Today we’re beginning a series on interpreting composite charts.

Of all of the misconceptions regarding synastry (and there are many) one of the most striking to me is
the misinterpretation of composite charts. I know students who were perfectly capable of reading a
natal chart, who, when faced with a composite, missed the boat entirely. There are many reasons for
this, but the main one stems from confusion about what the composite chart actually IS. We have to
think conceptually about composites. We say, offhand and casually, ‘oh, it’s the chart of the
relationship itself,’ but what does that mean, exactly? That particular description has always struck
me as being more than a little vague.

First of all, you have to ask yourself, can a relationship have a chart? Is there an actual beginning
where it becomes a relationship? And how do I time that? Some astrologers ignore the composites
and stick to the chart of the first meeting, if a time and place is known. I like comparing progressed
charts for the meeting time. All these techniques are valid, and will tell you a great deal about the
flavour of a relationship, where a relationship may be going and how long it may last. But composite
charts are something else entirely.

When two people come together and exchange energy in any way, shape or form, a third thing is
created. This is a deeply metaphysical principle that is reflected in tantric philosophy. That third
thing which is created can be, if used correctly, a map towards transcendence, towards releasing the
inherent conflict and resistance between two living entities. Used well, a composite chart is a
powerful tool, a guide to partnering through spirit. But first we have to figure out what it’s telling us.
The two main popular forms of composite charts are, as most of us know, the midpoint composite and
the Davison composite. (Please note that it’s called the Davison and not the Davidson chart.) The
midpoint chart is the one we are most familiar with. It takes the midpoint of each planet or point in
the chart and finds the midpoint between the two–Sun to Sun, Mars to Mars, Saturn to Saturn,
etc.. As anyone who has worked with them knows, midpoints are powerful. The midpoint between
any two entities is where the rubber meets the road–there is a flash, an energy point that is attractive,
magnetic, that creates experience according to the expression (or expressions) involved. Midpoints
are about essence. It is also where the two entities can resolve their differences, where they can
merge. And lastly, the midpoint shows action; it reveals where the blended energies will take
form. What we end up with is a chart that is it’s own entity. It reveals, not the interaction between
two people (i.e. my Pluto conjunct your Moon makes you cry) but the action of the relationship itself
(our composite Pluto conjunct our composite Moon reveals an emotionally tense, perhaps fraught,
relationship where power plays and emotional manipulation from both parties may be the norm). The
good news about midpoint composites is that, with work and the cooperation of both parties, all
difficulties are resolvable. Our composite Moon/Pluto conjunction may lead us to explore the deeper
side of our interaction, which may lead to cleansing us of he manipulative behaviour that emerges
when we’re together. Our relationship may never be a walk in the park emotionally, but our desire to
dig may lead both of us to our soul-path via Pluto’s action on our essential awareness. The first
Moon/Pluto pairing, with the conjunction between the charts, will have a much harder time of it
because one person’s Moon will be fighting another person’s Pluto, and vice versa. (Conjunctions are
not the happy, stable things many assume them to be.)

The Davison chart is a midpoint chart in time and space. We say that a lot, too, without explaining
it. Davison discovered that if you calculate the exact point in time and the exact point in space
between any two birth charts, the resulting chart was a powerful tool. It’s a midpoint chart that is not
theoretical, but anchored in real space and real time. If you were born in 1950 and I was born in 1960,
our Davison chart would occur in 1955. The chart is calculated from the adjusted birth time and place.
(The birthplace may end up in the middle of the ocean; it doesn’t matter.) Is this also a chart of the
relationship? Yes, it is. Is it different from the midpoint chart? Some say no, just work with them and
pick your preference. I say yes, they are different, for a good reason.

The midpoint chart is a powerful map of an energetic pattern–our hotspots as a couple. It’s our
charisma, our union, who we are when we are together. It is inner-oriented, focused around the pure
expression of the energy that occurs when our two like planets meet. The Davison, like all time/space
charts, is anchored not in pure expression, but in physical reality. It describes who we are together
within our particular life circumstances. Therefore the Davison chart is expressed through the
physical reality of our lives. It sees our relationship being acted upon by circumstances, places, other
entities/beings involved in the partnership. It has a life of its own, and can be progressed the way any
normal chart is progressed, because it has a real time and a real place to anchor it. (Progressed
midpoint charts consist of taking the two individual progressed charts and making a midpoint chart
from them.) Now here comes the big question, which is more valid? I say both, and I use them both,
in different circumstances, depending on the questions being asked of the partnership.

Since the Davison reflects the physical here and now (it’s still a theoretical chart, but it’s grounded in
mundane reality) I prefer to use it for physical here and now questions. Mother-in-law issues, or kids
driving you both crazy? Davison. Is a move going to affect our relationship? Davison. A third party
invading our relationship? Davison to get the picture, and the midpoint chart to figure out why. We
feel as if we’re coming apart at the seams, everything is dissolving. Midpoint. We’ve headed into a
good patch in our relationship, how long will it last? Midpoint (and Davison if there are specific
causes for the good vibes–new job, etc.).

Both charts are highly sensitive to transits (both the actual composites and progressed
composites). And both charts are extremely revealing when you put the natal charts around the
composite in a biwheel to see how each person reacts to the relationship dynamic (more on this
later). Putting a triwheel in place with transits and one of the natal charts will give you an instant,
clear picture of one person’s experience of the relationship, and show you how the transit affects both
the individual and the partnership.

But again, we must first interpret the composite chart itself. This can get complicated, because
sometimes the two composites look very much alike, sometimes they’re flipped, and sometimes one
 looks nothing like the other. This is not as confusing as it seems, and we will get to that next
time. The most confusing thing in composites is in the subtle difference between natal houses and
composite houses, and we will explore more of this next time.

Composite Houses: The First Quadrant

It seems to me that the biggest trip-up in interpreting composite charts stems from not understanding
the meaning of the composite houses, including the angles. While they are, in fact, very similar to
natal houses and angles, in interpretation they are somewhat different and have variations that need
to be recognized. For example, one of the biggest mistakes is to turn to the seventh house to see how
healthy (and/or romantic) the partnership might be. For some reason, we naturally incline to that
house for all of our information about the give and take in a partnership–and it’s understandable,
given the Libran bent of the seventh. But think about it logically–if the Ascendant represents the “I”
of the relationship, what does the seventh represent? And if the seventh house in the natal can
contain the Shadow of the psyche, our unconscious projections, where do you think the seventh house
of a composite is taking us?
So, before going any further with composites, I think it’s a good idea for us to review composite houses
and the areas of experience they represent in a composite chart. It makes sense to know the general
shape of a thing before adding in the details.
I’ll begin, of course, with the Ascendant and the first quadrant of the chart. We understand what the
Ascendant represents in a natal chart. It’s the degree on the horizon at the time of birth, the place
where earth and sky meet. All of the angles are symbolic of the vortex created when spirit whorls with
matter. The Ascendant is the conscious “I”, the vehicle we use to negotiate the world, our point of first
reference. It is marked by the time and place of birth–but how does this work in a composite
chart? How can two entities meet in the middle?

The composite Ascendant, including the composite first house, is the strongest point
in the composite chart. Anything that hits it affects us deeply, because it is the very identity of who we
are as a couple and, in fact whether we are a couple. Do we feel as if we belong together? Are we a
good fit? Does this feel like a natural partnership? Strong, unsullied aspects to the Ascendant, or
strong positive planets in the first house, like the Sun, Moon, or Jupiter, are going to give us a sense of
belonging together. (Squares to these planets are telling us that we may have to work for it.) I’ve seen
couples with strong first house composites overcome many things that would tear other couples apart,
because their sense of what the partnership is to them is so strong. No question that they would stay
together. This is also true, in a larger sense, for the composite chart in general. I’ve seen many cases
where the inter-aspects between charts are terrible, the two should drive one another insane. But the
composite chart is so strong and positive that the relationship thrives. Sure, they annoy one
another. To them, it’s just part of who they are together. The sense of ‘we,’ of ‘us’ is never tainted.
The Ascendant and first house of a composite can also be a dangerous place, because when threats
come to the partnership in terms of outer planet transits or difficult progressions, the entire
relationship can undergo a major crisis. This is true of any of the composite angles, but particularly
the Ascendant, on which the whole thing hangs. Outer planet transits often are a wake up call saying,
“We aren’t who we thought we were.” These are most often the times when relationships need to
change to survive.

