A lion with the sun for a mane

Leo energy is associated with the lion, which is very apropos.  Leos are loyal, royal, and confident.  This energy is proud and bright, just like the sun that rules the sign.  Leo energy can be happy, whimsical,  and childlike (the sign traditionally rules children), like a marmalade- colored kitten, or noble and majestic, like the lion.

Leo is the sign of the Performer, of those who shine out from the crowd with personalities larger than life.  This energy instills a self-esteem that makes the bearer feel like a typical house cat, preening and luxurious.  After all, the sun is the center of the solar system, and that is where Leo feels most comfortable.  The sun is the spring board of creation, of life on this planet.  Leos are the lives of the party, the stars of the show, flamboyant and exuberant.  If out of balance, they are demanding and pouty, and throw colossal temper tantrums, just like Ishtar, the Babylonian goddess of love and war.  Ishtar was so angry that the hero Gilgamesh turned down her sexual favors that she had a wild bull sent to kill him.  When Gilgamesh’s companion, Enkidu, slays the bull and tosses the bloody hide into Ishtar’s temple, she kills Enkidu (MythAstrology 152-153).  The pride of this placement, and of those who have this energy, is not to be trifled with.

As the Performer, Leo brings joy to people by changing himself to fit his audience. His creativity is expressed by making people laugh, and by creating characters and scenarios. He is born for the stage, for the arts, for the microphone.  If Leo energy does not call its owner to act, it will push him to express his exuberance in some other way that enables him to interact with people. This can be as simple as being known for his friendliness and openness.

Balanced Leo energy loves an audience, but unbalanced Leo energy cannot live without one.  The unbalanced Leo energy causes its bearer to keep a mask on continuously, a mask that attempts to portray its wearer as perfect.  Underneath the cultured regality, and/or the perpetually sunny exterior, there may lurk a deep insecurity (MythAstrology 22).  The person may actually adopt Leo energy as a defense against these feelings of inferiority. This insecurity, instead of being handled in a healthy way, is a catalyst for an intense need to be the center of attention and narcissism.

When out of balance, the warmth of the Leo energy can be too encompassing. It can engulf and burn.  It can turn into rage–not the berserker rage of an Aries, but the sly, “catty” anger that can sneak up on its victim and slice him to ribbons.  It becomes a sense of entitlement, born from that hidden sense of insecurity.

On the other hand, when out of balance, the Leo energy can become cold.  Laughter fades, and creativity becomes fallow. Curiosity vanishes. The flip side of the Sun is, as we all know, the Shadow. Leo sadness is as cold and dark as Leo happiness is warm and bright.

Leo energy, when it comes to love, is pure and childlike. Since Leo is aligned with fire, the energy is passionate and active. Arien energy, also aligned with fire, is physical, competitive, courageous, and adventurous.  Sagittarius, also a fire energy, is philosophical, itinerant, blunt, and independent. Leo is glamourous, cultured, urbane, and charming.

A person with balanced Leo energy is friendly and inclusive, like the sun itself.  Its energy puts a spring or a slink in a step.  It seems to radiate from the person. Leos are full of curiosity and amusement.  The Leo, in allowing herself to be vulnerable, finds that her insecurity goes down.  In being open about her love for others, she will find that this wonderful Leo energy will grow and shine effortlessly, and she will find herself in her natural habitat–the spotlight.

Archetypes, People, and Animals associated with Leo:

Cats (especially Lions)

Actors, Comedians, Dramatists, and other Performers

The Diva

Sun gods and goddesses, especially Apollo, god of the Sun and Performance

Cybele–an Anatolian Mother Goddess who became the Greek “Mistress of Animals”, a Goddess whose worship included wild music, dancing, and performance


Colette–the 1920s French author and actress. Though she is an Aquarius (and has that archetype and energy) she is also very strongly a Leo.

