on aries & libra & also the nodes

part 1 of a new series

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I’m officially back from my wedding & honeymoon hiatus. It was, suffice it to say, so good.

YOU MAY KISS THE BRIDE // photo by natasha jahangir of married in new york

I want to say one final, enormous thank you (muchas gracias!) to everyone who donated to our honeymoon fund. As self-employed people, there is no paycheck for Meg and me if we aren’t working. Neither of us comes from money or previous high-paying careers, so suffice it to say that we live without a safety net. But y’all gave us one: enough for a 10-day trip to Spain where we genuinely did not have to worry about having the money for the occasional splurge-y dinner (although wine is so cheap there, my god, three euros a glass? For such better quality? I am broken). We marveled at Goya, Bosch, and Dürer, at the architecture of the former Al Andalus empire. We sat on dirty bar floors and in fancy dinner theaters to watch (and cry to) flamenco. I devoured more jámon ibérico than I’ve ever eaten in my life. Even though I forgot my migraine and anxiety medication, it was perfect.

I told Meg on one of our last nights that I couldn’t yet articulate what I was taking away from our honeymoon, but that I knew some deep and lasting creative seeds had been planted. Our honeymoon was the ultimate input, and I am, truly, so grateful.

This is all to say, we are resuming our regularly scheduled programming here at the newsletter, and I’ve got a bunch of fun things planned in the coming months — in addition to the week aheads and new & full moon letters, we’ve got some author interviews and publishing industry-centric essays in the pipeline. Before we get into it, a quick reminder that registration for The Grove: 6 Months of Creative Devotion closes in a week (and officially starts January 29th!), and that the schedule for that is also now live on the website.

And now: let’s kick it off with an answer (of sorts) to a wonderful question from the astrology for writers Discord about the six zodiac polarities, or pairs of signs.

fire & air

Q: I’ve been really interested lately in what we can learn from polarities between signs and how working with the energy of a sign’s opposite can help us move toward healing. I’m thinking especially in terms of nodal placements but also generally. Could you talk through a little about what opposing signs can learn from each other? I have a good handle on Virgo-Pisces, Cap-Cancer, and Aries-Libra (tho would love to hear your thoughts), but Aqua-Leo, Scorpio-Taurus and esp esp Sag-Gemini are a little opaque to me still.

A: To explore the polarities of the six zodiacal pairs is to really dig into the whole of human experience.

First, though, we must dispense with the part of this question that asks about the nodes, as that has no bearing on my thoughts here. Within the Hellenistic-modern blend of astrology that I practice, I do not find nodal placement alone to be particularly significant. But I only practice one kind of astrology. Your attitude about the nodes will be very different if you are looking at them within Jyotish, or Vedic (Indian) astrology, where there is a much more formalized framework of interpretation. In Jyotish, Rahu (the North Node) is categorized as a planet, and so is accorded much more power and influence than in other astrologies.

If you’ve ever heard the nodes talked about as “karma” or “destiny points,” or as indicative of “past lives” and “what you’re moving toward,” then you implicitly have heard of Jyotish. Practically every idea about the nodes in modern western astrology can be directly traced back to India… even if the western astrologers themselves don’t acknowledge it. And this is a persistent problem in the field, especially among modern and evolutionary astrologers who have appropriated ideas outside of their vital religious and cultural context. I’m sorry, but the argument that the nodes are “karma” within a western system of interpretation simply does not make sense. But when you understand that Jyotish astrology is, in many ways, inextricable from Hinduism, in which karma and reincarnation play a central role, then we’re cooking with gas.

Learning Jyotish has been a hobby of mine for the past few years, because I think it is valuable to study different kinds of astrology. But Jyotish is not my astrological home. I am trained in and practice decidedly western, Hellenistic techniques. And so within my professional practice, I really only focus on the nodes in two situations. First, eclipse cycles — obviously. Second, in 1:1 client sessions when clients have a personal planet or point closely conjunct or square the nodes. But nodal placement alone does not even rank in my top 20 of “most important things in a client’s chart.”

So. Having dispensed with the nodes, let’s move on. There are 12 zodiac signs. Of these, there are 6 pairs of opposing signs, called “opposing” because they are 180* away from each other. The pairs always come in complementary elements (air and fire; earth and water), and they are always of the same modality (cardinal, fixed, mutable).

We each, all of us, have every sign in our birth chart. Personally, I find that the signs folks are most uncomfortable with, or critical of, are usually reflective of the part of their chart they are most uncomfortable with and critical of. Understanding the axis on which these signs reside deepens our understanding of not only the signs, but also of how the chart works together as a whole.

I had initially intended to write about every axis for this email, but the words exploded, as they tend to do, and I am instead going to make this a series, where we’ll explore each of the pairs individually over the next few weeks.

First up:

Aries & Libra: The Axis of Positionality

Fire & air; cardinal (signs that initiate seasons)

First, a definition. Positionality: the social and political context that shapes one’s reality or worldview.

Initiated by the spring equinox, Aries fire is often thought of as independent. Very new year, new you. This is the Olympic torch, burning brightly and charting a new path. This is the spark of a new idea. The gunshot that starts the race.

More specifically, this is the assertion of self. I am born, the world is new and ready to be discovered. Aries is the toddler who learns how to say “no!” as much as it is the woman leaving her 20-year marriage, burning her life down to start over. This is, I don’t like where I’ve been. Let’s try something else. At its very core, Aries rejects the sunk cost fallacy. There is no time like the present to change.

But the self, as articulated by an individual, is not shaped out of nothing. We humans are not formed in a vacuum. Our personhood is inherently formed by our positionality — by socioeconomic class, sex, gender, race or ethnicity, religion, sexuality, physical and mental health and limitations.

Aries is those instincts, beliefs, and certainties that seem inborn. Libra is the recognition that there is a world beyond us, that context is everything. If Aries is the gut instinct of the ram, then Libra is the empathetic thoughtfulness of the scales. Libra remembers: I am here — but others are, too. Aries, ruled by conflict-happy Mars, is comfortable cleaving a new path: separating, defending. But Libra, ruled by artist-lover Venus, remembers that we are, none of us, alone: that we humans are social beings, and that joining alongside others — even others who are very different from ourselves — can embolden and enrich our own efforts.

Libra says “I am, and so are you.” The air sign pulls us out of primal instinct and into awareness, where we can appreciate the beauty of both sameness and difference, where we understand that every single person in the room has the same interiority — the same hopes and fears, anxieties and desires — as we ourselves. This is the wallflower taking a risk to join the party, finding a like-hearted friend at new student orientation. This is the pleasure of an easy conversation, an unexpected connection. It is the joy of seeing yourself and your experiences reflected in art, and of being brought to tears by art reflecting an experience you never knew existed. This is the variety of love in human relationship: eros, storge, philia, agape. Libra rejects the idea that we are, any of us, alone.

Too often, this axis is reduced to “the self and the other.” Unfortunate, to assume that Aries placements are inherently selfish, or that Libra placements are inherently relationship-oriented, unable to be alone. Mars wants to individuate, and Venus wants to bring us together. This axis is one of understanding and appreciating context. Aries abandons itself when it fails to respect others’ self-sovereignty; Libra, when it capitulates to group think and fails to fight for her own individuality.

This is, ultimately, the axis and tension of positionality — of how we negotiate ourselves in space with others, how we understand ourselves both with and against others, how we understand the Self that is the core of every human being.

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I’m excited to write up and send out the rest of the axes over the next few weeks! And if you want to ask questions like this (that sometimes get turned into an impromptu series!), you can sign up for a paid subscription, which includes a link to the Astrology for Writers Discord.

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