Welcome, Taurus, to the Art of Becoming, your 2018 annual reading.
Here are the contents:
- Your 2018 annual reading | A4 PDF | US Letter PDF
- Charts for your reading
- In the Shadow of the Moon — our 2017 midyear video for your sign
- Your latest birthday reading
- Book of Your Life for Taurus
- Links to previous annual editions
The Art of Becoming for Taurus
This the nucleus — after the child is born of woman, man is born of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.
Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
— Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, 1855
Of all the signs, yours is probably the most resistant to change, or maybe it’s just the idea of change. Then it works out that when you want to change the world, change your life, or create something of lasting value, team up with a Taurus or two.
The astrological explanation for the resistance, which can also work as persistence, is that Taurus is a fixed sign (the three others are Leo, Scorpio and Aquarius). This is an interesting word. Its definitions range from “reliable indication of the position of a ship, plane, etc.” to “fast, immovable; established, settled.” It relates to making colors fast or permanent; it’s used to describe both tampering and repairing. It also can relate to a dose of a drug or alcohol.
In astrology, it means stable. The fixed signs arrive at the peak of the seasons. The cross-quarter days occur when the Sun is in a fixed sign; in your case, Beltane is the old religion’s high Sabbath of spring, which is about fertility and creating abundance.
This year especially, we need information about how you process movement and development in your life. You’re about to become a catalyst, an agent of progress, and a kind of activist. This relates to Uranus entering your sign, which phases in beginning with the New Moon in your birth sign on May 15, and completes the process in March 2019. It’s good that this doesn’t happen all at once. Think of the initial period between May and early November (when Uranus returns briefly to Aries), as a test run, which will give you a sense of the energy that will dominate your life for the next seven years.
Uranus transits are exciting and a little nerve-wracking. There can be the sensation of a constant buzz running through your mind and your feelings, along with an ongoing dance with the unexpected.
Taurus is perhaps the most physical sign. Uranus is a planet associated with electricity, and the age of electricity. It’s a revolutionary influence; a series of Uranus transits famously toppled Richard Nixon. Uranus expresses itself through the lives of inventors and inventions, having had a role in the stories of the Wright brothers, Thomas Edison, Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. So it’s safe to speculate that the alchemy of Uranus and Taurus will create some interesting, exciting effects. If you allow it to, it will bring out the best in you. It seems that to do this effectively, with the least struggle and the most adventure, you need to identify as an agent of change rather than as one who resists changing. That said, your resistance may at times serve as a form of discernment. You will have some flexibility in the ways that you change, and apply your influence; and no doubt you will use that leeway. This, in turn, will teach you to be flexible, something best applied to both your mind and your body.
This also means that you’ll need to bring your body to the places where you feel called to show up. The head-trip that so vividly describes our current times is in some ways paralleled by your cerebral approach to existence. One of the core paradoxes of your sign is that despite the physicality you relate to so vividly, your mental world can take over, and you must consciously guide yourself back into your flesh and bones.
Before we look too closely at this upcoming influence, one which you may already be feeling the first vibrations of, let’s look briefly at three other slow-moving points that are in your sign, and with which Uranus will eventually form a conjunction.
Sedna, 1992 QB1, Lempo in Taurus
One of the most interesting objects in our solar system currently inhabits Taurus, which it’s doing on a long-term basis — that would be Sedna, transiting your sign from 1965 through 2024. (This is somewhat quicker than the approximately 120-year run of Eris through Aries.) Sedna was discovered in 2003 by the same team that brought us Eris. Properly known as (90377) Sedna, its orbit is 11,400 years.
I learned recently that Sedna was last in its current approximate position at the end of the last ice age. Stated astrologically, and geologically, we’re now in the Sedna return of the Younger Dryas. If you feel any sense of urgency, personal connection or personal responsibility associated with our current era of Earth-changes and global warming, you might want to know a little bit about this era.
The Younger Dryas was a time of abrupt climate change, just like ours. There’s a rich field of environmental study that’s likely to come with a close study of the phases and sign-changes of Sedna, which is named for an Inuit goddess. It’s likely that Uranus conjunct Sedna, between 2025 and 2027 (which takes place after both planets have moved onto Gemini) will be a time of intense focus and “sudden” awareness and admission of climate change.
The psychological aspects of the Sedna myth seem to involve the need to be flexible and psychically and emotionally available. It’s about being a warm person rather than one who is frozen up inside. It involves the perils of self-obsession, and confronting the idea that nobody is good enough for you.