How to bring in Leo energy:

1) Visualize yourself surrounded by the light of the sun. Imagine this sunlight pooling into your body, pouring into the top of your head (your crown chakra) and traveling down your spine into your heart. Feel your heart pump that warm brightness through your body. Let it relax your muscles. Feel your face muscles relax as you smile. Stretch like a cat.

2) Take a step toward being in the spotlight–tell a joke to a group of trusted friends.  Tell a story about an adventure you had.  If you ever had a craving to act, write, or make art, take a class.

3) If you are used to being in the spotlight, the next time you are with a group, encourage someone else to speak, and really listen.

4) Think about your favorite things to do as a child–fly a kite, run through the sprinkler, water color, put on shows.  Do one of those things soon. Note how you feel afterward.  Leo is the energy of children, and it will bring sunny joy into your life if you return to your roots.

5) Put on sunscreen and walk outside on a sunny day.

6) Meditate on your favorite animal.  What qualities of the animal would you like to assimilate into your own personality?  Carry a small charm or picture of the animal as your totem.  Leo is a strong animal energy–very pure and noble, like the energy of children. Think of the lion’s strength, the cat’s contentment, the grace of the deer.  How can you adopt these qualities?

By the way, MythAstrology is pretty much amazing and you should buy it.



I think it’s time to change Cancer’s name.  Please don’t take this to mean I’m arrogant enough to suppose a name thousands of years old can be changed because I want it to. It’s more that I personally feel uncomfortable referring to myself and my brethren as a disease. Let’s face it, we don’t think of the constellation; we think of the illness.  I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel kind of shitty.

Just for fun, what could Moon Children call themselves? Here are some ideas:

1) Selene. Selene is the goddess of the Moon in Greek mythology. This name is easy to remember, and sounds as lovely as the goddess herself.

2) Fegarri. Fegarri is the Greek word for moon. I think it sounds harmonious with Sagittarius and Virgo. The bad part is that it sounds like an alien race from Star Trek. 

3) Huitaco (pronounced we-tah-co) (thanks to my awesome soul sister and colleague, Whitney. Check out her blog, wheresmytower.wordpress.com). Huitaco is the Columbian goddess of the Moon and protector of women. She was also the goddess of pleasure and happiness. The frequently tangled with her consort, Bochica, the god of hard work and sorrow. Bochica reminds me of Saturn, the planet that rules Capricorn, the sign of hard work and hard lessons. Moon Children oppose Capricorn (not OPPOSE oppose, but are opposite each other on the zodiac wheel).  There’s some nice synchronicity there, but the name sounds like “Wheat Taco” which is what we will forever be known as to people who don’t know about the myth.

4) Luna. Italian for Moon, and the Roman parallel to Selene.  Yes, it’s a Harry Potter character (and a character with very Piscean energy, at that, but Leo is a DiCaprio).

I think, for this article, I will refer to this energy as Luna/Lunar. It is the name of our Moon.

I myself am a Luna, and far from perfectly balanced.  I tend to focus on what is difficult about this energy. Luna is a water sign, and Lunar energy is highly emotional. I mean, EXTREMELY so.  It is difficult to separate this energy from these emotions and look at things rationally and impersonally. Also, this is an intense energy. Irritation quickly becomes raging frustration.  The blues and everyday disappointments can lead to sogginess from copious weeping.  On the other hand, contentment becomes joy, happiness is euphoria, and love turns into rapture. We are also literally quite watery; we tend to weep a lot.

The stomach and the breasts are the organs ruled by Luna.  It’s fitting that the breasts would be the organ for Luna–these are the mothers of the zodiac, after all, and the stomach keeps us alive through nourishment, another forte of Lunar energy. The stomach is also full of associations of being loved and mothered with food.

Lunar energy also helps you think with your gut, and aligns you with the third chakra, the bright, sunshine yellow spot of energy located behind your navel.  This spot in your body corresponds to your personal power.  While Capricorn’s lesson is that of mastering perfectionism, and to release the need for external validation, and Scorpio’s lesson is to learn to accept the dark parts of the Self, identify the dark parts that are useful, transmute the useful and let go of what’s not, and eventually rise above the dark parts as a new Self-creation, the energy of Luna is to discover power.  Notoriously timid, this energy’s lesson is to develop a belief in one’s Self, and in the Self’s worthiness.

