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.

Special Friday the Thirteenth Edition: Proud Triskaidekaphile

Greetings, Lovelies and Uglies.

It's been a while since I've checked in, and I thought it would be appropriate to break the silence with a thumb's-up to Friday the 13th, especially since today happens to be my sister's birthday.

Thirteen has long been considered an unlucky number, yet Judaism, the religion in which I was raised, considers 13 to be not only lucky, but spiritually significant. The number 13 abounds in Judaism, from the age of a bar/bat mitzvah to the 13 hermeneutic principles to Abraham's 13 covenants with God to the 13 attributes of divine mercy to Jewish numerology, in which the words ahavah (love) and echad (one) equal 13. Oh yes -- I was also born on the 13th.

Thirteen is also one number past the 12 signs of the zodiac, implying transformation -- a Scorpio specialty. It is therefore highly fitting that the number 13 in Tarot (the much-feared and misunderstood Death card) and numerology are both associated with the sign Scorpio.

Friday the 13th is particularly feared, but what exactly is so bad about Friday? This is considered to be the day of the week ruled by Venus, apropos for the start of the weekend. I would think that Monday the 13th would be far more feared. However, Venus is in its detriment in Scorpio -- implying that this day does not blend easily with the number 13.

Today features two sextiles, the aspect of opportunity: Venus-Saturn and Mercury-Jupiter. Specifically, the sextile between Venus in Libra and Saturn in Sagittarius encourages a positive sense of purpose and structure with a loved one (in other words, it's okay to make definite plans), while the sextile between Mercury in Scorpio and Jupiter in Virgo encourages moving one's mind out of the shallow end of the pool and plumbing the depths (in other words, it's more than okay to ponder the meaning of existence).

Till next time, have a great rest of Friday the 13th.

Sun-Jupiter Conjunction in Virgo: Unleash Your Inner Owl

Owls have lately become a popular motif in clothing, jewelry, and knickknacks, but what is its astrological significance? I believe that this night bird is a compelling blend of Virgo and Scorpio, and as we approach the Sun-Jupiter conjunction (exact Wednesday, 8/26 at 6:02 p.m. EDT), this is a perfect time for you to unleash your inner owl by understanding and admiring its complex nature.

The Virgo side of the owl is associated with its quest for knowledge and its razor-sharp focus. This is the Wise Old Owl that loves books. Its questioning nature always looks for answers. It can see the finest of details that comprise a whole. Its downfall can be an inability to see the forest for the trees.

The Scorpio side of the owl is associated with its being a bird of prey that strikes at night. This is the Perceptive Owl that intimidates others with its unblinking stare. No matter how inwardly turbulent its emotions, the owl projects an aura of calm and control. It can perch perfectly poised atop a tree for hours before suddenly swooping down in the darkness and closing in on its prey. You can run, but you just can't hide from the owl.

Jupiter is said to be in the sign of its fall in Virgo, because the perfectionism and downright persnickety nature of Virgo can and does clash with the sweeping visions and unchecked optimism of Jupiter (which rules the sign of Sagittarius). Jupiter is shorthand for expansion and excess; it gambles in all areas of life due to its inherent faith and optimism, while Virgo is highly pragmatic, dots every "i" and crosses every "t," and its true church is work (especially if it is service oriented or not at all glamorous). Jupiter will happily breakfast on bacon and eggs with a side of buttered toast; Virgo would rather starve than eat all those nitrates, nitrites, fat, and cholesterol. (Please note that I am not claiming that all Virgos are health nuts; I myself have Venus in Virgo and Virgo Rising with Pluto conjunct the Ascendant, and I adore bacon and eggs, bread and butter. I am talking about the "pure" manifestation of a particular sign and planet.)

I believe that so-called debilitated planetary placements can lead to far more personal growth than so-called exalted placements. As the Sun illuminates the Jupiter placement that we all will be experiencing until September 9, 2016, it might help to envision yourself as an owl of true justice and knowledge. Make it your mission to give a hoot and fight the downside of Jupiter of Virgo, which consists of legions of hypocritical, hypercritical moralists.

Pluto Love

After a rocky start to the week (see my Sun-Uranus square post of July 12th), I had a happy birthday on the 13th, made all the more special by the pre-flyby photo taken of Pluto that very afternoon. I felt as if my Rising Planet was sending me love from across the solar system:

Many people's hearts melted when they saw Pluto's heart, and the emerging details of its demoted-from-planethood's self are astounding scientists who expected an "old, pockmarked" warhorse, not a young'un of less than 100 million years old that boasts a heart-shaped plain and ice mountains (which proves the existence of water, as one might expect from a planet ruled by the water sign Scorpio).

