Astrology and Mortality

Putting us Back in Right Relationship with Life and Death

By Sue Brayne

© Sue Brayne - published by The Astrological Journal, 2025 / The Astrological Association of Great Britain / 04.08.2025

Western culture tends to regard death as a medical failure, and this denial of the most natural end to our lives means we have lost sight of its blessed release. But astrology connects us with a cosmic and cyclic understanding of life – that endings are beginnings.

First and foremost, this article is not about how to forecast someone’s death, although we will touch on this later. Rather it focuses on how astrology puts us back in right relationship with our mortality so we can make the very best of the life that we are here to experience.

I want to begin by giving you a little background about why I want to write an article about astrology and mortality.

A near-fatal experience

Before I became a full-time astrologer, I spent 30 years helping people to talk more honestly and openly about death and dying. This was prompted by my surviving a light aircraft crash when I was 37. Sitting beside the wreckage of the plane, I suddenly saw how the life I was living was utterly vacuous, and if I didn’t do something about it, it would have been better to have died in the crash. So, I did do something about it.

Initially I trained as a ‘Life, Death, and Transition’ facilitator with the Elisabeth Kübler-Ross organisation. Elizabeth was one of the first doctors to really listen to the spiritual needs of the dying, and I was so struck by her saying, “If you can’t live, you can’t die. If you can’t die, you can’t live”. This became the motto for my own relationship with my mortality.

After I completed my MA in Rhetoric and Rituals of Death, I became an honorary end-of-life researcher into one of the first studies of the transpersonal or spiritual experiences of the dying. I became convinced that some form of consciousness continues after physical death and that Love with a capital L becomes present as the person’s life draws to a close. I need to leave this here otherwise there’s a risk of this article being hijacked.

I went onto train as a psychotherapist, specialising in trauma, grief, and death and dying, and to write the D-Word: Talking about Dying, and Living Fully, Dying Consciously. I then joined the Death Café movement and facilitated well over a hundred death cafés, which provide a space for people to talk about death and dying in any way they want to.

People who came were always deeply grateful to have the opportunity to talk about what really mattered without the fear of being told they were morbid or being closed down because the subject was uncomfortable. Participants said the Death Café put them in touch with the precious mystery of their own mortality, and the mortality of those they cared about. This prompted the subject for my TEDx talk, Wear Your Mortality with Pride. (1)

So, as you may glean, over the years I have been immersed in exploring our relationship with mortality, which is why I am delighted to bring this together with my passion for astrology. Speaking as a quirky Aquarian, I find it wonderfully synchronistic that I should be writing this article as Pluto, Lord of the Underworld (and ruler of my 12th house), settles into Aquarius; and Saturn, ruler of my Sun sign, is travelling through my 4th house towards Neptune and the North Node in Pisces. I see Saturn in Pisces as manifesting the spiritual in all kinds of mysterious ways.

I also want to say that astrology and mortality are huge subjects in themselves, and bringing the two together means we are looking at a vast, mind-blowing field of study. Therefore, I can only scratch the very thinnest of surfaces here, but I am hoping that this will stimulate thought.

Before we explore the astrology, I want to set out why I believe we struggle so much in our Western culture with the fear of mortality and the consequences this has on us.

We have Lost our Way Home

While I was preparing to write this article I received a beautifully synchronistic round-robin email from Stephen Jenkinson, founder of Orphan Wisdom, who has worked extensively with the dying, and travels around the world talking about this. In fact, he’s been recently diagnosed with a terminal illness, and is willingly sharing how he is embracing this stage of his life.

In his email he said:

We are, no matter our passports or our beliefs in the matter, the grandchildren of forlorn cultural orphans who overstayed, who forgot to go home. And now we aren’t sure where home is…

What he’s referring to is how Western culture regards death as a medical failure, and this denial of the most natural end to our lives means we have lost sight of the blessed release of death.

Moreover, it’s frightening not to know where home is. To feel safe and to thrive in life, we need a strong sense of safety and belonging. In fact, a safe home and a healthy relationship with our mortality creates the foundation for us to go forth into the world and attune to what our astrological charts are inspiring us to do.