 Luna rules the stomach, just as Capricorn rules the knees (the work horses of the body) and Scorpio rules the genitals (the seat of birth and death–“Le Petit Mort”).  This is the location of the third chakra. The third chakra is the seat of self-esteem, responsibility, and courage.  Out of balance, this is the seat of low self-esteem and fear, especially fear of rejection and failure (Myss 167-168).

The dark side of Lunar energy is a mess of insecurity. Luna energy that is out of balance give themselves impossible standards, standards so high the person becomes frozen out of fear of failure. It is the same kind of fear that keeps people lonely, because they aren’t willing to approach others.  Lunas are extremely hard on themselves, and tend to say “I’m sorry” a lot.

Lunar love is intense and maternal. It is so intense, in fact, that it hurts. The goddess Raven Kaldera associates with the sun in Luna is Demeter.  Demeter, the goddess of the grain, deeply loves her daughter, Persephone, and when Persephone is taken away by Hades, it sends her into a tailspin, a tailspin that takes the whole world down with it. Crops stop growing, and the earth becomes a cold wasteland. When a Luna feels hurt or abandoned, the psyche becomes a wasteland. A Luna attaches herself to a loved one, not in a creepy stalker way, but a Luna opens her heart to any one she loves, and  gives freely of it.  When the person they love goes away, there is a definite ripping sensation in the heart.

Perhaps this is because Luna is self-protective. When they do trust and love someone, they have to remove layers of their hard, protective shields, the “shell” of the crab. When that trust feels violated, Luna rebuilds the shell again, and reinforces it.

This metaphorical shell is also like a turtle’s shell.  If a Luna is in balance, he can feel at home anywhere  he goes. He will be grounded and secure, and he will help others feel secure as well.

Lunas are all about the love. A Luna will give her all to her loved ones, and will feel guilty if she feels she comes up short.  They are warm, comforting, and sensitive, when in balance. However, when out of balance, Luna becomes clingy and possessive. Unable to express “negative” emotions (and thus possibly anger a loved one) Luna becomes passive-aggressive and as brackish and bitter as a polluted ocean. Alternately, if the Luna is not secure enough to set boundaries, the roiling anger builds up until the dam breaks, and the Luna drowns the world in her rage.

Like the Moon, and the tides the Moon makes, Lunar emotions ebb and flow. This is very feminine; the word “month” comes from the same root as Moon, as do the words menses and menstruation.  I have found that my physical energy, creativity, and motivation also ebb and flow, and I wonder if perhaps other Lunas feel like this. I actually find it rather comforting–I know that when I feel low or dry, the tide will rise and I will be nourished again. Meanwhile, I have spare energies that I can tap.

The Moon is a symbol of illusion. Lunas must be careful to see past illusion. They must be especially careful not to fall into the all-or-nothing thinking common with the shadow aspect of this energy.  When they feel unloved, they must ask themselves if it is really true. They must exercise their minds to see the opposites of their negative thoughts. Can a Luna think of three people that like her? Then, the negative thought is not true. If you feel abandoned by a friend, is it true? Did this friend abandon you? Or are you abandoning yourself by letting this event change how you perceive yourself and your own innate goodness? Did this friend really abandon you? Did a friend abandon you, or just an acquaintance? Or, worse yet, someone who was using you?

Lunas are blessed with great intuition and imagination. Even an out-of-sorts Luna can intuit for her loved ones, even if she can’t intuit for herself. Even if the Luna is suffering from depression or garden variety writer’s block, they have a rich inner life. Sometimes, they must sit down and let the ink flow freely, like water, without any censorship. This helps them access that powerful Moon energy. Since the tummy is the provence of the Lunas, many would do nicely to just think with their “guts” and not overanalyze a decision.