Finally, it occurred to me to look up Pluto's "discovery" chart, as there was no real way I could look up its actual birth date. Although Percival Lowell first suspected Pluto's existence back in 1905, he was unable to locate "Planet X" by the time of his death a decade later; astronomer Clyde Tombaugh eventually found it on February 18, 1930, though the news was kept from the public till March 13th, the day that would have been Percival Lowell's 75th birthday. It is fitting not only that our solar system's newest find was named for the Roman god of the underworld (as the early 1930s was a highly Plutonian time marked by financial depression and the birth of fascism), but that the first two letters of Pluto's name happen to be Percival Lowell's initials.

Although I was unable to determine the exact time of discovery, I was not surprised to see that the Moon was in Scorpio on February 18, 1930, since Pluto is ruled by the sign of Scorpio. Interestingly, Pluto itself falls at 17 degrees of Cancer in the discovery chart, within hailing distance of the Sun's position early last week (20 to 22 degrees of Cancer, the Pisces decanate and dwad, particularly auspicious for photography).

Pluto has two aspects that I believe contributed to its demotion three-quarters of a century later (as opposed to its being given a gold watch and a generous pension plan): a Venus-Jupiter-Neptune T-square (with Venus at 2 Pisces opposing Neptune at 2 Virgo, both squaring Jupiter at 6 Gemini) and a tight Saturn-Uranus square (with Saturn at 8 Capricorn squaring Uranus at 9 Aries).

The T-square in mutable signs suggests an inherent instability combined with the potential for glamorization followed by pedestal-toppling by a shallow judge or panel (Jupiter is in its "fall," i.e. most weakly placed, in Gemini). Pluto was demoted by astronomers on August 24, 2006, with the Sun having just entered Virgo and literally shedding light on the T-square.

The Saturn-Uranus square from Capricorn to Aries stresses difficulty with structure; there is a resistance to easy labels and open-shut classification. Interestingly, Pluto celebrated its Uranus return last year, on the Uranus-Pluto square; NASA's ultimately successful flyby mission was already in process.

I hope that since Pluto also has a Mercury-Mars conjunction in Aquarius trine that debilitated Jupiter, its demotion is not final, especially with the overwhelmingly positive response to the flyby mission. More details will emerge about this most mysterious Pluto over the next 16 months. Perhaps by then, scientists will be moved not only to take back the demotion, but to issue the long-suffering Pluto a promotion. Such love and validation can only improve our collective relationship with Pluto, which will enable us all to use its kick-ass power more wisely, and with more respect, than we have ever managed to up till now, and especially since 2006.

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.

THIS is the Jupiter-Saturn Trine?!

Such a beautiful, stabilizing aspect between two planets that are polar opposites. (Jupiter: expansion, "luck," faith, travel, religion, philosophy. Saturn: contraction, limitations, hard work, crystallization, pragmatism.) Given the signs involved, this should be especially beneficial for a Cancer-Scorpio type like me. And yet the only way I think I'd feel worse right now is if I got run over by a bus or a meteor fell on my head. Hey, lightbulb moment: the Jupiter-Saturn trine is protecting me from total disaster, leaving me free to obsess over various shitty "first world" problems. Though come to think of it, don't people all over the planet (and probably the entire universe) want to feel wanted, loved, understood, part of something authentic and meaningful, and content, if not ecstatic, to be alive? What's the point of survival if you don't have those things...or am I just being a disingenuous idealist again?

By the way, I'm still doing private consultations via Skype or phone. I may an unhappy camper, but I'm one hell of an insightful astrologer. Read my testimonials. Email me for my rates. Peace out.

Tail End of Libra: Another Full Moon Will Launch Us into Scorpio

I hope everyone enjoyed the imaginative, romantic, soothing energy of the Sun/Neptune trine in airy Libra and Aquarius (exact 10/19 at 8:20 a.m. EDT) and was also able to surf the dynamic, expansive wave created by the trine between Mars in Scorpio and Jupiter in Pisces (exact 10/20 at 9:42 p.m.).

However, today that Mars in Scorpio made a challenging square to Neptune in Scorpio at 11:37 a.m. EDT, and I fear that many of us, caught between dreaming (Neptune) and doing (Mars), wiped out. (Some of the literal forms this wipe-out may have taken: food or alcohol poisoning, drug ODing, viral infection.)