The first house can also show us indicators of one-person ‘relationships,’ cases of
fascination or obsession or just simple old unrequited love. Usually, the person who is hooked by the
relationship has a planet (or more) conjuncting the Ascendant of the composite chart very tightly. If
it’s the Sun, or Venus, that person values the relationship intensely, and it holds great meaning for
their self-development, whether it lasts or not. You will usually see conjunctions between the natal
chart and the composite Moon, Venus or Saturn as well. We can get into real difficulty when a
person’s Venus/Neptune natal square falls on the angles of the composite, or Mars/Pluto. The
relationship will become a focal point for the person working out this natal dilemma, and will fuel the
fires of deception, disillusionment, longing and ego-oriented desire. The other ‘partner’ , the one who
isn’t interested, will likely not have anything touching the composite in this intense way.

The second house in the composite, the Taurus house, has to do with our sense
of resources and ownership. A good second house will enhance our feelings of security and belonging
when we are together. If well-aspected, the material side of our lives will flow easily. We most likely
will agree on the way our money should be spent and how much we should pay for car insurance. On
a deeper level, the second house will reveal whether or not we perceive our relationship as a resource–
whether we value and cherish it. If we have an emphasis there, we may be able to do things together,
to make things happen together, that we could never do alone. Well-placed planets in the second
house boost our resourcefulness together–but if there is too much of an emphasis on the second, we
may incline to be materialistic and not see the forest for the trees if we begin to have spiritual and/or
psychological differences that challenge the partnership. Hard aspects to the second, or difficult
planets there, may mean that we have to work for our stability and security. Jupiter there might be
lucky, but a challenged Jupiter might reveal that, together, we fuel the flames of overdoing things in
all areas, and losses may be involved. Our second house contains what we believe is ‘ours’–on all
levels. If Venus is there, for example, we may have a talent for togetherness and value our time
together. Good aspects will cause things to flow towards us–difficult ones will make us aware that we
can’t take anything for granted where the partnership is concerned.

The third house in the composite chart is much more important than it’s given
credit for. It’s a bit difficult to get a handle on the third house because it represents so many things,
but if you think in the largest, widest terms possible, they’re all related. The third house is about
connecting. It’s like a baby naturally reaching out to connect with what is nearby, what it can
grasp. Take that further, and it’s about the mind reaching out to make connections, to understand its
environment. And it represents the environment itself, the mundane circumstances of our
lives. Which is why, in classic astrology, it represents our neighbors, our close relations, our brothers
and sisters (who are just there, like the furniture, we have no choice about it). The third house is
everything around us, all those things we just accept. In a much larger sense, and given the mental
connotations of the third, it’s about how we get around, both physically and mentally–it’s about the
way we think and act when we are at ‘home’ with our selves. All those things we don’t have to think
about because they’re just ‘there.’
The third house can describe a couple’s mindset about their environment–and how they move within
it, as a couple. It can also describe the things that concern them on a day to day basis–not in a
philosophical sense, but the sense of where they put their awareness, where they spend their mental
time. It can also describe how they move about together–are they a stay-put type, hardly going out
(Saturn) or do they rush around like the proverbial chicken with its head chopped off (Uranus). Are
they articulate and conversational (Mercury/Sun) or vague and unforthcoming
(Mercury/Neptune). If an outer planet is in the third, they may, as a couple, feel that their status quo
is continually threatened. Saturn there may cause them to be very serious about their calendar,
always planning and organizing things well ahead of time. The describes how we interact with life on
a day to day basis–are we always challenging things (Mars) or happy taking it easy (Venus)? A person
who doesn’t like surprises and disruption will be very uncomfortable in a relationship where the
composite third house is emphasized in a disruptive way (a Mars/Uranus conjunction, for
example). There may also be disruptions with siblings, neighbors and an unfortunate tendency for
electrical appliances to break down or explode (not kidding here–I know a couple of couples with this
type of aspect who have a hard time controlling their electrical flow.)
The third house is important in a composite because it describes the kind of things we need to think
about in the partnership, and what occupies a great deal of our attention and time together. This may
be very different from our long term goals and plans and our very philosophy of life as a couple, which
are shown in our composite ninth house. But the third house, on the whole, is not a house that
involves a lot of conscious awareness–we deal with what we need to deal with, and that’s that. The
fourth house is where we really start acting as a unit (or not) and are forced to define the partnership
in terms of others.
Next time, houses Four, Five and Six.

Composite Houses: The Second Quadrant

As we’ve said, the first quadrant of the composite chart is largely about our identity as a couple, our
definition of our ‘couple-ness’, how we act, what we own (both spiritually and materially) and how we
communicate as a unit, including the way we react to our immediate environment, including our
neighbors and cousins and siblings and anyone else who drops by. All three first quadrant houses are
largely instinctive. The way we identify as a couple, our sense of what’s ours, and our way of
connecting with others is mostly spontaneous. Once we get into the second quadrant, we start talking
about the things that we put into place, the things that we may plan for ourselves. It isn’t that these
houses stop being instinctive, but that they add another layer of awareness as the houses
progress. We can be aware of our contribution as a couple in houses four, five and six the way we
never were in the first three.

For those who really want to settle down , the fourth house in the composite is
where its at. I have seen terrible synastries overcome tremendous odds by having a packed fourth
house. For those people, building a life, a home, a base of operation was their modus operendi, and,
with the intensity inherent in this cardinal house, nothing got in the way of that. When a house is
packed in a composite chart, the people involved pour their energy into that area of life. It’s easier
when the house represents something solid, like the fourth house with its emphasis on home and
family and roots, because there is something for the composite energy to hang itself on. It’s more
difficult if something like the 12th house is emphasized; all that energy pouring into a house whose
task is to dissolve and resolve, to tap a higher power. Tricky, that one. But the fourth, yes, home,
family, roots, all those comforting things, the meatloaf and mashed potatoes of the zodiacal houses…
Well, no, not really. At first, yes. All of the water houses lure us in with promises of comfort and
understanding. When our composite has a packed fourth house we may buy a home and have kids
right away, because we want to be a part of something, put our roots down in the world. But the
composite fourth house represents something bigger than roots and belonging. It has to do with our
conscious awareness of ourselves as a couple.

It’s different from the first house, because the first house is instinctive; the first house is about our
initial way of being with one another, what happens when two become one. We have no control over
the energy we give off in the first house. Any planets there define our togetherness to others, and are
something others see right away, but we have little influence over them. In the fourth house, we come
to understand ourselves as a unit. We are aware of ourselves as a couple and make conscious actions
and contributions as a couple. It’s an important house, because if we are not aware of working
together, we may begin to work separately. If we have outer planets on the composite IC, we may have
difficulty establishing our roots–we may love one another intensely, we may try to build a life
together, but may have to fight tsunamis and earthquakes, and storms before we can establish our
emotional roots. That’s another keyword for the composite house–emotions. What we feel together
might be tender or it might be stormy, but the composite fourth will show us the status of our deepest,
most intimate points. The eighth house will describe our sexual intimacy, and the 12th our sense of
spiritual oneness, but the fourth is where the intimacy is, and the sign on its cusp will tell us a lot
about whether or not we let other people in. Scorpio or Pluto there can feel vulnerable, and hide our
relationship from the outside world. Gemini will incline us to open our doors. If our sense of
rootedness is secure, then the fourth house can show us our greatest strengths as a couple. Couples
with a packed fourth house know that they feel stronger together than they ever did apart. This is
because the fourth house represents the seat of personal power–the thing that we know can never be
taken away from us. In a composite chart, it’s our bottom line as a couple, where we stand together,
shoulder to shoulder, to face the world.
People tend to get all happy and smiley-faced around the fifth house. Why shouldn’t they,

in the domain of sunny Leo? Think of all the fifth house represents–creativity, personal expression,
children, chance-taking, play. When we are fully grounded in the fourth house, the fifth house takes
care of itself, which is one of the esoteric truths of astrology and has to do with the yin/yang function
of the Moon and the Sun and their respective houses–the Moon comes before the Sun for a reason.
(More of this another day.) Who wouldn’t want the fifth house emphasized?

