Looking Back at 9/11 aka Sept. 11 and Its Fallout 20 Years Later

As much as I do not wish to be ruled by schedules or anniversaries or societally sanctioned nostalgia, I cannot pass up this rare opportunity -- the 20th anniversary of 9/11 aka Sept. 11 -- to break my astrological silence. It was a cruel summer, and even though the Delta surge seems to have peaked in the U.S., we are still in the grips of a Saturn-Uranus square (the hallmark aspect of 2021).

I perused some of my posts concerning that clear blue late-summer morning, though as I'd lamented in my "I lived below 14th St. and watched the towers collapse and smelled the death" 10th anniversary post 10 years ago, I cannot access the post I wrote on the actual day for a long-defunct blog sponsored by a long-defunct startup called Webseed. What stands out to me is the importance of the delayed response of harsh taskmaster and timekeeper Saturn, particularly when it aspects Uranus or Pluto: in May 2000, Saturn in Taurus squared Uranus in Aquarius, and in August 2001, Saturn in Gemini opposed Pluto in Sagittarius; not so coincidentally, this opposition formed on the U.S.'s Ascendant (Sagittarius) and Descendant (Gemini). All warnings about an Al-Qaeda attack on U.S. soil were ignored as the 21st century dawned. On the day of the devastating attack, the Moon was in Gemini, the sign of the Twins (and two planes flew into the Twin Towers).

On November 16, 2009, posting on the waning square between Saturn in Libra and Pluto in Capricorn that referenced 9/11 and the Saturn-Pluto opposition, I wrote: "Americans are divided about the swine flu vaccine, and there's also a vaccine shortage. [...] On a global level -- well, to expect world peace may be a naive pipe dream, but issues involving the environment and pandemics (of which the swine flu is just the beginning) are just as important as all the futile, costly wars being fought."

In January 2020, Saturn caught up with Pluto for a conjunction in Capricorn that was the defining aspect of last year, ushering in the Covid-19 pandemic that is by no means over despite the arrival of the miracle vaccines, as most of the world is still unvaccinated and in the U.S., the pandemic was immediately politicized. The Delta variant did not originate in the U.S., but because enough Americans refused to get a free, safe, highly effective vaccine or mask up, this summer saw a surge that mainly ravaged southern states with low vax rates, though a high-vax state like Oregon suffered due to the environmental hazard of constant wildfires. And just like the first two months of 2020, not enough people grokked that Delta was not going to stay in India or other faraway countries like a good little variant.

The hard squares and oppositions involving Saturn, Uranus, and Pluto have all manifested in extreme polarization at every level, from neighborhoods to states to nations to the entire planet. Nuance has been flushed down the toilet. Everything and everyone seems black or white, red or blue, right or wrong, good or evil. Facts are opinions and opinions are facts. The U.S. briefly enjoyed the goodwill of most of the world in the immediate aftermath of 9/11; we squandered that goodwill in drawn-out, misguided wars and security theater. With Pluto in Capricorn since 2008/9, authorities and institutions of all kinds are no longer trusted due to their being overtly untrustworthy ... yet no one in power (Pluto) gives it up willingly. We went from the international (Pluto in Sagittarius) terrorism of 9/11 to the domestic insurrection of January 6 (Sun in Capricorn), and Trump wants our money again. Biden pulled the troops out of Afghanistan, facing mountains of criticisms for how the long-overdue pullout was implemented, while Texas implemented sharia law that may wind up overturning the nearly 50-year-old Roe v. Wade in the U.S. And Biden's new national mask mandates, a big stick instead of a carrot that only went so far, may ignite a conflagration that will set off Civil War II.

With Pluto in the last half of the last decanate of the last Earth sign of Capricorn, this perfect storm of crises may be last call for humanity to mend our fences and tear down our walls (Capricorn), learn to live with one another at every level, and treat our home planet with more respect ... for Mother Nature always bats last.

Saturn Square Uranus, 2021: A Collapsing Bridge over Troubled Water

(This article will appear in slightly different form in the summer issue of The Ingress, NCGR-NYC's quarterly astrology journal; I wanted to update it here.)

