We are in Mercury retrograde at the moment, so what better time for a blogpost about everybody’s favourite psychopomp and magic number?
Early on, Hermes’ sacred number was 4, being god of the crossroads, which was where his herma were placed. These were originally piles of stones, to indicate the border of someone’s tribal land. Gradually they became erect stones, often with a cross shape (probably for hanging garlands), and a head and apotropaic phallus was added. No matter who travelled there, friend or foe, offerings were made to ensure safe passage of the foreign turf. Perhaps it is related to the practice of marking graves with stones, too, since the dead were buried outside the boundary, for safety reasons. “And stay out!”
Herma for other gods existed, but the name of course relates to Hermes himself. Bust sculptures are probably a continuation of this tradition.
Herma 520 BC
But when we are speaking of Hermes-Mercury as a planetary/astrological god, 3 is the number by which he operates. Think of retrogradation – common to all planets, but ultimately under his jurisdiction. It’s a triple, illusory move (forward-backward-forward) and, in Mercury’s case, occurs 3 times per year, for about 3 weeks, 3 times in the same element. Even in the most astrologically uninformed circles and media, the ‘Mercury Retrograde’ is reknown, if for all the wrong reasons.
How most people view Mercury retrogrades
Since Mercury can never be more than 28 degrees from the Sun, there are but three Mercury placements a Sun sign can have; in the preceding sign, in the same sign, or in one the proceeding it. For example, Taurus can only have Mercury in Aries, Taurus or Gemini. The Mercury placement will inform the Sun native’s expression and how they process information. Is it possible Mercury in these 3, consecutive signs might have a resonance with the phases of retrogradation? Might Mercury preside over midpoints, as well (particularly, one would assume, the Sun-Moon midpoint)? Questions to ponder during retrograde.
When it comes to uniting solar and lunar opposite natures, the realms of living and dead, awakeness and dreaming, the above and below, the within and without, Mercury is the cosmic connector. We see this in traditional Tarot de Marseille, a ‘Hermetic’ Tarot wherein duality and the balance of opposites is a running theme, as is triplicity and quadruplicity.
In alchemy there are three forms of Mercury; vulgar, volatile and philosophical.
Doubles in Noblet Tarot Pape, Pendu, Soleil ca 1650
Mercury’s sigil also has three parts: the cross of matter (or crossroads) surmounted by a solar circle and lunar crescent. And of course, he rules Gemini, sign of the Twins. Perhaps the Virgo rulership might be better understood if we remember the dual nature of the Goddess – those two serpents originally belonged to her, after all. Where Gemini is happy to be two people, Virgo works tirelessly to create wholeness. She is very much like the angel of Temperance, is she not? This card from the Vieville deck could be Virgo with the Mercurial caduceus.
Vieville Temperance card, mid 17th c
Might we also find a connection between the 6th house (Virgo’s traditional lodgings) and TdM 6th arcanum, wherein a young man stands between two women? It’s interpreted as having to decide between vice and virtue, like Hercules at the crossroads, but I think ‘crossroads’ might be the key word here. That 7th house cusp is the dividing line, after all. Some other blogpost!
Osiris attended by sisters Nephthys (death) and Isis (life), Conver TdM Lover, 18th c
Concept for Disney’s Snow White by Gustaf Tenggren – alchemy much?
With chthonic ‘dwarf planet’ Pluto at 29 Capricorn and opposite Black Moon Lilith at 29 Cancer, I was reminded of the ‘alchemist mining the earth’. In fact , this theme, I *believe* was central to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. ‘Hair black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips red as blood’ happen to be the three ‘distinct’ phases of the Magnum Opus; nigredo, albedo, rubedo (sometimes there was a 4th, citrinitas, between the albedo and rubedo). These were also enumerated to seven stages, corresponding with the seven planetary spheres…or dwarfs. Not to mention that glass ‘coffin’.
Here is the clip I was rereading from my files, and apologies, I don’t remember where I originally clipped it from, but it is a quote (must be old, as it uses ‘man’, maybe from Jung?):
“The alchemist mining the earth. Mining or going inside the earth is the first step in the alchemical process. The earth is the body or oneself. Going inside the earth is equal to going into your inner self. Thus we are invited to descend into the earth, into the underworld, or the unconscious. The earth is the symbol of physical man. Man needs to become conscious of his inner world, who he is, what he is doing, what his motives are, and so on. Once attention is directed inwards, a whole new world opens: the underworld of Hades, the dark realm of shadows and monsters.“
And this is from another source, regarding the black phase or ‘nigredo’:
“Here, we are being asked to let go of all within us and outside of us that is false, inauthentic, and not in full alignment with the truth of who we are. This is a truth as it exists on a soul level, far beyond the ego and its limited ideas or illusions about who we “should” be.”