Couples who have the fifth house emphasized in the composite often put a great deal of energy and
effort into their children. An outer planet there can indicate troubles conceiving, or the children
become a disruption to the unity of the relationship. Depending on the planets, there may be creative
work to be done together. I’ve seen the composite Sun appear in the composite fifth many, many
times when two people come together to pour their energy into some creative project. The two people
naturally express themselves as a unit. John Lennon and Paul McCartney not only had their
composite Moon in the fifth, but the ruler of the composite fifth, Venus, was conjunct the composite
Ascendant.

However, emphasis on the composite fifth may mean that the relationship is more about play than it is
about settling down. We enjoy one another, but it may not be permanent. Longevity would be
illustrated elsewhere in the chart. If there are squares between the fifth house and the eighth house,
there may be issues around sexual fidelity and intimacy. Conflicts between the fifth and second
houses may indicate that our values are in conflict with our natural ways of expressing ourselves in the
world (or we just overdo everything, especially when it comes to tapping our bank account). We may
encourage one another to take too many chances, or not take the relationship seriously enough, only
to see it disintegrate through neglect or through assuming too much.

The sixth house, on the whole, is a highly misunderstood house, both in natal
interpretation and in composite. In basic astrology, it covers health, service, the mundane tasks of our
daily routines, and pets (or anyone else dependent on us for livelihood, hence, servants). That’s a lot
of ground to cover, most of it a dogs dinner of rulership. I’m going to be covering the sixth house in
detail, soon, in another article, but there is a common link between all these things that comes out
especially clearly in composite charts.

The sixth house is the crossroads of the chart; it’s a mutable house, a Virgo house. As such, it’s about
crisis–the crisis of becoming. It’s where we consolidate the unit so that it’s strong enough to meet the
outside world. The sixth house is where we’re tested and refined. It’s where we discover what we’re
about. Couples with the sixth house emphasized can lead a life of tests and trials to the relationship
that either serve to make it stronger or allow it to fall apart. If there are afflictions and challenges to
the sixth house, it often feels as if they come from ‘out of the blue’, and can feel very Job-like in their
intensity. The question becomes, how strong, how whole, are we as a unit? Strength comes from
working out our priorities as a couple and learning to live on an even keel. If we fill our lives with
mundane details and superficial trivia, and never have a direction or a purpose to our existence, how
strong are we? The sixth house rules health because health requires balance–body, mind and spirit
working together. When the unit is strong, it becomes a vessel for the higher energies of the 12th
house, which will use it to bring good into the world, and have our partnership become a living
illustration of the way the divine is housed in the ordinary details of life. Sixth house crises are about
becoming the vessel. If we fail our tests, the higher energies break us, and we may fail our tests and
fall apart.

Couples who have the sixth house prominent are often interested in health and well-being; they may
also be devoted to expressing the higher energies. If this is the case, the strength of their convictions
will be tested. In all cases, a composite chart with a prominent sixth house will ask a couple to find
devotion in the day to day. Their work in the world will have to encompass both their thoughts about
their environment (3rd) and their visions and beliefs (9th). In the sixth house, we need to open
ourselves to a higher power in order to make sense of life. The more we let the higher powers
influence our decisions, the more successful we will be as carriers of those powers. The sixth house is
about transition–the transition from the meaningless to the meaningful, a place where the the
smallest thing can be the most significant. We find our compassion, because we understand that the
smallest and the greatest things in life are one and the same.

Composite Houses: The Third Quadrant

This is the one we’ve all been waiting for, haven’t we? What is the role of a relational house in a
relational chart? Our eyes just naturally gravitate there, hoping to find a natural, naturally balanced
two-ness in the seventh, or some sexual redemption and delivery in the eighth. And then–what the
heck is the ninth house doing there, right after all that melding and merging?

The three together actually make more sense than we realize. In this quadrant we have taken our
perfected (as much as possible) selves and presented them to ‘other.’ It’s the old one-two-three- of
relationships: we come together in the seventh to see if we click, we merge in the eighth to test our
boundaries and redefine ourselves through burning down and returning to ourselves anew, and then,
in the ninth, we try to make sense of it all.
These houses describe a quadrant of the natal chart we all know well –but do they express the same
things in a composite chart?
Yes and no. And it all has to do with the concept of ‘other.’ “Other” to a partnership is a different
concept from ‘other’ to a single entity.

The Seventh House: The identity of a partnership, or how we define our partnership,

belongs to the Ascendant (with the Sun almost tied for second place). It gives the general tone of who
we are when we’re together, alone. So the seventh house of the composite chart takes us into some
complicated territory. Who acts as partner to the partnership?

On the one hand, the seventh house in a composite can represent our awareness of who we are as a
couple when we are relating to the outside world. It is our team ‘face.’ When we are dealing with the
day to day as a union, we may come from our seventh house. That dynamic couple you meet at a
party, who blow you over with their fiery Aries-style dynamic, may actually have peaceful Libra rising
and not see themselves that way at all. When we have a packed seventh house in a composite, we are
very aware of who we are as a couple and what we represent to others. There is usually a lot of
charisma with couples who have a strong seventh house, because our energy isn’t wrapped up in
ourselves, it naturally goes out to others, and they respond accordingly. If we have something fair-
faced, like Venus there, or glamourous like Neptune, or electric, like Uranus–others will feel it. With a
prominent Mercury in the seventh, we may be seen as intellectual, or at least, talkative. As with a natal
chart, we may not be entirely certain of what we give off as a couple, and the seventh house of a
composite is ripe for our composite projections–if we have Mars there, for example, we may be fairly
aggressive in doing things our way, and yet it may feel to us that others are oppressive and difficult.

The seventh house can represent everyone out there who is close to us and with whom we have to deal
on a day to day basis (outside of close relations and family, who are covered by other houses). In a
composite chart, it’s whoever is ‘out there’ as opposed to ‘in here’ within the relationship. But in old
fashioned terms, the seventh house used to be called the ‘house of open enemies,’ people who confront
you and challenge you. The seventh house can show if a partnership is strong (Saturn there) or if you
are subject to invasion from the outside, as when Neptune is on the Desc. Neptune or Jupiter there
can indicate a partnership prone to being broken by third parties. As a couple, we may want to
explore and have no boundaries as far as others are concerned. We may be generous to the point of
fault, or we may be closed and suspicious of others (Pluto in the 7th). If the seventh house is packed,
it may be that a great deal of our energy as a couple is involved with interaction of those we hold
dear. We may be one of those people who are always tied up with others, for better or worse.
It gets complicated when we realize that the seventh can also describe our ideas of ‘other people’s
partnerships,’ making us ripe for projecting our partnership issues on to other couples, or it can
indicate the shadow side of our own relationship–the thing that can bubble under the surface,
undermining us, without us knowing. This is the most important role for the composite seventh house
to play. Neptune or Pisces there? Lack of boundaries, drugs and alcohol or a tendency for the
partnership to drift and remain undefined may undo us. Scorpio? Jealousy, suspicion,
possessiveness, power plays, all of the usual Plutonian suspects. Gemini? Too much connection
(socializing) and not enough commitment (or too much talk and not enough action). Like the shadow
in a natal chart, it sometimes takes time to grasp what the problem really is, because the shadow is
elusive and the light ever-changing. If we have lots of planets on the Descendant or in the 7th, we may
be the kind of couple that needs to go out and meet up with others all the time, and are unhappy alone
in our homes. This might be fine for if both people are inclined that way, but it may be hell for a quiet
Cancer or Virgo who just wants to stay home and cocoon with the partner.

The seventh house can also describe our style of give and take with the world. Are we open and
friendly as a couple (Sag) or are we very selective about who we let into our lives (Virgo). Our Virgo
shadow may cause us to be hypercritical of others, when we let ourselves off the hook quite easily
(Composite Pisces rising). The sign on the cusp of the seventh represents what we expect when we
reach out. If Mars is there, we may feel that other couples are sexually motivated, or argumentative,
and we may feel aggressive and hostile to others without realizing it. We may get into fights with the
neighbors or the doorman and never understand why we are so besieged. As with natal seventh
houses, it’s easy to project planetary activity there, far more difficult to own it as a couple, but own it
we should because we’re only at the beginning of this quadrant’s journey. If we are projecting an outer
planet, rather than owning those tendencies, our relationship may blow up in our faces without us
ever really knowing why.

