18-Nov-2017, 12:55 UT/GMT
|Explanations of the symbols|
|Chart of the moment|
Venus and Uranus, symbols of love and freedom, are an odd planetary pair. People born with these two in conjunction have to find ways to accommodate very different and often conflicting needs, and many have astonishing stories to tell about their search for love and relationship. Often Uranus inhibits Venus — it drives one toward safe situations that aren't overly emotional. Some people with this conjunction will avoid intimacy by choosing partners who are basically unavailable for reasons like: (1) they are already married, (2) they are married to their work, or (3) they are out of touch with their emotions. This is a projection phenomenon and often produces unconventional arrangements in relationships. Other people will own the aspect and remain single for their entire lives, or stay with one very safe partner with whom they have a distant but friendly relationship. Many will come to value their friendships more than their loves, or they will fall in love with a friend. Freedom in relationships, an oxymoron, is the deeper theme with this conjunction. In the quest for freedom in relating, some people with Venus conjunct Uranus will find themselves pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable, especially if their Venus is a morning star (rising before the Sun).
I have that conjunction in my birth chart, in Gemini, and I've struggled with it in my own way. Not so long ago, Pluto transited opposite my Venus. My social experiences, both in my love life and in regard to friends and groups, were amplified and demanded more attention. Some big changes occurred, two friends died, and a relationship with a strong Plutonian person (surprise, surprise!) brought me to a place where I knew I had to do something completely different. With oppositions, you just don't wait for things to happen; you make choices, or you get ripped apart. After this episode, I could see that Pluto was moving up to the opposition of my Uranus, three degrees past Venus. And my progressed Sun was about to begin the three-year square of those planets, from Virgo. These two and a few other progressions and solar arc directions were likely to light up my chart up like a Christmas tree, so I decided to be proactive and try something I'd never done before, something that fits the combination of Uranus (technology) and Venus (relationships). I tried computer dating.
Checking my chart carefully, I entered the internet dating pool just as my progressed Sun separated from the square to natal Venus. I figured that, in a few months, when Uranus, the ruler of my 7th house, closed the sextile to my natal Venus by solar arc, I might be in a decent position to close a deal — or at least have met someone I could take to. Maybe I'd win a "magic pony", though in the context of the larger aspects, I knew this was a crap shoot. But why not try? So, I picked a day when the transiting Sun was trine my Moon and set up an account with Match.com.
Internet dating Web sites are basically bulletin boards where people post their picture and some text about themselves called a "personal profile." You pay money for the time that your info will be posted, and then your little page gets opened to the world of Internet dating junkies — which turns out to be a sizable community of characters, some of whom are addicted to the process of shopping for mates. I went along with what everyone else was doing: basically writing a paragraph about what I like and don't like in relationships, coming up with a nickname, and posting a picture. Here's part of the profile I submitted:
I'm serious, focused, sensitive, honest, and on time — and always find humor to be therapeutic. I'm a hiker, like to ski (x-country and downhill), camp, travel, and am generally dedicated to learning as much as I can about the things that I do. Music is important — I listen to and play it. Science is a favorite topic, but I'm also interested in self-knowledge, consciousness-raising, and human typology. I'm sensitive to the natural environment and feel strongly about protecting it. I can fix things — repairs are interesting to me. I keep in shape, am a not-strictly vegetarian, and meditate daily.
The setup page also asks you for your birthday, and with this data it computes your age — and your Sun sign! But you have a choice: You can present your sign as part of your profile, or you can state either "I don't show my sign" or "I don't believe in astrology." Hmmmmm. Not being a Scorpio (I'm a Cancer), of course I showed my sign. Well, just a few hours after my profile was posted, the responses started coming in. Women from neighboring states and even from other countries sent "smiles." Considering the driving time or airfare for a date with one of these ladies, I immediately responded with a "no thanks." Wow, this was getting exciting!