It must be remembered that the energy of the signs is not just for the people born in the sign alone. You may feel you have more energy associated with one zodiac archetype than another, but you can access the archetypal energy of any sign.

Questions for Reflection, and Tips to Bring Lunar Energy in:

1) When making a decision, pay attention to how your body feels, instead of endlessly reasoning yourself through it.

2) Keep a dream journal. Lunar energy, like the other watery energies of Pisces and Scorpio, works with the subconscious.

3) When you nurture others, do you also nurture yourself?

4) What illusions do you maintain? How do they benefit you? How would your life be without these illusions? How can you let go of them?

Archetypes, People, and Animals for Luna

1) Mothers

2) Nurses

3) Family Historians/Museum Keepers

4) Demeter

5) Kwan Yin, the Chinese Goddess of Compassion

6) Turtles and Crabs

7) Wolves and Dogs,, symbols of loyalty, family, and friendship

Book recommendations:

MythAstrology: Exploring Planets and Pantheons by Raven Kaldera (You still haven’t bought it yet? It’s awesome!)

Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing by Caroline Myss (I cannot recommend her books highly enough. Expect more discussion of the chakras!)

Loving What Is, by Byron Katie (This is what inspired the suggestions for working with illusions. I’ve worked with Byron Katie not only through her books but on a stage in front of hundreds of people. It changed my life!)


Geminis are a blessed crew.  Natalie Portman and Sean Yseult from White Zombie are both Geminis [note: this is probably the first time Natalie Portman and any member of White Zombie have been mentioned in the same sentence], and they both have things in common–they are both talented and charming. They both have traveled the world. They both have exuberant demeanors. They both seem to be great at absolutely everything they try.  My Gemini friend is the same way, reading books voraciously, studying everything from baboons to co-ops, and traveling around the world.

Aligned with the element of Air, and ruled by Mercury, Geminis are quick and adventurous.  Hermes, the Greek messenger god, could go anywhere on Earth, even the places other gods couldn’t go to or get out of.  Hermes could travel into Hades if he wanted to, but he preferred to travel in more luxurious places, like Elysium or Olympus. He also wasn’t a fan of the bottom of the ocean.

Let’s look at this from a symbolic perspective.  Gemini, being ruled by air, prefers the linear smoothness of the intellect, and the realms of Poseidon and Hades, being of Water and Earth, respectively, are metaphors for the leaky, soggy emotions and the deep, dark, messy subconscious.  Of course, being human beings, Geminis have just as much subconscious and emotions as everybody else, no matter how hard they may try to look cool, breezy, and effortless. In fact, it is vitally important that Geminis accept and integrate these parts of themselves, not only for their mental health, but to improve their communication skills and affect real change in people’s lives.

Gemini is the sign of the twins. Ideally, each twin would be a mix of dark and light, neither one banished to the darkness, or Hades, while the other one is allowed to shine on Olympus. Such was the case with Castor and Pollux, the twins of constellation fame.  Castor was mortal, and Pollux was a god. This is a very fitting metaphor for a Gemini. Often, a Gemini wants to maintain an image of near-perfection. Actually, just an image may not be good enough. The Gemini will want perfection, period. One of the things I observe in Natalie Portman is that there are absolutely no cracks. She is perfect. I cannot imagine her having any flaws, or any pain, and, being a very flawed human being,  I cannot relate to her.  Now, just because I can’t relate to her doesn’t mean nobody can (I doubt any Geminis are losing any sleep over me not relating to them, that’s for sure), but a risk of perfection is loneliness and perhaps alienation.  More than that, repression of the watery side, those negative emotions, or the darkness or crudeness of the earthy side, leads to emotional upheaval. Eventually, madness ensues.

Let’s look at the story of Helen of Troy and her twin sister, Clytemnestra.  Helen of Troy was the beauty whose face launched a thousand ships. Clytemnestra, her twin sister, was married off at age 12, a mother at 13, watched Agememnon kill her baby before he raped her, then forced her to marry him. Agememnon then had their daughter, Iphegenia, sacrificed, so Clytemnestra had Agememnon killed, only to be married by her daughter Electra and her son Laertes. Basically, if there was a suckiest life contest, Clytemnestra would probably win.