The role of our mortality is to understand that life is a very personal experience within a collective context, and it’s what we make of the experience that matters. It also reminds us of humility. No matter our status, age, beliefs or nationality, our physical body, home during this physical incarnation, is temporary. It will die. Our real Home is The Source, The Light, The Cosmos, God – call it what you want.

So, what’s happened to our relationship with mortality?

The Reductionist View of Life

Over the past 2500 years or so, a lot has happened to restrict our Western existential understanding of mortality, which I won’t go into now, but perhaps one of the major influences was the Age of Enlightenment.

I think we’ve all heard of René Descartes – philosopher, scientist and mathematician – expounding

I think, therefore I am

and how this influenced the way science and reason prevailed thereafter, with the result that – simply put – things which couldn’t be explained were dismissed. If you can’t see it, you can’t prove it, so it doesn’t exist.

This reductionist approach meant that although astronomy continued to be regarded as a science (it could be mathematically proven), astrology – which is the study of the energetic impact that the planets and stars have on the human experience – couldn’t be proved, so it was pushed into the shadows.

Yet, when we lose connection with the existential – the unseen worlds – our relationship with mortality becomes warped. We turn into control freaks who want to capture life, define it and make sense of it. Life should be solid, dependable, and certain.

To create certainty, we start forming contractual relationships with whatever we perceive God to be:

If you do this for me, I will do this for you.

One of these expectations is that the young don’t die first. We forget that mortality is transient for everyone no matter their age.

For me, the most significant factor is how we lose connection with Kairos time and focus instead on Chronos linear time where we become enslaved by the ticking of the clock. Time is always running out, so we end up rushing about in pursuit of…what?

What Happens when we Disconnect from Kairos time?

When we disconnect from Kairos time (2), we lose the magic of the moment of now. Kairos time is about learning to align with the right time to act; taking a breath and considering the consequences of our actions and what needs to be attended to for the best outcome. Not just for now but for the future of the next generation.

This disconnect means we stop looking up in awe and wonder of being part of a beautiful, sentient, mysterious Universe (and our relationship with what we perceive God to be). Instead, we lose faith in being part of something far greater than ourselves.

The results speak for themselves. Look how we are treating planet Earth. We forget she is the only planet in our known galaxy which enables us to experience physical mortality. Even more tragic, when we lose sight of being part of a living Universe, it reduces our experience of mortality to a one-dimensional grey reality, filled with fear and doubt.

Things are Changing

Thankfully, things are beginning to change. The James Webb Telescope, launched in December 2021, is sending back extraordinary images which are beginning to explain how our Universe is potentially a living entity. (3) Yet, is this really so extraordinary when indigenous teachings from ancient times knew the Universe was conscious? Plato, in his Timaeus, spoke of the world as a living being, and the Neoplatonist believed in the ‘world soul’ concept – that we are all connected.

Much more recently, James Lovelock introduced the Gaia principle, describing Earth as a self-regulating organism. Rupert Sheldrake speaks about the ‘morphic field’ or panpsychism; the concept that the mind is a fundamental feature of the world which exists throughout the Universe. In other words, everything in the Universe is conscious. However, both Lovelock and Sheldrake have been met with considerable resistance and scorn from the scientific community about their work.

Turning to the Mystical

While scientists continue to tie themselves in knots about whether the Universe is living or not, theologians and all the great thinkers throughout time have contemplated on our mortality and our relationship with the cosmos.

I particularly like how Beverly Lanzetta, an American theologian in contemplative wisdom, talks about the way the deep self seeks something more radical and intense from life, and longs to be united with its source (or our true home, which takes us back to Steven Jenkinson’s quote).

The Welsh have a beautiful word, hiraeth, to describe a deep longing for home. I use the word hiraeth to express this sense of melancholic missing or yearning or knowing there is more to Home and belonging than what we create in this physical life. I think many of us might identify with this.

There are so many compelling stories from people speaking about near-death experiences or mystical experiences where they encounter an all-encompassing Love they have never found in their earthly existence. Many say afterwards that they are no longer fearful of death and are looking forward to returning to their true Home. This certainly happened to me after I had a mystical experience where I met the unconditional Love of the Universe. I know this is where I am returning to.