Adding to the emotional intensity is the imminent Full Moon in Aries, exact at 9:37 p.m. EDT. The Sun is now in the last degree of Libra, and is obviously going out this year with a bang, not a whimper. You may know already that this is the second Full Moon we've had in Aries (the first being the Harvest Moon of 9/23). Optimistically speaking, this gives us a second chance at harvesting our relationship between ourselves and others, finding that elusive balance (Libra) between fulfilling our needs and wants and those of the people with whom we share open, aboveboard connections.

(Please note that the 7th House, which is associated with Libra, is where all of our relationships that are there for all the world to see are located--for hidden friends and enemies as well as secret romances, go to the Pisces-ruled 12th house, and if there is a decidedly unequal or unsavory power dynamic involving sex or money, head to the Scorpio-ruled 8th house.)

With the Sun's entrance into Scorpio tomorrow at 8:35 a.m. EDT, the Northern Hemisphere plunges into the heart of autumn. The last bit of summer, which lingered in NYC well beyond the Autumnal Equinox, has faded away; foliage will soon reach its peak as the temperature continues to drop; and at the centerpiece of the zodiac's most intense, transformative sign is Halloween, followed by the Day of the Dead. The benign pumpkin is carved into a scary Jack-o-lantern; the dead rise from their graves; horror movies are spotlighted. Hordes of costumed children may no longer wander about their neighborhood trick-or-treating after dark, as my generation did back in the '70s and early '80s, without a squadron of parents hovering nearby to protect them (and also to ration the candy booty instead of letting their kiddies go into their annual sugar coma). But if NYC is any indication, Halloween seems to be, more than ever, an adult-oriented holiday (sexy nurse costume or ridiculous politician mask optional). Interestingly, the majority of Gen-Xers, born 1961-81, have an outer planet in Scorpio--either Neptune (1961-70) or Uranus (1975-81). Stay tuned and see if Halloween becomes more popular with septo- and octogenerians in the 2040s and '50s!

Between tomorrow and 10/28, we will have four planets in Scorpio (Sun, Mercury, Venus, and Mars), and with Jupiter and Uranus in Pisces, there is an awful lot of emotional, intuitive water energy going on. So it won't come as a surprise that the next five days will most smile on the water signs of Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. Capricorns should also benefit, but Taurus and Virgo may find some resistance if they push their practicality or pragmatism too hard. All that water is urging us to go with the flow, even though Scorpio is admittedly the most stubborn and controlled (and controlling!) of the water signs.

Stay tuned for my Halloween forecast!

T-Square City: Mercury, Mars, Pluto Problems

One of the toughest things I find about being an astrologer is heeding particular planetary aspects about which I freely (and sometimes less than diplomatically) caution others.

Case in point: the T-square between Mercury, Mars, and Pluto that is still in effect, although the Mercury/Mars square (which killed Ted Kennedy, who was suffering from a malignant brain tumor [a Mars affliction] late last night) is over, as is the Mercury/Pluto square (I do not look forward to reading breaking stories on NYTimes.com.). But the Mars/Pluto opposition is not over until later today.

To backtrack just a bit, for those of you who have no idea what a T-square is: this is a configuration that involves at least three planets, two 90-degree squares, and one 180-degree opposition. As potentially nasty as a T-square can be, it is still preferable to what is called a Grand Cross, which involves at least four planets and two sets of oppositions, which means four sets of squares. A Grand Cross is an aspect that I would not wish on anyone's natal chart, as it is a classic case of being locked up, immobilized (especially when the fixed signs are involved); however, a T-square has a "key" in the form of the sign that is not involved in the second opposition.

In the case of this T-square, critical degrees (i.e., degrees traditionally considered very significant) are in play: Mercury at 0 degrees of Libra, Mars at 0 Cancer, and Pluto at 0 Capricorn. The key to this morass of misunderstandings, miscommunications, anger, resentment, aggression, and abuse of power is 0 degrees Aries--perhaps the most headstrong degree of the zodiac (keeping in mind that Aries rules the head). Aries can be a soft, wooly lamb--or a battering ram. You must decide which of these creatures to be in order to free yourself from this T-square.

Yesterday, despite the oncoming Mercury/Mars square, I chose to throw caution to the wind in terms of communication with two people, and no harm resulted; indeed, with Mercury in the last degree of Virgo and Mars in the last degree of Gemini I was bitten by a most glorious poetry bug. Yet today I decided not to confront someone else about an issue that has been troubling me. At the very least, a Mars/Pluto opposition indicates power plays, secrets, and subterfuge; at most, severe betrayal and violence result. As a Plutonian, I cannot easily shrug off the heavy vibrations and consequences that come from fucking with this planet at the wrong time. The Moon, keeper of the emotions, is still transiting the Pluto-ruled sign of Scorpio.

Time to bide my time.