Next to a Gemini Helen of Troy, with her charm, free spirit, and never ending luck, it is easy to feel like a Clytemnestra–plain, unglamorous, and long-suffering.  However,  a Gemini is not only Helen of Troy, but Clytemnestra. Geminis are just really, really good at splitting off their Clytemnestras, and drowning her, or burying her deep.  But Clytemnestra has a nasty habit of bursting out of whatever cage she is put in and beginning a reign of slaughter against her oppressors. Eventually, the dark messy watery emotions just can’t take any more of the abuse.  Geminis, and all of us, if we are to have healthy Gemini energy, must take good care of our Clytemnestras. We must treat her kindly. We must talk soothingly to ourselves when we are depressed, or anxious, or furiously angry.  Also, we must remember what happened to Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers of Helen and Clytemnestra. Castor, the humble half of the Dioscuri, was killed, however,  his nobility and love elevated him to near immortal status. At the end of his legend, he and his immortal half-brother, Pollux, spend half their time in glorious Olympus, and half their time in humble Hades.  The humble human can be exalted.

Gemini energy, when fully integrated and balanced, creates a fun and friendly temperament.  Also, the Geminis have extremely active minds, with many interests, and a surplus of talent.  They are also willing to go through uncomfortable adventures. One of the best examples of a balanced Gemini is Sean Yseult.

Sean Yseult was the bass player for White Zombie, but that’s not all. Growing up, she was also a dancer and a straight-A student, and has been a visual artist and pianist since she was a little girl. She is now not only a musician, but a fashion designer. Reading her memoir I’m in the Band is a treat because not only is her writing well crafted and honest, it is also classy and restrained (Geminis are hardly ever crude. They are very eloquent). She is not above talking about the uncomfortable parts of her life, the mortal, messy incidences.  Sean Yseult also does not seem to be crafting any false persona; what you see is what you get with her. I may sound like a gushing fan girl, but, drawing the parallel to the Dioscuri, Sean Yseult has been mistaken for being just a Castor (just hanging out in Rob’s shadow–don’t worry, I talk about him in the Capricorn entry, “The Seagoat”, all the bad connotations that go with women in music in general and metal in particular), when she was a nicely balanced Castor and Pollux, Earth and Olympus.

Archetypes and People associated with Gemini

Good Twin/Bad Twin

The Dioscuri–Castor and Pollux, Clytemnestra and Helen



Travel writers

Eros/Cupid with his little wings, and his relationship with Psyche–he kept her in the dark because, on a psycho-symbolic level, he was afraid of his persona disintegrating


Bringing in Gemini Energy: Questions for Reflection

1) How do you treat your Clytemnestra? Do you resolve your negative feelings in a healthy way, or do you repress them out of fear? If so, why are you afraid of these feelings? How else can you handle them?

2) Do you tend to divide people into Castors and Polluxes? Do you treat the janitor the same way you treat the CEO? The plain woman the same as the supermodel? This may be completely unconscious on your part, and not be done out of maliciousness, but as a shield for your own reputation. Pay close attention. Also, are there any parts of yourself that you have deemed unworthy? If not sure, pay attention to your guilty pleasures, and the secret dreams that you don’t want others to know about. Why not? Admit these things. Celebrate them.

3) Gemini rules communication and travel.  Exercise your words to bring a quick burst of energy–write in a journal, play with poetry, write someone a letter (As a Venus in Gemini, I can tell you that words have a lot of power–sexy, sexy power).

Raven Kaldera helped me fill in the gaps of the Dioscuri story–buy his book, MythAstrology: Exploring Planets and Pantheonshere. It is amazing and will melt your face clean off. Your face will heal.