We can’t talk about astrology and mortality without the input of Carl Jung, who, as we know, was himself an astrologer. Jung said it was desirable to think of death as only a transition, as a part of life’s process whose extent and duration are beyond our knowledge. He describes death as ‘a sinking back’ into the dark of the unconscious from where we have come.

He also said that we should become aware of the fact that soon after midlife (Uranus opposition/Neptune square/Saturn opposition)

The soul begins its secret work, getting ready for the departure.

I love that. I think our relationship with our mortality would change for the better if we started to acknowledge that the second half of our life is a spiritual preparation for physical death.

The Astrology

Let’s now look at how astrology can put us back in right relationship with our mortality. And in doing so, hopefully ease the fear of death, which for me is ultimately the fear of the unknown, or as we have been exploring, the disconnect from Home.

Again, this is a vast subject so we can only touch on the very basics, which include the psychopomp, the nodal axis, relevant astrological houses, transpersonal planets, astrological cycles, and the shapes and aspects found in charts.

Psychopomps

Let’s begin with the role of psychopomps (from the Greek psychopompós) literally meaning the ‘guide of souls’). Psychopomps can be symbolised by all manner of creatures, spirits, angels, deities, or shamans that every culture since ancient times has incorporated into their mythology to illuminate the transition between life and death.

Essentially a psychopomp guides the dying soul beyond the veil into the afterlife. I believe we have always needed to make these mythological narratives to make sense of something we don’t have answers for, or as I like to call it, the great mystery of mortality.

In our Western astrological mythology, Mercury, the winged messenger, is the psychopomp who is said to conduct the souls of the dead to the River Styx and hand them to Charon the oarsman. As Charon (not to be confused with Chiron, the wounded healer) rows the dead souls across the great river, their minds are wiped clean of any memories of life before they enter the afterlife.

I don’t know about you, but I love the idea of Mercury travelling alongside me as I make my transition to the other side. For me, it turns death into an adventure accompanied by a being who knows exactly what to do and where to go.

The Nodal Axis

For me, the nodal axis gives our life context and meaning for how astrology can put us back in right relationship with the purpose of our mortality. Mark Twain eloquently summed this up when he said,

The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.

I interviewed astrologer Steven Forrest (Journal, Sept/Oct 2023) about the nodal journey. Speaking as an evolutionary astrologer he said that the South Node, regarded as our entry and release point, is carrying karmic patterns from a past life to be resolved in this lifetime. It can therefore indicate our fears, addictions and compulsions or patterns of behaviour that we need to grow beyond. I want to say here that I am not presenting past lives as an absolute truth. This is very much an evolutionary astrologer’s perspective.

Steven went onto say that the North node – our path of spiritual or soul evolution – is where we are unconsciously called to and where we are met with trials and tests along the way. To evolve we must face the fear of leaving the familiar behind, and we need to encounter hardship to grow and mature.

I asked Steven if we unconsciously know when we haven’t travelled our path of evolution. He believes we do, and this might affect our ageing and dying process, which makes sense to me. It’s the difference between someone reaching the end of life knowing they’ve done their very best or someone who is filled with regrets.

The Astrological Houses

Let’s now look at which astrological houses might hold the structure or themes for our mortality to play out. I’ll come back to the 8th house at the end.

The 4th house of beginnings and endings, associated with the Moon, symbolising our instinct, rhythms and moods, the past, the mother, and our soul. Transpersonal planets crossing over the IC trigger seed points that make us question our relationship with home, family, roots and belonging. Liz Greene suggests the 4th house symbolises the archetypal inheritance from our father, while the 10th symbolises our archetypal inheritance from our mother. This is such rich territory to explore, but, unfortunately, we don’t have space in this article.

The 9th house of higher learning. I like including the 9th because it’s about our beliefs (originally known as the house of God) ruled by Jupiter, King of the Gods, wanting to expand our understanding of the unknown. Faith and belief, for me, have a major part to play in our experience of mortality. I have Pluto in the 9th, so my entire life has been exploring and transforming what faith and belief mean to me.

