Writing A Poem to Honor Venus, Among other Things

Last month I went to an astrology conference in Buffalo. I learned several new tricks there, such as how to create simple charts that don't require a birth time and can show you your world from the perspective of a planet other than the sun.

Here is a brief summary of my Moon chart. I was blown away by how clear and accurate a picture it created, though I'm used to astrology's power by now, so I won't say I was surprised.

Placing the Moon in my first house, which would begin at 0 degrees Virgo, puts my Sagittarian south node at the base of the chart. That fits because I often feel very much at home when I hit the road. Saturn moves to the seventh house, and it seems very wise for me to follow careful Saturn in relationship endeavors. The Mars-Venus conjunction in Aquarius, and Lilith, end up in the sixth. It reflects how often my idealistic enthusiasms, so strongly asserted, don't bring me the results I want, not to mention the concerns I feel about my seemingly ever-present romantic/erotic desires. On the positive side, I regularly spend time in and work with nature to keep me feeling healthy about life. Jupiter and my Gemini North Node fall in the tenth, with the Node on the MC. This is a nice affirmation of my thoughts about a teaching and writing career. The Sun and Mercury end up in the fifth, and I can say that I felt great after being given the opportunity to share a poem with everyone at the banquet Saturday night.

I learned some other tricks, too, such as how to create personal symbols from magic squares. However, I ducked into a lot of these short sessions after they started, so my level of expertise is a bit dodgy - for example, I probably can't tell if a person is romantically interested in someone else by casting a horary chart, though I have a pageful of notes from that session.

The lectures and people I felt most at home with turned out to be the more feminine or psychic-oriented groups. This coming from a guy who joked that he was using astrology to get laid. Well, maybe they're compatible perspectives in some functional universe I'll inhabit. I spent a lot of time in the 80s stoking up some militantly liberal views at Macalester, so perhaps I'm working on finding my own balance between the uptight self-righteous dude and the dumbass libertine.

I haven't been successful with the getting laid part, by the way. I don't truly want that to be the main goal, but it got me to thinking about what my underlying motivations are, and how my desire to use this fantastic system to get to know a person intimately can be applied appropriately. As well as how my level of maturity as a sexual being interferes with or interfaces with my feelings of belonging, outsideness, and self-worth.

At my first astrology conference in May 2009, I intentionally tried so hard to connect with people that I ended up feeling very hurt and angry. So angry, in fact, that I skipped out on my last paid hotel night and drove home in a shameful fury the morning after the conference was over. I knew I didn't have cause to be angry at anyone in particular, but I needed to get away by myself and work things out in my mind. Which I did, and the conference the following year was a lot more fun.

I wallowed in some of these familiar feelings this time again as I struggled to decide whether a friend was still interested in doing breakfast with me on Saturday morning. The funny part of it was that I had turned my cell phone off, so I didn't get the message that I should be meeting her out front instead of tossing around in bed. Its hard not to laugh at these feelings and behaviors, even as you're enduring them, because you know they're ridiculous, but I guess I'm not done working on them until I've described them and understood them to my satisfaction and can truly and freely let go. They're still a kind of anchor for me in a sea of anxiety. I don't trust what might happen if I let go too soon. Perhaps they're creating the anxiety.

The same friend shared this joke with me: there are two kinds of Capricorns, she said. The kind who has worked hard and achieved great things, and the kind that whines about how hard everything is they have to do. Haha. And ouch - pinned. Had been expecting a punch line that was a little lighter than that.

So, what I'm getting to with all this is the story of how I got to fulfill my Capricorn Sun/Ascendant's drive to achieve recognition for some decent, honest work, and how that changed my experience of the conference from my wallowing in self-doubt the first few days to feeling a bit more connected and fulfilled the last two days.

It started on Friday after lunch, when I ducked a little late to a session that was entitled something like "An Offering to Venus". Now, if you'll indulge me a while I'll paint an amusing picture of an image-conscious, logical Capricorn male with a background in science and geography brave or deluded enough to enter such a session, after its already underway. In reality, I've always been into poetry and writing and mystical wisdom - I just didn't dare show it in my family or to the world at large. Being able to "fly under the radar" with my writing and astrology has made them all the more important to me. But my tendency to get into unconventional things as a way of expressing my freedom isn't totally authentic, because I'm only starting to respectfully integrate the part of me which is more traditional and cautious.