Is it possible that we’re now collectively getting ready to ‘birth’ out of the ‘nigredo’ stage? We began descent into fermentation blackness when Pluto entered Capricorn (feminine earth sign) back in 2008. About a year and a half prior, Pluto had been “demoted” to ‘dwarf planet’ by a handful of young astronomers who thought they were clever by disempowering the planet-god. Clearly, Pluto was in fact operating through them from that unconscious, Hadean realm over which he presides. [Side note: I bet Pluto will take its former status back once it is securely in Aquarius.] As it is, too, with Black Moon Lilith, who loves the freedom of darkness and invisibility of night. In Cancer, the sign of the Moon and mother, she represents the ‘uterine’ blackness itself, the void people desperately try to to a-void but that must be traversed. Our fear of death likely has much to do with our memories of that messy and shocking business of rebirth.
When Ishtar descended into the underworld, she had to leave a veil or some such trapping at each of the seven gates she went through (i.e, stages/planetary spheres). Even then, she had the hubris to want to sit on her sister Ereshkigal’s throne, and for this, she was hung up on a meat hook until she learned her lesson. We can also think of the Hanged Man in Tarot, Odin, and the Freemasons’ weird hanging upside down ritual, meant to instill that same sense of emptying out the false self so as to receive true knowledge that is the ultimate unification of self with world knowledge. The mystery ‘cults’ of Ancient Greece and Rome likely had similar purpose (though originally based on fertility/seasons).
These types of healing and initiation rituals are as old as we are, and are related to vision quests. I am sure paleolithic humans/shamans weren’t so much concerned with ‘self and non-self’ but nevertheless, soul-loss or theft was considered a cause of sickness and their work involved traversing into other realms, perhaps through a pitch black, uterine cave passage, to set things right or be instructed by other beings, ancestors, animal spirits, etc. We exist in more than just this one, as we know simply from dreaming.
Dali Tarot Hanged Man
What happens much of the time is, people start going through this ‘inward’ process unconsciously and are either unaware or resistant. All one knows is the depression, self-loathing or other emotional unpleasantness that arises. This is a calling from deep in the soul, but thinking that it is abnormal and needs to be ‘cured’, one fights it, is taken over by substances used to quell it, or fears losing control, which is akin to death. Because how can one function in this world, with all its glaring eyes, while descending into another? But there is no choice. If we ignore this call, Pluto will then bring about an outer event that will force us inward. That is what has been happening, collectively. The three outer planets are ‘the three alchemists’; Uranus shocks, burns and blows up, Neptune dissolves and dissipates, and Pluto pressure-cooks us into change that is permanent. Their transits are long, affecting entire generations.
Artists, poets and musicians of each generation are modern shaman-alchemists of sorts, who traverse the deepest chasms to bring back healing for the rest of society (you’re welcome). But it’s not exclusive, by any means.
Pluto will be leaving earth and entering air starting March 23 (with two retrogrades back to Cap), followed by Uranus leaving earth and entering air and Neptune leaving water and entering fire, both in 2025. Use the next couple of years, with Saturn in Pisces and the alchemists still submerged or partly submerged, to do your spelunking. If you are hearing the soul’s call, don’t be afraid to descend, to enter the labyrinth (you can leave a golden thread to guide you back out). Perhaps you are already in one of the stages or nearing completion, as many of my Saturn Pisces brethren must be.
Point is, you are full of hidden mysteries and treasures to be mined!
‘Most Young Kings Get Their Heads Cut Off’ Jean-Michel Basquiat
Do you have a tenth house Sun placement? How about other planets?
How does this express itself for you?
If a person has a goal and is determined to achieve it, a 10th house placement can work well for them…but if they don’t, they may feel they haven’t achieved enough or have, consciously or not, set standards for themselves they can’t possibly live up to. They may imagine a harder landing, should they fail or fall from grace. This is, after all, the house allotted to Capricorn and its Saturn rulership, traditionally the house of the ‘father,’ and in olden times, ‘the king’. [Some see it in reverse, that it’s the house of the ‘mother’ and the 4th (Moon/Cancer) is the father, although I haven’t personally found this to work as well. Let’s call it even and say this is the polarity of the parents, either of which can be dominant in our psyche.]
The cusp of the 10th, the midheaven, is where we find ourselves looking down from the top of the mountain peak at what we’ve experienced up to this point (often at mid-life) and either saying, ‘wow, I’ve been through a lot, learned a lot, made a lot of money or become a better/more mature person as a result’, or, ‘I’ve done all this stuff, had all these different careers that haven’t amounted to anything and life ain’t getting any shorter,’ depending on whether the cup is seen as half full or half empty. Even the term ‘a-mounted to’ is very Capricorn mountain goat language!
