Entering Pisces: Dreaming of Kurt Cobain

A preamble of sorts: I am a midwave Gen-Xer, i.e., born midway between Douglas Coupland and Claire Danes. Nirvana meant nada to me till after Kurt Cobain died and MTV released Nirvana's Unplugged in New York album; Nevermind and In Utero were released when I was too busy grooving on the likes of Janis, Jimi, the Doors, and the Dead to identify with the indie-rock Lollapaloozians. Kurt Cobain was born on February 20, 1967 -- a Pisces with a Cancer Moon and, like yours truly, Pluto conjunct the Ascendant.

The dream opens with me driving around the grim roadways of Florida, near where my folks used to keep an equally grim apartment so that my dad could play tennis outdoors in the winter. In my waking life, the last time I was down there was late 1992, when I was in grad school and there was a horrible family fight that nearly ended in divorce between my parents and led to my "borrowing" the rental car to drive to the clubhouse so I could call a friend and not lose what remained of my sanity.

In the dream, the roads around the Federal Highway all look the same, but I manage to find the house of a friend, a much older woman who was surrounded by younger relatives. This friend does not really exist in real life, but she is closely based on someone I recently met who seems to be part friend, part mentor. I realize I need to catch a plane back to New York, which means I have to drive back to the apartment to pack my bags and hustle to return the rental car.

On the way (at a gas station, I think), I meet Kurt Cobain. Suddenly he is at the apartment with me, admiring the astrology poster I created for my current Sunday brunch gig at a French restaurant in Soho. He finds it interesting that I do astrology, but is mostly impressed by the artwork. I tell him about some other creative projects I'm working on and complain about the crappy Chinese tablet I ordered online but is basically worthless for my particular needs.

Next scene takes place at the departures gate at the airport. I see Kurt Cobain once again, and he walks over to continue our conversation. No one seems to recognize him. I am becoming overwhelmed by his kindness, that someone like him could enter my world and care so much about what I was doing. I fall silent. He asks me if I'm doing okay; I know he knows that I cannot believe this is really happening. So I tell him about my brush with a certain someone even more famous and even more married, a celebrity who many moons ago took me out to dinner and wanted me to be his "mistress" (true waking-life story). He laughs as if he understands there was no real attraction in that experience, only curiosity on my part.

On the plane, I feel like Richard Dreyfuss in the last scene of American Graffiti, staring out the window, exhausted but ready to fly toward his future life. I am in the first row of economy class, and I can see the top of Kurt Cobain's bright blond head in the last row of first class. Suddenly, someone on the plane realizes who is flying in their midst, and spreads the word, and a frenzied crowded rushes for him, screaming his name. Some guy waves around a Polaroid he'd just snapped of Kurt Cobain, overexposed with half of his face cut off and one red eye. I scoff, "So you have a photo of him? Big deal. I had an actual conversation with him."

When the plane lands, I walk past Kurt Cobain's empty seat and see all this stuff left behind. A young male flight attendant materializes and announces that it's all stuff for me. There is a tablet, also a manila envelope containing a letter and a song written for me "and 1 other person." I cannot re-create the song's lyrics; even in the dream, the words were blurry. The letter urges me to "keep on trying, and if it doesn't work out, you can always join me on tour in '94."

What year am I in here? There's the dream tablet acting as a reminder that it's 2016 -- but in my waking life, I often perambulate into the past. This past Sunday morning as I walked from the Broadway-Lafayette subway station to the restaurant in Soho where I have my brunch-time astrology gig, the streets were mostly empty...and even though so many of the stores were different, I felt as though I was walking into my past on Prince Street 30 years ago, when I was a moody teenager dreaming of becoming an artist and living in a loft in Soho.

Does Kurt Cobain know that he is dead? Is Kurt Cobain really dead if he is still being conjured up by so many living souls and recognized on an airplane? One water sign infiltrates another water sign's dreams as easy as pie to offer up reassurance, a song with blurred lyrics, and a possible future adventure with him in case I try but fail.

Dreams are the ultimate symbol of Pisces: effortless creativity, a movie filled with symbols that only the dreamer can truly interpret. Many people forget their dreams when the alarm intrudes into this symbolic narrative at an ungodly early hour and so-called real life begins. Others use their dreams as a compass, as inspiration, as a blog post when they do not feel like discussing the astrology of presidential candidates or yesterday's Full Moon.