The 8th House: The eighth house is the most natural house to experience in a

composite. The entire house is about merged energies, whether they be sexual or financial. On the
surface, it’s about our style of sharing–how we use what we own as a unit. The eighth house will, to
some extent, give a sense of the sexual ‘style’ a couple has, and planets there will describe how we
accomplish our merging. The Sun there will describe a partnership that possibly revolves around sex
and inner transformation. (Or you could go the traditional route and speculate that, depending on
other aspects, it may be all about money, or possibly sex for money). It can be a deep, intimate,
psychologically-directed house, where our most intimate vulnerabilities are exposed, or it can be
primarily about how we use our resources. Note I say ‘use.’ The resources themselves will be shown
by the 2nd house, but how we handle what we have belongs in the eighth. This can get very
interesting when we’re not dealing with polarities. For example, a couple can have Venus in
conservative Capricorn in the second, but have Gemini ruling an empty eighth house. Their nest egg
might be solid, but they may tend to spend it on a whim, or may be addicted to buying the latest
phones and video games. They might be the kind of people who value conservative spending but just
can’t seem to do it themselves. If it were flipped, and Gemini was on the second and Venus in Cap in
the eighth, this couple would carefully share their ideas and their connections with the outside
world. They would take care of their Gemini resources, whatever they might be. This might be the
couple who knows everyone on the block and makes sure that the older people across the street get
dug out of the snow. They also might be carefully generous with local charities.

If a couple has a packed eighth house, there is a need for intimacy and deep exchange within the
partnership. This might be okay for the half of the couple that is more Plutonian or depth-oriented. If
the other partner is more air/fire this may make the relationship difficult–we will feel as if we are
struggling to breathe every moment, while the relationship keeps pulling us underwater. This is true
for any of the water houses (4, 8, 12) but is exaggerated in the 8th, which has a thrust to intimacy all
its own. Even for those of us comfortable with transformation, this kind of intensity may not seem
right for us at this moment, or with this person. This composite house isn’t about the dissolve (that
comes in the 12th) but is about our ability to burn to the core of our known selves and come back to
ourselves renewed. When this house is emphasized in a partnership, the fire may just be too
hot. Outer planets or Saturn here may indicate a problem with intimacy within the partnership if
fears and defenses are allowed to take over. The problem here would not be due just to one partner’s
reluctance or resistance, but to both people feeling wary of losing emotional ground. The answer here
is to look back on the second house and see what we really gain (and can get hold of) when we are
together—something that neither party can obtain alone.
I’m going to switch gears on you and next time discuss why the 9th house is in this quadrant, then
move on to the 10th and 11th. The twelfth house deserves space of its own.
Hope we are all maintaining our cool in the August heat. Sorry for the delay in continuing our series,
but life has been getting in astrology’s way more often than not lately.

So here we go…

You all know what a stickler I am for astrological and mathematical rules. So I want to assure you all
that I haven’t jumped ship and am now insisting that we reformat the quadrants, heaven forbid. No,
the ninth house belongs to the third quadrant, as odd as it seems, and I’m going to tell you why.
Think of it this way: cardinal houses initiate, fixed houses consolidate/use, and mutable houses
disseminate. In this most intimate of quadrants, the seventh house gets things going between two
people, the eighth house tests it, burns it down and refines it so that we know what we have together
and separately–and then what? The function of the 9th house is to find greater meaning. Not piddly
little Gemini knowing, but meaning, that which is found by discovering the deeper patterns in
life. And once that meaning is found, the other function of the 9th house is to disseminate that

meaning, spread it around. The 9th house rules shamans, preachers, publishing, the
natural laws of metaphysics and the man-made rules of organized religion. It rules our exploration,
our visions and goals, our reaching out towards not only what is, but what may be. And the reason
this is so fundamental to this quadrant is that, without meaning, without purpose, a relationship
flounders. We forget that when we’re in the throes of the seventh and eighth houses, but in the ninth,
we must face the truths we have found together and face outwards into the world again.
Have you ever had a deep, intense encounter with a new lover, and then gone out for a walk and found
yourself feeling naked and exposed, even though you were behaving perfectly innocently
together? That’s the transition between the eighth and the ninth houses. In the ninth house, we
suddenly realize we are in the world again–that we are of that world. The world is looking at us,
expecting something of us. For couples with an emphasis on the 9th house, being active in that
world, becomes our whole world. We take what we have discovered or know to be true (together) and
bring it out for others to understand and share.

This dissemination of personal truth can take many forms. It can be spiritual or religious, academic,
visionary, political or literary. F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald had their North Node on the very cusp of
the eighth straddling into the ninth, and they embodied a couple whose intimate lives were their
literature. Perhaps most striking of all the examples I’ve seen, John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline have a
composite with Scorpio rising, and a tight Sun/Moon conjunction conjunct both Pluto and Mars in the
9th. (For the role of the Ascendant and the chart ruler(s), flip over to my Sasstrology column.) We
remember the ‘Camelot’ years even now, fifty years on, a campaign built on a dream and a vision of
the future. They embodied the United States as a Utopia of endless youth, beauty and
wit. Philosophers, literary figures, and what was then called the intelligentsia sat at their table on a
regular basis. The house of higher learning indeed. Alas, the inherent violence of this placement
played out, and then a nation looked to them to learn how to mourn and find meaning in tragedy.
If a ninth house couple doesn’t fall into the religious, philosophical, literary or intellectual pattern,
there can be an emphasis on Sag things–adventure, having fun, sports, exploring. They may do a lot
of travelling or live abroad. All this is in favour of a couple who do things together to gain a broader
perspective of themselves, and to experiment with the way they define their place in the world. They
don’t want to be defined by narrow brush strokes. Whether they take the high road or the low road
doesn’t matter as much as how wide the road is.

Once we discover that definition, we must move from the ninth house to the 10th. The 10th house
emphasized in a composite charts brings along the urge to do your job in the world, to build
something together to enhance the community or social structure. Tenth house couples can be very
traditional or be at the forefront of alternative change, but they will be serious about whatever they
do. These are sometimes couples who marry for status; the wealthy man and the trophy wife. If there
is an outer planet there, the relationship may break conventions; Saturn there might be very
traditional, straight laced and disciplined. Uranus on the MC of the composite is something else
again.

The MC defines how we fit in to our world. The Uranus couple, above, will have to find some
unique or alternative lifestyle outside the mainstream, or work at bringing Uranian concepts into their
communities. The 10th house couple has a degree of luck in that the relationship is

usually accepted by the outside world, no matter how unusual. There may be a huge emphasis on
either work or ‘good deeds,’ with their standing in the community highly important. These couples
can be caretakers, supervisors, or guardians for their neighborhoods. Theirs may be the one house on
the block that everyone gravitates towards, particularly in times of crisis.

All of this focus on the ‘outside’ can leave these couples vulnerable to crisis from the ‘inside.’ Unless
the IC and its ruler is well aspectd, or there are powerful planets in the fourth to ground them, this
couple can be all show and no substance. Or they get along as long as the social expectations are
fulfilled, but the minute they become intimate, or assert their individuality, the fragile walls they have
built may come tumbling down. Unless they make true and deep connections to their families,
friends, and others around them, they may feel adrift as far as emotions are concerned, as if life has no
substance. In the charts of young couples, this 10th house emphasis can often be seen in arranged
marriages and marriages that are based on tribal and cultural values, rather than personal
choice. When the tie is not recognized as genuine, it breaks, and the long road towards individuation
opens up for both parties.

Some couples with a heavy 10th house influence, particularly when the Sun is found there, are meant
to live a public life. You see this often with couples who perform together, but there are many other
ways this energy can manifest.

People become confused about the differences between the 10th house and the 11th, since both can be
community oriented and influenced by service to others. But think about the difference between
Saturn and Uranus, and you start to understand the unique ways each house expresses itself. Where
the 10th house is based on social standards and accepted ways of being in the world, the 11th house is
based on affinity and mutual expression.

