Solar Eclipse in Virgo: Work It, Baby!

Greetings, Lovelies and Uglies and those who are a combination of the two:

We are fast approaching the final New Moon of summer (in the Northern Hemisphere), which will also be a partial Solar Eclipse. Exact September 13, 2:41 a.m. EDT, this lunation at 20 degrees of Virgo is a challenge to put on your cosmic hardhat and Get. To. Work.

This is one of those times when all work and no play will not make you a dull boy or girl. To the contrary, the more you work on yourself, the more rewarding you will find the New Moon / Solar Eclipse.

Even in modern-day astrology, when it is standard to sugarcoat the most heinous planetary aspects and placements as "great potential for growth," Virgo suffers from a bad reputation without the fun and intimidation points racked up by its cousin Scorpio. At least Scorpio is a seductive force to be reckoned with and can always get laid, whereas poor Virgo gets zero respect for being a prissy, perfectionist, nitpicking, overly cautious, submissive worker bee whose main weapons appear to be white gloves (handy for doing spot checks of dust levels in other people's homes) and an insistence on perfect grammar.

For those of you smartypants whose knowledge of astrology goes beyond Sun signs, you have doubtlessly learned that Venus placed in Virgo is the pits, and that if you are unlucky enough to attract one of those killjoys who give love a bad name, to run for the hills. Take that, Mick Jagger, Julia Roberts, Joni Mitchell, Roger Federer, Eminem, Mila Kunis, J. K. Rowling, and Kate Winslet! (Although speaking as a Venus-in-Virgo native, I will state here that I myself would probably flee from the likes of Sean Penn, Roman Polanski, and Martha Stewart.)

Now is the time to summon up and own those very qualities that consign Virgo to the dustbin of the Zodiac. Working on yourself can be a royal pain in the ass, and unless it involves a bottle of hair dye or a visit to a tattoo parlor, there is no guarantee that anyone will even notice. Working on yourself can take your entire damned life if you're doing it right. Virgo understands deep down that all worthwhile ventures can take a lot of time and effort, and that if you are in it for the long haul, you must be patient with yourself while pushing yourself.

As a Mercury-ruled Earth sign, Virgo also understands that thoughts are in fact things. To quote R. W. Emerson, "A man is what he thinks all day long." The self-loathing Virgo does itself no favors; the confident Virgo can win its version of the jackpot. This observation applies to all signs of the Zodiac, of course, yet Virgo in particular must be especially vigilant to monitor its tendency to self-doubt. A crippling degree of self-criticism will lead not to a jackpot, but a straitjacket of your own making.

Virgo's place in the Zodiac occurs at a critical juncture of humanity's evolution: self-consciousness. The immediately preceding sign Leo assumes it will be loved and valued simply for being its royal self; Virgo asks, What can I bring to the table? Plenty, actually: the symbol of Virgo is a wheat-toting maiden -- the purity of hard work culminating in harvest time. Even if you are gluten-free or on a low-carb diet these days, take the best page from this sign's thick book and work toward your own harvest. If you are less than thrilled with such Virgo-ruled areas in your life as job, health, diet, and/or wardrobe, use the energy of the upcoming Solar Eclipse to begin to change these areas. Although you may not see results immediately, at least you can make a definite start, and even starts can be very healing.

Oh, Shazbot...!

Last night, upon returning to my blissfully private lair after a heavy Full Moon weekend of out-of-town socializing, I ordered in some mediocre Chinese food and ate it while watching a documentary about Sunset Strip that had been on my "Nestflix" queue for months. While it suffered for glossing over too many interesting stories in its 72-minute running time (doubling the length would've more than doubled its quality), I still enjoyed it. And during the all-too-brief segment on Sunset Strip's comedy clubs of the 1970s, a fresh young face shone out of the scruffy footage: an up-and-coming Robin Williams, who despite his forays into "serious" dramatic roles in such films as Good Morning, Vietnam and Dead Poets Society, always remained Mork from Ork to me. I had not thought of him in years, even decades.

As footage played of a young Robin Williams toasting Richard Pryor's genius at some "roast" or other, I thought something along the lines of, "It's amazing that Mork survived that era." The tragic element of the comedy section of Sunset Strip belonged to John Belushi, who OD'd at the Chateau Marmont in March 1982. Dark hints weighing about two tons were dropped that Pryor might have also died that night had his promoter not ordered him to go home (and hence stay on the wagon) after performing.