Within a day or two, I had a "hit" from a woman who lived near me. She was well-educated, said she liked hiking, was a teacher and an Aries. I responded with a friendly e-mail, and she replied: "I'm Amy, let's cut to the chase and meet and get it over with." (All the names used herein are pseudonyms.) I had no problem with this and agreed to meet at a local coffee shop at 7:00 p.m. As I walked to the shop, I recognized her from her photo; we greeted each other, went inside, and sat down. We talked for a while, and I learned that she was a social scientist deeply involved in issues pertaining to political correctness — which, in this context, means being multicultural, democratic, anti-sexist, and basically 100% on the nurture side of the nature-versus-nurture debate. I listened carefully for a long time, interjecting ideas here and there, and then talked a lot, displaying my knowledge of various academic disciplines but not revealing my true identity as an astrologer. I could tell that her thinking was so embedded in what I call the standard social sciences model — the view that human life is more shaped by the environment than determined in other ways (like genes or astrology) — that any astrological morsel coming out of my mouth would wind up floating over the booth and landing in the trash bin. It was then that it fully dawned on me that most of the women I would meet on the Internet would probably either know nothing about astrology or hate it for some irrational reason. So, I didn't ask her for her birth data. What a dilemma! Astrology is my life, and I could only hide it for a very short time. After our meeting, I thanked her and said I would be glad to meet with her again — but we never did. I think she sensed that I was holding something back or that I was too cryptic. And I figured I'd get in a metaphysical battle with her in no time. Whatever. Internet dating can be real and expedient. On to the next one.
I then took a more pro-active stance and searched the postings using a filter to get a good match. In no time at all, I found Rosie, a Taurus and thus probably more compatible with me. She seemed very nice from her picture and write-up, liked hiking, and I got the feeling she might be open to astrology, so I contacted her. After a few days of back-and-forth e-mail, I revealed my interest in astrology; she gave me her birth data, and I ran off a few charts. The possibility of a decent relationship was there: Her Ascendant was on my Venus, and her Moon was on my Ascendant. I was getting interested. Next, we got on the phone — an awkward transition — and, right after that, arranged to meet halfway between our towns for a hike. In person, she looked a bit older than her posted photo, but she was a strong hiker and listened to me blab away as we climbed. I tried to get her to talk, but by the time we reached the top, I realized that Rosie was maybe a bit too simple for me though a very nice person, for sure. And then she revealed that she had given me a false birth date — she was three years older than she had stated! Back at the office, I recomputed her chart and came up with a less-than-promising synastry. After another week of finding nobody of interest, and turning down "smiles" from women who clearly would have no idea what to do with me, I felt like giving up. Maybe Match was not the right dating site for me — I was not getting the kind of intellectual "Uranian-ness" I seek in a relationship. And then I found Greensingles.com.
Greensingles is a great dating service for somebody like me. Although it is much smaller than Match, the people on it are either vegetarians, outdoorsy, well-educated, left-leaning, environmentally conscious, spiritual, or even all of the above. This was clearly the site for me! I set up an account and began to shop.
The very next day, I got a hit — from Annie, another Aries. (Getting hits from Aries turned out to be a fact of Internet dating; the process thrives on initiative, and this sign has it in spades.) Annie lived about 90 miles away in a neighboring state and said she was drawn to my profile because I had listed archaeology as one of my interests and hiking as another. I wrote back and said I thought we lived too far apart, but she would have none of that and asked if she could drive up to my place on Sunday and visit for a few hours. (Is Aries a pushy sign?) Well … okay, I said, and on Sunday, she showed up in the rain, driving a Prius capped with a kayak. She looked different from her photo, which had been taken at a distance of at least ten feet. Made me think about truth in advertising. Anyway, we talked about science and nature and then went to the college natural history museum and admired the bones and exhibits — and then I bought lunch. So far, it felt … okay. I decided to bring up astrology, but not immediately reveal that it was my life, and see what kind of a reaction I got. Whoa, no connection there! She thought that astrology was complete BS and said that people believe in it because they don't understand science. Well, this came after I had talked nothing but science for three hours and had made sure she understood that I actually teach science at the university. My comeback to her statement was simple: I told her that she didn't know what she was talking about, and before making a blanket statement like that, she should get educated. Her response? She didn't blink and said, "Fine, believe what you want, but let's go hiking next week."
Thus, Annie became an "activity partner," as they call it in the Internet dating world. Every couple of weeks, we'd pick a place halfway between us and meet for a hike, and in one case we had a day of sea-kayaking. It was actually a lot of fun, and the conversations were interesting, though limited to left-wing politics, science, and nature. I tried on numerous occasions to pry her birthday from her, but she always responded: "If astrology works, you should be able to figure it out." I came back with: "If medicine works, cancer should be cured by now" and "I will be able to rectify your chart, but it may take a year or more and I may get tired of it" and "I bet you've got your Moon or Ascendant in Scorpio, you secretive archaeologist." Our activity partnership was a high-mileage, mountain-rambling standoff.
