Tribute to Charles
 
by Liz Greene

 

Charles Harvey was my friend for twenty-seven years, and my co-director at the CPA for eight years. The sense of terrible loss that I feel at his death is balanced only by the sense of privilege and gratitude which I feel at having known such an extraordinary man, and having the chance to work closely with him in the sphere at which I believed he excelled: education. Whether he was encouraging different astrological groups to communicate with each other, or building bridges through which intelligent lay people could recognise the importance of astrology, or addressing astrological conferences, or writing articles for journals such as Apollon, or offering seminars and supervision to astrological students, his capacity to inspire and expand others’ thinking and vision was enormous. Teaching information is easy and requires little of the soul. Teaching as a form of awakening the soul is a rare talent, most often found amongst poets, playwrights and philosophers. Being clever is also easy, perhaps too easy for astrologers. Being clever and also kind is more exceptional. The combination of being a true educator, intelligent and inspired but also deeply generous and wholeheartedly interested in others, is all but unique.

 

It was not possible to listen to Charles teach without feeling profoundly connected to the larger cosmos and the order and beauty which he perceived and so eloquently communicated. This was one of his best contributions to the CPA, a perfect counterpoint to the more individually centred approach of psychological astrology. His capacity to invoke this sense of connection made him a true priest, in a deeper and more authentic sense than many who practise under that name in collectively sanctioned religious institutions. Like a good pontifex, he built bridges over which others could cross to glimpse those eternal realities which we have always known but have somehow forgotten in our blind submergence in material existence. Those who focus only on the more technical aspects of his work on midpoints and harmonics miss the greater cosmic unity which he unfailingly understood, and which underpins all such perspectives. The gentleness and decency of his personality reflected not only a heartfelt consideration for other human beings, but also the very high ethical code which made him determined to act at all times as a gentleman, with fairness and courtesy. In all the years I knew him, I never heard him disparage another astrologer in order to make himself look important, or denigrate a student in order to make himself look wise. He had the unusual gift of genuinely listening, and the even more unusual gift of focusing on and calling out the best in any individual he taught or worked with. Charles was no cardboard saint, and it is not necessary to idealise him. But he stands as an example to all of us, not only as an astrologer, but also as the best of what humans are able to become. He did not use unhappy childhood issues to justify unpleasant behaviour, or unleash unfulfilled personal needs under the guise of helping others. He was always no more nor less than the fine and beautiful man he seemed to be; and all of us who worked with him and felt his warmth, support, and unfailing good humour are recognising with pain how much that matters in a world sadly lacking in such fundamental values. 

 

When we lose someone we love, it is easy and natural to be angry and feel that somehow this life was cut short and left unfinished. Along with personal grief and sadness, this was certainly one of my initial reactions. The mind rushes in to seek “reasons” when confronting that which seems so unfair and unreasonable. At fifty-nine, Charles was still in his prime, and his appearance, energy, and exuberance were those of a much younger man. We had every reason to look forward to many years of his delightful company and thoughtful and provocative contributions to astrology. From an ordinary human perspective, Charles’ life was indeed incomplete. He should have had many more fruitful years in which to develop his own considerable creative writing talents. He should have had more freedom from material pressures. He also should have had a gentler end, as would have befitted such a gentle and gentlemanly personality. But from a deeper perspective, this was a perfectly complete life, shining and full of meaning and purpose, polished like a work of fine sculpture chiselled out of the raw stone.

 

Charles was always very willing to offer his own birth chart information, to help illustrate important astrological points. This was never done from vanity or self-justification, but always as objectively as possible, for the furthering of astrological knowledge. It would not be appropriate here to discuss the issues in his chart, although many astrologers will no doubt be doing exactly that in order to make some sense of his death. However, it is fitting to mention that one of the great planetary dyads which began a new cycle at Charles’ birth was beginning another new cycle when he died: the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn, in the same sign in which they were placed at his birth. There is a hint here that something had completed itself on a deeper collective level, and his life and work were set within the context of this cycle. There is also the hint that the work he did for the astrological community is now ready to blossom and take new forms within the framework of the new cycle. Seeing this extraordinary pattern at work, I cannot help but view it as Charles himself would have viewed it – as the reflection of a profound cosmic order and intelligence. I, and many others who loved and respected Charles deeply, will not only miss him terribly, but will, for a time, feel angry both on his behalf and on our own. But I also share his Platonic world-view, and believe not only in the continuity of the soul but also in the permanent and indestructible contribution of a life committed to the enhancement of life. Everything that Charles did in the world of astrology reflected his deep love and devotion to astrology itself, to all that is Good and True and Beautiful, and to the greater unified cosmos of which he understood astrology to be a symbol. Such devotion will leave its mark on us for the rest of our own lives, and on the astrology of future generations, who will be his truest beneficiaries.

 

It is fitting to end with the words of the poet, Rainer Maria Rilke.

 

To praise is the whole thing! A man who can praise

comes toward us like ore out of the silences

of rock. His heart, that dies, presses out

for others a wine that is fresh forever.

 

When the god’s energy takes hold of him,

his voice never collapses in the dust.

Everything turns to vineyards, everything turns to grapes,

made ready for harvest by his powerful south.

 

The mold in the catacomb of the king

does not suggest that his praising is lies, nor

the fact that the gods cast shadows.

 

He is one of the servants who does not go away,

who still holds through the doors

of the tomb trays of shining fruit..^[1]