Attempting to interpret a celebrity's death, especially one whose likely cause was suicide, in light of that person's chart seems misguided in the sense that it gives fodder to the criticism leveled at astrology -- that it is all about hindsight. What if Robin Williams had lived to 93 instead of 63 and had died peacefully in his sleep? Would such a scenario transform the storm clouds in his chart into a mere drizzle?

Unfunnily enough, I was thinking along similar lines last week after watching the John Lennon documentary Imagine. Had this iconoclastic genius not been gunned down on December 8, 1980, I concluded that he might not have survived Pluto's transit of Scorpio opposing his Uranus-Saturn conjunction in Taurus -- he might've died of AIDS or even by his own hands.

Perhaps it is only human for astrologers to look for "reasons" after the fact. Always under pressure from skeptics and believers alike to accurately predict future events, looking back in an attempt to understand why something happened can be oddly comforting (to me, at least) as well as a key to considering the manifestations of what has not yet happened.

Is it coincidence that the birthday I selected for Blossom, my fictitious work-in-progress penguin, happens to be that of Robin Williams's? Yes -- but only because July 21 works out to be 28 degrees of Cancer, the degree of my Mercury (writing) and also exactly trine my Neptune (imagination). I realize now that Blossom is Mork: although not literally an alien, she does not fit into her harsh environment. Though she has friends and loving parents, her personality is a quirky, contradictory bundle, and her unusual needs and talents will take her far from home. Mork was also supremely unsuited to his environment; banished from Ork and transported to Earth via egg (an apt symbol of the sign Cancer) ostensibly to gather intel about humans (which he dispensed to Orson, his offstage leader, in wise end-of-show tidbits) but actually because his planet did not allow humor, in which Mork had to engage the way we must engage in breathing.

Interestingly, just a few weeks ago I read a wonderfully insightful blog post on Darkstar Astrology on the meaning of the third decanate of Cancer; as someone with three planets including the Sun there, I kept saying yes! aloud...even when it was not about the fabulousness of this decanate's creativity ("As artists they throw themselves right into their work, there is no holding back. The feelings flood out onto the canvas and touch the public profoundly") but the mood swings ("Sometimes these people can seem like the classic bi-polar. When they are up they are flying, exuberant, charming, fun and playful. When they are down though, it can actually be quite scary and it is often a shock to those who have only seen their sunny side").

Plenty of bad shit has been written about the perils of a Pisces Moon -- its hypersensitivity, its inability to cope with the "real world," its addictive, escapist tendencies besmirching its inspired genius. Robin Williams not only had a Pisces Moon, but a Pisces Moon conjunct the North Node and opposing Venus in Virgo (which, in turn, was conjunct the South Node). This suggests that he was lonely and anxious from birth -- born into privilege, he was a classic Poor Little Rich Boy, playing with thousands of toy soldiers all by himself in a mansion -- and had Major League Mother Issues even beyond that of most Cancerian men. Whether his mother put him on a pedestal or he put her there, whether or not religion was involved (one manifestation of Virgo is the Virgin Mary; one manifestation of Pisces is Jesus, which literally means "Little Fish"), the thing about pedestals is that there is inevitably a fall from such a lofty height. Crushing disappointment (Virgo) follows on the heels of awestruck wonder and love (Pisces). Relentless perfectionism (Virgo) paralyzes stream-of-consciousness inspiration (Pisces).

Robin Williams's fame and manic, eccentric persona seemed directly tied to Uranus's transit of Scorpio crossing his Ascendant and into his 1st House of self-identity in the late '70s. (Please note that although he was born in summertime, Chicago did not follow Daylight Savings Time -- which makes Williams's Ascendant 12 degrees of Scorpio, not 0.) By contrast, the current transit of Saturn in Scorpio in Williams's 1st House, going back and forth on a square to his Pluto in Leo (which is his ruling planet), which in fixed signs can seem like it will last forever (not that depression is easy to "snap out of" for any sign). His progressed Sun passed over his natal Saturn in Virgo just over a year ago, another marker of depression. And if that were not enough, the Uranus-Pluto square had been afflicting his Mars-Uranus conjunction at 10-11 degrees of Cancer -- certainly outweighing his beneficial natal trine between Moon-North Node and Mars-Uranus, which might have saved him back in the '70s, when L.A. was blanketed by a cocaine blizzard.