The same day I got the note from Annie, I also received two others. One was from a psychotherapist and another from a New Age teacher. I met Karla, the psychotherapist, at a coffee shop near her home, which was a 40-minute drive for me. She was also an Aries. Over conversation, I found her insights into human relationships quite penetrating and her personal philosophy liberal. We had many things in common and had no difficulty talking with each other. So, I decided right then and there to tell her that I did astrology for a living and see how she'd react. She was actually interested, though she knew very little about it. I offered to read her chart for free over the phone the next day, before I could know too much about her, as an example of what it is that I do. So, the next evening I talked to her about her chart for an hour, made a tape, and sent it to her. A few days later, we talked on the phone again; she told me she'd had no idea how much information I could get from her birth data, and if she had realized this, she probably wouldn't have given out her birth time right away. On the surface, this sounded great. Here was a woman who was fine with what I do and who had a profession that was similar in some ways. I found myself attracted to her, and she liked hiking and did some kayaking as well. But I had already analyzed her chart in comparison to mine.
Karla had a Sagittarius Ascendant that was sextile my Moon (not so bad) and sextile my Mars from the other side. Somebody's Ascendant at the midpoint of Mars and the Moon can be an indication of chemistry, which I suppose was there. But her natal Sun was opposite my Mars, and her natal Uranus was square it. Further, her natal Moon was closely square my natal Saturn, a connection that I know often degenerates into duty and obligation — and emotional distance. Further, the composite chart had the Sun square Saturn, the Moon square Uranus, and Neptune conjunct the Ascendant. It seemed to me that the difficult outweighed the good by a lot. After two more meetings, which went well, I decided to end the relationship before we got in too deep. We had talked, eaten together, and taken a very enjoyable hike, but we had not yet expressed affection. I told her why I needed to break it off. She was disappointed and so was I, and the moment was definitely awkward. I put astrology ahead of my immediate feelings — I could have easily become more deeply involved without this knowledge. But how could I not use my years and years of experience in reading astrological maps? I could tell exactly what I was getting into, so I bailed right out.
My experience with the New Age teacher, who had the Moon in Aries, was pleasant, but she was way too Neptunian and liked to be quiet for long periods. I could tell that she couldn't handle my love for rock music and constant intellectual activity, so after two short hikes, we never called each other back. She did know some astrology, and before this episode ended, I learned that her Ascendant was square mine — an indication of fundamental differences in personality. About the same time, I contacted a Pisces named Trish, who had listed astrology as an interest in her profile. I asked for her birth data, which she readily supplied, and told her I'd report back about what I found regarding our two charts. Again, the mix was not good at all, and when I told her I didn't think we'd be much of a pair, she expressed disappointment, even discouragement. Poor Trish had suffered nothing but frustration in her Internet dating experiences. I began to see that this Internet dating thing has its downside, and I was sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
At this point, I rewrote my profile, making it more like rap poetry. This set it apart from the rest of the profiles, which were all prose like my original one. And I snuck in some astrology.
I'm serious, irreverent, patient, sensitive, stoic,
honest, and always on time.
I'm a walker, talker, hiker, camper, traveler, and ski XC and alpine.
I'm a rock 'n' roller, global historian, whole Earth scientist, and meditator.
And when I see unfairness and misrepresentation, I put on the hat of an agitator.
I'm a self-knowledge junkie and eat vegetarian. I'm Aquarius Moon and solar Cancerian.
Life is much better with a partner than single, so I'm here on display on this cybernet shingle.
(further descriptive text available on request)
Greensingles automatically records the date and time (to the second) that each e-mail is sent and received. I began to look at these moments from the standpoint of electional astrology and reviewed what had already happened. For example, the exact moment that Annie (my archaeologist "activity partner") sent out her e-mail to me, the Moon's North Node was conjunct the MC/IC axis, a strong indicator of connection. Scorpio was on the Ascendant, which certainly symbolized the secrecy of her birth data, among other things. Further, there was a Moon–Saturn conjunction in the chart, both opposing Neptune, an indication of deep differences in vision. The e-mail charts I checked made sense in terms of what had unfolded so far, and from here on, I studied these contact times and also elected times to initiate contacts or respond to them. The biggest problem here was finding good times to send e-mail without interrupting my normal working day. At this same time, I also began to analyze in more detail the first physical meeting times, all of which I had already recorded and attempted to modulate as they were set up. This astro-experimental approach created a great deal of awkwardness, and I tried hard not to go overboard with it, at least a first, but I really wanted to learn more about how first contacts, by e-mail or in person, could provide information about outcomes.