"Come as you are."

Venus Conjunct Pluto: No Half Measures--Love It and Sex It to the Max

One of my favorite sayings in astrology is that planets are more powerful than signs. This is because the signs themselves are mere zones in the sky, a cosmic backdrop or wallpaper if you will, while the planets represent specific modes of energy. Any sign of the zodiac needs a planet passing through it to make that sign's energy come alive, to give form to that particular sign's expression, for better or worse.

However, I am not saying that signs have no importance to the planets passing through them. In cases where a planet is placed in a sign's rulership (e.g., Moon in Cancer), the energy can be likened to an ice cream sundae with all the fixings as opposed to a single, unadorned scoop. Conversely, if a planet is placed in a sign's detriment or fall (e.g., Mars in Libra), the energy can feel out of step or downright disconnected (in the case of Mars in Libra, the planet's MO is to take direct, aggressive action, whereas the sign can never make up its mind and desires above all else to collaborate and compromise). Yet particularly when considering a planet placed in a sign that is peregrine (i.e., neither helpful nor harmful for that planet's expression), it is very important to check if there are any aspects being made. And so we now come to a potential powerhouse of two peregrine planets approaching a conjunction in the sign of Capricorn, exact at 8:12 p.m. EST: Venus and Pluto.

Love? Sex? Is there a difference? When Venus is conjunct Pluto, it's gotta be both, and to the max. Romantic feelings must meld with hot action. Right now, having a special feeling in your heart just ain't enough, and neither is merely getting off. Never mind that this conjunction is placed in Capricorn, a sign whose reserve and repression often gets in the way of its earthy sensuality; in this instance, Venus in icy Capricorn melts in the passionate, life-and-death, no-half-measures crucible that is Pluto.

You are either feeling more seductive and magnetic right now, plotting to ensnare someone in your sticky web of love and lust, or you are about to be clubbed over the head and hauled off to someone's cave. On the downside, if you are mentally or emotionally unbalanced, this conjunction can manifest in obsessive, overly possessive, stalker-type behavior that could end very badly. Even if you're definitely not interested in partaking of the agony and the ecstasy of love and sex at this time, if you are an artist, the Venus-Pluto conjunction should inspire great depth and drama to your particular mode of creative expression.

With the Moon in Capricorn crossing over Venus and Pluto between 1 and 1:30 a.m., this intense-with-a-capital-I conjunction will have staying power and sustained reverberation for a good five hours past the exact aspect. In other words, this ain't no quickie. Since the Moon does concern the home, as well as females, do not be surprised if under this aspect your home turns into a hotbed of sexy earth-meets-underworld goddess territory.

Now, are you ready to howl at the moon?

A Not-So-Fond Fare-Thee-Well to February: Musings on Getting Personal in My Posts, Rembrandt, and Some Poetry if You Read Till the End (or Just Scroll Down)

T. S. Eliot wrote that "April is the cruellest month." Though the poet was on to something there, as two-thirds of that month is ruled by Mars (the god of war) -- and if you suffer from spring allergies to boot, as I do, it's nothing to sneeze at -- I believe the true Waste Land, especially this year, is February. Here is an unfunny joke: "Why is February so short?" "Because if it were any longer, nobody would make it to March."

I already complained about the Siberian Express in my last post, which received so few hits it made me wonder if I should keep weather talk out of my astrologizing. Which further made me ponder my entire philosophy of discussing on this site pretty much everything except what most astro-curious souls trawling the web are searching for: their horoscopes. Writing horoscopes is the one thing I pointedly refuse to do, because I think sun-sign astrology is the equivalent of knowing what country someone is from: it can be helpful in terms of understanding what language that someone speaks (though that actually has more to do with Mercury's placement than the Sun), but it only gives the tip of the iceberg, to use a cliche apropos for this brutally cold month.

So I wind up ranting about various components of my own natal chart and major-league transits (in the case of the born-in-2012, still-very-much-with-us Uranus-Pluto square, so frequently I feel like a recording) and how they seem to tie in to various political, economic, and social injustices. A few years ago, an irate reader put the smackdown on me for getting "too political" in my posts, which pissed me off, but at least someone cared enough to try to pin back my ears. Around the same time, I received from another reader some very encouraging comments that I should write a book about Pluto, since I seemed to know so much about all matters Plutonian.