Sedna was a young woman obsessed with her own beauty. Her most cherished possessions were her mirror and hairbrush. After refusing to marry any of her many suitors, her father grew tired of paying for her upkeep, and set her up with someone who turned out to be a demon. Early in that horrid marriage, she ended up thrown overboard into the ocean. Her appendages break off from the cold and turn to cetaceans (a diverse group of sea mammals including dolphins and whales, who sustained the Inuit as a food supply). Sedna herself ends up at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean looking like a Weeble, with no arms or legs, no longer able to brush her now-tangled hair. In essence, she is sacrificed so that her people may eat.
Needless to say, there’s a lot of sociology and psychology to this myth, particularly in our times of questioning the patriarchy. It’s a kind of creation story — a story about how the world as we know it was created; Sedna is a type of fertility goddess. The famous discovery team of Brown, Trujillo and Rabinowitz that discovered Sedna is known for naming planets based in part on calling attention to important issues — and they were suggesting that we look northward, at the devastation being caused to Arctic creatures by global warming.
Melanie Reinhart’s delineation of Sedna includes the suggestion to keep your heart open even if you’re going through hell. That’s the state of the world right now.
A more recent arrival in Taurus is 1992 QB1. Discovered on the Aries Point (the first degree of Aries) in 1992, QB1 was the first discovery of a planet orbiting the Sun beyond Pluto. Therefore, it represented the discovery of the Kuiper Belt, which previously existed only in theory.
Its discoverers refuse to give it a name, so QB1 does not have an ego identity: this is central to its meaning. Its proper designation is (15760) 1992 QB1. I tell the discovery story and give a complex delineation in this article, Your Cue to Be One. This is the only article of its kind about this planet. I’ve been working with it since 1998, shortly after its discovery, when one of my astrology teachers gave me an ephemeris.
QB1 transitioned into Taurus between 2013 and 2014, at the peak of the Uranus-Pluto square. It will remain in Taurus until 2035-2036, so we can count it as a long-term fixture, one that influences a major phase of your life.
Seen one way, the theme of QB1 is holistic sexuality, though it’s really about a lot more. But that’s a good start. We are in an age when sexuality has been reduced to a limited few menu items: sex in long-term relationships, cheating, hooking up, sexwork and pornography. There are many other possibilities, though most people have not heard about them — and they don’t fit an easy paradigm. And in both theory and practice, none of these can be considered holistic. Holistic means whole, connected to one’s whole being.
QB1 involves assisting others with important transitions, only doing so gently. It’s a kind of antithesis to the enforced, wrenching and sometimes destructive changes of Pluto. Those who embody QB1 serve to guide people gently through their changes and into new stages of their lives. In my science fiction, I’ve adapted the ideas of QB1 into something I call a thresholder — someone who assists others with birthing, sexual surrender and death. These are all related processes.
These properties may manifest for you in informal relationships, in intimate relationships, or in any situation where you’re serving as a healer. They may pertain specifically to you and nobody else, though it’s likely that what you’re personally experiencing in your growth and transformation will apply to other people around you. If you know you’re going through this kind of growth orientation process, it’s easier to work with it consciously; you will know what resources to get, and what help to seek.
You may be familiar with my work on Vesta, which I’ve documented to be about unusual patterns of relationships, long periods of celibacy, assisting others with their sexual transformations, and holding space for changes that others are going through. QB1 has a similar energy, though it is more directly involved than Vesta. All the properties of Vesta apply, though you can think of QB1 as blending in the qualities of Chiron. There may be hands-on work; Chiron’s tasks require more knowledge than those of Vesta; and the risks are somewhat more significant.
One last: Lempo. This is a slow-mover in Taurus from 2014 through 2026. It was named in late 2017, which is when it enters the awareness of astrology (and it’s had no press that I know of, except in Planet Waves.) The connection to the themes we’re discussing is that Lempo is named for a goddess of love and fertility. I don’t want to speculate too much, as I have not cast this into any natal charts. But it sure made a significant cameo in an aspect pattern back in November, at the height of the #MeToo movement.
The Wildcard of Progress
With Uranus in Taurus, you’re being handed a wildcard on any changes you want to make. Once you align your energy and your intentions, and loosen up a little, you can evolve into pretty much any form you want. Consider this a seven-year ‘progress fest’; though focus on the first three years of that, which is suitable for medium-range and some long-range goals.