Visconti-Sforza Tarot Wheel of Fortune/Rota Fortunae
But the tenth house has another secret. In Tarot, 10 is the Wheel of Fortune, which is based on the zodiac wheel. We see one character going up, another sitting pretty at the midheaven, another going down, and another at the bottom, at all the angles. A metaphor for life’s ups and downs, successes and failures, but also of time cycles and of the houses themselves, which are angular, succedent, or cadent. In the Tarot card above, the figures are saying, “I reign, I reigned, my reign is finished, I shall reign.”
Roue de Fortune, Tarot de Marseille
The angular houses are strongest, cadent (fallen away from the angular placement) are weakest, and succedent (next in line to the angular position) enjoy the hope of success/succession. [This is perhaps easiest to comprehend when using the equal house system, which evenly divides the wheel into 12 pie slices, one for each sign, beginning with one’s rising sign/degree, but personally I don’t use equal house.]
Technically speaking, the house moves into the position of the house that was formerly in that position, not the sign or planets, i.e., transiting Mars will be in Gemini at a certain degree all day, but in a different house every hour. The houses, though paired with particular signs/planets and spoken of as a conglomerate, are actually separate entities.
Angular, succedent and cadent houses
The 11th house of ‘hopes, dreams, wishes, groups’ (allotted to Aquarius/Saturn and Uranus) is where we can perhaps look for help with our 10th house issues. You will notice the succedent houses are all ‘fixed’ sign placements. Thus they have a certain steadfastness, while the angular (cardinal), though strongest in terms of influence, have that built in ‘fear of falling’, just like anyone in a position of power might. Caution: some viziers make better allies than others.
And although cadent (mutable) houses tend to be shoved aside, as if nothing much happens herein, there can be a certain freedom from expectation in these houses that may also be utilized (true, Virgo seems the exception, but will often find freedom in under-the-radar, detailed tasks such as organizing files). The 0 in 10 is, after all, associated with the Fool, who creates his path as he goes along, unattached to outcome. He was the only medieval court member who could openly roast the king, thus reminding the monarch we all fall down, and 10th house achievers that the journey is really what it’s all about, ‘on arrive jamais‘. Sagittarius is allotted to 9th house as jester, highest card in the deck, with none of the responsibilities of a king, yet somehow lucky enough to have Jupiter as its ruler. Hmm. Faith? Caution: Some fools may be a tad nihilistic and reckless.
Charles VI Tarot Fool
Further proof of this ‘power of three’ lies in the fact that every grand trine is composed of an angular, succedent and cadent house of the same element. Being ‘all for one and one for all’, grand trine energy can flow so easily and fast as to not even notice it’s happening.
So if your Sun or other lofty 10th house planets are feeling alone at the top or afraid of falling, look to either side of them, at your 11th (succedent/fixed) house vizier and 9th (cadent/mutable) house fool for a different perspective from planets therein or friends/people with their sun in these signs, who can ‘act as’ planets. Keep in mind that the 10th house planet/sign is still the one ultimately in charge and can make things happen, it just needs support, sometimes – is it being supported or sabotaged? This goes for all the angular houses, but especially the 10th.
Gemini is cadent to Cancer, Aquarius succedent to Capricorn, two angular signs.
Once upon a time, now long forgotten, that first human pondered their hand. How is it that I can imagine something, and my hand knows how to make it? How is it there are this many fingers? What can it mean? Hands must be magical. Talk to the Hand.
“Put your hand in mine, we will travel to another time…” ~Lucious Jackson,Gypsy
Khamsa necklace of silver, horn, coral, late 20th c, Morocco
The Hamsa/Khamsa or hand of Fatima, like the Nazar (‘evil eye’) is a common and ancient protective amulet throughout the Mediterranean and Middle East.
Who was Fatima? She seems to have many incarnations…in Islam, she’s the daughter of the prophet Muhammad, five years old when her father began receiving revelations. In Catholicism she’s a Marian apparition, reported in Portugal by three shepherd children. In legend, she is sometimes a great warrior princess, other times, as in ‘Fatima the Spinner and the Tent‘, an artisan who’s accumulated crafting skills and ingenuity save her from one calamitous situation after another. This Sufi retelling of Greek folklore describes Fatima in her role as creatrix and teacher, of which the female hand symbol is perhaps most indicative. Lucky? Yes, because I learned how to make things and can show you how.
“A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.”~ Louis Nizer
Thus we have the combined energies of crafty magician, Hermes-Mercury and beauty-loving Aphrodite-Venus, whose sacred number is five (symbol is the pentagram) and who is married to Vulcan, the craftsman who forges exquisite, metal creations. We conjure ideas with our imagination, but we manifest them with our hands, though perhaps less and less, these days, which is why, apparently we are getting dumber! Talk to the Hamsa!
Madonna of Mercy with Kneeling Friars, 1424, Fra Angelico
Saturn in Pisces (March 7, in a 7 year) will mean different things to different people. Depending on where our illusions lie and our willingness to wake in or from the dream, Saturn can feel either harsh or liberating. Saturn is actually a liberator, though not often seen in this light. (Hence, its exaltation sign is Libra).