Eleventh house emphasis in the composite chart is a friendly thing to have. The couple

is oriented towards doing things together, to expressing themselves through joining with others who
have mutual values, beliefs and ideals. Their scope goes way beyond home and family towards the
greater outside world. Their ‘home,’ their ‘family’ consists of the close group they gather around
them. The 11th house, more than any other, is where the ‘one’ stands for the ‘all.’ Planets falling in the
11th in the composite are naturally gravitating towards growth. They enjoy the buzz of fulfillment
through dedication to something outside themselves, something beyond the ego identity of the
couple. While the 5th house describes the kind of play they get into in private, the 11th house
describes what kinds of activities they like to do with others. If the 11th house is emphasized by the
sexual planets there, it could mean that they are a very adventurous couple in terms of expressing
their sexual selves.
The 11th house is also the house of social activities and social culture, so an 11th house couple might
find solidarity and meaning in pursuing theatre, art, film, music, dance–anything where human
beings join together to express themselves. (The 11th house doesn’t discriminate between high and
low culture, either, and they may be just as passionate about baseball games and trivia contests.)
In the 11th house, we begin taking the steps to joining with the all that happens in the 12th house and
Pisces. In the 11th, this consists of pursuing our visions of what human behaviour should be. In the
11th, we conceive of a perfect world and try to wake others up to our visions. It’s the house of the
outcast and the rebel, the freethinker, the humanitarian. The 11th house allows us to step aside and
see the limitations of the 10th and try to get beyond them. Couples with an 11th house emphasis can
be crusaders who pursue an ideal. (The 9th house represents a different type of idealism, the concept
of higher thought and higher law. It’s structured and deals with structured thought and form
(structured religion and philosophical systems versus generalized spirituality, which is represented by
the 11th house.) Couples who are very oriented towards the 11th house may find their greatest joy
comes from acting on other’s behalf, and belonging to a community that allows their ideals to be
expressed. For these couples, social awareness and individual expression become one.
On the whole, the 11th house is a place of friendship and mutual enjoyment. If we don’t become too
rigid in our expression, and allow both partners the right to their individuality, it’s a comfortable place
to find planets. It’s only when there are serious squares to the 11th from the 2nd and 8th houses that
the communal expression of the 11th house leads to problems with intimacy and ownership.
Next time: The Composite Chart and the 12th House

The Composite Chart and the 12th House: The Ghost at the
Door

And now we come to the house that causes more furrowed brows than any other. It’s bad enough that
we have difficulties with the 12th house when it involves the natal chart, but it often is downright cruel
when we’re trying to negotiate it’s slippery slopes in a composite. It confuses us, as is appropriate
with a house that Neptune rules. We feel it has a nebulous, yet mysteriously powerful influence on our
lives when we have planets there, even though we can’t quite fathom the type of influence it wields–
are we being seduced to a precipitous cliff by external forces, or are the demons within driving us to
the edge? Whatever the motive, we know we are facing some sort of extreme–and a choice.

One thing is certain, and that is planets in the 12th house don’t behave like any other. The

12th house is the culmination of all that has come before it–it’s our last chance, our last ride, and
planets there can often go to extremes without knowing why (they can blame it on the limitless nature
of Pisces, which respects no boundaries). Planets in the 12th can behave in one of several
ways. Either the energy of the planet is lost, confused, diffused and (at least in our early years)
ineffective, or the planet can completely embody its archetype for all to see, often after overcoming
great difficulties and reversals, sometimes in extreme circumstances. The house is famous for being
the house of ‘self-undoing’, but it can also be the house where we find our fame and fortune. The
twelfth house is about vocation, our divine calling, and is a very different energy from the status-
oriented tenth. Fame has its roots in the 12th because that is where we can serve as an example of a
prime archetype–we can embody the zeitgeist of our age. We move from the personal world, giving up
our individuality along the way, to become a plaything of the collective unconscious.

What the twelfth house demands of us always is that we give the ego a rest, but often challenges
regarding the ego are exactly what we have to face with twelfth house planets. We feel that our twelfth
house planets don’t ‘work’ the way our other planets do, or the way that same planet seems to behave
in other people’s charts. Sometimes the twelfth house energies become lost, and we create false gods
from what we cannot find within us (for example, those with Leo on the 12th house cusp may worship
creative expression, but not be able to find it in themselves). A recent class in assassins revealed that
the victims often had many planets in the shooter’s 12th house. There is, without a doubt, an element
of longing in the 12th. This is the empty space, the place where we are not like others, the place where
the pieces don’t fit. And this is where we must reach out beyond our small lives to touch the greater
life that is possible.

Now, what to think of this powerful symbolism in the composite chart?

Like individuals with 12th house planets, couples with a lot of twelfth house may feel that there is
something fated about their lives together. Something is whispering in their ears. It is not so much a
question of choice, more that the universe has chosen for them to be together (at least, that’s what it
feels like). It’s a bit like getting knocked off your feet by a powerful wave–you and your partner are
going to have to swim in the tide for a while, and deal with whatever watery beasties swim your
way. I”ve seen couples with a heavy 12th house influence utterly befuddled and bedazzled by their
lives (which don’t go the way their friends’ lives go). It isn’t that they’re unhappy–no, they seem to go
more the extreme of bliss altering with despair. On the one hand “We are meant to be…” on the other,
“But if we are, why is it so hard?”

When a couple has planets, or an important planet, in the 12th, it can go a couple of ways. One, that
planet’s energy can be confused and diffused in their lives, especially when in difficult aspect to other
things in the composite. You don’t want, on the whole, a composite Mars in the 12th square to
Neptune, unless you are missionaries or you plan to open up a swimming pool installation
company. It usually indicates that there is something karmic surrounding that planet that needs
fixing–it is, in a prior life, something that was missed or misused between them. It’s the last chance to
get it right, and there will be a struggle to use this planet’s positive expression easily. In contrast,
couples who come together to create something for the collective often have the appropriate planets in
the composite 12th, there for all to see. (One expression does not contra-indicate the other.)
This ‘last chance’ element, sadly, often leads us to relationships that are destined to exist only to fix
this thing–when the lesson is learned, both these people move on. It often indicates couples who
seem to have a lot of shared experience and shared history–even if they are new to one another, it
feels ‘old.’ They recognize one another when they meet. They seem bonded before a word is
spoken. We romanticize all of this (and well, a little romance never hurt anyone) but the truth is that
this familiarity is there to ‘hurry up’ the bonding process so that the lessons and the challenges can be
quickly assimilated. These are the couples who are magnetically attracted to one another and who,
after making the necessary commitments, find themselves on strange and unfamiliar territory.

Couples where the 12th is strong can often experience–well, let’s say it–Neptunian
weirdness. Telepathy, visiting one another out of body, lucid dreaming where they communicate with
one another, strange psychic links and melding of the two energetic bodies. (You can have this
without the 12th of course, but the 12th is inclined to it.) This can happen in composites of unrequited
love, where one person loves another who doesn’t know he or she exists. Now, you can either say it’s
karma, or you can say that person A is psychologically hooking onto the archetype formed with person
B’s chart, but whatever it is, it can be a very powerful pull. I’m not quick to say its an illusion, but it’s
not quite ‘real’ either, and you can get into some dangerous territory in the 12th by telling yourself
things that aren’t really true. The weirdness of the 12th usually happens when one or both of the
other parties has a heavy 12th influence in the natal.

Again, sadly, this being the 12th, most of the time the lesson is learning to love and then let
go. Neptune’s great teaching is that love is a powerful force in and of itself, and should not be used as
a binder. Neptune, as the higher octave of Venus, is all about connections, and the 12th house allows
us to dissolve the boundaries of ordinary life in order to reach out beyond our mundane reality. Those
of us with composite 12th emphasized will be asked to step away from the mundane and step into the
world of the extraordinary, where unlikely connections are day to day things. Sometimes we will be
asked to make leaps of faith. Oftentimes, once we surrender to the powers of the 12th house, our lives
are transformed by meaning, because those unlikely connections have brought us a wisdom beyond
our time together. Eventually, we learn that life is not as random as we thought, but full of purpose
and meaning. It may have felt like chaos, but later on we know that there was method to the madness.