Attempting to write about the Saturn-Uranus square of 2021 is as complicated as living through it. I have never been one to sugarcoat challenging planetary aspects, whether they are natal, progressed, or transits. Still, this transit is a hard nut to crack and a bitter pill to swallow.

Traditional astrology maintains that more can be accomplished during tough aspects than flowing ones. Many of us in the United States are currently in a much better place than we were a year ago, with the rollout of highly effective, accessible, free vaccines for all individuals over the age of 12 that are saving those of us who are fully vaccinated from the rise of worrisome Covid-19 variants (at least for now). 54% of the total US population has now received at least one dose of a vaccine, with 46% fully vaccinated. With the Centers for Disease Control’s mid-May blessing, as well as the long-awaited reopening of New York City and the state of California, many Americans are acting as if the pandemic is in our rearview mirror. Traffic jams have nearly returned to pre-pandemic levels, office workers (some enthusiastic, others less so) have begun to return to the office at least part of the time, and more people are traveling by plane. And yet…

…the World Health Organization is now advising even fully vaccinated individuals to continue wearing masks indoors due to the rise of Delta, an official "variant of concern." A recent headline in BuzzFeed News reports that due to politically driven low rates of vaccination in the Deep South and rural areas across the US, ”The Delta Variant Could Create ‘Two Americas’ of COVID, Experts Warn” (Peter Aldhous, buzzfeednews.com, 6/17/21). Thus, as much of the nation is looking forward to a CDC-sanctioned unmasked-if-vaxxed summer of reunions, parties, museum visits, travel, and overall exuberance, this news item is a nagging reminder that Covid-19 is not yet in our collective rearview mirror. Indeed, this pandemic is not yet finished in much of the world—not because too many people are refusing offers of free beer, free joints, free doughnuts, and other free rides with Covid-19 shots for various reasons, but because vaccines are either not available at all or are not as effective as the ones we have here in the US.

And not all of us here are trashing our masks or double-booking our social calendars to make up for lost time. Some of us are grieving over major personal losses in a culture that stresses moving on by getting busy. Even some of the luckier ducks among us feel confused, worried, doubtful, and/or mistrustful. Not all of us wish to get back to a normal that entailed excessive noise, endless social obligations that necessitated a lot of unnecessary expenditures, and rampant rat-racing. Not all of us believe that our democracy is safe, that we won’t see another pandemic in our lifetimes, and that (even with record low temperatures followed just a week later by highs in the Greater New York area, and the West Coast facing severe heat and draught even before the Summer Solstice), the climate crisis is a hoax.

The beginning of the pandemic seemed to encourage a dawning awareness in the rugged-individual-oriented US that we were all in this together; all connected. Yet almost immediately, that insight had to compete for airtime with the Time to Get Back to Normal Show, the I Won’t Wear a Mask or Social Distance Show, and the Politicization of the Pandemic Show. Astrologically, this could be explained (astrosplained?) by the fact that the Saturn-Uranus square did not occur in 2020, as Saturn turned retrograde almost as soon as it entered Aquarius. Consequently, there was a turning away from truly dealing with the pandemic and everything related to this public health crisis (i.e., everything). For many (though by no means all) Americans, the election also brought a sense of relief that our nation managed to avoid the worst-case scenario.

We do not have the luxury of turning away this year, and hell hath no fury like a square scorned. The first Saturn-Uranus square of 2021 occurred on February 17, when Mars was conjunct Uranus in Taurus. (Interestingly, the insurrection of January 6 occurred with Mars at the last degree of Aries; the Capitol was secured when Mars entered Taurus.) As Mars is an inner planet, and debilitated in Taurus, for many of us, there was a series of highly personal challenges involving financial health as well as physical health (both related to earth signs). Another manifestation of the square in mid-February: three severe winter storms (Uranus) in North America comprising cyclones, blizzards, ice storm, and tornadoes. This storm system was the deadliest, costliest storm system in North America’s recorded history; Texas’s power grid (Uranus) got hammered, resulting in the worst blackout since the one in the Northeast in the summer of 2003. The pandemic had begun waning in the US as the oldest and/or most vulnerable citizens became eligible for vaccination (even if too many of them had to stand outside for hours in the bitter cold to get inoculated), yet the biggest public health crisis in more than a century surged in many other countries, which gave birth to some worrisome variants of the virus.