Now, despite the fact that I have nearly 800 followers on Twitter, I mostly feel like a forgotten child on this site...a drop in the bucket of astrology blogs. There are just so many of them out there. Some of them are truly inspired (hello, Donna Cunningham!). It's too daunting to try to "keep up." (Gee, should I try to write about Leonard Nimoy's chart while everyone is still talking about his death? #LiveLongAndProsper, indeed!) It's hard to feel "original" writing about aspects, signs, etc. when it's all been written before, countless times, sometimes brilliantly. It's the kind of feeling I sometimes have as a writer in other genres, that all the stories have already been told, that there are a set number of themes 'n' variations, that all the archetypes have already been explored to the nth degree. Then I snap out of it and write anyway.

Sometimes I wonder why someone with my particular chart would get not just political but personal on this site. Then I think about Rembrandt, one of the greatest artists who ever lived. Like me, he was a Cancer Sun with a Scorpio Moon, and he was known for his endless self-portraits. I wonder if anyone ever said to him, "Hey, Van Rijn, what's up with all the selfies? It's not as if you're pretty enough to be on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel or nothin'." I wonder if he was confident enough not to reply at all but instead ask aloud where he'd put that fly-swatter, or if he got embarrassed (and then promptly made a self-portrait of himself blushing) or defensive. I cannot, of course, answer for the master -- that would be beyond presumptuous, and this is not a blue-book midterm essay for an art history class.

But I know how looking at Rembrandt's self-portraits makes me feel. It's as if I'm peering into his private peep show; I see the unmistakable intensity and resolve in his eyes, yet cannot say for sure what color they are due his love of chiaroscuro, the interplay of light and shadow. (Rembrandt would have made one hell of a film noir director.) I doubt he was "just" lazy or self-centered to be his own go-to model; and as much as he showed, he kept plenty about his visage (as a portal to his whole self) a mystery. (In that vein, readers of this blog and of my fiction and poetry may see me as an open book, but I have more than one book, so to speak.) I have no idea how confident Rembrandt truly was in his abilities, but he believed in himself enough to stay in Holland instead of going to Italy, and he wound up immortalizing himself in paint. If getting so personal in his art enabled him know himself better -- in a time when psychotherapy did not yet exist -- so much the better, yet who knows how self-aware Rembrandt really was. He might have painted like a god, but he was, in the end, just human.

Sometimes I like to think that by painting myself on this site as a highly fallible human being filled with various worries, crotchets, and obsessions that go into living as a non-hermit in a town without pity in the early 21st century, I might be helping someone who lives halfway across the world, or down the street, feel less alone in his or her pain...maybe even help more by not posing as a one-way mirror, as some mystical astrology oracle preaching from a place far removed from all the noise and mess of living. There are more astrology blogs out there than ever, and with people buying online chart interpretations for much less money than a face-to-face reading would cost, all I can do is keep on being myself, warts and all. I may never enter the astrology pantheon the way Rembrandt did with his art, but oh well -- at least I have a cute button nose and good teeth.

But this was supposed to be a post about bidding adieu to the coldest damn month in NYC since 1934 (not too coincidentally, the last Uranus-Pluto square era). To that end, I will therefore share with you this poem I wrote on the subway last week. (I am thinking of compiling a collection of poems I wrote while in transit, to be titled When I Get a Seat on the Subway.)

February Lunation

In the darkest part
of the dark of the moon,
the subway whines
a death's-head tune.
My phone then rings
like a drowning loon;
it's HR from LA--
rejection's a goon.

Good riddance
to Aquarius!
My mind's a mess,
my soul can't dance.
In subzero stress
there is no success;
I haven't a chance.

Now the moon is new
though it's still 4 degrees
and I'm still on a train,
cut off at the knees.

Crossing the bridge,
I spot the Statue of Liberty
and pray to her icy greenness
at the mouth of the cold city.

Entering the Scorpio Zone

It happens every October 23nd (sometimes on the 22nd), but trust me, you ain't seen anything like this particular Sun-in-Scorpio ingress. If you are susceptible to motion sickness, grab the Dramamine; if you are susceptible to jet lag, break out them melatonin pills.