Couples with a heavy 12th house/ 6th house polarity have to find a way to put their wisdom to some
practical use. It often helps to work together on projects they find meaningful, or to spend some time
doing community or charity work. Once they have hammered out their imbalance (too little, too much
is often a theme with the 12th) they must find a way to make something real of their inspiration. Find
a way to bring the god down to the day to day world, so that it, too, is considered sacred. It’s a huge
task, but often one the 12th house couple is uniquely suited for.

You may now be more confused about the 12th house than you were at the beginning of this piece, but
such is the nature of the 12th, beautiful and terrible. We are fated, but we are meant to part. We have
a meaningful journey to take together, but we must ultimately be alone. Our lives are silly and
sublime at once. We have the ultimate intimacy side by side with the knowledge of ultimate
separateness. We grasp for the handrail, and find nothing to hold on to. We fall, and find the world.

Soul Points in Synastry: The Vertex versus the Nodes (Part

One)

One of the questions that has already come up a number of times in the Soul Points class I’m teaching
is, “Both the Vertex and the Nodes are sensitive relationship points that often feel destined, what’s the
difference?”

It’s assumed that contacts to both the Nodes (particularly the South Node) and the Vertex feel like
‘fate’ is playing a hand. It’s assumed that both the Nodes and the Vertex axis give us those ‘aha’
moments, those rare, often once-in-a-lifetime meetings that stir us with feelings of forever (at first).
They cause us to believe that the ‘one and only’ really exists–it must, because we’ve never felt this way
before. We’re swept away, we’re dizzy with destiny, we feel as though the universe has a plan for us
and that this rarefied, just-met being is along for the ride. God has fashioned someone just for us, to
fit perfectly into our lives, to fill our unique need.

There is no question that contacts to either end of the Nodal axis or the Vertex axis are powerful. (So
are squares.) But Vertex connections and Nodal connections via synastry play out very differently in
the scheme of our developing consciousness.The difference begins with the definition of the points
themselves.

As you’ll remember from the articles on the Nodes, they are defined by the place where the orbit of the
Moon crosses the path of the Sun from the point of view of the Earth. The Vertex, on the other hand, is
defined by the place where the path of the Sun, called the ecliptic, crosses the Prime Verticle, –okay,
too complicated. Let’s just say that the Prime Vertical cuts the ball of the Earth into right angles. It
gives you the absolute East and West points from the perspective of the highest point in the sky, the
Zenith (absolute North), and the absolute bottom of the space/chart, the Nadir. (This measurement is
different from the Midheaven or MC, which is derived from the place where the Sun is at the Noon
point, and which is the measurement by which we calculate our usual Ascendant/Descendant axis.
More of that later.)

Now, think about that for a minute. The Vertex axis is the place where the Sun’s path crosses an
absolute measurement derived from the position of the Earth. It’s all about the creative force and
impetus (the Sun) meeting our absolute reference point. (Um, for those of you who may be sleeping,
the astrological chart is a picture of the sky from the point of view of the Earth, which we call
Geocentric. For a chart with the Sun at the center and which places a position for the Earth, you have
to draw up a heliocentric chart.)

The Vertex, in essence, represents the place where our life force meets the cross of matter as
represented by the Earth. It takes no prisoners. Anyone who has worked with the Vertex axis for any
length of time can feel the insistence in it. It is, in fact, a souped-up Ascendant/Descendant axis. Our
Asc/Desc is derived from the Sun’s noon point on our day of birth (the MC) in relation to the point on
the Earth’s horizon for the hour and place of birth. (The MC is not necessarily the Zenith, but that’s for
another day.) Our Asc/Desc axis divides the light and the darkness, the seen from the unseen. What is
above and what is below. What we grasp of our identity as we live it and what we may project. The
Vertex doesn’t care about any of that.

The reason is that particular perspective from the point of view of Earth. It is the Moon that
represents not only our past, but our anchored physicality–our selves as represented in matter. The
Moon represents the matter of our physical body and all the planes that influence and effect that body:
physical, emotional, mental, spiritual. The Moon carries the egoic egg that retains our energetic aura.
The Moon is our collected history, our definition of ourselves by whatever our encounters with life
(and past lives) have brought to our identity. It is the result of our gathered experience.

The Vertex represents something very different. It is the ultimate individuality, the unique creative
Self without the reference points of the past. Imagine a pure you, a unique spark of the cosmos, that is
not defined by interacting with material existence. The Earth represents our perspective, our pure
point of view, our idea of ourselves as an individual element in the greater divinity. An identity
without the need for ego defenses. An identity whose only purpose is to take part in that greater
divinity in whatever way it can.

Vertex contacts, no matter what end of the axis they hit, assist the process of that divinity directly.
This is why Vertex contacts often seem to come ‘out of the blue,’ with no hint, no trace, no
preparation. It’s because Vertex contacts aren’t part of a process. We can’t figure out the ‘why’ of a
Vertex contact, it just is–and usually the sense of ‘fate’ comes from the fact that something or someone
is provided just at the point it is most needed; whether or not we ever knew that we needed it before.
In an odd way, the Vertex acts as a secret and sacred ‘helping hand.’ It’s almost Uranian in the way it
operates: we might suspect something on the way if a big transit to the Vertex is due, but we have a
hard time guessing how it might manifest. And honestly, if we can guess, it usually means that what
we guessed is precisely what won’t happen. We might be anticipating a lover, but Vertex contacts are
just as likely to manifest as an offer, a friendship, or a turn of mind that takes us down a road we
would never have anticipated. We might not even notice the impact until the transit or progression is
long past. One of my most profound Vertex transits happened on the day I was offered a new job–the
loss of which, a short time later, enabled me to establish myself as a full time astrologer. Without that
job (and the loss of it), I wouldn’t be here.
Conjunctions to either end of the axis are the most profoundly felt. Vertex contacts help to reveal our
divine fate, but conjunctions to the anti-Vertex are no less profound. The anti-Vertex allows us to
process our divinity through the vehicle of ‘other’–when other’s planets fall on our anti-Vertex, we
reveal ourselves through the ‘not I.’ Often, anti-Vertex contacts involve commitment and sacrifice
beyond the call of duty, and we usually don’t mind fulfilling those commitments because we feel the
divine pulse of our own spirit gradually unveiling in our actions. The point of all Vertex contacts is to
reveal ourselves from a perspective that is higher and deeper than ordinary conscious awareness. In a
way, the Vertex is beyond the Nodes, which are all about the development of consciousness. The
Vertex unveils the “Watcher,” in us. The one who knows. The one who is beyond the conscious Self.

Squares from one chart to another’s Vertex axis will stimulate this ‘Self beyond self.’ The Vertex is not
an energy that we wrestle with or try to develop, or struggle to integrate. It just is. Squares to the
Vertex axis will urge us towards effortless being. Under Venus or Jupiter, we may feel loved or
understood for the first time. With the outer planets squaring our Vertex, there may be a shock of
removal that clears our path in a painful way. Mars may teach us about sexuality in a way that we
never expected.

Sadly, relationships that are lesson-based are usually short term, and the Vertex is no exception. The
trick is to step into them unafraid and unprotected, trusting in the divine wisdom of your own soul’s
intelligence. It’s like that exercise we’ve all done in the theatre, where we’re blindfolded, led around by
the hand and forced to trust our fellow actors. Ultimately, we stop feeling the need to cling, and allow
ourselves to feel what it’s like to be free of fear, because there is a guiding force at work that knows
where it’s going. As they say, we must remember that we are spiritual beings having an earthly
experience, and the Vertex leads the way.

In part 2, we’ll discuss fate and the Nodes.

Soul Points in Synastry: The Vertex versus the Nodes (Part Two)

As discussed in Part One, there is often confusion about these two, the Vertex axis and the Nodal axis,
particularly when it comes to planetary contact to either end of the axis via synastry: both are said to
be responsible for the so-called ‘fated’ relationship. But in practice, these two are very different, with a
different agenda in mind. Each one asks something unique of us, a unique adjustment to the way we
interact with the world, and they are not interchangeable. The only thing they have in common is that
they draw relationships and situations into our lives that spur our spiritual transformation.