We are now two weeks past the second Saturn-Uranus square of June 14. The spring was marked by several standoffs between Saturn (the set-in-stone status quo) and Uranus (the explosive revolutionary). The Israel-Gaza violence culminated on the exact second square with a coalition ousting Israel’s prime minister Netanyahu. There was a flurry of voter suppression bills and the return of mass shootings in the US. Liz Cheney got the boot from fellow Republicans for daring to repudiate former president Trump. As of this writing, calls for official commissions on January 6 and the pandemic are going unheeded. New York State legalized weed. India surpassed US Covid-19 cases and deaths. Some vaccines were paused; the rate of vaccinations in the US peaked in mid-April and have been declining since then. Seemingly out of left field, the CDC announced that only unvaccinated individuals need to continue wearing masks in most places. The US Supreme Court is preparing to overturn Roe vs. Wade. A container ship got stranded in the Suez Canal. The Mexican metro collapsed due to structural failure, causing 26 deaths and 79 hospitalizations. The Colonial Pipeline hack disrupted gasoline supplies in the southeastern states. The G7 Summit revealed more “cracks” than unity, with Cold War overtones concerning relations with Russia and China. Biden met with Putin. Someone who refused to wear a mask in a store in Georgia returned to shoot and kill the clerk who’d had the gall to ask him to mask up. The stalled infrastructure bill. And, on the day of the first Full Moon of summer (i.e., with the Moon in Saturn-ruled Capricorn), a condo complex near Miami collapsed due to a critical structural failure that a consultant had warned the building managers about in 2018. Repairs were finally about to begin nearly three years after the report, but instead, a lot of people (and their pets) are now presumed dead in this preventable disaster.

The very definition of infrastructure (Saturn) is controversial (Uranus). The concept (and actuality) of infrastructure is clearly ruled by Saturn, the planet synonymous with organization, framework, architecture, skeleton, configuration, edifice, shell, government, and (of course) structure. Yet with the square from reform-oriented, tech-savvy Uranus, infrastructure no longer solely refers to roads, bridges, water and sewer systems, power grids, and mass transportation, but cybersecurity, telecommunications, AI, even health care and child care. Present-day electronics and electricity are inextricably linked to computer science and computer engineering. Basically, if it’s a system that has anything to do with how well or poorly a country functions, whether it’s tangible or not, it’s now considered to be infrastructure. And with the square, it has become painfully clear in the US (along with other countries with morally bankrupt leaders and/or unfettered capitalism) that governments, corporations, civil society groups, and individuals who are not superrich are vulnerable to cyberattacks and one-strike-and-you’re-out losses due to crumbling infrastructure, which could include a shredded safety net.

The last time we experienced a Saturn-Uranus square was in 2000, with the signs flipped: Saturn was in Taurus and Uranus was in its ruling sign Aquarius. Particularly in the US, the gap between the haves and the have-nots began widening into a canyon at that time. Unfettered capitalism, tax breaks, and the stock market have mainly benefited the 1% since 2000. Nearly all politicians are in the back pockets of corporations (Saturn). 9/11 occurred, resulting in certain personal liberties being dismantled in the name of security (an earth-element desire). Even as the internet, virtual reality, and AI gained traction with Uranus in Aquarius, the tech bubble burst in 2000, and true communication between disparate groups (Saturn and Uranus) got bogged down in the stubborn “my way or the highway” modus operandi that is the dark side of Taurus.

This time around, since Uranus has moved from the sign of its rulership to the sign of its fall, the effects of the Saturn-Uranus square are harsher and involve not just a pandemic and economic misery for millions of people, but the climate-change emergency that is mainly kindling young activists (some still in their teens) who will be most affected by the coming devastation unless something is accomplished within the next decade or two to mitigate it.

In the spring of 2020, millions of individuals lost their jobs due to the pandemic, resulting in a global recession. At that time, Saturn backed off from the exact square to Uranus, but it is the signature aspect of 2021. The third and final exact square occurs on December 24 (will it be a lump of coal or a Green Deal for Christmas?), yet its effects will not diminish until the fall of 2022 because Saturn and Uranus will remain within orb of the square until then. Could 2022 wind up being 2021 Lite? Perhaps, but for individuals who are being crushed now, the gradual easing up may not make enough of a difference.