We're not talking about subtlety here. When you went to bed last night, the Sun, Moon, and Venus were all in Libra. As of this writing, the Sun has entered Scorpio, Venus is in the last gasp of Libra, and the Moon is just behind Venus in very late Libra. So right now, we are straddling the astrological equivalent of the International Date Line. Within three hours Venus and the Moon enter Scorpio, almost instantly come together in a conjunction (5:12 p.m. ET), and the Solar Eclipse occurs just before 6 p.m.

This very rare stellium at 0 degrees of Scorpio may serve as a much-needed renewal trigger for water-sign individuals (or those who have many planets in the water element), as Scorpio is all about transformation and regeneration, the phoenix rising from the ashes. Since Venus is involved (and catches up with the Sun this Saturday at 3:31 a.m.), this need for renewal specifically focuses on love and sex -- the latter, of course, is a Scorpio specialty, but the former can be tricky to handle in the sign of the Scorpion, as jealousy and possessiveness can get in the way. The main challenge is to allow yourself to love and desire intensely without trying to own or control the object of your love...if you freak out, your love is sure to object. However, this could be a great time to experiment with BDSM or roleplay in a safe, intimate environment.

Libra can never decide what it truly wants; it swings back and forth on its scales. Scorpio, by contrast, tends toward a starkly black-and-white philosophy and cranks its amp to 11 (that's a Spinal Tap reference, in case you didn't know). For Scorpio, it's yes or no -- "maybe" is for suckers. It's good or bad, right or wrong, stay or go, now or never -- not "it depends." It's all or nothing -- there are no half measures. As you might imagine, this attitude runs into a lot of trouble in situations where compromise and conflict resolution are called for (school, work, family, relationships, friendships, politics -- am I leaving anything out?) and just like shit, ambivalence happens.

Scorpio is a paradox in that it is so stealthy yet also tends to apply its desires with a Vulcan grip; it is perceptive and far more sensitive than its badass rep would suggest, yet its will to not merely survive, but to come out on top cannot be denied. However, the way Scorpio rolls can come in very handy in competition, war, and survival-oriented shit. Scorpio is indeed a survivor (as is the sign Cancer, albeit using a very different tactic).

Such dramatic, whole-hog intensity can also shine through in the arts: think of Pablo Picasso and art nouveau master Theophile Steinlen (both Suns in Scorpio) and Rembrandt (Moon in Scorpio); Maya Plisetskaya, considered one of the best ballerinas of the 20th century; John Keats, Dylan Thomas, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Fydor Dostoyevsky, and Kurt Vonnegut. On a personal level, I credit William Steig (Scorpio, Moon in Pisces) perhaps most of all for my deciding at a very tender age to become a writer and artist. It reached me on that primal a level. (Primal is another Scorpio domain.) And the first time I heard Scorpio Grace Slick of the Jefferson Airplane sing in her piercing, challenging voice:

When the truth is found
To be lies
And all the joy
Within you dies
Don't you want somebody to love?
Don't you need somebody to love?
Wouldn't you love somebody to love?
You've got to find somebody to love...

It wormed its way inside my angst-filled, Moon-in-Scorpio teen soul and drowned out all the '80s pop pap that I had been ingesting every time I watched MTV or tuned my "box" to Z100 or WPLJ (including, sorry to say, recent offerings from the Jefferson Starship -- "We Built This City on Rock and Roll" and "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" both made me want to vomit). The late 1960s-era Jefferson Airplane was packed with talent, but it simply could not have flown so high, nor delved so deep, without Gracie.

Just to make life more interesting, the dramatic shift from Libra to Scorpio is occuring with Mercury stationing direct and Mars at the end of Sagittarius -- so two more shifts are in store for us. When Mercury appears from Earth's perspective to be stationery, this is an excellent time to meditate, focus, and also to find things, people, and feelings you'd lost over the past month, especially in mid-September. Don't overthink it -- chances are very likely these lost things will turn up unexpectedly.

As for Mars leaving Sagittarius and entering Capricorn in a few days -- stay tuned for that; I think I've given you Dear Readers quite enough food for thought for one post. Now go out and find somebody to love -- starting with yourself.

Happy Winter Solstice, Charlie Brown...Oh, Good Grief, Venus Just Turned Retrograde!