How Stagnant Water Saved My Sanity: Or, an Exercise in Dream Interpretation

For this entry, I would like to chat about how to interpret dreams.  First, I would like to give you an example from my own dreams, because seeing the process makes it easier to do.

A while back, I was having recurring dreams about water. The water was always deep, stagnant, and oily. In one dream, I was on a yacht made out of paper trash.  When the yacht started to sink slightly, water lapped against my foot, and I panicked.  Using willpower, I forced the yacht to become more buoyant, raising it out of the water.

In my other dream about water, I was inside a boat garage, which is basically what you’d think: a garage on stilts, with a door the owner could open to drive the boat in. The garage was out in the middle of a large body of water. Any light that came in came in through cracks in the moldy, gray walls. The water was dead still and tarry. As I lay on the dock inside the garage, some of my hair trailed in the water, and I flinched away from it.  Paper floated on top of the water. There was a tiny raft outside the garage.  I remember not knowing what to do–I didn’t know how to open the garage door, and I wasn’t sure whether to wait for another big boat to come, or just take the raft.  I didn’t know if there was any land nearby.

In my waking life, the image of that dark, stagnant, oily water disturbed me. It was undoubtedly menacing, but I wanted to know why.  Why was my subconscious showing me the same image? There was nothing obviously frightening about the water, at least not in the sense of a great white shark’s dorsal fin slicing its way through the waves. There were no basketball sized giant squid eyes peering up and taking me by surprise.  The water wasn’t even rough.  It was eerily calm.

I decided to do a little subconscious spelunkin’ and figure out what the heck was going on.  The exercise that would help me with this was first told to me by a wonderful man named Ray Myers.  Almost ten years later, Martha Beck would also recommend this exercise, in her book Steering by Starlight.

1) First of all, write down your dream. It’s best to do this first thing. I can’t tell you how many times I told myself I would write a dream down and then forgot it. Write as many details as you can.

2) Second, pick an aspect of your dream that sticks out to you. For me, it was the water.

2) Third, imagine yourself as the aspect of your dream. What do you look like? What is your motivation? What are you feeling?  In my case, I had to pretend I was the water.  “Well, I know how you felt when you were water,” you’re saying. “You felt insane, because you are.”

Be that as it may, read on.

This is my water monologue (or waterlogue. Get it?) from my journal.

I am the water. I am deep. I am dark.  I am oily. I’m stagnant. There are probably unwholesome things swimming down there [insert dirty joke here].  

I feel…I don’t know.

After some minutes of frustration, I decided to come back later.  Finally, there was a clue.

I am the water. I am cold. I am numb. I feel nothing.  

Then I realized what the water symbolized.  It was clinical depression, something that I have been struggling with since I was about eight years old.  My subconscious was telling me that so far I had been able to keep from sinking into it again, but it may be only a matter of time.

This was a very sad and terrifying revelation for me.  I am grateful that my subconscious was able to send me warning signs so I could take action.

This is why it is a good thing to learn the language of our dreams, what Caroline Myss calls symbolic language. Symbolic language is how our minds give us knowledge about ourselves. You may wake up and think, consciously, I am depressed, but your subconscious mind may be giving you hints long before hand through your dreams, just as mine was.

Learning to understand your dreams also helps hone your intuition. One of the most arresting I’ve read is about a woman named Tricia Coburn, who kept having a recurring dream of people standing behind a barbed wire fence. The people looked like they were in a concentration camp. They were wasting away, and they were staring at the woman with imploring eyes. Sometimes, they would shout at her.

Something told Coburn to go to the doctor. They examined her, and found nothing wrong. The dreams continued.

Finally, she dreamed of the barbed wire fence, only there was nobody there. A voice said, “look deeper.”

Coburn went to the doctor and had a colonoscopy. She had colon cancer, fast moving colon cancer. They had gotten it just in time.

It is very enlightening, and simple, but sometimes not easy.  The meanings behind symbols sometimes leap out at you, and sometimes they play peek-a-boo until you understand, and sometimes they’re very maddening sphinxes. Any way they show up, have fun, and have an open mind.