Crashes, clashes and hangovers are part and parcel of any Saturn-Uranus square. We should all know by now that true healing cannot occur by applying Band-Aids to deep wounds, “thoughts and prayers” lip service to the latest preventable atrocity. If adequate disaster relief is not given, the disaster will only be prolonged. Unless Covid-19 is tamed worldwide, this pandemic will still be a force to be reckoned with. Can we possibly take the best part of fixed signs—persistence and endurance—to find common ground and call it a draw, so that no matter what our individual circumstances or views may be, we can all emerge from the Saturn-Uranus square in a more unified place, if not in one piece or truly at peace?

No Rest on This Pisces Moon

Gotta wash this nightmare outta my hair:
The world in flames, our planet's last dawn
People gather as witnesses to silently bear
Bloodred ember-studded sky looks so wrong
We can only take baby sips of air
Mars opposing Saturn, civilization gone
Malefics playing Truth or Dare
Our house is on fire, keens humanity's swansong
If other species could speak, they'd say it's not fair
Life can no longer soldier on
And it's too late for us to productively care

Phosphorescent Sea: Imprinted on William Steig

(In the Better Late Than Never category, here is an article I wrote three months ago that was published in the NCGR-NYC's spring 2021 "Astrology and Literature" issue of The Ingress. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!)

When I dove head- and heart-first into the sea of astrology many moons ago, I was a college student majoring in English with a concentration in creative writing. I had very little in the way of elegant defense when individuals who had previously respected my intelligence called it into question upon learning that I was a budding astrologer. Sometimes I proselytized, attempting to explain the tenet “as above, so below”; other times I asked to interpret their charts to demonstrate that astrology was far more than a vague Sun-sign horoscope (no takers there); and if I was in a foul mood, I reminded them of their own non-scholarly pursuits.

In a forum like The Ingress, of course, I need no such defense, yet the Astrology and Literature theme of this issue made me realize that I had fallen in love with the former in much the same way as I had with the latter—that there was indeed a common thread. Both astrology and literature deal in timeless symbols; in archetypes; in universal truths and a finite number of themes that find new, highly personalized life and meaning with each interpretation or narrative. Although astrology has a scientific, mathematical component (as the planets in our solar system exist and form various geometric angles to one another), it is not strictly quantitative—just as literature can be analyzed in many ways or experienced on a sheerly intuitive, visceral level. Both astrology and literature are kin to mythmaking, a collective need to find meaning and order in seemingly random chaos. Both explore various facets that illuminate what it means to be human; what it means to be alive.

Of all the planets, the Sun, ruler of the “superstar” sign Leo, has the most to do with conscious “I am”-ness and with the urge to shine and to create. The Sun longs for immortality, which manifests most obviously and literally by creating children (traditionally associated with the 5th House, which is ruled by the Sun) but also in masterpieces, for those who choose to define themselves as artists of some sort. Thus, while it is important to consider the placement and aspects of an author’s Mercury (communication), the Moon (emotion), Neptune (imagination), and the ruler of the Ascendant (if exact birth time is known), the situation of an author’s Sun sign must come first and foremost.

From early childhood up to the present day I have been a devoted re-reader, thanks to a heavily aspected natal Sun-Mars-Mercury stellium in Cancer (the “comfort food” sign that, like its opposite sign, Capricorn, is linked to the past). I cannot say if this deep-rooted desire to go back time after time to books and stories that spoke strongly to me is why I started writing and dreaming of becoming a published author and artist as a six-year-old, but learning entire passages of favorite books by heart certainly showed me how it was done, even if I could not articulate the mechanics until I landed in undergraduate creative writing seminars. The first literary god of my personal pantheon was William Steig, best known as a prolific cartoonist for The New Yorker and author of Shrek (which led to several movies only loosely based on the book, as well as a Broadway musical). To me, he was the creator of several books for children that, despite having won prestigious awards back in the 1970s, probably would not be published today due to their combination of unflinching intensity and sophisticated language. To me, they are typewritten treasures that both shaped and validated my worldview.