Astrology maintains that there is no such thing as "coincidence"...it's more like synchronicity. Astrology is far more of an art than a science...yes, the science exists (astrologers use the exact same ephemeris as astronomers to check planets' positions; the key difference is that astronomers discard the meaning of each zodiac sign), but to attempt to understand the meaning of various changes that come on the heels of each other is to involve, and invoke, the same mind-set as poetry and intuition.

The Winter Solstice occurred today at 12:11 p.m. ET,, when the Sun entered Capricorn. The holiday lights and the sociable celebrations to combat the long, cold nights are peaking -- and at this moment, the birth of winter, summer is also born, for even as the cold strengthens, the days will slowly begin to lengthen. This neatly illustrates a basic lesson of astrology: every sign, and therefore every season, contains a drop of its opposite. Just visualize the yin yang symbol.

Less than five hours after the Solstice, Venus turned retrograde at the end of Capricorn (28 degrees and 59 minutes, to be exact). Venus will remain retrograde till January 31. Venus retrograde will strongly affect love, art (especially the established, validated sort that hangs in museums and can be auctioned off for millions of dollars), beauty, and finances. There may be second thoughts, delays, low energy, and downright problems in all of these areas. We will also revisit issues concerning love, money, and/or art dating from yesterday all the way back to November 21, though these issues may not be resolved in full till February or early March. The three biggest emotional dangers of Venus retrograde in Capricorn are depression, coldheartedness, and putting up unnecessary walls. However, when Venus backs over Mercury on January 7, this could result in an icebreaker in terms of communication -- and on January 11, when Venus backs over the Sun, perhaps things will thaw out even more.

As Capricorn is the sign of government, I am hoping (though not hopeful) that Venus retrograde in Capricorn will undo the mean-spirited message to the long-term unemployed (cutting off EUC benefits just a few days after Christmas is pretty Scrooge-like) and not do further damage to the ACA rollout (enrollment numbers are up, but these last-minute exceptions and changes just keep coming, resulting in much confusion and frustration). Meanwhile, the Fed plans to scale back the stimulus by $10 billion, even though that austerity thing hasn't worked out too well in other countries.

In short, Venus retrograde in Capricorn serves as a challenge to us all not to close our hearts or our wallets, not to be (un)comfortably numb or "penny wise, pound foolish."

A Very Special Episode of New Moon in Leo: Opportunity City!

Under so-called normal circumstances, Leo the Lion, king of the jungle, subscribes to a lie-by-the-fire laziness when it is not homing in on prey or partying hard. However, this New Moon in Leo, exact 11:54 a.m. EDT, forms a close, approaching sextile to Mars in Libra. The sextile is an aspect of opportunity; if you rouse yourself from your Casual Friday afternoon, something wonderful may very well meet you halfway. And that something is likely to be a someone, as Libra is all about relationships, and Leo is one of the more romantic signs of the zodiac. However, other manifestations may include art (either actively creating or actively appreciating), luxury, or exceptionally pleasing beauty.

Welcome Jupiter in Taurus

Jupiter is the planet of philosophy and values; Taurus is our zodiac's first earth sign and is ruled by the beauty-and-pleasure-seeking planet Venus. As Jupiter eases its big toe into Taurus, I thought it apropos to pose a set of related questions to my readers (and to myself!). Feel free to mull these questions over; there are no right or wrong answers, and Taurus is about ruminating, not rushing (that would be Aries's department). Plus, by the time Jupiter leaves the sign of the bull in June 2012, you may find yourself revising some of your responses.

*

What is your definition of beauty?

What is your attitude toward money?

Are you possessive about your possessions? Do you ever treat your friends and loved ones as possessions?

Which do you tend to value more: "things" or experiences?

Are you comfortable living in the material world?

Are you at ease living in your physical body?

How do you feel about art, and how does art feel about you?

How important to you are the senses of taste, smell, and touch?

What is your attitude toward food?

What is the difference between sensuality and sex?

Do you believe you can love someone if you do not love yourself?

Can you honestly say with a straight face that you love yourself?

What is the difference between stubbornness and persistence?

What are the parameters of your comfort zone, and do you feel comfortable pushing your envelope and departing from that zone?

Do you feel that slow and steady wins the race?

What race in particular are you running in (or not)?