Of course, humans resist progress, most resist making decisions, and they tend not to like when things are outside of their control (change, as opposed to making changes). Any resistance you feel may be a reaction or response to a world where reality forever changes, and where so much is unpredictable. Humans live, still to this day, at the mercy of the elements, even in advanced civilizations. We need some sense of stability to plan our lives and keep our sanity, even if that’s attained mostly in psychological ways.
Taurus for many reasons represents the tension between stasis and movement, and you can feel it. You live with this sensation on a daily basis: of a world that never stops moving, and you who would love things to stay the same for just a little while. It’s close to being an objective fact: we live with, and struggle with, too much change.
Taurus is a repository of tradition, of conventions, of time-honored ideas and forms, as well as feelings, motives and desires. It’s at the core of our need to maintain some structure and semblance of order in our lives. As such, it’s an absolutely essential concept in astrology and in life. Your sign represents the principle of the preserver — that which conserves the gains and virtues of the past, so they are available in lean times, so they can be built upon, and so that society has some continuity.
The other side of this equation is that when a Taurus person strives to change the world, they do so in irrevocable ways. Taurus is not just an inventor, but also an inventor of reality: of new forms, new ideas, new ways of living — and this factor of who you are emerges strongly in your charts and in your life over the next few years. Your own process of adaptation to the rapid changes society is undergoing will provide prototypes for how others may adapt to, appreciate and thrive in new environments to which they’re not accustomed.
It’s interesting that the two celestial bodies associated with your sign are among the fastest-moving ones: Venus and the Moon. You’re keenly aware of the movement of the seasons, the solar and lunar cycles, and the rituals of birth and death. You know that change happens, that it’s inevitable and that it’s necessary. And you know that tradition is just as necessary, just as vital to the human experience. Traditions that don’t change are essentially dead, so change itself is necessary to keeping tradition alive. One role you’re playing is making choices about what to carry forward and what to leave behind.
This involves specific personal elements as well as cultural ones that you know you will need. Consider yourself a keeper of specific elements of the past for the sake of beauty, and some for their cultural or historical value. This might range from family keepsakes to your scrapbooks to serving on the board of directors of a museum.
Then there are elements that you know must be left behind, like the long tradition of misogyny and sexual harassment; of keeping women as chattel property (in ways subtle and overt); greed; and many others, which will present the real challenges for individuals and for society.
Yet your role is likely to be about more than preservation; you will be someone who leads the way, in modest or grand form, into the future. If that sounds like an odd job for a Taurus, here’s what this is about.
Uranus In Taurus, 2018-2026
With all of that in mind, let’s consider the entry of the planet Uranus into your sign, which begins in May, and, after an introductory phase, lasts until 2026. To put it mildly, this is a time of personal reinvention, which will impact the entire society. It’s been quite a while since a major, well-known planet took up residence in Taurus for a while, so this is big news.
For a moment, let’s consider some historical context: Uranus was last in Taurus from late 1934 through mid-1942 — from the peak of the Great Depression and the New Deal, and into the beginnings of World War II, and the advent of the military-industrial complex: that is, the development of an entire economy based on the military and technology. During this time, most traditional ways of American life, and of European life, underwent profound changes.
It would not be accurate to count Uranus in Taurus as a factor that precipitated the Great Depression, but rather as an artifact of how the United States (at least) responded: by revaluing commodities, and also the value of human life. The New Deal included relief for the unemployed and poor, economic recovery, and reform of the financial system to prevent repeat disasters. As of today, the government is moving in the opposite direction, though most people seem to be admitting to wanting fairness, and recognize just how screwed we are by the system.
Uranus in Taurus was an important division between early American ways of life, the days of churning your own butter and baking your bread, and an automated and impersonal one. There were many vestiges of rural life through the 1940s and 1950s, but they were vanishing rapidly (and are now beginning to be retrieved). Over the next seven years, I believe we’ll see many more elements of traditional life begin to take up residence in our daily activities, even as others seem to fall off the cliff.
Uranus, the Self-Reinventor
The principle of reinvention works on the most personal levels; we will all be feeling it to some degree, because of the importance of Taurus in every single birth chart. However, this will be an especially hot transit for everyone with Taurus rising, Moon, Sun, Saturn or Chiron. The effect will be doubled if you’re around age 29-31 (if so, your Saturn return is also happening), age 40-43 (if so, your Uranus opposition is also happening), age 50-52 (if so, your Chiron return is also happening), age 58-60 (second Saturn return), or age 82-85 (Uranus return).
