Sunday, May 1, 2011

If I'm a Leo, Why Don't I Feel Like One?

When I began my study of astrology back in 1971, I was extremely lucky to buy my first books from a man who could not relate to his Sun-sign, either. Press Roberts would always say, “Boy, Sun-signs are kindergarten stuff."  And from the very outset, I was exposed to a foundation of learning how the planets, houses, signs and aspects worked for real people, rather than for some theoretical cases in a textbook. The third book I bought from Press was Llewellyn George's venerable A to Z Horoscope Maker and Delineator. I started working my way through that book, and I would highlight the parts that described me and leave the rest alone. This was not just for my Leo Sun, but for my Virgo Moon, my 8th house Sun, my 10th house Mars, my Moon-Saturn conjunction, etc. Rather than reject the entirety of astrology, I was motivated to learn astrology more in depth. I knew there had to be reasons why I never felt like a Leo. Some 33 years later, when I signed up for Noel Tyl's Master's Class, he warned me that I must fit the astrology to the client. I chuckled and said that I've never done anything else.

Over the years, I will always review a new book with the criterion that if a book has some trite mechanistic description of any of the parts of my chart, then I would neither buy nor recommend that book to others.

On the other hand, if an author can explain why I don't feel like a Leo, then I know that the author knows what they are writing about.

Press Roberts told me there were a combination of reasons. He never felt like his Sun sign, either. Press's Sun was 29:48 Aries. He used to say, “I ain't no Aries, and I ain't no Taurus, neither. I'm actually a little bit of both, and if you really want to understand me, look at my Cancer ascendant.” Press would always call people by their ascendants for that reason. He went on to show me that my Sun's influence was internalized even further by being intercepted. Interestingly, I have a terrible time, even now, at seeing people's Sun signs, but I am very, very good at spotting rising signs. In fact, I even like to go to Chinese restaurants and try to spot ascendants in a way that does not depend on the blatantly racial physical characteristics of the descriptions in the old-line textbooks.

Noel Tyl doesn't give interceptions as much credence as Press and I do, but his methods identify several factors that explain why I listen to him, as well. In no particular order, Noel says that if a person has a grand trine that excludes the Sun and Moon, then they might not respond to the Sun-Moon blend. Planets that are tenanted in the 8th or 12th houses act “locked away”. Unaspected planets, which Noel calls “peregrine” do have a tendency to run away with the horoscope. A cluster of planets that has no aspects to any others is called a “peregrine island cluster”, and it, too, can run away with the horoscope. My triple conjunction of Moon, Mercury and Saturn in Virgo has no aspects to any other planets, but it does square the ascendant and descendant. Yes, it does run away with my horoscope, and I feel more like a Virgo than anything else. And I always have.

On a side note, in an earlier entry on this blog, I wrote that “I'm an astrologer, not an astronomer”. Al H. Morrison once chided me for using the term, “triple conjunction”. Although that condition is not possible from an astronomical point of view, any astrologer should know exactly what it means. Astronomers don't understand orbs; astrologers do.

Astrology works, but we, as astrologers must make it fit the client and the client's circumstances.

Don Borkowski


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