So what are they after, and how are they different from one another?

The Vertex was called the ‘electric Ascendant’ by L.E. Johndro and Charles Jayne, who discovered it
independently in the 40’s. It was said to mark the place where the electrostatic release points from the
Earth at the birth moment run opposite the magnetic field, thereby giving us two Ascendants–one
based on the physical horizon (the natal Ascendant), and one based on pure energy (the Vertex).
Johndro related it to Uranus. And there is something decidedly Uranian about how it works: it carries
the short, sharp shock of the new, the previously unrealized. Often, Vertex contacts come into our
lives, deliver their message, and then disappear just as quickly as they came, leaving us altered in a
profound way, but a bit shattered. Can’t get more Uranian than that–Uranus of the higher mind,
beyond mere mortality/physicality. The lover or friend who comes ‘out of the blue’ and happens to put
us on our path, who helps us know who are we when we are not our earth-created ego, we when we are
not our ‘stuff.’ Like the Nodes, the Vertex reveals the soul’s intent, but it is confined to “Who am I?”
Who is the inner Watcher, the one who knows? What happens when we discover that the guide to
whom we attribute our luck and our grace and our inner wisdom is truly ourselves? This is the Vertex
as the deepest part of “I.” When someone’s planet falls on either end of this axis, we cannot remain
unaware of this Soul-Self. We are stricken to the core, so that even the core is newly altered.

In contrast, the Nodes are all about our interaction with the world ‘out there.’ Because they consist of
the relationship of the Sun and the Moon from the point of view of the Earth, they are about the way
our spiritual intent unfolds within material reality. They mark how we process our experience, and
what we learn from it. The South Node describes our orientation to life, which is ingrained in us. It’s
our habitual way of acting in the world, interacting with it, understanding it. It is the result of lifetimes
of negotiating the ‘I’ with the ‘not I,’ the ego with the other. The South Node tells us which colour and
pattern we use to filter our experience. The South Node says to us, this is they way the world works,
and this is what I know”–only it doesn’t do it consciously. Most often we’re not aware of the way we
filter experience, and we assume that others process the world the same way we do–their experience is
our experience. And then one day (usually around the time of the first nodal return at age 19) we
realize that isn’t really true. We begin to see differences in perception–and this is the beginning of the
road towards the North Node.

Where Vertex contacts help to reveal who we are, nodal contacts affect our behavioural comfort zones.
Because the nodes involve an intersection of the Sun and the Moon, the classic ‘conjunctio,’ they are
about relationship itself. And with this we have to ask what is the function of relationship? On both its
deepest and its most mundane level, relationship allows us to grow– through interacting with another
being in an intimate way, we begin to understand and reveal and work with elements of the psyche
that have not been developed before. We come up against the limits of our own definition of ourselves
and either change, accepting the new-found knowledge, or we sink back into past patterns and move
on to the next learning experience. This is also the way the outer planets function in relationship–they
reveal to us what was previously unseen within ourselves.

If we accept this definition of relationship, then the question of how the Nodes function in synastry is
an easy one. Contacts to the South Node perform a very different function from contacts to the North
Node.

The South Node involves how we express ourselves, how we give and take, and is often about what we
find pleasing and safe. It’s also about what we expect and assume of the world, which is why difficult
planets to the South Node can be so damaging. Saturn there may expect the world to be a harsh place;
Pluto may find it devouring. The South Node is all about our psycho-spiritual arrangement of our
world. We’re comfortable there, harsh as it might be–it’s what we know. If someone’s Venus falls on
my South Node, I feel he appreciates me, and the feeling is mutual. He takes the harsh edges off. He
likes what I am, without my having to strive for it, or change anything. At its best, when someone’s
Venus touches my South Node, they may so value what they perceive as my talents and abilities that I
am freed to develop further along those lines, better understanding my own gifts and advantages.
Contacts to the South Node always feel like fate (whether they are or not) because the feeling of deep
familiarity is palpable–I am understood for what I am, not for what I might be, and that
understanding is effortless. Alas, the flaw of South Node contacts is that I am so well known that I may
be manipulated, or bored, or my lesser qualities are stimulated, rather than my greater ones. I may fall
into a deeper rut via this individual, rather than reach out to what I may become.

Contacts to the North Node from another chart can be inspiring–but they can also irritate and annoy.
Our own North Nodes show us where we may develop, but the North Node also holds the key to the
very thing that may be standing in our way. The North Node and its ruler often reveal our ‘blind
spots’–things we do which make the truth of the North Node harder to unveil. It can often work the
same way the Asc/Desc axis works—we are usually very conscious of our Ascendant planets and
behaviours, but may project or even reject qualities that our Descendants reveal–the shadow side of
our personality. With the South Node, we usually recognize our habits and behaviour, but the North
Node holds what is trickier to grasp of ourselves. The North Node is asking us to interact with the
world in a new way, and, with its ruler as henchman, may lay out quite clearly what is stopping us
from actualizing this feat. Contacts to the North Node can serve in one of two ways: they can shift the
veil, inspire us and lure us into new territory, or they can stimulate the behaviour that is blocking our
progress and preventing our growth. Contacts to the South Node usually feel like contacts to the
Descendant–familiar, comfortable (at least at first) and profound, whereas contacts to the North Node
can have an almost Plutonian attraction/repulsion factor. There may be a fascination about it that is
downright distressing, and yet we know that this person somehow is leading us down a road we are
bound to take, sooner or later. The most profound connections can occur at the times we are
experiencing Nodal transits–especially the returns (every 19 years), the reversals (every 9 and a bit
years) and the nodal squares to itself. These are times when situations and relationships can boil up in
crisis, because they are meant to grab us by the collar and shake a new view into our hearts and minds.
New loves enter, old loves leave, the comfy rug gets pulled out from under our feet–we are no longer
happy with ourselves, and yet have difficulty understanding just where it is we’re supposed to go. If
we’re lucky, we get guided in the right direction. If we aren’t, we are forced to come up with new
means of interpreting ourselves and our world view. Planets to either of the Nodes can help in these
situations (either natally or from another chart), and we are prone to finding people who reflect that
planet at these times. With Saturn or Jupiter on the North Node, we may have luck drawing the right
teachers at the right time. Pluto there may get us into situations where our power is tested, and which
will reveal a way forward. Venus there can bring love at just the right time. With the North Node
stimulated, there is always a shaky uncertainty, which is compulsive in spite of itself. The South Node
contacts from another chart are a much easier and more secure ride, even if, ultimately, we have to
shed them.

Neither the Vertex or the Nodal axis contacts bring any guarantee of longevity. Judging from my
experience with synastry, nodal contacts seem almost common, whereas Vertex contacts between
couples are more unusual. It makes sense; contacts would be few and far between who could help us
peel back the layers of our outer selves to reach the pure “I” within. To be felt and seen in such a way is
a rare intimacy.

But the nodal contacts have a depth and an urgency about them; we know, at some soul level, the path
we must take, and both the South and North Nodes are our guideposts along the way. When other
people’s planets conjunct our Nodes, we have a fellow traveler, a long-lost companion for this stage in
the journey, conjured like magic from an unremembered life to buoy us up or urge us forward,
exposing our strengths and our weaknesses, staying by our side when the balance is tipped, helping us
decide whether to hold on or let go. That’s another kind of intimacy, the kind that is forged in the fire
of shared experience.

I’m glad I don’t have to choose between them.

Astrology and The Dark Goddess (Continued from The Widening Gyre)

Astrology and The Dark Goddess:

“If we ever stop to think about the imagery and archetypes in the natal chart, it is no secret that they
are primarily masculine. This should come as no surprise to us. Aside from the Moon, (which, as a
light, I set aside along with the Sun–more on that later) we have only Venus to embody the
feminine. And I suppose this makes sense, too. (I will ignore, for the time being, the influence of
cultural stereotyping.) It makes sense because the natal chart reflects the way we interact with the
outside world. It is about how we act, how we move forward, how we negotiate our way through the
world. Even if we retreat, even if we hide, it is an action. Action is tied up with the masculine
archetype.