It is hard to believe that someone would decide to end his own life with Venus on his Sun, but yesterday's Full Moon, our second "supermoon" in a row due to its being at the perihelion to Earth, pulled in his Pluto to the mix. The Sun passing over his Pluto with the Moon opposing it must've outweighed any feelings of needing to live for the sake of family love (Venus in Cancer). Since an elevated Pluto in Leo is so wrapped up in yet conflicted about fame, it might not be too much of an exaggeration to say that Robin Williams's celebrity contributed to his death. That said, had this man not become a household name, he might've been known as a narcissistic addict or bipolar egomaniac, and he might've died tragically anyway. Had Williams hung on another year, long enough for his progressed Sun to have entered Libra, perhaps love and some semblance of balance or moderation would have saved him after all -- but now that he is gone, we will never know for sure.

This is your sad, tired astrologer signing off. Na-nu, na-nu.

Pluto Ricin: R.I.P. Walter White

May I propose this epitaph for Walter White's gravestone? “I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. And I was really...I was alive.”

While I normally pride myself on being somewhat detached from U.S. pop culture (I couldn't identify any of the Kardashians in a line-up and have not seen a single episode of American Idol), and normally refuse to allow myself to be manipulated by the machinations of art in any medium, I had to surrender to Breaking Bad like any self-respecting meth-head would surrender to Heisenberg's finest.

And now that "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue," I decided that while Walter White's corpse was still warm, I would attempt to rectify his birth chart based on the September 7, 1959, date given in the divorce papers -- and also examine how it lines up with the chart of actor Bryan Cranston, who has acknowledged that playing this character was "the role of a lifetime."

Small surprise that no matter what time of day Walter White was born, he had a Scorpio Moon. And hell hath no fury like a Scorpio Moon scorned, for the Moon represents one's deepest emotions and truest feelings and needs; in Scorpio, the need is for validation of its stunning perception and absolute, unlimited power both at home and in the world. Jupiter is also placed in Scorpio, which magnifies the effect of the Moon.

When we first meet Mr. White, he's what his student/partner/stand-in son/enemy/fellow soldier Jesse Pinkman would term a total "bee-yatch" -- at everyone's beck and call except his own, someone who never even attained has-been status, because he took himself out of the big time so soon with Gray Matter Technologies that he was herewith reduced to an also-ran. Whatever time of day Walter White took his first breath, it was only a matter of time before he "broke bad," for his Moon, in the sign of its fall, was within range of squaring Uranus in Leo, also placed in the sign of its fall, representing the last of the baby boomers (born 1955 - 1961), also called "Generation Jones," a group known for its high rate of crime and addictive behavior.

I like to think of Pluto Rising as the Superman/Clark Kent position, for no one seems to notice that Clark Kent is Superman. It seems that if you put on a pair of dorky glasses and act like a hopelessly unhip egghead, people do not see you as someone who is capable of doing anything spectacularly good or bad; you are reduced to a worker bee who doesn't get no respect. I believe this is particularly the case when Pluto Rises in Virgo (1957 - 1972), for Virgo is considered an "omega" sign compared with the likes of, say, Leo or Aries. Virgo is given short shrift in astrology; its characteristics sound pretty dreary (organized, clean, detail oriented, service oriented, finicky). Therefore, I believe that Walter White was born at about 6 a.m. (most likely in L.A., as that is where his mother lives) with Pluto just behind the Ascendant, conjunct from the 12th house (to better conceal his disguise) and also exactly conjunct Venus and Mercury at 4 Virgo, a critical degree.

This critical-degree stellium defines Walter White's complexity, intelligence, and multiple personas. Venus-Pluto points to Walter White's attraction (Venus) to the underworld (Pluto) as well as the sexual charge he receives from it, plus his simmering resentment in his marriage (Venus) that periodically blows up, though despite all the shit that hits the fan, he and Skyler never make a clean, definite break. It is worth keeping in mind that Walt's Venus is in the sign of its fall, and Skyler (represented by Venus) briefly becomes "Mrs. Heisenberg." Mercury-Pluto highlights Walt's ability to use his mind (Mercury) and extensive knowledge of chemistry to make the purest meth on the planet (Virgo strives for purity) and get out of tight spots through ingenuity, and murder (Pluto) anyone standing in his way, most impressively via ricin -- poison being represented by Walt's strongly aspected Neptune in Scorpio.