The 12th house of the hidden, the collective, our ancestors and karmic patterns, and the deep unconscious, ruled by Jupiter and Neptune (here’s Jupiter again). Planets in the 12th house carry archetypal energy of what we need to release in order to surrender and even dissolve into the unknown. For example, Pluto in the 12th can provide a clue to the ancestral trauma or birth trauma we might be carrying and needs to be released for us to fully embrace our mortality.

Venus in the 12th can, in my experience, suggest a deep love of God (many clients with this placement believe they have been nuns or monks, or are drawn to a religious or spiritual life). Neptune in the 12th can indicate a loss of identity in the outside world, yet profound sensitivity to the collective mind, or for some people, God or the universal consciousness.

So, as I see it, the 12th house carries the deep unconscious story we are living out during our earthly existence.

However, it’s Scorpio’s 8th house that provides the focus on our relationship with mortality because it’s ruled by Mars, the archetype of personal survival, and Pluto, archetype of our collective survival. You can’t reduce the experience of mortality further than that. Scorpio with its deadly sting is the essence of destruction, death and rebirth.

People with planets in the 8th tend to have intense life experiences. Some are confronted with sexual issues around intimacy, commitment and betrayal. Some have issues with scandal, some are drawn to work with death and dying, and make excellent psychologists, while others are drawn to work with other people’s resources or money. Our experience of mortality is all about facing ordeals and transforming them into a rich learning ground.

It is possible that the sign on the cusp of the 8th symbolises our dying process. For example, if we have Cancer on the 8th, we might die cared for at home, or maybe in a care home. Aries: perhaps our death will be brought about through some kind of heroic deed. If we have a Pisces 8th, perhaps our life might dissolve away – or perhaps we become confused at the end of our life. Aquarius: perhaps an unusual wish around death such as wanting to blast our remains into the heavens in a rocket (check out Memorial Spaceflights https://www.celestis.com).

It is possible that planets in the 8th might also describe how we die. For example, I have Uranus in my 8th so this could indicate a sudden death for me (very open to that). Mars might indicate a violent death. Venus, a beautiful death, and so on. However, all this needs more research.

The Transpersonal Planets

For me, the archetypal themes of the transpersonal planets have a strong part to play in putting us back in Right Relationship with our mortality. I see the natal placement of these planets working as a team to make sure we experience the astrological chart we signed up for at birth.

Saturn is the stern headteacher with our best interests at heart, who tests us to the core and constantly reminds us that time in our physical body is limited. Chiron the wounded healer acts as the bridge between the seen and unseen world, reminding us of the vulnerability of the human condition. In mythology, Chiron dies so Prometheus should live. Uranus reminds us that life is full of shocks and surprising beginnings and endings, and sudden insights or meetings that can be life-changing. Neptune reminds us that life is full of releasing, dissolving, mystery, and spiritual yearning for ‘Home’. Pluto reminds us that life involves endless cycles of death and resurrection – our unconscious is continually calling us to transform the lower self into the higher self, the dark into light.

Astrological Cycles

Let’s now have a look at the astrological cycles of life which, to me, are here to remind us of our mortality through our ageing process. It doesn’t matter how much we try to deny ageing, it’s going to happen.

Nevertheless, rather than feeling we have clambered onto a conveyor belt at birth which is going to unceremoniously chuck us off at the other end, I see ageing as an evolutionary progression. A never-ending spiral of experience.

Starting with Jupiter’s 12-year cycle. These cycles are about testing our faith and belief. For me, life without faith is like living as a three-legged table, always about to topple over. Grow the fourth leg of faith, and we have something solid to lean on especially when life throws us those curve balls we’re not expecting.

Saturn’s return every 28 years. The infamous Saturn return around the age of 28 is usually a defining time that makes us question what we want as we deepen our experience of mortality. We reap what we sow at our second Saturn return around the age of 58 as we step into becoming older people. In the meantime, Saturn is constantly presenting us with challenges every seven years through squares and oppositions to grow into who we really are and to develop hard-earned wisdom.

The midlife crisis Uranus opposition (return happens at age 84). The mid-life crisis demands that we pay attention to how we want to live our life as a maturing adult. This is when those big question arises: “Who the hell am I?” “What do I really want?” In my eyes, how we address the mid-life crisis prepares the path for our Chiron return.