Uranus in one’s sign is a full-on experience of recreating oneself over and over again. It does not happen once; it becomes a life process, a habit, a journey. This is an expression of one of the most important factors that exists on our plane of reality: regeneration. If a living being does not change, grow and transform, rigor mortis rapidly sets in.
To the extent this may have happened already, you might feel some aches and pains as you stretch into new shapes and new realities. This is not superficial change; it’s a fundamental exploration and rearrangement of who you are.
One of the challenges of Uranus in one’s sign is in relationships. People are accustomed to you being solidly you; this is because your personal ethos is to be so dependable. However, under the influence of Uranus, you will find yourself more inclined to experiment than usual.
That means you’ll be disposed to revise your outlook more than usual, and in ways nobody is expecting. Make sure that your partners are aware of what you’re feeling and doing. You may not be able to discuss this in astrological terms (it could easily sound like you’re making an excuse for being flaky in advance), however, if partners or loved ones are open-minded, reading them this description could prove helpful.
Special Comment for Millennials
If you’re in that younger but increasingly-less-young set known as Millennials, you may face a similar situation. There’s a rigid quality in many people born in the 1980s and early 1990s that seems to be a direct reaction to the instability of the times in which you joined life on the planet, as revealed in your natal chart and many world horoscopes from your birth era.
I’ve hardly met people who are more insecure, and at the same time, more willing to throw away the virtues of their own youth (chutzpah being the main one). There’s a hesitancy and almost radical uncertainty in this generation that feeds on itself without even bothering to stop and make excuses. To my senses, the primary manifestation is being suspicious of everything and everyone, which seems intended as insurance against being duped. The actual result is insurance against taking risks sufficient to challenge what you previously thought was true, to make your own discoveries, and to make your own mistakes, from which you learn.
The apprehension about life that many of this generation exude is not about how daunting the world is; rather, it relates to a lack of self-knowledge based on circumstances rooted entirely in fear — and that fear belonged to your parents, who typically thought it adequate that they took all the risks so you don’t have to. (Going to Bonnaroo and eating mushrooms does not count as a risk.)
Uranus moving through your sign, combined with your Saturn return, will lure you into craving experiences you’ve never had; thankfully, a bit before you’re middle-aged. Most of the salient astrology of the Millennial generation is located in Capricorn, and Uranus in Taurus may provide an outlet (see the Capricorn reading for more information about how this relates to family attachments).
A Revolutionary Influence
Uranus, the first planet discovered by science, is a revolutionary influence, associated with the toppling of regimes, crises of transition, and people with lucrative careers deciding it’s time to move to the country, paint with watercolors and open a yoga studio.
It shows up in the charts of inventors and inventions; to give one famous example, the first time an airplane flew in the sky, the Sun was conjunct Uranus.
It’s also associated with the age of electricity, which you might think of as beginning with the invention of the lightning rod by Benjamin Franklin in 1749 — the first actual, practical invention associated with electrical power. Uranus was discovered about 32 years later, in 1781, just a few years ahead of the adoption of the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights, themselves revolutionary documents.
Under the influence of Uranus, things change fast and in unpredictable ways, for individuals and for society. Thankfully, this transit lasts a while, so for you, the individual changes will be moderated and spread over time. Yet with Uranus in your sign, you really feel the intense drive to grow, to change and to become on a daily basis. Spread out over seven years, it’s a little like a mountain range gradually rising up from the Earth, or a long series of earthquakes rearranging the landscape.
The easiest way to deal with this transit is to make good use of it. There will be some going-with-the-flow involved: for example, of technology. You’re probably not a fan of everything coming out with a new version every half-hour, or of the next great thing. You were just fine with the great thing of 2008, or maybe even 1998, or who knows, maybe even 1898.
However, adapting as society evolves will be helpful and ultimately save you stress. At least it will help not to be a committed Luddite, which takes considerable energy. You would benefit from seeing the economic and artistic possibilities of any new technology that evolves rather than actively resisting it.
On the most intimately personal level, Uranus in your sign will encourage you to bring out your weird side. You have one, though you’re often concerned about not seeming quite that way. There’s an impeccability I’ve noticed (knowing and loving many people with strong Taurus chart signatures), which mainly relates to how you appear. You’re every bit as odd and unusual as everyone you know, probably a bit more so, though you may want to be seen as normal.
This is an attachment you would be wise to shed. Worrying about appearances only causes stress. Yes, there are times when you must dress for the occasion; you will always do that. There are times when presentation matters. But that doesn’t need to extend into everything you do; it’s for special occasions, not all occasions.