Sometimes it’s as simple as recognizing whether a dream is really worth the time anymore and/or if we’re ready to do the work to make it real. Other times, especially in Pisces, we have to go a bit deeper into our psyche.
One thing about Saturn in Pisces that has been resonating with me lately (and a constant, life challenge with this being my Saturn placement), is how it can give authoritative voice to those self-sabotaging mantras Pisces is so good at creating. Often these do originate with some authority figure, like a parent, school teacher or even early religious teachings. There may be ‘aha’ moments in life where we realize they were a) not true/except to the person who said it b) useful in order to grow by rebelling against them. [Sir Christopher Lee, Saturn on the ascendant, said the more discouragement he got – first from his mother, then people in the biz who said he was too tall, not British-looking enough, etc. – the more determined it made him to succeed in acting, and, that his epitaph should read ‘I showed them!’]
Or perhaps it’s more subtle…a 12th house type garbage dump of collected mantras all jumbled together. In Pisces, that Saturnian discernment and good judgement is important because this sign has much do with creativity and imagination, as well as faith, especially in ourselves. Where have we ‘imprisoned’ ourselves or ‘sentenced’ ourselves to never trying because we aren’t good enough/can’t make money from this/hadn’t a formal education in it/feel we are in a sibling’s shadow/will only make a fool of ourselves…?
Thinking back to my first Saturn return, it was when that book ‘The Artist’s Way‘ came out. I was living in New York, doing bootcamp as an illustrator, and heard the author being interviewed on NPR. She had some good tips on zeroing in on where that debilitating thought was seeded. When you do, the original, flippant comment should now be given the Donald Duck accent it deserves.
Personally I didn’t listen to grade school teachers who came up with gems like, “that’s not how you draw a tree!”, but l was armed with planets, whereas others may not have been. Being told I wrote “like Dickens” by an art school writing class teacher (ie, not avant-garde enough) was maybe slightly more damaging, although, tbh, I quite liked Dickens. For me, it was more the perpetual, continually reiterated belief (of individuals and Canadian society at large) that artists must struggle, art was no way to make a living, that sort of thing. Even later, when I felt free(er) of these straight-jackets, I would simply find new ones, courtesy of the astrologers, psychics and other intuitives I sought advice from and handed over my personal authority to. Pisces is so good at relinquishing power and its responsibility to its own needs!
Conver Tarot de Marseille c 1760
In the TdM Tower card, the force that ruptures the prison tower and releases the two people is not a lightening bolt, but a feathery plume, which some say is actually coming out of rather than directed toward the structure. Note that the Tower/16 is 7 ‘steps’ from the Hermit/9. Seven is the number of wisdom, and this time it’s Grandmother wisdom. We can take heart in the fact that Saturn in Pisces is a lot more understanding and gentle than in Capricorn and Aquarius. This is a mutable sign, so it’s more of a water birth than by forceps or cesarian. It’s safe to come out of hiding, now.
I recommend astrologer Molly McCord’s Youtube videos on Saturn in Pisces 2023. She talks about this and much more, very insightful!
Since childhood, one of my main forms of ‘meditation’ has been rock and shell collecting. Particularly while walking where the water meets the earth, but even prior to my first trip to the ocean, finding fossils in our neighbourhood in Montreal. Below is the stone that started it all, acquired with developing Mercurial wiles, age 4 or 5. We kids came across it in my bully neighbour’s yard. This little Taurus claimed it, in her mind, but knew if even a smidgen of fascination was detected, ‘Eggy’ would have kept it, just to be cruel and I’d never see it again. So I feigned total disinterest. It worked (he wasn’t the science and nature type) and come dusk I was able to sneak outside in my pyjamas and rescue the treasure.
My first fossil, which still sits at my bedside.
It wasn’t so much about the actual ‘collecting’ part – I never had any books on rocks/shells or cared about what sort they were – but connecting with nature and experiencing the thrill when it coughs up a little, personalized treasure. This can be as magical as finding ancient artifacts…because really, that’s what they are. Some are akin to planets. I’m sure any rockhounds reading this are nodding in agreement!
Found fossil driftwood sculpture
Nowadays I take a lot of photos, so I don’t have to keep the physical rocks, except for those extra special ones. My local beach in Vancouver, BC is rich with fossil driftwood from the ancient redwood forests. Sometimes they are tumbled to the point of not being recognizable as ever having been wood. Nature is the one true alchemist. These fossils live here, so if we take them home, we’re temporary caretakers, only. Shells, too, when no longer wanted, should be returned to the sea. However, there are occasions where it’s a special gift, a power stone.
Blue agate bead, a most treasured, beach find.