William Steig was a Scorpio with a Sun-Mercury conjunction trine his Moon-Saturn conjunction in Pisces (pulling in my own Cancer Sun and Scorpio Moon). Because Steig’s time of birth is unknown and I wished to rectify his natal chart for this article, I researched his personal life and studied some photographs of him (one of which revealed to my immense pleasure that he was a fellow left-hander). Throughout his life, Steig retained a full head of thick hair and customarily posed for photos with his arms crossed over his chest in a manner more self-protective than swaggering. His Polish Jewish immigrant parents encouraged him and his brothers to become artists instead of laborers (who would be exploited by businessmen) or businessmen (who would exploit laborers). In high school he was an All-American water-polo athlete, graduated early, then dropped out of three colleges. Although he wanted to run off to sea to become a beachcomber, the Great Depression intervened: he instead became the family breadwinner when his father, a housepainter, could not find work. As an artist, he achieved early and sustained financial and critical success. He had three children from four marriages and was obsessed with the psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich’s controversial orgone box (immortalized in the film Sleeper as the Orgasmatron). At age 95, he died of natural causes shortly after publishing his last picture book, When Everyone Wore a Hat, based on his childhood. With all of this information, this is what I came up with: November 14, 1907, 7:42pm EST, Brooklyn NY.

William Steig once said, as would befit someone with a prominent 5th House, “I think I feel a little differently than other people do. For some reason I’ve never felt grown up.”(1) Yet it was not until Steig entered his sixties that he began writing and illustrating children’s books. His watercolor-and-ink illustrations recall two other Scorpio artists: the bluntness of Picasso and the delicacy of Monet (who happens to share a birthday with Steig). Amos & Boris, the first of Steig’s books that I can recall, was read to me both in nursery school and at home. On its surface, this tale of a seafaring mouse named Amos and a whale named Boris is a recasting of The Lion and the Mouse; I dove beneath the Scorpionic waves and reveled in gorgeous, sophisticated prose that unflinchingly confronts life’s primal joys and fears. Amos, who lives on a beach, has built a boat and set sail:

One night, in a phosphorescent sea, he marveled at the sight of some whales spouting luminous water; and later, lying on the deck of his boat gazing at the immense, starry sky, the tiny mouse Amos, a little speck of a living thing in the vast living universe, felt thoroughly akin to it all. Overwhelmed by the beauty and mystery of everything, he rolled over and over and right off the deck of his boat and into the sea.(2)

Before he is rescued by Boris, Amos, whose boat has sailed on without him, treads water for several hours in this life-or-death predicament, wondering “what it would be like to drown. Would it take very long? Would it feel just awful? Would his soul go to heaven? Would there be other mice there?”(3)

Other Steig tales also feature protagonists of various species who face the probability of untimely death: Pearl, the young pig in The Amazing Bone, is kidnapped by a fox who intends to eat her for dinner. “I’m only just beginning to live,” Pearl confides to the magic bone she found shortly before her abduction. “I don’t want it to end.”(4) The bone urges her to be brave:

She was dragged into the kitchen, where she could see flames in the open stove. “I regret having to do this to you,” sighed the fox. “It’s nothing personal.”(5)

In Brave Irene, which was published when I was about a decade past the intended demographic, a young girl who is determined to deliver a gown sewn by her ill mother to the duchess in time for the ball is caught in a blizzard and pushed by the wind into a snowbank: “Even if she could call for help, no one would hear her. Her body shook. Her teeth chattered. Why not freeze to death, she thought, and let all these troubles end. Why not? She was already buried.”(6)

Although Scorpio as a sign is clearly linked to death—Pluto’s domain is the underworld—it is also associated with bravery (notably, its coruler is Mars) and the desire to intimately, compassionately connect with another soul. The deep friendships formed in Steig’s books—between Amos and Boris; between Pearl and the bone who saves her by suddenly remembering how to put a spell on the fox; and, in Steig’s wonderful chapter book Dominic (the first novel I read to myself repeatedly after having it read aloud to me as a five-year-old), between Dominic the wandering Good Samaritan dog and Bartholomew the centenarian pig—are the rewards for facing life and death with a brave heart and questing spirit.