Another astrological angle was to take a broad look at when prospective candidates were born. Since the year and Sun sign were given on most profiles, one could get a general sense of where the planets were in a four-week period. Mars in the sign of my Venus would indicate attraction; likewise, Venus in the sign of my Mars. But I was looking for a relationship of substance, not just chemistry, so I began to take into account things like Venus in the sign of my Sun or Moon. It turns out that Aquarians born in 1952 will all have a stationary Venus very near the degree of my Moon — and there was a woman on Greensingles who met that qualification. So, I shot off an e-mail (sent with the Moon at 0° Aquarius rather than 29°59' Capricorn, the best I could do at that moment) and waited. And waited. About a week later, she got back to me, expressed only mild interest in my profile, but agreed to meet the next week. Scheduling this meeting was not easy, and we finally settled on a time that was not astrologically propitious.
The meeting with Karen didn't begin well. I noticed that, right at the time of the meeting, Mercury would turn retrograde, so I gave myself an extra 15 minutes to drive the five miles to the cafe where we were to meet. But once I got on the main road, I ran into a traffic jam of epic proportions. No movement and no escape. I had no cell phone. Time was running out, and I had moved only a mile in half an hour. I pulled into a gas station and begged a guy for a cell phone, called Karen's cell phone, but got no response. So, back to the slowly moving traffic I went and arrived at the cafe 45 minutes late. And this after advertising that I'm always on time! She was still there, not too upset, so we had some tea and entered into conversation. I learned that she lived in co-housing, worked for an alternative energy company, and was deeply into meditation. I talked about my interest in music; the rock 'n' roll part didn't go over well, but I told her I also liked folk. Then, I carefully broached the touchy subject and asked what she thought about astrology. She told me she had once dated an astrologer, and he drove her crazy. Well, I dropped that topic and went on to the next thing. An hour later, we parted and agreed to meet again, but it wasn't to be. Karen wrote to me a few days later and said she was now seeing someone. I was disappointed.
After the encounter with Karen, I titled my profile "Uranian Research Artist," which was about as honest as I could be, and rewrote it, this time in a way that was even more outside the norm. Here's part of it:
He certainly has a few good traits — he is very responsible, a good father, can fix things, and is a decent musician. There's a lot going on in his head and he's very creative; however, I think he sees the world, and even his social life, as a kind of research project. He's never bored. (Joan Jetta, ex-wife)
He is only slightly more extroverted than introverted and a bit more of a thinker than feeler. Intuitive and perceiving are the other functions that are only slightly more dominant. In general, he falls more in the middle than strongly in one category, but you could say he's an ENTP. (Carl G. Jung, psychologist)
He is a nice man, but when he talks I don't know what he is saying. That's why I dumped him — and also because he don't make a million dollars. (Natasha, ex-girlfriend and fashion model)
I saw him picking up litter with a homeless guy, then having a conversation with the mayor. I don't think he recognizes the same pecking orders that other people do. I'm not sure that makes him a socialist. (Dee Dee Dinovich, social worker)
He Koko love — hugs — prrrrr — apple chase — hurry!! (Koko the Gorilla)
He likes being outdoors, especially hiking, skiing, and camping. And he was always more or less content with whatever was happening, even if nothing was happening, except when I would start a fight — you had to hit him over the head to get him mad. (Marta Angier, ex-girlfriend)
This guy has his Sun in Cancer in the 12th — you gotta figure he's hard to read because he's operating at that interface between the individual and the collective and trying to figure out what's really going on down here — Earth, that is. His Saturn in Leo conjunct the Ascendant is his scientific sense and general solidity — the guy doesn't fall often, maybe because he's got a bad back and can't afford to. His Aquarius Moon symbolizes his fascination with quirky females who like their freedom but aren't sure if they really do — I think his mother would have been a hippie flower child if she had been born later, but she wasn't. (Antipodes Astrologicon, hiking buddy)
And then I met a few more candidates. One was Wendy, a woman who was looking for a "60's kind of guy." I contacted her when Jupiter was exactly on the IC, but since Uranus and Jupiter were in square, this put Uranus on the cusp of the 7th house. Wendy was very open to astrology and gave me her birth data in the first e-mail. What got my attention right away was that we had very similar charts. She was a year older, but had the same Sun, Moon, and rising signs as me — and a Venus–Uranus conjunction at nearly the same degree of Gemini. Before we met, I read the charts for her and concluded that we'd get along fine, since we were very compatible, but because Saturn was exactly conjunct the Ascendant, there would be some kind of physical barrier between us. Our meeting went well and conversation flowed, but I didn't feel any chemistry. However, it was fascinating to meet someone with similar general qualities. We met a few more times, but it became apparent to me, at least, that casual friendship was about as far as it could go.