If anyone needs help translating a dream, please drop me a line at turtlephoenix@gmail.com.  I can walk you through a more in-depth dialogue, by e-mail, or, if you prefer, by Skype or phone. Also, please share some of your memorable dream stories in the comments.



Aquarius. The name itself is a mix of liquid and airy vowels and consonants.  It sounds like a charm, and the power of Aquarians is charm.

Aquarians have a grasp of the abstract, the big picture. Like Gemini, the sign of the Twins, and Virgo, the sign of the Virgin (both ruled by airy, quicksilver Mercury), Aquarius is also symbolized by a human being, the Water Bearer.  They are humanist and secular.  Full of intelligence and idealism, Aquarians want to change the world, and they can, with the power of Uranus, the planet of change, revolution, and innovation.

Aquarius is a surprising energy. As an air sign, it is logical and mental, but citizens of the earth born in this sign are very caring for their fellow man, and are willing to follow the most illogical flights to improve the world.  From airplanes to iPods, Aquarian energy, with its willingness to entertain unconventional approaches to solving problems, determination, and mental agility, embraces technology and moves it along (and remember, this is a form of energy, like all the other signs–a person does not need to necessarily have a planet in Aquarius to enjoy this energy).  This is the energy of Athena, goddess of war and craftmanship. Aquarian creativity is mostly practical, but it can also be wonderfully off-the-wall–think of pop art and post-modernism.

Aquarians want to make the world a perfect place. Equality and justice for all are very important to Aquarians. However, Aquarian energy, when it is unbalanced, wants to save the world, but forget about the loved ones who populate an individual’s world. An unbalanced Aquarian will leave her children home alone for weeks while she floats down the Amazon trying to save the rainforest. This is because unbalanced Aquarian energy becomes too airy and mental. Emotions can frighten the unbalanced Aquarian. Saving a world full of strangers is easier for him than talking to his wife. An Aquarian can also be irritated by other peoples’ messy emotions. Look at Athena–this was no comforting goddess. She wasn’t carried under a woman’s heart; she was born fully clad in armor from her father’s forehead. Emotion isn’t practical, and keeps one from taking action.

Another thing that can unbalance Aquarius is holding onto ideas so tightly they become fodder for arrogance. When this happens, the energy of their ruling planet, Uranus, cannot reach them. Uranus prefers the flexible, the unconventional, and the open. This does not mean that Aquarius should be wishy-washy, not at all, but they must strike a balance between their love of their Utopian ideals and their wonderful curiosity. Arrogance cannot be open to new ideas. I mean, how could it?

While Gemini energy is aligned with the Masculine, and Virgo energy is aligned with the Feminine, Aquarius is androgynous. It is too inclusive and unconventional to change one gender over the other. And it is that welcoming inclusivity, along with their lightning minds and idealism, that is so beautiful about Aquarius.

Aquarius archetypes:
Prometheus, the titan who gave fire to human beings to advance our progress, and died for it.
Tiresias, the blind man who could see into the future, and who lived both as a man and a woman
(please see Raven Kaldera’s book!)

Questions for consideration:
1) are your Feminine and Masculine sides balanced?  Are you more comfortable with one over the other? Remember, Feminine/Masculine alignment is not about genitals. It’s about certain qualities.
2) How can you become more inclusive? How can you share your generosity and caring with more people? On the other side of the coin, how can you share more with your loved ones?
3) What are your ideals? What is important to you–easing the plight of the homeless, caring for animals, preventing the abuse of the elderly, teaching children? What tiny actions can you take to help your cause?
4) What prejudices do you hold? What will it take for you to release them?




Before I get into any in-depth discussion about the cards or astrological signs, I want to talk a little bit about archetypes.Carl Jung, a contemporary of Freud, was the psychiatrist who first explained archetypes. Archetypes are manifestations of the collective unconscious, or, they are certain tropes (metaphoric symbols) we, as human beings, all can identify and share in.