Many people nowadays buy all kinds of gemstones for healing purposes. (Guilty as charged, my black tourmaline and rose quartz are never far from reach). But much of the time, these beautiful stones have been ripped from their wombs in a savage manner, blasted by dynamite and/or mined by oppressed workers. Not only can they still resonate the trauma, but it’s not a good idea to promote environmentally awful practices in the name of healing. Try to find ones that are ethical, just as you would with diamonds.
Tiny Carnelians found in Marin
A perfectly ocean-tumbled black stone, discovered by you, is going to hold as much or more mojo than a piece of onyx or obsidian bought in a store and will likely be more ‘relaxed’. Gemstones and other stones are made powerful by their connection with you, it’s a relationship.
I’ve found stones or crystals in odd spots, possibly snatched by a crow or squirrel and hidden (I know they steal them from my own flower pots!). But that’s often the key, to not really be looking, to let them find you.
Menopause is the new “hot topic”, according to the CBC news.
I’m guessing my Pluto in Virgo peeps “opened the floodgates” (media’s words, not mine) of taboo removal, because if there’s one thing Pluto/Virgo understands, it’s the deep, psychological changes that are going on, together with the physical, as we enter opposite virginity, amirite, ladies? So, as we’ve now ‘crossed over’, let us X-gens pass down what we have learned to the next gens.
Menses and month both come from the same root (men also means moon, and there was even a cute, little moon-god named Men, see below). The Moon is our oldest time keeper, as we find depicted on the walls of Lascaux (this is a recent article about it, here I thought it was common knowledge) and elsewhere, because her cycles coincide with those of the female sex.
In the modern age of electricity, humans became out of sync with these natural cycles and the moods that go with them.
Roman Anatolian ‘Men’ who presided over the lunar months.
When a woman (or a man, for that matter) is not in touch with her lunar nature, or feels ashamed of it, the unexpressed Moon self is diverted to shadow, where it becomes an initiate of the Black Moon, Lilith – you know, like those secret tiki god bohemian black magic clubs that respectable members of society used to have in their basements. Her creative power, like that of Pluto, can turn destructive, self-sabotaging, in an attempt to kill off the false self. When this finally occurs with age, we stop giving a damn what others think, and Lilith becomes a staunch ally and a force to be reckoned with. (She’ll be leaving Cancer and entering Leo in a couple of days, so, ya).
Fun fact: ‘Hysteria’ and ‘hysterics’ were once thought to be caused by the uterus moving around through the body at night. (I think mine was actually doing this during perimenopause).
Grandmother Moon has been keeping time and observing all us babies since we were just amoebas on Earth’s watery womb, so if she could talk (and she does), oh the bedtime stories she could tell. This is especially true under the Cancer full Moon, currently opposite retrograde Mercury. The past is bound to resurface in some shape or form. So how does this relate to menopause?
Venus of Laussel with her calends, Upper Paleolithic
The word itself means a ceasing (pause) of menses. Remember, the menstrual cycle is directly associated with time cycles, both inner and outer. Perimenopause can be even more difficult than menopause or post-menopause (note the lunar triad within the triad, there), because everything is getting de-programmed and re-adjusted to a new phase, a new kind of time…hormones surge and drop in ways that make Cancerian mood-swings seem like a toy see-saw. This reverse puberty onset can be downright terrifying (I personally experienced losing half my blood and requiring a transfusion). Maiden and mother phases grow smaller in the distance, as we cross the threshold into Hecate’s cold, lunar landscape. Here, the unconscious knows no solar age…in the soul, everything is fluid.
As beginner crones (root same as crow and crown), we must now become inwardly re-attuned with the Moon, as we feel the ravages of time on our bodies, and face the fact that the physical is temporal. We fear the body loss, because rational, scientific thinking tells us it is primarily our physical self that defines us (see previous Solar Heroes post), that it is the body that ‘has a soul’. But in fact, it is the eternal soul that has a body, or rather, bodies. Grandmother Moon is firm on this. She presides over the inner world like Sun does the outer. At night, we traverse her realm….but, how many of us at this stage find our sleeping patterns are all over the place? Might it mean that our inner Moon is now wide awake and roaming out of bounds? Or just that darned, roaming uterus?
Will leave you with those thoughts, for now. Stay tuned for more meno memos!
Moon-faced Gorgoneion, protectress of mysteries by RB
Jupiter is back in Aries, until May 16. This masculine, fiery combo embodies the mythology of the solar hero (Aries) on a mission from God (Jupiter) or the ‘superhero’. The Sun’s exaltation is in Aries and the Sun is also the ‘son’.