And then there's that fact that I still haven't had enough sex in my life, and I haven't won my trophy babe. Half-joking, of course. I worry a lot about whether these are "acceptable" feelings to have and how I come across to others. I try all kinds of different ways of interacting, but I can't leave it behind, despite all my "higher" motives. Maybe it's the Aquarian planets battling against the Virgos. I just know its tiring to approach every social interaction with that kind of baggage and the fears of being rejected that come with it.

A woman who knows all the usual tricks a man, who is insecure, uses to impress her is very unnerving to me, at least until I can let go of the fear, drop the act, and be who I am, which is pretty much like everyone else, though I'm not at all used to spending time in that kind of "honest" space, especially not if there's a component of human sexuality involved - these things didn't seem to exist in our family, or maybe I have exceedingly high expectations on interpersonal communication. In any case, I'm finally getting that I need to stick with being who I am, despite the attractiveness and desirability of whichever manifestation of female energy comes into my range of sight. If I don't feel like I'm being given a chance to do that, then its time to move on. There needs to be time to process and figure things out, and I'm much more okay with doing that than I used to be, probably because I have succeeded at some of the things I felt so badly about needing to.

So, again, if you'll indulge my jokey artistry, imagine what I'm not saying or letting myself feel, as I walk into a room where an astrologer is not just giving a lecture about Venus. That would be something suitably logical and masculine and not too emotional or spiritual. No, she has laid out a cloth and put offerings on it to a goddess who I'm thinking might not like my "guyness" in the first place and sees through all my disguises in any case.

At one point in the presentation, it was suggested that we write a poem, as others from similar events had done in the past. This poem would express our sense of Venus, and we could share it as an offering to the goddess later on. Normally, I would jump at the chance to do something special for someone, human or godly, so, I wanted to see what would happen if I tried to reach some kind of compromise. I went through the motions of hemming and hawing and joking a little about it with the presenter, then went back to my room, exhausted, and got to work, driven by the thought that I had to bring it down to the session that evening.

Astrologically (because I'm still trying to explain this part to my satisfaction), I see this dynamic in the mystic rectangle-like configuration comprised of cardinal and mutable water and earth signs. Its composed of Vesta in Cancer, sixth house (I'm obligated to work devotedly for you, especially if you're family), Moon in Virgo, cusp of the eighth (touchy one, that - please let me do something deeply cool and useful that I'm good at), Juno in Pisces, first (make it just so divine - it's who I am, I depend on it), and Mercury in Capricorn, twelfth (let's get serious and practical about this ethereal stuff). Close? Anyone? :)

So I tossed down some images I had written in my journal, scanned my memory banks for more things that felt right (no shortage there, with that Moon trined to Mercury), and then, as I got comfortable lying on the soft bed in my room, I began to relax, and I turned the poem in a different, more positive direction. Away from Humphrey Bogart nursing his self-imposed wound at Rick's American Cafe in Casablanca, and toward a vision of hope for something genuinely positive. See if you can pick up the shift in the poem. (I couldn't find the underline function in here to help out with that.)

The conference organizer gave me the opportunity to share my poem at the banquet the following evening. I had to retrieve it from my room in the middle of the banquet, because I hadn't been sure I would be given the opportunity to share it at all, and also because I didn't want to lug my journal book to the table. I knew that was okay, and I got to ride the elevator with a man from the event next to our banquet, who was dressed as Jimi Hendrix. Kind of fun, and something to lead with when I got back to the banquet.

A Leo friend told me how he didn't think he was like a Leo in most parts of his life, but when he got on stage, he noticed that he did really open up and enjoy being there. It was like that for me - I have taught big and small classes for about fifteen years, so I'm no stranger to sharing with a crowd, but I had never yet been that visible in front a group of astrologers and shared something quite as personal. These are necessary moments of courage that really feel good to do.

It was a tremendous rush being able to freely share an expression of who I am and the kind of work I've been doing. There was a lot of applause for my poem, and the woman who read after me. We both had nature images that were quite beautiful, though the applause was still ringing in my ears when she read, so, honestly, I didn't appreciate the other poem as much as my own. I bugged myself about that and tried to learn something, but that's another topic.