Because that explanation was a tad convoluted, let me use examples.  Let’s say you’re reading a book of fairy tales (and you should!) and you notice that the Wicked Stepmother is a popular villain. In fact, you take for granted that if a stepmother appears in a fairy tale, she is wicked. All your friends do, as well. That is because the Wicked Stepmother is an archetype. We have subconsciously agreed, as a culture, that the Wicked Stepmother can reappear in various forms in our literature, and we have integrated her into our psychology.

On the other hand, let’s think about the Wise Grandmother. What does the Wise Grandmother look like? What does she do? Ask your friends about this. Chances are, there may be slight variations, but your Wise Grandmothers will be very similar.

There’s also the Evil Sorcerer, the Wicked Witch, the Good Witch, the Vagabond, the Thief with a Heart of Gold, the Trickster, and the Big Bad Wolf. We could brainstorm for a long time.

A good writer is able to take archetypes and make them fresh, and yet still identifiable to our psyches. One of reasons fairy tales, myths, and legends are so popular and enduring is because of these archetypes. They are such a part of us and our personalities, yet they are flexible enough to be reinterpreted. They are very adaptable to different cultures and epochs.

The reason I bring this up is because Tarot cards, as well as the astrological signs, are shaped, I believe, from these archetypes. These archetypes are a part of us. We know them. For example, one Wicked Stepmother in my life is a former co-worker who was a bully. My Knight is my fiance, J.

Taking over from Jung’s legacy are two very cool women, Clarissa Pinkola Estes and Caroline Myss. Caroline Myss has greatly shaped my world view. Here is a brief rundown of some of her concepts, from Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential, published in 2002 by Three Rivers Press.
Caroline Myss postulated that our personalities are composed of archetypes such as the Knight in Shining Armor, the Damsel in Distress, etc. In fact, we all have the archetypes of the Child (and it’s various forms), the Prostitute, the Victim, and the Saboteur.  All of these archetypes seem quite negative, but we all have them. Think of the times you may have been a Prostitute. Did you have sex to feel better about yourself? Did you stay in a job you hated because of the money? The Prostitute governs our physical security (Myss 118). As for the Victim, have you ever used any personal pain, knowingly, to get people to react a certain way? Have you held on to anger you feel toward people who hurt you, even though the slight took place years ago? The Victim has an important role. It is a protector. It also measures how much you are willing to give up personal responsibility and independence, which are scary things (116).

The Saboteur is evident when you turn down an opportunity out of fear of loss of security (Myss 122). I myself had my Saboteur step in recently. It is quite frustrating.

We all have heard the term “Inner Child,” the reflection of our pasts and our attitudes about love and safety (Myss 112).  The Child has several manifestations: the Wounded Child, the Abandoned/Orphan Child, the Nature Child, the Innocent Child, and the Divine Child (112).

There is one last archetype we should discuss: The Shadow. The Shadow came about with Jung. It is the “negative,” dark side of all the Archetypes. It is the reversed, or upside down, Tarot card, and the astrological sign out of balance.
As we go through the cards, the astrological signs, and our dreams, we will be confronting archetypes and identifying them.

Recommended Resources:
Jung, Carl Gustav. The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious 
—Symbols of Transformation 
—Man and his Symbols 
Jung is where it all began. He is the king.

Myss, Caroline.  Anatomy of the Spirit. 
Sacred Contracts 
—Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can 
All of Myss’ books are absolutely incredible. They are fascinating reads and anyone interested in archetypes, as well as healing through the chakras, the Catholic Sacraments, and the Jewish Tree of Life, should definitely read them. I’ve used her work as resources in my paper about the archetypes in Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis.

Pinkola-Estes, Clarissa. Women Who Run with the Wolves.
Oh, this book rocks. It’s all about fairy tales and how women can use them to heal. Pinkola-Estes is a top Jungian analyst, but her work is extremely accessible.

See you soon! Next time we will begin our journey, and learn about Virgo, the sign we are in now 🙂