"Say my name," he says menacingly to some badass cartel hombres while rocking the now-iconic black wide-brimmed porkpie hat in season 5A. Names are ruled by Mercury; take a Mercury-Pluto conjunction exactly sextile Pluto's despositor, Neptune in Scorpio (drugs) in the 3rd house (also ruling names), and voila: we have Heisenberg, a persona that was brought out by Walt's death sentence of cancer (Pluto) at the beginning of season 1.

Walter White's Virgo stellium exactly squares his Midheaven (MC) at 4 Gemini (also a critical degree). The MC indicates one's career path, and in the mutuable sign Gemini it's not a surprise that when we meet Walter White, he has two jobs: high school chemistry teacher and area carwash drudge. Pluto square MC indicates trouble with authority; Mercury square MC points to poor communication skills with the powers that be and poor judgment concerning public standing; Venus square MC shows Walt's ability to put up a supposedly benign front -- he successfully hides his Heisenberg identity from his wife and family, most notably his macho DEA brother-in-law, for an impressively long time. Interestingly, Hank finds the incriminating evidence in the form of poet Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass in Walt's bathroom (Pluto) while taking a shit (more Pluto) -- and the original "WW" himself had Pluto Rising! Pluto can manifest in self-sabotage; Walter White left the inscribed volume of verse for Hank to find instead of sensibly stashing it in his bookcase or burning the damned thing altogether. "Say my name," indeed. In a deep-rooted Plutonian way, Walt wanted to be found out -- and no matter what pain resulted, as least Hank would never again view his brother-in-law as an insignificant, nerdy milquetoast.

Walt's 5th-house cusp is 7 Capricorn; the ruler, Saturn, is in the 4th house at 0 Capricorn -- another critical degree. Such a placement indicates challenges and downright disappointments concerning children; Walt's oldest child, named after him, has CP and ultimately rejects his father, calling the cops on him and asking, in their last heartrending phone conversation, why he is even still alive when Walt tries to arrange to send him money from his hideout. (If you're reading this and haven't yet seen the series finale, please stop!) Still, Walt perseveres (Saturn) and manages to arrange an eventual trust for his son (symbolized by Jupiter in Scorpio) via his former business partners from Gray Matter who have publicly distanced themselves from him on Charlie Rose, using some classically Heisenberg ingenuity and intimidation without actually resorting to violence. As for baby Holly, whose name has Christmastime (early Capricorn) overtones, she will never know her father as anything but a criminal mastermind. At least Walt got to bid her, and his wife, a tender farewell before going off to the neo-Nazi compound to finish some unfinished business -- and "accidentally on purpose" finish himself off as well.

I count myself among the relatively few who were still rooting for Walt despite all the death and destruction he unleashed; as reprehensible and unforgivable as his actions were, he refused to lie down and die without trying to leave behind a legacy, albeit a dubious, death-filled one. Even though at the eleventh hour he admits to his wife (and to the vast TV audience who were glued to their sets) that he truly did it for himself, if he had not had a family (symbolized by Sagittarius at the IC exactly squaring his Virgo stellium), he might not have had the literal spur digging into his side to do it at all.

Actor Bryan Cranston's exact chart is unknown, but his Pisces Sun falls in Walter White's 7th house of partnership, his exalted Mercury in Aquarius (which lends itself well to science) in Walt's 6th house of work, and his Saturn falls at the bottom of Walt's chart, acting at the IC as a solid anchor and foundation for his character. Arguably, the only Moon sign that rivals Scorpio in its will to power is Capricorn -- which Cranston has, placed in Walter White's 5th house of creativity. Interestingly, Cranston's Jupiter-Pluto conjunction in late Leo is placed in Walt's 12th house -- there was much gold (Leo) to mine on an unconscious, collective level, and with outer planets acting so strongly in the 12th house, Cranston's portrayal of Walter White is truly iconic, providing a perfect catharsis for our Uranus-Pluto square era, a time of massive collective crisis, a time when so many of us Waltesque "losers" have been squashed down and hemmed in by a few bad choices plus a huge dose of bad luck.

And I firmly believe that long after the last Uranus-Pluto square occurs in 2015, Breaking Bad will continue to inspire obsessive, Pluto-driven passion in viewers -- the same planet that drove Walter White to break bad, transform his self-identity, rise from his own ashes, and irretrievably change his world as well as the worlds of everyone who came into contact with him.