Mostly, though, I felt fulfilled. When I thought about it later, I decided it was because I had been able to contribute something to the conference - this, in contrast to only absorbing others' work and taking it back for my own use. It felt natural to contribute, like something I had been waiting to do - for a long time. Along with being seen, this was what I really craved - a little taste of doing some creative work with others whose ideas I value, and being recognized for it.

Sharing my poem created opportunities later that evening and over the next two days to have conversations with other astrologers whom I had met before and yearned to connect with more deeply, and with ones that I didn't know before the conference. It took the pressure off me to connect with the few people I had known before the conference, but whom were often busy with their own work.

I felt far less frustrated by the end of this conference than I did at the end of my first one. This, despite the fact that I did allow myself to have "fun" by driving myself to mild distraction while gazing longingly at some pretty faces in the crowd, knowing that my social graces would likely fall far short of the ability to hold a pleasant conversation with any of actual persons. Of course, that is what's actually satisfying - getting to know a real person rather than an image or an illusion, and that takes time - not something a first house Mars conjunct Venus really likes to do...at all.

Illusions, or projections, are powerful and commensurately disillusioning when there's an actual meeting. Thinking about my beautiful illusions made me miss my thruway exit the next night, but I was wide awake driving, so I guess they had a useful purpose!

Since, I feel like I don't step from illusion to social reality with any great agility, I've been telling myself that I should invest more in careful, laid back Saturn in Pisces rather than the excited Aquarian Mars-Venus when it comes to relationships. This advice is backed by the lunar chart I described in the opening paragraphs, though I suppose I have to let them both be themselves in the end.

So, I still have issues I feel like I've barely worked on - aside from those mentioned above, I ask myself, how do I get the recognition and opportunities I want without the ego taking all the glory. Or should I accept that I enjoy being in an occasional limelight as much as I actually do. In astrological terms, it must relate to working through my Sagittarian south node in the tenth house, a place of social recognition, and its ruler Jupiter in the fifth, a place of ego celebration.

To bring it back to the here-and-now, I'd ask my wiser self, do the words I write...in a poem, in blogs and journals, or spoken in conversations, or sessions with the analyst, add up to something fantastic or are they a pile of crap? How does one find the middle ground and build on that to create a sustainable, practicable life's work? What are the daily acknowledgments of self-respect needed to bring such work into the public realm, into the world of paying work? And who are the people around me who support this process? How can I overcome my fear of taking a place among them?

Maybe these words have an expiration date, when its time to let go of the thinking, creating, self-analysis, and ego enrichment and just be. I noticed just recently that my progressed North Node has moved into Taurus from Gemini, but my progressed Moon in Aries is moving into my natal third, so...not yet! Until that time, here is my poem, tweaked a little since the banquet and inspired by a sense of Venus, which natally, falls in the first house (Placidus), intercepted in Aquarius and retrograde, conjunct but separating from Mars, tightly semi-sextiled to Saturn in second Pisces, sextiled to Eris in second Aries, and squared to the Midheaven in Scorpio. I especially like the line about the Grecian Urn - it's Capricorn humor.

Poem to Honor Venus

I am the thin man picking lettuce leaves in November.
I'm falling behind on the trail, because there's a flower I've seen,
and being seen, must photograph.

I'm standing before a Grecian urn trying to feel something deep.

I'm the bicycle and rider at home with the world, on his route,
The exhilaration of twenty-two degrees and a blue sky,
The thudding silence of fresh snow in the pines.
The rebel who wants his freedom and feels surprised when he is left alone.
The rush of talent and cool ideas yearning for something different.

I am a name for each garden that holds the idea of what it could become,
Form taking shape,
An image appearing on film in the pan.

The shelf assembled, standing - astrology books thereon.
The pleased look at the end of the year,
A slow pan of the room, its objects...
How I've done.
Do they reflect an idea of who I am?

And is there a softness to the order of things?
Is the eagle eye of detail brushed lightly with feathers?
(Enough at least to emulate the simple quality of creating quiet comfort in her surroundings -
The one thing I found to admire
When the affront of rejection and seeming finality still burned humbly inside)

But what is it that I want?
It is the courage to know, and ask
With hands unclenched and chest relaxed.
A decision to enjoy the strength of a flexing arm, the striding of graceful legs
Among friends.

To stand in the sun and know success,
But also to work with others who feel
The hope of the earth in their hands,
As fragile as breath on a petal.

All of us doing this together, all of us of each other.