The age of 50 sees our Chiron return. We can no longer deny our ageing process. For women, this marks the time of the menopause (average age is 53 years), and the great transition from younger woman into an older woman, and hopefully, wiser woman. Men too, experience the challenge of ageing at this time in their own way.

Neptune and Pluto cycles are different because we never experience a return. Rather we experience their influences only in parts of our charts.

For example, Neptune takes 165 years to complete its cycle. In my case, I was born with Neptune in the 11th house. So, I have only experienced Neptune’s nebulous magic over my Ascendent at age 18 (I had no idea who I was), conjunct my Sun in 2003 when I was 50 (another very confusing time), and it is now sitting on my IC, which I am thoroughly enjoying. I see this article as an expression of transiting Neptune on my IC, opposing my natal 10th-house Moon conjunct the MC.

Pluto takes 246 years to complete its cycle. Natal Pluto is in my 9th house. Over the past 72 years Pluto has transited through my 9th, 10th (MC), 11th, 12th, (Ascendent) 1st, 2nd houses, and it’s just entering my 3rd house of Aquarius. I will be 78 when it meets up with my North Node, Sun and Mercury, assuming I live until then. Therefore, my experience of mortality has primarily involved a very intense personal journey of transformation (eastern side of the chart) rather than learning through relationships with others.

Personally, I find comfort in these cosmic cycles because they put into context my journey of evolution this lifetime. It has been enlightening when constructing a timeline to trace what happened when these planets crossed my MC and Ascendent, and met up with my Sun. Who says astrology is rubbish?

Planetary Aspects and Chart Shapes

Planetary aspects also provide clues about how we might experience our mortality.

For example: charts with oppositions and squares may indicate a more challenging life journey. People with t-squares and Grand Crosses can possess a driven and obsessive quality. Yet, all these aspects can present opportunities for gaining wisdom

Chart shapes again offer clues about how mortality might manifest. For example, Bucket-shaped charts are about intensity and focus, perhaps indicating a life-mission expressed through the planet at the handle. See-saw charts indicate that life is about learning to compromise and negotiate. A splash chart might indicate someone who will have a wide range of experiences. A jack-of-all-trades, perhaps. And so on.

Wrapping Up

There is so much more to explore, but as I said in the beginning, I can only scratch the very surface in this article of how astrology might put us back in right relationship with our mortality and hopefully ease the fear of death.

I will conclude by saying that the more we understand our chart, the more we can take ownership of our mortality. That’s when we realise comparing our life with someone else’s is a useless exercise. People may have similar experiences, but they will never experience mortality the way we do. As Carl Jung said,

The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.

I believe this is when we truly connect with Home.

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Endnotes

This article is based on Sue’s talk Astrology and Mortality given to Aquarius Severn in February 2025.

1. Wear Your Mortality with Pride, TEDx Talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edhapKKTb5I
2. ‘Kairos’ (καιρός) is an ancient Greek word meaning “the right or critical moment”. It refers to a specific, opportune moment, in contrast to Chronos, which represents sequential or chronological time. In rhetoric, Kairos refers to the timeliness of an argument, suggesting that an argument’s effectiveness depends on its appropriateness to the specific situation.
3. Is the Universe a Living Being? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd2_qB3E5SU

Images

• Graveyard Crocusses: Image by drippycat from Pixabay
• Prehistoric Stones: Image by Julia Schwab from Pixabay
• Graveyard Daffodils: Image by Nigel Hurll from Pixabay
• Tree of life: Free for use under Pixabay Content License
• Psychopomp: Relief from a carved funerary lekythos at Athens: Hermes as psychopomp conducts the deceased, Myrrine, a priestess of Athena, to Hades, c. 430–420 BC, National Archaeological Museum of Athens, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

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Author: Sue Brayne

Sue Brayne MA, D.F.Astrol.S., is a writer and astrological journalist. She has an MA in Religious Studies and a second MA in Creative Writing. She is also a TEDx speaker and host of the ‘Celebrating Astrology’ YouTube channel. Sue’s seven-week course ‘Astrology and Mortality: Reconnecting to the Great Cycle of Life and Death’ is launched on 7 September with The Shift Network (theshiftnetwork.com).