Is it really YOUR birth Chart?

You were there at the turnstiles

with the wind at your heel.

You stretched for the stars

and you know how it feels

to reach too high,

too far,

too soon.

You saw the whole of the moon!

~Mike Scott; The Whole of the Moon

As an astrologer, I’ve been studying this discipline for over 40 years. I believe in the astrological premise, and that we’re not merely imagining the correspondence between the microcosm and the macrocosm. In other words, I do believe that we can look at the motions of the heavenly bodies and extract from them communications about our earthly existence.

Yet today, I want to make the case that our birth charts are not really OUR birth charts. And no, I’m not going to talk about precession and tell you it’s the reason you have the wrong birth sign. I’ll leave that old, tired strawman to Facebook, where it belongs. That’s not what this is about. It’s about something more foundational. I want to talk about what a birth chart actually represents, rather than what we assume it represents.

Let’s start with the choice of the word “assume” in the previous sentence. Many modern astrologers will tell you that the birth chart cast for an individual shows their “personality” and their core “identity”. They will spend many hours of video and lines of text talking to you about how to interpret the various planetary placements in the chart as different aspects of one’s personality or individual make-up. You’ll also meet people at parties or groups who’ll be quick to describe themselves on the basis of their planetary placements. And we’ve even heard song lyrics tell us: “I'm Cindy, I'm a Pisces and I like chihuahuas and Chinese noodles.” Putting aside the fact that chihuahuas and Chinese noodles have little to do with Pisces, the structure of the song nevertheless implies that one’s sun sign does correlate with certain preferences. I’m not here to argue otherwise. However, is it not fair to say that framing these qualities or characteristics of the signs and placements of the planets as indicators of an individual’s personality and identity IS an assumption? Is there any reason to support this perspective other than convention? Bear with me…I’m going somewhere deep with this.   

If we go back to the very beginnings of astrology in Mesopotamia, personality and identity were not existing constructs in the astrological literature. In fact, ironically, there weren’t even any birth charts at the birth of astrology itself. Planetary motions and placements were framed as communications from deities about the political and economic affairs of the lands these deities governed. Scribes would study and interpret these messages for their leaders or kings and advise the course of action that was in alignment with supposed divine will. The planets themselves represented deities, not aspects of Self or identity.

In the 5^th century BC, birth charts began to make an appearance. Yet, the birth was framed as a communication pertaining to the individual’s life, not his identity or personality. It was still a communication about an external reality, albeit a more narrow one. In other words, there’s a shift that occurs in the scope of the object of the divine communications: the affairs of the kingdom, its leader, his enemies, and his subjects, give way to the narrower context of the individual’s existence.  Natal astrology during the Hellenistic and Medieval periods focused on the quality of the native’s life experiences. The study of temperament during this time is primarily used as a foundation for medical diagnoses – again, as part of “outer world astrology”. The interpretation of astrological variables as personality traits doesn’t really appear until the 19^th century with the work of Alan Leo. Interestingly, Leo creatively invented this strategy of converting his outer-world interpretations into inners states of being, because he was dragged into court for violating fortune-telling laws. It was a successful strategy, so others followed suit and thus, modern astrology (or what I call “inner world astrology”) was born.

The Chart Imprints Through Longing

There is nothing wrong with turning astrology inward. In fact, I would argue that astrology is a Hermetic tradition whose greatest value lies in studying the link between the inner/micro and outer/macro. That is, in fact, what we do as astrologers. But it’s an assumption to believe that because the chart CAN depict the inner world of the native, that it therefore, logically follows that the chart is a representation of one’s personality or identity. This belief casts the native as the center of the universe, instead of as a component part of it. It then leads to the unhelpful perception that the chart and everything contained therein, belong to us. We say things like “my sun” or “my Pisces planets”, as if the heavens somehow belong to us.

But what if it’s the other way around? What if the heavens are what WE “belong to”? Let’s take an objective look at the matter. When and where I was born, the planets were arranged in a particular way. Everyone living at that place and time would have been astrologically exposed to that same sky. In fact, we call these transits. So the birth chart is essentially the chart of the transits for a particular space-time in which my existence, and probably that of several other people and things in the world, happened to be have their beginnings. Many of these transits would also have been activating the natal charts of some of the people around me: my mother for sure, the nurses and doctors, my father, my siblings, my grandparents, etc., as well as many other folks, who have nothing to do with me or my family. So why should I consider this particular chart more mine than theirs? Is it really my chart? And if so, what makes it so?