Another contact at this time was from a woman named Lynne, an environmentalist who lived a great distance in the White Mountains. She sent her e-mail to me right when Saturn was conjunct Venus and setting. Now, I was trying to keep this dating thing within reason and was limiting my searches to a 25-mile radius. But Lynne was 200 miles away. I told her right off I was an astrologer, and she said, "Great, what do the charts say?" "Well, the compatibility is mostly in the right direction," I told her, "but this distance thing is impractical." She said she just wanted someone with whom to share e-mail communications, and that would be enough. So, we e-mailed each other once or twice a week, just friendly conversation.
I was now approaching the time when my solar arc Uranus would sextile my natal Venus. And in just a week, transiting Saturn would conjoin my Ascendant — another indication that things were now moving toward some sort of focal point. At this time, I was hiking every other week with Annie the archaeologist, who still wouldn't reveal anything about her sign and was displaying some bizarre sexual signals, which I won't go into. Wendy (whose chart was so similar to mine) and I would talk on the phone occasionally, and we once took a hike in the state forest near her home. And then, as the aspects tightened up, I met two women within a few days of each other.
First, I was contacted by Jean from Vermont. The e-mail chart had Sagittarius rising, with the degree of my Venus on the Descendant, and Venus was trine Pluto in the chart's 1st house. I had seen her profile before and thought she might be a hoot — and she was an Aquarius. In her photo, she was standing between two horses, sporting a mane of her own hair and a wacky pair of glasses. But I hadn't written her previously because she lived 60 miles away. Jean's e-mail was hilarious; we hit it off and agreed to meet — but that in itself took a few days of complex scheduling. Jean told me she knew nothing about astrology, but she willingly handed over her birth data and said she was interested in what I might find in the charts. I quickly found that she has Gemini rising and the Moon there, too, both closely tied to my natal chart.
Then, a woman named Roberta, who posted no picture but lived in my own town, sent an e-mail. This first e-mail contact chart had Jupiter right on the Ascendant, but Pluto was exactly square the Midheaven. Roberta was very direct — and she was an Aries. We met the next day in town, and during lunch I brought up astrology. No problem here: Her ex-husband was an astrologer, and she knew a lot about it, though Buddhism and left-leaning politics were her main interests.
And then Saturn, the guard at the fork in the road, transited my Ascendant. While Saturn was within 5 minutes of arc from my natal Ascendant, Annie and I had a hike that didn't go well, I met Jean, and Roberta asked me to do a reading of our composite chart. Starting with Roberta, I pointed out to her that, while we would have some chemistry and some compatibility, the composite chart had the Sun and Venus in Gemini, both square Saturn, and I thought that could be a problem in regard to commitment. Then and there, she told me that she was currently seeing someone else she met online and even sleeping with him, but she was uncommitted and okay with seeing me as well. Even though she and I had no physical contact, this didn't feel right.
The hike with Annie turned out to be a giant debate on whether astrology was true or false. I told her she lacked the background to even make that kind of an evaluation, but that didn't stop her from believing that astrology is complete nonsense. You can't argue with ignorance.
The meeting with Jean turned out to be the tipping point. We met in a town roughly halfway between us at a time when the Moon was conjunct Saturn exactly on my Ascendant and sextile her Ascendant. She was a bit late, but I knew her right away when I saw a woman bounce out of a Honda CR-V, hair flying all over the place, with a lame dog barking like crazy and running around in circles. The dog reinstalled in the car, we sat down in a very loud restaurant and had a light dinner. I found her to be very interesting, intelligent, constantly in motion, but easy to be with — she was just like what I might have expected from the Gemini points in her chart, which were right on my Venus–Uranus conjunction. I read the charts for her and, since the composite had a Sun–Venus conjunction trine Saturn, concluded that the potential for a good, long-lasting relationship was high. Maybe it wouldn't be the most high-powered, sexually passionate relationship, but we might actually become very close friends and partners. She seemed as interested as I was. Without going into details, both of us soon took our shingles down from the Greensingles Web page, stopped talking to others we had met, and started talking on the phone and seeing each other on the weekends.