John Singer Sargent, Hercules, 1921
Weapon-wielding, demi-god sons who saved humanity by wiping the floor with fabulous creatureswere abundant in the ancient world (or at least abundantly immortalized), as they are, today – but one in particular stands out from all the others, for he wears the solar lion’s skin and performs twelve labours, just as the Sun and Jupiter themselves stay a day and a year, consecutively, in each zodiacal house. Sing along if you are old enough…
“Hercules, hero of song and story! Hercules, winner of ancient glory! Fighting for the right, fighting with his might; With the strength of ten, ordinary men! Hercules, people are safe when near him! Hercules, only the evil fear him! Softness in his eyes, iron in his thighs; Virtue in his heart, fire in every part of The Mighty Hercules!”
I was dismayed to learn that the ‘real’ Hercules never had a magic ring, ripped abs and a quiff, or a centaur sidekick who’s favourite expression was “Suffering Psyche!” But my childhood TV cartoon got one thing right, ‘Herc’ was the modern, macho superhero prototype:
“Heracles – or Hercules as he has been more popularly known ever since the Roman times – was the greatest of all Greek heroes, “one who surpassed all men of whom memory from the beginning of time has brought down an account.” A half-god of superhuman strength and violent passions, Heracles was the epitome of bravery and masculinity in the ancient world and the most notable champion of the Olympian order, which he staunchly protected from various chthonic monsters and earthly villains. Even though his short temper and lack of composure did cause both him and quite a few innocent mortals undeserved trouble, the magnitude of his labors was of such an order that it earned him the prize of immortality… Heracles is undoubtedly one of the most iconic figures in all of Greek mythology.” [source]
Drunk Heracles “urinating” (in fact trying to get it up, for erroneous intent).
In the myth, Goddess Queen/evil stepmother Hera, angry that Zeus had sired him with another, who had the gall to name him ‘glory of Hera’, hated her step son and had marked him since birth. She sent two poisonous snakes (of course) to kill him in his cradle, but he strangled them with his bare, chubby little superbaby hands. Years later, grudge firm as ever, Hera served Heracles a potion to drive him temporarily insane and murder his own family. When the drugs wore off and he realized what he had done, remorseful Heracles sought spiritual advice from Apollo, who divined the gruelling tasks for his atonement. (Note that Apollo was a Sun god, who killed and usurped the Python). “In my defence, I was drunk and drugged!”
Delphic oracle with her tripod, Hellenist bell krater detail (British Museum)
The myth of Herc’s 10 labours was likely extended to 12 – which became the official number – because the day and the solar year were also divided into 12 sections (Roman year had formerly been 10 months, also), each through which the Sun himself was ‘guided’ by a lady of the hora, as he traversed the sky in his chariot. Every man of importance in the ancient world, political or religious, was depicted wearing a halo of the Sun’s rays – essentially what a golden crown is, made with the Sun’s metal. Alexander the Great, who self-identified with various mythic/solar heroes, including Heracles, was frequently depicted as Helios. Our image of the haloed Buddha (‘enlightened one’) also comes courtesy of the imported, Greco-Roman Sun God. Of course it wasn’t only reserved for men, they just tended to have a bit more power and a bit less humility.
[Side note: Though I’m not of the ‘there are really 13 signs!’ camp, it’s interesting that, in order to make things solar and mathematically ‘even’, the 13th constellation touching the ecliptic, associated with the serpent (and 13 being lunar) had to be left out. We now know our Sun is itself serpentine in nature, it ‘sheds’ its skin via coronial mass ejections (CMEs).]
Gilt roundel with Alexander as Helios, 4th c BC
“All the seven planets have opened their gates.” – Goethe
Whilst reading up on Heracles and the horae, I took a rabbit hole into horary astrology. Turns out that on the first day of the first month of 2023, the first hour belongs to the Sun, as does the day (Sunday), meaning the entire year is going to be under solar influence. The Sun card comes up (19 reduces to 1), as does the Chariot, being that it’s a universal 7 year ( 2+0+2+3). The actual picture of the solar demi-god in his vehicle!
The 7th house cusp of the zodiac, opposite to the natal horizon or ascendant, is where the Sun-self begins its descent and marks the beginning of knowing thyself through others (Libra), which is a different kind of awakening.
Vieville Tarot Sun and Charioteer, looking rather Alexander-ish
Unlike Heracles, the Charioteer, previously initiated as a Lover (6, which some do see as ‘Hercules at the crossroads’, choosing between Vice and Virtue), is now tasked with keeping the solar and lunar sides of his own nature in Balance (8).
The fiery energy of Jupiter/Aries is boundless, until Saturn enters Pisces, March 7 and tempers the flame. Saturn specializes in labours and (karmic) atonement, and it’s entering the 12th sign, traditionally ruled by Jupiter. At best, Saturn/Pisces directs Jupiterian inspiration, so as to give form to visions and dreams, testing their weight and our faith, every step of the way. Are we just being given our tasks or is this the final push? Maybe both? (I have Saturn and Jupiter returns coming up this year, will let you know…).