The issue of whether and how to conform is entirely about appearances, a topic for which Taurus is famous, and also a great resource. Conformity (except in extreme, sad cases) is not usually about warping one’s inner reality — it’s about how one seems, or thinks they seem, to others. It’s about presentation.
Addressing this one factor, by letting yourself seem exactly as weird as you think you are, would save you many years and a tremendous amount of energy. You don’t need to seem legit, or like you belong, in order to be taken seriously. You merely need to be comfortable with yourself, which is applicable to any situation you might find yourself in (for example, digging into a nice, juicy prime rib in a room full of vegetarians — that’s one of the ultimate tests).
Let’s come back to Uranus in Taurus and its relationship to the body, after visiting a few other transits, particularly those of Chiron and then Saturn.
Soul Retrieval: Chiron in Aries
As I seem to mention every year in this reading, the location of Aries in the solar chart of Taurus (or the natal chart of Taurus rising) is special. As the sign before your own, it’s located in the 12th house (sometimes called 12th place), which is a veiled or hidden zone in the chart. The 12th is the house of things gone missing. Aries is one of the most valuable signs associated with self-awareness and sense of self — what you might think of as healthy ego.
Put the two together and you can live with the feeling that you’ve gone missing, though you know you must be there somewhere. The upside of this is you eventually figure out that what you think of as your self — your actual self — is something that’s within you. Said another way, you are naturally inclined to have an inner life, which is a vitally important ingredient of being human.
Over the past seven years, you’ve had Uranus moving through your inner-life 12th house of Aries, which may have felt like a hot mess. Combined with Uranus conjunct Eris (also in Aries) during 2016 and 2017, this represented a thundering call to awaken to your inner reality. Alice Bailey describes Taurus as “the blacksmith shop of the soul,” and this combination of planets certainly emphasizes the point.
However, Uranus and Eris in Aries have been (and continue to be) chaotic, leading to many kinds of fragmentation. As an inner experience, this transit has been restless — very, very restless. Yet that has kept you awake (often at night) and on your feet, paying attention, and relentlessly being drawn back inside yourself.
Now, as Uranus enters your sign and takes some of that pressure off inwardly, Chiron enters Aries and helps you put yourself back together. What we get with Chiron in Aries is a vision of soul retrieval. This is an interesting concept, and one that I’m not sure has the correct term; though the purpose is making contact with yourself in a particularly deep way, and keeping that contact alive.
Neither Uranus nor Eris are particularly useful this way. They are both shocking and stir the pot. Eris is pretty much perpetually in Aries (in our lifetimes, anyway) and it drives a kind of dramatic inner conflict that will benefit greatly from Chiron’s presence in your 12th house. Think of this as having a light in the dark, so you can see your way through the labyrinthine dimensions of the 12th.
I know that Aries is supposed to be a simplistic sign, though that’s not really true. It’s full of all kinds of complex motives. Ruled by Mars, there’s a little joke about how your inner being is somewhat opposite your Venus-ruled outer being. Chiron’s presence will help you make friends with your “inner opposite.”
This is a highly practical form of spirituality, and it can involve every aspect of your life. This is not the soul-searching of goodness and light; it’s more of a bold adventure, on the heels of many bold experiments. As you go through this process, you’ll be verifying or invalidating many things you’ve experienced, inwardly and outwardly. You will challenge many of your assumptions, particularly the ones you don’t know you’ve been carrying around.
Chiron in Aries in the 12th is not a transit for the faint of heart. This will call forth a degree of honesty with yourself, particularly about deeply imbued personal traits that you have concealed from others, but which may have crept out at different times. Most people have little interest in an inner life, or in knowing who they really are. Their personality suits them just fine. But you’re not the type to go at things halfway, or to take a shallow approach.
A transit that’s already underway will provide additional insight into what this is about — Saturn in Capricorn, your 9th solar house, which will soon form a conjunction to Pluto.
Saturn in Capricorn: Your Life is Your Religion
Just about everyone underestimates the impact, and the issues, and the damage, caused by religion. It’s usually seen as a wonderful tradition and a lovely thing to do on Christmas Eve and all that, until you start to seriously consider the $1.2 billion paid out in damages settlements in the United States alone, for sexual abuse by priests.
What exactly is going on with this? How does an institution that preaches sexual purity as the basis of its faith end up being the epicenter of abuse of children, reportedly going back more than 15 centuries? What is so interesting is how casually this is dismissed or ignored, despite the copious documentation leading to massive settlements on several continents.