Before jumping to a pre-programmed answer, such as “because it’s for my birth, not theirs”, let’s try to reason it out… If we accept that the micro and the macro are mirrors -- which is the Hermetic premise necessary to accept any belief in astrology -- then there must be something in the birth of an entity that makes it more susceptible to carrying within it, a reflection of the cosmos. In other words, every “new birth” must be in some way, like a hologram (i.e. a 3D representation,) of the current cosmos at that space-time. And that hologram must contain “the seed” or quality of that particular moment, in the same way that a seed contains some essential qualities of its parent entity. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the child and the parent are identical, nor that the child “belongs to” the parent in the possessive sense. But something in that particular moment makes the micro entity more susceptible to the image of the macro entity – that is, the heavens. I refrain from saying “the organism” or “the native”, because the same claim applies to other births involving non-organic entities, such as the birth of nations (in mundane astrology), the birth of questions (in horary astrology), the birth of events (in electional astrology), etc. So we can’t claim that it’s something particular to biological organisms that makes them susceptible to this process of imprinting the skies and to carry that as a seed for its future existence.

Etymology may be useful here: The verb “to belong” has two different meanings that are applicable to a chart and may serve as clues. The first is “to belong to” in the possession sense, which is how modern astrology has conceived of the natal chart; as in “the chart belongs to me”; “it’s mine”.  The other is “to belong to” in the sense of a subset -- that is, of being a part of something larger. The word “belong “comes from the Old English belangian, or the Proto Germanic langōna , which means “to desire or long for” something. The prefix “be”, means “involvement or concern” and “langian” means “to long for or stretch out towards”.

It’s in this second sense that I’m proposing lies a clue to what may be a better understanding of the purpose of the chart. Rather than seeing it as a map of who we are, the chart may be a representation of what we long for, or aspire to return to when we’re born. Perhaps in the same manner that the child aspires to become like the parent, we long for the Whole that we unconsciously perceive as our larger home. Perhaps the birth is merely a separation from the larger whole; but we know we came from it and we unconsciously “stretch out towards it” when we’re born, attaching to what’s moving above, in the same way that a duckling imprints upon the first moving object they encounter hours after birth.

Attachment is Rooted in Desire

In the Four Noble Truths, the Buddha taught that attachment, which is rooted in desire, is the primary cause of suffering. He said that attachment arises from ignorant clinging to impermanent things—objects, people, or experiences—mistaking them for sources of lasting happiness. However, he also recognized that the desire to eliminate ALL desire is itself an unwise desire, which can lead to apathy and depression. So what types of desire is it beneficial to nurture? The Buddha distinguished between unwise craving, which binds us to endless reincarnation, and desire that takes the form of skillful aspiration, which supports ethical living and spiritual progress. These would be things like the desire to let go of material or impermanent attachments, fostering compassion and kindness, and a commitment to non-violence. Without this kind of skillful aspiration, there’s no spiritual progress or liberation from suffering or the cycle of rebirth. So spiritual evolution, it can be argued, is itself dependent upon a form of upward longing or “stretching outward toward”, which he described as an aspiration.

When defining the metaphysical components and nature of all change, Aristotle describes a process that begins with desire. Building upon the Heraclitean idea of the unity of opposites, he states that there are three components to all change: the lack of form (the negative component), the attainment of form (the positive component), and the object being changed (the neutral component). Form is a translation of the Ancient Greek (εἶδος) which means "shape, form, appearance, or kind". It’s related to the Greek verb eídō, meaning "to see," and a reconstructed Proto-Indo-European root related to seeing or knowing. So without the mind’s formulation of an idea (the form), matter cannot attain a shape or become a kind of thing. In other words, it cannot become anything. Echoing Heraclitus, Aristotle states that it’s the tension from the lack of that form that causes us to act to attain it and thereby bring that object into being. When we say an “object”, we’re not necessarily speaking of a physical object, although the process of creation is the same with all Aristotelian matter – physical and non-physical. We’re speaking more broadly about any grammatical object, as the thing undergoing change. This can be a topic or a situation or an abstract thing. Thus, change is composed by a dynamic triad, as is depicted in the mathematical delta (∆) symbol, which stands in for change.

The process that Aristotle describes is exactly the dynamic that occurs in the chart when any change is occurring in our lives. The form is represented by a planet, the need or lack of that form is depicted by its domicile signs, and the object being changed comes from the neutral house that receives the planet. But it’s the longing for what’s missing – which is imprinted into the signs – that initiates the drive for change. The signs represent needs; some are basic survival needs, some are higher developmental needs. Psychological needs are essentially states of wanting what one perceives to lack – in other words, desires. In fact, the entirety of the chart can be framed from the perspective of psychological drive theory, which argues that the actions and therefore changes in our lives are driven by our attempts to fulfill these needs. Here’s what Wikipedia says about drive theory:

Drive theory is based on the principle that organisms are born with certain psychological needs and that a negative state of tension is created when these needs are not satisfied. When a need is satisfied, drive is reduced and the organism returns to a state of homeostasis and relaxation. According to the theory, drive tends to increase over time and operates on a feedback control system, much like a thermostat.