There are 7 cycles of 3 (plus the Fool) in the Major Arcana, so each 4th card is also a new 1. So the Chariot, as the first card of the third triad,is also a1placement. All ‘1‘ placement cards have to do with the theme of change/transition/death/rebirth: 1–Magician, 4-Emperor, 7-Chariot, 10-Wheel, 13-Unnamed, 16-Tower, 19-Sun.
Being the number of traditional planets/planetary spheres, 7has long held sacred significance as a microcosm, by which the weeks and solar years are divided.
Amulets found in Turkish excavation, dated from 7th-4th c BC
Horary astrology is also tied in with magic (using the energy of the planet at the appropriate time and/or creating talismans for positive outcome or amulets for protection). Before Solstice, I made some planet-themed bracelets. I hadn’t checked the planet hours at their creation, but when the Mars one proved conductive, I wondered whether I’d made it during a Mars hour or on a Tuesday. It remains to be seen whether Sun-ruled hours/days this year will have extra potency, but I intend to find out! In astrology, the Sun is generally seen as a bringer of happiness, unless terribly aspected. Similarly, we feel hope when the Sun shines, except during a drought or heat dome.
“Symbols are to the mind what tools are to the hand–
an extended application of its powers.”– Dion Fortune
To me, the Chariot card is emblematic of Tarot itself and of magic; forces within and without in accordance, the meeting of above and below, the completion of the first 7 steps.
Blue Saharan Sphinx wood icon by Roxanna Bikadoroff
Sphinxes, such as those who ‘pull’ the triumphal Chariot in some decks, were guardians of mysteries and the dead. As human-lion anthropomorphs, they are also symbolic of Aquarius/Leo (or, previously, Leo/Aquarius). We might view the pelt-clad Heracles as an initiate, a man not yet integrated with the solar lion in the spiritual sense. (He did actually become an initiate of the mysteries, but only in order to capture Cerberus). He is still an accursed bête, wearing the old skin but not yet the golden crown of the solar lion (the Nemean lion he flayed represents the constellation of Leo).
Of the Aquarius Age, astrologer Alan Oken, in the 1970s wrote,
“In spite of the utopian visions which this writer shared with millions of his peers in the 1960s, the Age of Aquarius will not be dominated by a suddenly transcended, spiritually oriented, love-sharing world population. Mankind has yet to work out the natural animal aggression which is so much a part of his nature…”
He goes on to say that (as we are seeing) the Aquarian Age will be dominated by ideological conflicts and, because of the energies available and potential for evolutionary advancement, self-awareness is a priority for people of the Aquarian Age if we are to properly channel these energies – physical and metaphysical – for the benefit of all.
Heracles, in burning agony, throws himself on the fire
In the end, after a kind of alchemical trial by pyre, brought about by a toxic balm his second wife inadvertently procured from a centaur (Sagittarius, the centaur sign ruled by Jupiter, is the transforming fire of the zodiacal triplicity), Hera and Zeus both agreed he’d suffered enough, and Herc was placed in the sky, as the constellation formerly identified with Gilgamesh. “Victory is here, raise a mighty cheer!”
Final thoughts…
As we ‘permanently’ enter the rational, masculine, high-tech age of the Titans (fixed air Aquarius, that is), with Pluto making its first ingress into this sign March 23, it’s important to keep sight of our higher Aquarius/Leo nature. The Sun is just one star in the heavens, but it represents the creative here and now, the full potential and expression (Leo) of our present lifetime. Meanwhile, Aquarius, sign of the starry heavens (hence astrology/astronomy), can open our minds to the distant past and future. Imagination is our personal conjuring tool. Through our art, wonder and creativity we are connected to the cosmos and the gods of our higher consciousness. In sync with these, there is no need for domination or force.
In ye olde times, astronomers noted that the sky/stars moved one direction, while the planets moved against this backdrop, in the opposite direction. (They were called ‘wanderers’). Thus, symbolically, planets came to represent individual will/drives.
So when they go into apparent, backward motion – aka retrograde – they are in effect being forced back into the collective flow of the universe. Something to keep in mind during Mars’ retrograde (since Oct 30/22, until Jan 12/23 + shadow period for another 2 months) as this planet epitomizes personal will/drive. If you are born with any planets retrograde (most people are), you may find those planets are not as co-operative when ‘forced’ to conform, yet they do hold a special wisdom that seems to operate at a more natural pace than direct planets.
Mercury is the “god of retrogradation”, back and forth three times a year, for about three weeks+, and Pluto spends about half the year in reverse. Venus makes a star with her precise retrogrades…i.e, most of the planets are on a schedule. But Mars’ cycle, like the planet-god, can be a bit rough and unpredictable. And because Mars thrives on being adversarial, he’s especially effective when direct, i.e., going solo, against the grain, doing his own, ego independent thing and doing it fast.