Venus seduces. That’s her power. She wins by seducing, and she connects. This is traditionally the
power of the feminine, to lure, to bait, to receive through attracting. But even this is an action. Where
is the feminine in the chart, the true feminine? A clue lies in the word ‘receive’–more on that later.

Traditionally, the stages of the feminine journey are three: Maiden (Venus), Mother (Moon) and
Crone/Wise Woman. I don’t know about you, but I feel tradition has its limits. I resent and reject the
word Crone with its negative connotations. This traditional triumvirate is missing a massive chunk of
the feminine experience. There is a huge chasm between ‘mother’ and ‘crone.’ Most of us, as women,
live most of our lives there, and yet there is no astrological correlative to describe the
experience. Nothing to mark our path as we grow into our wisdom. And what are we wise about,
ultimately? The material world itself. Feminine wisdom is about honoring life itself. Knowing what it
can and cannot give us, understanding its cycles, respecting its demands without giving in to its
power. Learning and respecting the rhythms of the material world without losing ourselves in the
process requires a unique merging of instinct and intellect. We must get beyond ‘masculine’ and
‘feminine’ in order to embrace a new paradigm that transcends duality consciousness. Far beyond the
conflict of ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine,’ we are dealing with growth that requires the merging of spirit
and matter. And this is where the four major asteroids–Ceres, Pallas, Juno and Vesta–step in to save
us. They represent a vision of the mature feminine that delivers us from the mundane world. (The
Black Moon Lilith serves as a contrast and a corrective–more on BML later.)

Make no mistake about it–ALL of these goddesses have a terrifying streak to them. When they aren’t
honored, when the forces in the natal chart go wrong, well, let’s just say that the students in last year’s
The Dark Goddess class started calling them, “The Killers.” (Even the usually sweet Juno has her
darker side.) There is a ruthlessness to the energy of these goddesses that must be acknowledged and
respected. Ignore them and mistreat them at your peril.

Far from being, “just more asteroids” amidst the seemingly endless number out there, these four are
special.

These were the first four asteroids discovered, the Three Musketeers (plus D’Artagnan) of feminine
sensibility. All four asteroids were discovered in the period between 1801 and 1807. Their
orbits are close: 3.6 years for Vesta , 4.3 for Juno and 4.6 for Ceres and Pallas. They represent the
journey between Mars and Jupiter, between our action and our greater wisdom. Whether we simply
act, or whether we act with mindful purpose, depends a great deal on our relationship with our four
major asteroids.

The elements create our known world. These four goddesses have a relationship to and influence over
the elements in the chart. There was some confusion in the beginning, but now most astrologers who
work with the asteroids agree that Ceres rules Earth, Vesta rules Fire, Pallas rules Air and Juno rules
Water. Each can bring abundance via these elements, and each can be ruthless in her
own elemental way. Ceres may suffocate us, Vesta can burn us, Pallas can distort our minds and Juno
can drown us. Each goddess has an influence over any planet in her element.

These asteroids, in their inimitable way, help us negotiate the known world. They are not unflinching
forces from beyond, like the outer planets. They have to do with real life, real issues in our lives and
our charts. According to NASA, they form a bridge between the rocky bodies of the inner solar system
and the icy bodies of the outer planets. Between the here and now and the demands of the divine, in
astrological terms. Ceres and Vesta are the two most massive residents of the asteroid belt. We have a
physical specimen from Vesta–the only other two specimens are from Mars and the Moon. Vesta is
rocky, where Ceres, which is now considered a dwarf planet, seems to have ice and minerals beneath
her mantle. Ice (water) and minerals are the cocktail that allows life to happen. Astronomically, we
know less about Juno and Pallas. Perhaps, when we do, a leap of synchronicity will occur and we will
understand more about the complex issue of equality within relationships, and be able to use better
the power of perception and patterning.

When the asteroids are working well in the chart, we learn that the universe is receptive. It is
responsive to our need for growth, and performs a productive dance with us if we are prepared to
leave old patterns and honor the truth of our inner lives. These goddesses are teaching us that action
without intention is meaningless. They want us to open our eyes and our hearts, they want us to be
aware of the greater patterns in life and find our place within them. They want us to be receptive and
act from that newly found wisdom. They want us to embrace life. They want us to be respectful of
it. They want us to leave, once and for all, the notion that spirit and matter are in conflict. They want
us to experience the profound divinity within our ordinary material existence. They are whispering to
us that we must no longer carry the notion of ‘mind over matter,’ but accept the understanding that
mind works with and through matter.

When the goddesses go wrong, we have chaos, rigidity, obsession, hunger, ruthlessness, and blindness
towards compassion, equality and fairness. They become the harbingers of destruction, Anti-Life. As
I said, ignore them at your peril.

Using the four major asteroids correctly will expand your knowledge of the chart ten-fold. Over the
next few weeks we will be exploring them on The Inner Wheel.

he four major asteroids, Ceres, Juno, Vesta, Pall–and the point, the Black Moon Lilith–are the focus of
the upcoming course, The Dark Goddess. Classes begin the week of May 15th.

Part One, “The Dark Goddess: Life, Death and the Embodiment of Spirit” (or “Sex, Death and the
Whole Damn Thing”) is scheduling now. There are limited spaces available, so if you are interested
please get in touch with me (alcuin9@gmail.com) asap. IF you have already inquired, please
reconfirm your interest.

It has become clear over the course of the past couple of decades that the four major asteroids, plus
BML (Black Moon Lilith) are providing critically important information in the natal chart, particularly
in the way that we relate to the so-called material world. Whether we are male or female, the
asteroids provide us with an overview of the journey to maturity, and the difficulties we may
encounter along the road to wisdom. They inform us about the use of power and describe the abuses
we may suffer regarding our sense of power in the world. Through them, we learn to embrace
feminine wisdom– the wisdom and power which comes from accepting and embracing life. These
goddesses reign over life and death, sex and creativity, joy and rage; if we respect them and focus on
what they are trying to teach us, they show us how to remake the world according to our own
vision. Whether we feel creatively empowered or abandoned in maturity depends on our
understanding of these asteroids and their role in the chart. Through them, we discover our own
magic, and the magic inherent in the world.

This course consists of five lessons. In each one we will discuss an aspect of the Dark Goddess and
relate it to the study of the relevant asteroid. In addition to exploring the meaning of the asteroids in
the chart, we will touch on the topics of the Matriarchy and the Patriarchy (and what may follow), the
fear and repression of the feminine and the integration of the masculine and feminine halves of the
psyche. We will see through chart illustrations how the asteroids play a crucial part in this
integration. While the asteroids are central to psychological wholeness, by transit and progression
they also reveal a ruthlessness in getting their agenda across which can leave us breathless. Far from
always being the benign and wise goddesses, the asteroids can cause us to face both the glory and the
wretchedness of life. Each one relates to one of the elements and behaves as an elemental force.

From the class material:

“The Dark Goddess embodies the energy of Chaos and Creativity, Death and Rebirth, Creation and
Destruction. She has been called random and ruthless, and at the same time represents the love and
divine connected that is at the core of every living spark in the physical world. She forces us to
embrace both the joy and the horror, the terrible beauty of life. Her power lies deep within this
contradiction, the energy of an atom waiting to be split. There is no change, especially no change in
conscious awareness, without her participation…” from The Dark Goddess, by Marion Woodman
and Elinor Dickson.

She is emerging again after centuries of repression. The recent re-emergence of the four major
asteroids and the growing knowledge surrounding the Black Moon Lilith are heralding a new social
paradigm. Can we live in a world where the masculine and feminine hold equal power? In
astrological terms, the four major asteroids represent what has long been neglected in this culture–the
power of the mature and evolved feminine. She is frightening and sublime, more powerful than
Zeus. As controller of life and death, even over the immortals, she was not only the creator of gods
(mother) but the slayer of gods. We are destined to rediscover her.

Lesson One:

An Overview on the Role of the Asteroids

Cutting through Materialistic Determinism: Pallas and the Creative Intellect

Vesta: Driven Toward the Sacred

Juno: Juno and the Struggle for Equilibrium.

Ceres: The Scythe and the The Torch, The Crossroads of Birth and Death

The Black Moon Lilith: Sex, Madness, Black Holes, Destruction, and Rage–Or the Seat of Creative
Power?