Interestingly, in Sylvester and the Magic Pebble, a young donkey, Sylvester, has no company after he finds a magic pebble and panics when he runs into a lion. Instead of wishing himself back home safe with his parents, he foolishly wishes to be turned into a rock. Before his inevitable rescue, Sylvester lies in a field for a whole year as the seasons literally pass over his rock form. Sylvester’s consciousness is still intact but beginning to fade due to much depression-induced sleep. While his parents mourn his disappearance, the local cops (portrayed as pigs, which later got the book banned!) cannot solve the perplexing case.(7) Quite an apropos expression of a Moon-Saturn conjunction in Pisces.

Scorpio’s brand of duality finds transcendence by going down into the depths. When that paradox occurs, rebirth follows—as when leaves and seeds go underground, and certain species hibernate in caves in mid-autumn (the Scorpio season in the Northern Hemisphere) so that they can be regenerated or refreshed in the spring. In Dominic, after his friend Bartholomew dies, Dominic slumbers “under the vast dome of quivering stars, and just as he was falling asleep, passing over into the phase of dreams, he felt he understood the secret of life. But in the light of morning, when he woke up, his understanding of the secret had disappeared with the stars. The mystery was still there, inspiring his wonder.”(8) In the morning, Dominic buries Bartholomew in the pig’s front yard: “He had to cry. Life was suddenly too sad. And yet it was beautiful. The beauty was dimmed when the sadness welled up. And the beauty would be there again when the sadness went. So the beauty and the sadness belonged together somehow, though they were not the same at all.”(9)

The above passages encapsulate the emotions of the water element so enchantingly, I keep returning to my tattered copy of Dominic. I do not even want to label Steig’s profoundly Scorpionic tales children’s literature. Like other books that can be experienced in myriad ways by readers (or listeners) of all ages and circumstances, they simply are literature.

End Notes

1. Literature for Kids: Author Study, https://karissaspitler.weebly.com

2. Steig, William. Amos & Boris. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1971.

3. Ibid.

4. Steig, William. The Amazing Bone. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1976.

5. Ibid.

6. Steig, William. Brave Irene. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986.

7. Steig, William. Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1969.

8. Steig, William. Dominic. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1972.

9. Iid.

Musings on Progressed Moon Conjunct Natal Pluto

Been here before, 27.3 years ago to be precise.
It's scorched earth, it's blackened ice.
It's death a fortnight before First House rebirth.
It's questioning how much I'm really worth.
Of course, history rhymes instead of repeats;
There are different desires, different defeats.
January '94, grad school dropout, PTSD...
Now middle-aged, overweight, is this really me?
Back then I was mainly driven by art;
Now I'm gainfully employed with a broken heart.
Is a stormy connection better than being alone?
I scroll through opinions on my smartphone.
It's been six months since we fled the city;
It's some sort of magic that's not always pretty.
Somehow we dodged the bullet known as Covid-19;
In six weeks we are safe to make some sort of scene.
But first I must rise from my own ashes
And dry my tear-spiked eyelashes.

Mars in the Last Gasp of Aries

It's been a long six months of Mars in Aries, hasn't it? It's not going quietly into that goodnight, what with rabid, Far Beyond Right and Gone Wrong Trumpeters storming the Capitol, inflamed by the almost-gone president's stolen-election speech. These wack-jobs interrupted the last bit of officialdom needed to declare Joe Biden the winner. Shots. Gas masks. National Guard. Civil War II, anyone? I predicted it over 20 years ago in my defunct astrology blog (sponsored by the defunct Webseed startup), and most readers thought I was crazy.

Maybe I am crazy anyway. Regardless, I can't see Mars's transit of Taurus being anything but difficult. I already wrote about the Mars-Saturn and Mars-Jupiter squares of January, as well as Mars conjunct Uranus: oppression, depression, illness, war, explosions. By the time Mars makes a beneficial trine to Pluto in Capricorn on 2/24, indicating a positive flow of regenerative energy of body, bank account, and the planet Earth itself, it may feel like too little, too late.

Mars (headstrong energy) going through Taurus (ruling the ears, nose, and throat) could very well mean that the new, more contagious strain of Covid-19 will rip through the populace as the vaccine rollout is bogged down. There may not be any half measures when it comes to lock downs.

The Senate runoffs in Georgia have provided some much-needed hope. That outcome could've been far worse. Still, I stand by my predictions made last month: at least in the US, we are in for a very cold, dark winter.