In retrograde, not only is he being asked to slow down and march to a beat not emanating from his own drum, but…ever see a scorpion get ready to strike? Or a ram get ready to butt? They back up first – a sign you should get out of the way unless you are up for a battle to the death or at least a bad headache.
I think of Mercurial trickster Bugs Bunny as embodying the flow, the Wu Wei, while his continually confounded adversaries – Yosemite Sam (in particular), Marvin Martian or Elmer Fudd – as embodiments of frustrated Mars. Single-minded, angry child-men just can’t stop seeking his medicine.* (Is that why he says,”Nyeh, what’s up, Doc?”) Backfiring is such a great, Mars retrograde word.
In Gemini (Mercury’s sign), we may feel Mars’ frustration in all areas of communication. It can feel like Mercury Rx on steroids, when things go awry. Personal will and drive aren’t able to function as we’d like and patience must be exercised. If you have a strong, natal Mars, it can be especially frustrating, like driving with the breaks on or getting red lights at every intersection.
However, Mars requires this training in order to be a good samurai, in any area of life, it is actually good for his focusing ability. (Sagittarius Mars understands this, those with this placement will often be into Martial arts or some kind of channeled discipline for their inner warrior).
Who could forget this scene from Kurosawa’s epic film, The Seven Samurai? (Both Kurosawa and Mifune were Aries, btw). Which swordsman has mastered Mars retrograde?
*Astrologer Caroline Casey said that ‘the oppressor seeks the medicine of those they oppress’, am not sure whether she was quoting another.
‘Anathemia’ sequinned tapestry by Roxanna Bikadoroff
Recessional(A Victorian Ode)
God of our fathers, known of old – Lord of our far-flung battle line Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget – lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies — The Captains and the Kings depart – Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. Lest we forget – lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away – On dune and headland sinks the fire – Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget – lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe -. Such boastings as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet. Lest we forget – lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard• All valiant dust that builds on dust, And quarding calls not Thee to guard. For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy people, Lord! Amen.
Recessional was (along with The Vampire) written by Rudyard Kipling in 1897, to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. A cautionary Imperialist, he wished to remind his fellow countrymen where England’s power and glory ultimately came from. ‘Lest we Forget’, of course, became the classic war memorial epitaph. (Nineveh is modern day Mosul, in Iraq).
photo: Staff Sgt. Douglas Olsen, USAF
ANAT/ANATH
Anat was the Goddess of war and death, worshipped throughout Mesopotamia and Egypt, from prehistoric times to the 4th-6th century AD. Sculptures of Anat are sometimes confused with male warrior/death Gods, because of her boyish physique. Her adolescent form, however, distinguishes her from a nurturing, mother goddess. Anat personifies the irresistible, testosterone induced ‘rush’ experienced in both sex and battle, which summons willful young men to one mortal coming of age or another.
Violently she smites and gloats, Anat cuts them down and gazes; her liver exults in mirth.. for she plunges her knees in the blood of soldiers, her loins in the gore of cleaving among the tables.
– From the “Ras Shamra Texts” (Canaanite cuneiform tablets), Syria Primitive, sacrificial rights of Anat (Anath)
Anat warrior idol and relief, Egypt
Anat’s bloodlust may have to do with war and genital mutilation being the male equivalent of menstruation rights, as well as primitive blood sacrifice required to fertilize the earth. But like her prototypes, Durga and Kali, she was also prayed to for peace and severs illusion and attachment.
Remove from the earth war, Set in the dust love; Pour peace amidst the earth Tranquility amidst the fields
photo: Roxanna Bikadoroff
The Tapestry
War is anathema. It depletes blood like anemia. Hence, Anathemia, which sounds like a contagious, war disease.
I began working on this third and final tapestry of my series ‘Queen of the Night – an Orientalist Fantasy in sequins starring Theda Bara as The Vamp’ during the start of the Syrian war (the recent one), then only worked on it sporadically. When the current war in/on Ukraine began, however, I was able to channel some of ‘her’ energy and finish the piece. It definitely has more of an active, animated feel than the first two, with explosions going on all around, comets of doom flying and vultures pointing the way, while red poppies sprout from spilled blood.
The goddess sports a westernized mini skirt with a ‘V’ for victory, black high boots/long gloves, and modern weapons replace her old cleaver and spear.
Anat’s lion becomes a panther, reminiscent of the ‘restricted’ symbol for 18+ movies, ie, when a young man is old enough for sex films, he is old enough for battle – a competition over him between love goddess and war god breaks out. But like Ishtar, dual goddess Anat cleverly embodies both morning and evening star personas.
Theda Bara (anagram for ‘Arab Death’) famously played Cleopatra in the 1917 Fox film, wherein she wore a variety of interesting ‘Egyptian’ headgear. The vulture crown, below was said to be her favourite.
‘Coronation’ crown worn by Theda Bara in Cleopatra, 1917