Studying the matter honestly, there’s very little we can say that’s actually positive about the thing that’s the very core essence of patriarchy (an allegedly male God, and for the Catholics, an institution where women are denuded of all power and influence), which has suppressed women and sex and the life force for as long as anyone has kept records, and where children bear the brunt of hypocritical values. It’s almost unbearable to consider.
While this kind of abuse didn’t happen to everyone, it’s inherent in the institution, and percolates into everyone’s psyche in ways large and small — most commonly as toxic shame, guilt, self-doubt and self-hatred.
Religious matters are delineated in the 9th house, and you have Capricorn here, in your solar chart (or your natal chart, if you’re Taurus rising). Without considering any planets, just the fact of having Capricorn as your 9th place is significant in itself.
Capricorn on the 9th represents a structured, institutional, traditional approach to religious matters. There’s a kind of orthodoxy involved. No doubt this contributes to many other Taurean attributes with the same feeling — respect for the past, a sense of tradition, a conservative streak and an orientation on authority, among others. You want an organized concept of the universe, where someone is in charge, such as can be described by theology.
Of course, as Carl Jung is reputed to have said, religion is a substitute for religious experience. And actual religious experience makes religion seem quaint or useless (cathedrals are nice, but architecture does not actually invoke God).
Most of the influences of the 9th come through one’s parents. Martha Lang-Wescott describes, among other things, the 9th as containing the hidden psychological legacy of the mother, who is usually the parent to whom the task of helping form the child’s ego is delegated. Capricorn represents a restrained and repressive psychology transmitted to the child, who was you.
You could say it’s the house of what your parents taught you about God, or what they inflicted upon you. There is some irony in that while Capricorn is usually so orthodox, it’s also a bit devilish: in the tarot, The Devil card often comes with a little Capricorn logo on it. There are all kinds of implications to this, depending on your view of “the devil” — for example, he would seem to be an expression of Pan, a sexy creature who, among other things, taught humans how to masturbate. And that creature is supposed to be trapped inside the dusty corridors and old book covers of theological seminaries.
You’ve had a number of experiences the past 10 years that have helped you dismantle your preconceived, or pre-installed, ideas about God. During this time, Pluto has been moving through your 9th house. This has been an example of what you might call spiritual deconstructionism. This has given you an opportunity to dismantle influences of religion, religiosity and their various oppressive results. Yet this has been powered by the soulful influence of Pluto, which is perhaps the only force of nature that could effectively burn through the density of Capricorn.
(There was a parallel phase of your life from 2001 through 2005, when Chiron was in Capricorn. Study the events and results of that phase and you’ll have a clearer idea of what you’re experiencing now).
Your experiences of Pluto transiting through Capricorn have punched holes in the lies, and pulled from its hinges the door to the secret chambers of religion. Pluto in the 9th has compelled you to move many problematic psychological elements out of the way, and make deeper contact with yourself.
Just before the solstice, Saturn entered Capricorn (on Dec. 19). You can think of Saturn as completing Capricorn. This process has three stages: before the Saturn-Pluto conjunction of Jan. 12, 2020; the conjunction itself; and then the remainder of Saturn’s course through Capricorn, which wraps up through the rest of that year. You might think of everything that happens before the conjunction as preparation for it.
Return to the Body
Yet the real advent of Uranus in Taurus is, for you, not about technology but its opposite: returning to the awareness of your body. In essence, it represents the antithesis of all the ways the digital environment drives us out of our bodies.
There will be some people who elect to live in the Matrix when we have that available; though for many people, alienation from themselves has gone quite far enough, and is due for a reversal. Yet Uranus never drives anything backwards — it only drives things forward. So you will be relating to yourself and your life process in ways you never have before.
Sometimes the idea of being in contact with one’s body is reduced to diet and exercise. It’s about a lot more than that, however. You might say this is about awakening to your body as the vehicle of your senses, your feelings, and the purpose of this incarnation. We have some work to do here. We’ve spent most of the past 20 years, and nearly all of the past 10 years, being lured out of our bodies into the digital realm. In all respects, Uranus in Taurus will be an opportunity to keep it real: that is, to keep your life real.
Taurus 2017 Midyear Reading
Taurus 2017-18 Birthday Reading
Play part one:
Using an Apple mobile device? Play part 1 here.
|Play part two:|
Using an Apple mobile device? Play part 2 here.
Using an Apple mobile device? Play your Tarot reading here.