Over the next few months, we came to know each other better and began to understand the personality of our relationship. It was a bit awkward at first and felt very much like I imagine an arranged marriage would feel. We hadn't been drawn to each other by physical contact; we had met with words on e-mails passing through cyberspace. As we became better friends, we found that we shared a similar sense of humor and a common worldview, something I think was more likely by having listed ourselves on Greensingles. We learned that our relationship, with the composite Sun–Venus conjunction in Taurus, is actually quite comfortable. It soon became apparent that, when the two of us were in the same space, we would quickly settle into a routine that consisted of sitting comfortably with periodic refills of hot beverages. This comfort-zone behavior became addictive, and it got so that we'd fall right into it within a few minutes of seeing each other. But we did other things together as well, with some adjustments for our individualities. We spent time with her horses on the trails near her home. Jean rides, but I like walking and always lead another horse that is probably glad to not bear any weight. We took a dance class in a town halfway between us on Monday evenings, with dinner at a restaurant afterward, and we attended some concerts. But more than anything, we talked. Given all that Gemini in both of us, and the composite chart having Mercury square the Ascendant, the flow of words has been incessant. A Scorpio would be appalled.
Six months went by and we were still a couple, though an emotionally cool one. For the most part, we got along quite well and managed to overcome several difficulties, individually and together, that came up. Jean got a white pony named Peter Pan, and I would take him out for walks on the trails nearby. For the most part, things seemed OK and, true to my Jupiter in Sagittarius, I was generally optimistic. So I wrote this article for TMA.
But then Uranian lightning struck. One night Jean was having some anxiety about our relationship and I impulsively decided to make the long drive to be there in person. The winter weather was really bad and the roads icy. I nearly crashed my car on the way and couldn't make it up her long, steep driveway so Jean had to drive down to pick me up in her 4-wheel drive car. I stayed overnight and then the next morning, on a road that was perfect glaze ice, she drove me back to within 20 feet of my car. With a gallon of pure spring water in each hand I stepped out of the car and in a second I was down and temporarily out. When I came to, I was just a head on the ice – the rest of my body was paralyzed.
That was a very bad event. Ambulances, hospitals, x-rays, and doctors followed. Over the next day I slowly regained feeling in my body and was able to stand up after about three days. At the time of the accident Mars was right on the midpoint of my Venus-Uranus conjunction, Uranus was exactly 165 degrees from my Mars, and Chiron was exactly square my Midheaven. My life had literally changed in an instant. The next two years saw more hospital visits, two surgeries, rounds of physical therapy and an adjustment to life as a damaged person who had problems walking and couldn't lift much. My relationship with Jean, who was very helpful after the accident, unraveled. Being in constant neurological pain I lost my wit and desire to work on the relationship. My old life had ended. Since then – well that's a different story. Maybe someday I'll write about it.
Cloud: Public Domain CC0, by stux via pixabay.com
Internet dating: Public Domain CC0, by kpgolfpro via pixabay.com
Boots: Public Domain CC0, by snicky2290 via pixabay.com
Hiker: Public Domain CC0, by Unsplash via pixabay.com
Pisces: Public Domain CC0, by McLac2000 via pixabay.com
Traffic: Public Domain CC0, by 0532-2008 via pixabay.com
Hands: Public Domain CC0, by InspiredImages via pixabay.com
Roses: Public Domain CC0, by lailajuliana via pixabay.com
First published in: The Mountain Astrologer, Aug/Sep 2008
Bruce Scofield, Ph.D., C.A., NCGR, is a practicing astrologer and lecturer and has been involved with NCGR's education and certification program for 30 years. He has been an instructor at Kepler College and also taught at the University of Massachusetts. Bruce is the author of The Circuitry of the Self: Astrology and the Developmental Model. He has also written four books on Mesoamerican astrology, including How to Practice Mayan Astrology with Barry C. Orr. Visit his Web site, www.onereed.com, for more information about Mesoamerican astrology. Contact Bruce at (413) 253-9450, or through his Web site.
© 2008/2015 Bruce Scofield - published by The Mountain Astrologer
18-Nov-2017, 12:55 UT/GMT
|Explanations of the symbols|
|Chart of the moment|