Stormy Weather

Next year is going to suck.

I peeked ahead at my solar return for 2022 (aka the chart for the year ahead based on my birthday) to get a feel for what the astrology will be. I’ll be 39, thus entering a Fourth House profection year, ruled by Mars. The Fourth House of a chart deals with your upbringing, childhood, family, and place of origin and my Fourth is tricky. Ideally, you want a nice planet in charge here. Maybe the Moon. Venus. Jupiter. Mars being a warrior, having him rule the Fourth indicates some difficulty at home. For me, this is emphasized by having Saturn in my Fourth. Saturn is the disciplinarian, the timekeeper, the planet that makes you earn it. Again, not who you want hanging out in the place where you seek safety and comfort. And my life reflects this. My experiences with home and family ain’t been no crystal stair.

So, having this area of life emphasized for an entire year…

Adding to the mix of not great for the year ahead is my Solar Return chart. I have Capricorn rising this year, which is the Sixth House (tedious work, service, bad health) in my natal chart, with Saturn as its ruler. So on one hand, I’ll have Mars leading the way, shining the light on all my childhood trauma. Then there’s Saturn, its energy also contributing to my less than stellar upbringing, riding shotgun with a nice dose of tedium and potential for health issues. 

With eclipses in Scorpio and Taurus lighting up my Fourth and Tenth houses, and disruptive Uranus lingering within two degrees of my Midheaven (the highest point of the chart that describes our public lives)… Don’t be shocked if I write from a bunker until my 40th birthday. 

Here is why I’m not a professional astrologer: I am willing to concede that this is bad. Professional astrologers should have counseling training and are therefore prone to couch troubling astrological weather in helpful language so people don’t feel victimized by the stars. 

This isn’t my approach. If astrology is to be treated as an accurate language/system/framework for life, it has to account for the bad.

I live in the Midwest. Sometimes, it fucking snows for 24 consecutive hours, the roads are a nightmare, and your car is buried under 18 inches of snow. We don’t ask the weatherperson to tell us it’ll be okay. “Stay off the roads if you want to avoid getting in accidents” isn’t a “self-fulfilling prophecy,” it is an assessment of the conditions. 

That’s how I view astrology. Sometimes, the weather’s just bad. And it’s not always an opportunity for growth or an obstacle you can evolve your way out of. I didn’t “grow” my car out of last month’s snow — I dug out with a fucking bucket. It was freezing. I was sore the following day. It was not fun

So that’s how I envision 39. A year of living in a storm with a bucket. I better get all this good Third House/Venus as ruler living in before the clock goes out on 38. 

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a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

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