who cannot. We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, but spiritual beings having a human experience.” Pierre de Chardin




Dearest Kendra~

You ask me, what do I think? I’m proud of you for finding that extra energy to get out there and “do something” and then to take the time to sit down and write about it all. That’s not easy to do when you’re feeling miserable and scared. Maybe this quote above can help both of us keep a good perspective on our lives…and, like you, I’m wondering about your new love, Joseph—have you seen his chart yet? I’m curious about the hidden side of his Pluto and South Node.



As I write this, Sophie and I are on the train going South from Lindisfarne to Whitby. Sophie is sleeping, and I’m thinking how the English landscape feels so familiar yet dreamlike. It’s as if we are in an in-between world, feeling “betwixt and between,” in every way--but I’ll save the “story” of that for the next letter. I hope she’ll be in a better mood when she wakes up.



Speaking of stories, I was just remembering what many spiritual pilgrims have done and still do—they call it “Cultivating the Witness”. Do you know about that? The Witness, or the Self, is the inner Beloved—that core part of us that observes what is happening. It’s aware of our emotions, our body, and the “story” but it doesn’t identify with them. And it lives in the present moment; now.



So when you asked for help, I wondered if you could try creating a slight distance between the “story of Kendra” with all her wounds and strengths, and the observer/witness inside you? Alistair often quoted his teacher, Krishnamurti, about this awareness—this difference between the “observer and the observed.” Eckart Tolle and others talk about this too— and when you put this more objective distance between you and what’s happening, it seems to put one into a clearer, more energetic place. Of course, physicists talk about the phenomena of observing what’s happening too, and how even in the process of “observing” the observer effects the nature of what is observed. But if you go too far with it, a psychologist would say you’re “dissociating”—so a little goes a long way! You’ve got to have a strong enough ego to be able to “let go” of the ego’s story, and allow it to die into this Witness-Self. I believe you have a strong enough ego so that you’re not going to do a spiritual bypass on an emotional problem.



I just bought a glass of red wine from the steward as he passed by. It seems like my ego relaxes more when I have a glass of wine, but maybe it’s just the defensive left brain beginning to relax. Too much wine, and then I suspect, the reverse happens. I wonder if I could give myself the “advice” I offer you? To cultivate the witness and live in the “now” more….to move away from the “story line of infinite possibilities of pain, gain and attitude adjustments”—and simply trust the process of life unfolding. Not easy! This is the point of astrology…seeing what is happening in a larger symbolic context that’s not so personally infused with the pain of private dramas…and to feel connected to the whole.



What do you think? I suspect, with your Scorpio Sun, you’ve been deep into the delirious drama of trying to figure out “love.” I wonder, instead, if you could witness what is happening between you and Joseph, and let it all just unfold--? My fear is that as long as you stay too “enclosed” and worrying about your weight, you’ll be hiding like that turtle you mentioned, and have nothing to give. Most people don’t care about how we look as much as we think they do—although advertising in the media is always trying to prove the opposite.



I would guess that Joseph is more concerned more about what you think of him. He’s looking at you, and wondering if you love him… wondering if you could see him for who he truly is. He has shame and woundedness in his life too! He has a Pluto/South Node in his chart somewhere, and he reincarnated to attempt to heal that. I think he’s looking to see if you might be the one to help him, and to see and feel his love. And—I think his Pisces/Virgo nature is a nice complement to your Sun in Scorpio, Moon in Cancer.



On a more mundance level, let me add this about Jupiter—all that Jupiter and Venus/Moon sounds great for romance, but the “sweet factor” here—Venus and Jupiter—has a down side too. Jupiter and Venus are conjunct in your birth chart, and it can reflect a sensitivity to gaining weight, to low blood sugar, and even diabetes. But it doesn’t have to—you can choose to observe what you eat and what you’re feeling, rather than literally “taking in sweets.”



Hm…I keep thinking that love is better as a verb than a noun….

As always… trying…. ever so slowly…. to “verb” along, like this train….

Isabelle