What Happens When I Take My Eye off the Astrology Ball

Short answer: It's not pretty.

Long answer: Because I was unusually harried and pressed for time on Saturday afternoon, I failed to look ahead on my trusty astrology software program for the exact timing of two doozies headed my way: transiting Neptune opposing my natal Venus and transiting Mars conjuncting my natal Moon. I knew they were coming; I just didn't know how soon. Like, on Monday. And I was away from my 'pooter for the rest of the weekend.

Oops.

Part I: So Venus Walks into a Bar and Spills Her Drink on Neptune...

I raised a sensitive issue with my sweetie ca. noon yesterday instead of holding my water till the next time we got together. Pobody's nerfect, and a few hours later I made an effort to set things right by articulating myself better, and I think I succeeded. But try telling that to my mortified Venus in Virgo as Neptune exactly opposed it. It was a perfect storm of bad timing, hurt feelings, and yes, opposition. At the very least, I should've taken the Moon in Cancer into account before saying anything; emotions run pretty high during this lunar transit.

Part II: Moon-Mars Meltdown

The Moon may soothe an angry Mars, but the reverse just ain't so. As a Lunar Scorpion, I have no halfway feelings: I am either scaling the heights of ecstasy or plumbing the depths of despair; Zenning out or really pissed off; in hard-core downtime mode or wanting not just to connect, but to merge. Scorpio is an emotional Water sign, yet its Fixed quality makes it far more stubborn than its cousins Pisces and Cancer, and its ruler, Pluto, is a tough negotiator that dwells in the realm of extremes: birth, death, sex, taxes. It's the power behind the throne, not the performer in the spotlight. Mars in Scorpio is all about power and magnetism, and its capacity for getting shit done is truly amazing -- but when it's under stress, front and center is the last place it should be.

So what did I do when, upon returning home and perusing my astro software, I clearly saw that Mars was due to cross over my Moon shortly after 9 p.m.? Under the fog of Neptune still opposing my Venus, I went ahead with my plans to read at a performance series that I already had plenty good reason to think was no longer working out for my particular set of sensibilities -- in fact, with these misgivings in mind, I had already discouraged my sweetie from attending the show. I did not want to attend either, yet I decided that it would be a chicken-poop move to cancel unless I were truly ill, and feeling sad and worried did not count as such in my book. As my little crew of friends were not going to show up till later in the show, when the curator of the show asked me when I wanted to go on, I requested a late slot (which meant very, very close to the exact conjunction between Mars and my Moon). Most of the show went fine; unlike last month, most performers stuck around after their slot to shine; the venue was even air-conditioned (though it wasn't necessary, as NYC had cooled down considerably by sunset).

Then a dyed-redheaded woman, who looked to be smack in the middle of middle age, got up there and sang, then flat-out yelled, incoherent verses while banging a wooden spoon on the table closest to the stage. She reminded me of a mental Ethel Merman (Menthal Merman? Ethal Mental?). Like the Journey song "Don't Stop Believing," she went on, and on, and on, and on...till she managed to clear most of the room. With her bright red hair and headache-inducing racket, she may have been a manifestation of Mars on my Moon; my reaction was quite unusual for performance-mode me. When people understandably began jumping ship, I hot-footed it over to the back of the room to ask the curator of the show if he was planning on yanking this woman off The Gong Show anytime soon. He pointed out that I'd asked to be put on late; I thought, but did not reply, that this preference had nothing to do with the fact that Menthal Merman was causing a mass exodus. I myself nearly fled the venue without reading, but stuck it out and seethed during the next performance. I was most assuredly not "feeling it" when I was finally standing at the mic and peering out at several rows of empty tables and chairs. I apologized to the curator for my Moon-Mars meltdown, but I don't think I sounded too convincing.

And I think I know why.

How's This for Lousy (or Karmic) Timing?

Mercury turned Retrograde five minutes (as in 1/12 of one degree, not the kind of minutes you find on a clock) short of my Venus. Blah! I'm hoping that the Sun-Mercury-Venus conjunction on the 16th that I wrote about yesterday will somewhat make up for that near miss.

After spending the past 30 years in Leo, my Sun progressed into Virgo in mid-June, so I do have Virgo issues (e.g., work, health) even more on my mind (and body) than usual. I just wish that Mercury had kissed my Venus instead of teasing it before pulling a 180...