And so I began the reading:
“I see the birth chart as being like a conference table, with all the planets circling around
it are like the different parts of your Self sitting around the table. The Sun
is the chairperson and represents your basic identity, the Moon reflects your
emotional nature, the Ascendant is your style of “moving” in the world, and the
Nodes are about your life direction and soul purpose. The aspect lines
cris-crossing in the center of the chart connect all this—all these voices in
our psyche—showing where the conversation is divided and aligned, where it’s
tense and where it’s flowing…. ” My voice trailed
off as I looked up at Peter. I wanted to see if he understood this and if he
was receiving or resisting this information. It’s easy to see most things, as
our emotions are revealed on our faces more than we’d like to imagine. Most of
us have no idea how transparent we are—nor do we want to admit that everything
about us speaks to who we are—not just our clothes or our tone of voice, but
even the way we look at each other, or don’t look, or the way the jaw muscle can
be seen tightening or the twitching of the nose that can reveal almost as much
as the astrological chart.
As I opened the door of my office that
morning, I wasn’t thinking about this or if this client would be receptive. I
was feeling my usual reluctance and nervous anticipation, and so was taken aback
by Peter’s presence. Thick dark hair, pale white skin and near-black
eyes framed a nearly impeccable face, hinting of some purity of heart. I knew he
was thirty-five years old yet something made him look older than his years. He
was coming here today for his first astrology reading, and as he extended his
hand, I was impressed by the gracious formality of his handshake.
The flesh and blood reality of a client always shocks me at
first, because after spending several hours analyzing their charts, I think I
know them, and I don’t. Clients never seem to look as I would imagine them, and
it’s humbling to be so often wrong about first impressions from the chart. And
then it’s heartening to hear how courageously they’ve survived and even thrived
even with the most “challenging” of birth charts. Peter appeared to be a
survivor, and had somehow learned to thrive despite living under what the
ancient astrologers used to call ‘”malefic” aspects. Of course, I never use
those words, malefic or auspicious, but I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of
wounding this man had survived. His chart was challenging, yet his eyes were
kind.
“Is this your first reading?” I asked, while motioning him into the
cozy room.
“It is…and what a lovely place you have here! Is that a
Goddess’s face carved into that fireplace mantel?” He stared intently at her
face while I stared at his. He was tall and thin, and wore a dark navy pea-coat
with the collar turned up around his neck.
“It is” I answered, while
motioning him to the green rocking chair, hoping he was approving of the setting
for his reading. This Victorian office had high ceilings and dark wood walls
where the lights could cast shadows and allow nuances of mood. The black wrought
iron fireplace was carved into with the face of the Goddess, and I hoped that
the numinous face would bring the spirit of the feminine into the little
consulting room. Her downward looking eyes seemed to know how to keep a
secret.
“So have you been doing this long? It’s my first time—you
know---I don’t even come up to this part of town much. I’m not much of a
believer in anything….so I hope that’s OK, just to try—“
“Of course it’s
fine!" A Cheshire cat smile crept across my face. "Let’s just see what we can find here that could be helpful to you.” I
splayed the charts in my hand like a card deck. “I don’t predict death by
execution or anything like that….we’ll just read
what’s here.”
I pointed to the two chairs on either side of the amber
stained glass lamp. It was so quiet for a moment. I could hear the motions of
the antique clock on the mantel, and I wondered if I had remembered to clear the
clutter of papers off my desk. He looked instead at the bookshelf which covered
one wall.
“Lovely,” he whispered, as we sat down, and I admired the
pristine clarity of his English accent.
Most of us don’t like to feel
too vulnerable, and though we don’t want to admit it, I think there’s a mutual
resonance that happens when we like or dislike another person or situation, it’s
almost instantaneous. We want to feel more in control as we pretend to ourselves
that our words, explanations, and sometimes false optimism can present things
differently. Yet I could see that Alistair was not only allowing himself to have
a reading, but he was willing to “let me in” as well. He listened to my words
without interrupting.
Peter’s chart echoed his personal manner: a
warm, skeptical and private sort of man. He had his Venus in the private and
intense sign of Scorpio, but that was softened by his dreamy Pisces Moon in the
12th house of the unconscious. He had called the day before saying that he was
coming to me because he liked the tiny advertisement for my services in “Newport
This Week” which noted my background in psychology—specifically, the psychology
of the famous Swiss psychologist Carl Jung who was noted for his work with the
unconscious and synchronicity.
“You know, I can see that you take
this seriously, you’re not just a—what do you call them—a ‘sun-sign’ astrologer
or a sketchy fortune teller. I like that…”
I nodded, and
thought: here was a gentle man who had come to yet another turning point in his
life, and who simply needed a little psychic cheerleading. Here was someone who wanted me
re-affirm for him what he already knew to be true---that his first marriage was
over, but that the chance for love was still on the horizon. Of course he didn’t
say that. What he did say, at the end of our session, was that he’d like to come
back.
What he didn’t know about me that day was that I’m a bit
of a reluctant astrologer. It’s not about believing or not believing in
astrology, because astrology is a language of the soul that exists, and to say
that you don’t believe in it sounds to me like saying you don’t believe in
“Spanish” or “French”—it’s simply a language that conveys meaning in a very
particular way. It opens conversations to personal places without blaming and
shaming. I believe deeply in this language, and yet it’s like a finger pointing
at the moon. It doesn’t get you there. Instead it describes the journey.
