“When the pickpocket meets the saint, he sees pockets.”
Orbital Period: 88 days
Synodic Period: Approximately 116 days (115.87754 days)
Archetypes: Teacher; Student. Writer; Reader. Storyteller.
Rules: Gemini and Virgo
Core Concept: The reception and transmission of data between a person and the surrounding social, physical, metaphysical, and psychic environments.
Developmental Focus: Evolving perception. Evolving thought. Evolving speech.
Positive Subjective Response: Curiosity, wonder, open-mindedness. Alertness. Comfortable self-expression; good listening.
Negative Subjective Response: Mental rigidity, intellectual defensiveness; compulsive speech, running around in circles.
Existential Emphasis Under Transits, Progressions, or Arcs: New information; omens and synchronicities; key conversations; speedy, chaotic developments; education in any sense; physical motion. Contact with young people or siblings.
by Steven Forrest
(excerpt from The Night Speaks, updated with new Afterword written July 2013)
Remember the frantic intensity of the late sixties? New heroes and mythologies sprang out of nowhere. Naïve confidence ran rampant. Vietnam provided a crucifixion story and an evocative emotional rallying point. Bob Dylan, the Beatles and a generation of singer-songwriters orchestrated the drama with rousing anthems and irresistible manifestos. The advent of the Pill spiced the stew with the scent of sex. Think what you will about the foolish excesses and runaway herd instinct of those years, they were exciting times. But did history excite us, or did we excite history? Was humanity simply ready to stir up the zeitgeist'? It's the proverbial question of the chicken and the egg.
Meanwhile, 93 million miles away, gargantuan nuclear storms swirled across the troubled face of the sun. Great solar prominences exploded in hundred-thousand-mile high cascades of fire. Blasts of charged particles and waves of magnetism roared away from the sun, engulfing the Earth and planets. The eleven-year cycle of solar storms had reached its crescendo. For our central star, the late sixties marked the season of fire - sunspot maximum.
Whatever engines drove that chapter of our national history, they certainly had run out of gas by the middle seventies. Remember the disco wasteland? Gerald Ford? The "me" generation? Remember the confusion and floundering of our national leadership in the aftermath of Watergate and the OPEC-engineered energy crisis? We might be annoyed by the naïveté and blind enthusiasm of the late sixties, but no one who lived through them would be likely to call them boring. And no matter how charitable a view we take of the middle seventies, by most standards the "energy crisis" of those years was not limited to oil fields and gas pumps.
Throughout the middle seventies, the face of the sun was tranquil. Gone were the great magnetic storms of the late sixties. The season of calm, the sunspot minimum, had arrived.
Is this astrology? Certainly not in a traditional sense. Sunspots have nothing to do with Leo or Sagittarius. Nonetheless, whenever we notice a correlation between cosmic events and human affairs, we've entered the astrological realm.
by Steven Forrest
Birth Data Rodden Rating: A
Agatha Christie b. September 15, 1890, 4:00 AM-GMT Torquay, England
Four billion copies of her books are in print. She is often described as the best-selling author in history. Her play, The Mousetrap, is the longest continuously running one in the world, having opened in London on November 25, 1952, and still going strong as of this writing.
But it is for her murder mysteries that Agatha Christie is best known. Her work practically defined the genre that Arthur Conan Doyle launched. Her vain Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, with his waxed mustache and his brilliant deductions, humanized the infallible “Sherlock Holmes” archetype. Poirot is the only fictional character ever to be given an obituary in The New York Times, after Christie killed him off in her 1975 novel, Curtain—such was the popularity of her work at the time. Her delightful Miss Marple, at least as brilliant as Hercule and a lot more charming, made it safe for older, middle-class ladies on both sides of the Atlantic to have a devilish streak and a gleam in their eyes.
Reading Agatha Christie’s mysteries today, one might be excused for thinking that they are riddled with clichés—until we realize that she originated most of them! Arguably, there is not a mystery writer today who does not owe her an enormous debt.
So who was this mystery woman?
Agatha Christie was born in Devon on the southern coast of England. Her mother was British and her father was an American stockbroker who died when Agatha was eleven. Their circumstances were comfortable—at age sixteen, for example, young Agatha went to Mrs. Dryden’s Finishing School in Paris to study piano and voice. In 1914, she married a pilot, Colonel Archibald Christie. She gave birth to a daughter, Rosalind, in August 1919. In October 1920 her first novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, was published to glowing reviews. She had written it in 1916, with transiting Uranus and the progressed Sun applying to trine to her north node. It was published with Jupiter, ruler of her south node, rising into the seventh house by solar arc.
What are the core principles and soul-intentions to which you must be true in order to maintain sanity, identity, and authenticity? What are the core drives to which you must be true in order to maintain vitality and life-force?
To what "trans"-rational needs and joys must you be true in order to maintain happiness and a feeling of well-being? What is the most effective way in which you can nurture, heal and restore yourself?
How do you compose your outward style in order to achieve a maximum sense of "centeredness?" How do you "get your act together?" What is the optimal stylistic interface between your deep psyche and the outer social and experiential worlds?
Originally appeared in The Mountain Astrologer magazine, June 2010. Reprinted with permission.
The familiar circle of twelve signs is a useful fiction. Like time, space, gender and money, it helps us organize our particular, parochial sense of reality. We watch our transits or progressions as they speed or plod along this imaginary line in the sky that we call the ecliptic, as if it were a narrow highway with hard curbs in the vastness of starry space. In our ephemerides, for example, we see Mercury zipping merrily along, 1° Capricorn, then 2° then 3˜. We see Pluto passing the same mileposts—little knowing that Pluto might actually lie thirty degrees from Mercury, way above or below it in the sky, even though we say they are “in conjunction.” In actuality, the only moving astrological point that sticks exactly to the ecliptic is the Sun. Its path, in fact, is what defines the term. Everything else follows it only approximately.
Ever wonder why we don’t have a total solar eclipse every month? Sure enough, there on your computer screen you plainly see the transiting Sun and the transiting Moon aligned in 15° 24'—but no total eclipse of the Sun. The reason is that the Moon is usually a little above the Sun or a little below it. They are “conjunct,” but only in the context of our imaginary celestial railroad track, the zodiac. They are lined up in the two-dimensional framework of the ecliptic, but not in the three dimensional framework of the heavens as they actually meet our eyes. (1)