The fact that the drive tends to increase over time, is consistent with the sign’s degrees as a measure of that need. As the degrees increase closer to the maximum 30, the intensity of the unfulfilled need increases, and so therefore, does the drive to fulfill it. At the critical degrees of 27-29, this increased intensity or tension can lead natives to do radical things in an attempt to change the situation. It’s for this reason that we find the late Terms of the sign predominantly ruled by the more challenging planets: Saturn and Mars. But this tension is necessary in order to cause the change that occurs as the planet progresses into the subsequent sign and the prior need disappears.

Desire in the Chart

Let me illustrate with an example. Let’s take the case of a woman, who was born at night and whose chart has an Aries Sun in the 6^th house. The first thing we see when we’re born is the amount of light around us and it’s the first thing that imprints upon us. Being born at night indicates a higher degree of receptivity and attunement to our environment and to the people around us. (For more on this, see my presentation on Light or my blog post on Day and Night charts) Aries is a sign that indicates the need for autonomy, independence, assertiveness and a fresh start. (For more on how to delineate signs, see my blog post on Delineating Signs.) Because it’s the first Zodiac sign, developmentally, this need comes up for all of us during the first 7 years of life, when as children, we’re negotiating control over our own bodies and physical autonomy. Aries is a sign of struggle with others because as children we’re not yet competent enough for complete autonomy, and our caregivers must balance their own need to keep us safe and disciplined, with the child’s need for freedom, will, and ever-increasing autonomy.

Having one’s brightest luminary (i.e., the Sun) in Aries does NOT indicate that one was born autonomous, courageous, or with a particularly assertive personality or tendency. In fact, if signs are compensatory, it’s often the opposite, as is the case with this woman, who was quite unassertive and reliant on others. She’s also a night birth, which means her tendency is to defer to others. It does however, indicate that a large portion of her life (particularly her diurnal years after age 35) will involve a desire for autonomy and independence, which she will need to nurture into her life.

With Aries on the 6^th, the desire for autonomy will come up around the topic of her work, obligations and duties. Planets are the agents of action that, not only create the needs symbolized by their signs of domicile, but they are also capable of fulfilling those lacks. In her case, Mars is in the 3^rd place of communications and learning. This indicates that a break in early learning or a lack of communications skills, created the need for autonomy in her work and duties. Indeed, this woman only completed a 4^th grade education in her native country. She also lived abroad and never fluently spoke the language of her adopted country, which created a greater dependency on her family. This occurred after age 33, when Aries became activated and she emigrated abroad. At that time, we can clearly see that her life, not only had a definite fresh start, but that it also began to demand a striving for autonomy and independence, primarily as it pertained to work. Aries asks that we become individualized in our approach to its house. Since this woman lacked traditional work options, she worked autonomously as a housekeeper, where she earned respect and validation from her employers (Sun in 6^th) for her exceptional work and ethic.

This example illustrates that the chart functions more like a story that is unfolding in our lives than as a template for a stable or enduring set of individual characteristics. While this woman valued sovereignty, particularly around her work and duties, she herself was not born especially independent, impulsive, or bold. But she did recognize the need to develop these traits in herself in order to achieve the employment sovereignty she desired. She saw in her mind, what the cosmos displayed for her at birth. Nurturing these traits became an important part of the skillful aspiration of her particular journey.

So, the chart may be better thought of as a celestial “aspiration”: an outward projection of an internal longing – a desire. Like a child reaching out toward its parent, humanity’s natural impulse is expansive, just like Creation’s. Consciousness reaches out toward the cosmos looking for an image of itself. Just like our forefathers did when they imagined stories in the constellations, humanity perceives itself in the stars from which it comes and creates from that astro-religion, its own origin story. Because each of us is a hologram of the whole, we have the same capacity to create or reflect into our earthly lives the story that the cosmos is reflecting in the sky at our moment of birth. We imprint upon our birthday’s moving sky because the soul hates separation and longs for wholeness. And in so doing, we acquire our creation myth. It’s not a story of outcomes, it’s a story of beginning situations and the desire to reach beyond them to create wholeness. We can reflect attachment to craven, temporal versions of those signs, or we can nurture a skillful aspiration that supports spiritual progress. As micro-creators, we get that choice.