The Sun enters the third face of Taurus on May 10th, and will remain there until it enters Gemini on the 20th. This span of days holds the New Moon in Taurus on Tuesday May 15th, which brings another lunar cycle to a close. Yet of much more lasting consequence is Uranus’ entrance into Taurus, and Mars’ ingress into Aquarius, both of which occur on the same day as the New Moon. There is much to discuss, so let us start with the nature of the third decan of Taurus, which is the angle the Sun will illuminate events from, and the place where the New Moon will occur.
In the first face of Taurus, we made sure that the land we chose to settle upon was carefully selected, and in the second oversaw the ceremony of fecundation. The plan and the rhythm of labor and rest now established, what is left? To wait, and to worry, as the Tarot’s 7 of Pentacles figure is depicted as doing. For there are powers beyond plan and virtue, and they are are not easily swayed by prayer or rite.
Though confined to the deepest layer of Tartarus by the civilizing agenda of the up-above Olympians, the Titans still abide. Though their powers of earthquake, tidal wave, drought, forest
fire, hurricane and lightning storm have been borrowed and copied, they have not been stolen, for Titans are not of the elements — they are the elements, the firstborn children of Earth, the organs of her body. And though the stories say they are caged safely in the underworld, there are no prisons in myth which do not cyclically riot. There are no permanent endings to those narratives, only points in a circle of stories which again and again recur.
The third face of Taurus is the most ominous one of the three, for here thunder and flood threaten well-laid plans and virtuous labor. Not only that, but raw power of creation rises up against the hubris of any tiny human portion.
It would seem this is a face of powerlessness, for both systems of decanic rulership give it to Saturn, and the Tarot pictures a man watching his crops powerlessly while the title “Failure” is stamped upon his scene.
Yet there are prayers which even the savage titans hear, and sacrifices they do accept. The sacrifice of Pride is one. Even as you recall the infinite quality of your divine origin, remember too that the vessel you reside in is small and weak before the might of a mountain. The Titans, having fallen from grace and power, not only teach humility — they are themselves a lesson in it.
Recognizing material weakness, the manifest vulnerability of a small child, for instance, is not a fruitless insight. It is instead contrarily empowering, for upon acknowledgement we can begin thinking of ways to limit our exposure to titanic and largely impersonal natural forces which dot the planet and the timeline. Unlike the Olympians, who are involved enough in humanity to bless and curse individually, the Titan’s potency is collective and incidental. The volcano does not explode for or against you. The Titans do not care about you. History does not care about you. But nor does it care to destroy you. You are not part of the calculation.
There is thus danger, but not malice. This is a place of fireproofing your home, storm proofing your windows, paying up flood, fire, and earthquake insurance. The wise humble themselves before uncaring powers by hedging their bets, and making back-up plans. To do otherwise, to imagine that there is nothing bigger than plan and labor, is an obvious arrogance.
Being an earth sign, the third face of Taurus is concerned with physical matters, but the concept of weather-proofing can easily be extended beyond the literal. As the lunar month rolls to a close with the New Moon in the third decan of Taurus this Tuesday, May 15th, it would be wise to sit and consider your exposure to the elements of both nature and history. There is no such thing as complete safety, but with a little thought you many find that you’ve exposed yourself unnecessarily, and that all it would take to limit that vulnerability is a little effort and adjustment.
Uranus, which has been in Aries since 2011, enters Taurus on May 15th. Over the last seven years, Uranus in Aries has kindled, stoked and fed the spirit-fire within, sparking revolutions both personal and collective. That charge is now ready to descend as a meteor, to streak to earth and bury itself deep within. The star-struck fields will yield strange flowers, for the stone is a mutating, electrifying seed, packed with alien viruses intent on infecting the stones themselves.
Though our relationship to titanic and impersonal forces is always pictured by the third decan of Taurus, Uranus’ entrance into the Bull’s sign makes such themes all the more relevant.
In recent writings about Uranus in Taurus, Demetra George mused wisely on the primordial copulations of Ouranos (Heaven) and Gaia (Earth). These unions spawned the Titans, as well as a variety of other chthonic creatures, such as the Hundred-Handed Ones, Cyclopes’, and Furies.
In Taurus, the earthiest of earth signs, we see Uranus’ buried heavenly potency rise up from the earth. It is the most solid and stable, the most mundane portions of the real which are due to be alternately broken apart and supercharged by his time in Taurus. It is these usually dull topics of conversation: money, weather, land, and food, which are to be the targets of Uranus’ mutation-catalyzing lightning. Those interested in a more in-depth look at what Uranus in Taurus will bring may wish to attend my upcoming webinar, The Earthshaker Arrives, which takes place the day after the planet’s ingress.
Like all of the tales Uranus has to tell, this is a long story. It will entail scores of episodes spread across 8 seasons, and is not scheduled to wrap until 2025. Yet it is unlikely to begin slowly, as the same day that Uranus breaches Taurus and seeds the New Moon, Mars enters Aquarius and sparks a perfect square between the two.
Mars enters Aquarius on the 15th, only hours after Uranus’ ingress. Aquarius speaks to what is outside, beyond the boundaries of social convention, and behind the protective curtain of the Earth’s atmosphere. Mars in Aquarius shows us the potency of the exile and the alien, the power of the unorthodox. With its ingress into Aquarius, Mars is now well within the territory in which it will station retrograde at the end of June.
Mars’ ingress sees it complete a square with Uranus in mere hours, mutually activating the pair of planets. Mars’ squares with Uranus are always volatile, and they often catalyze jarring changes both within and without. This first of 3 frictions between Mars and Uranus may spark moments of sudden disgust with business-as-usual, a need to withdraw, or a maniacal itch to innovate.
Regardless of what this pair of ingresses bring, and how swiftly or slowly, it is important that we watch this slice of time. In it we will introduced the storyline of Mars’ third quarter retrograde, as well as the beginning of Uranus in Taurus’ narrative, which will take until 2025 to play out. See the titanic forces at play, watch their movements, and consider where you are in relationship to them. The insurance policy, whether literal or figurative, is the magic seal with which to ward them off. This manner of enchantment brings none of the ecstatic hubris of other varieties of sorcery, but it is no less effective, and no less important. You may not be able to control the weather, but you can storm-proof your bedroom window.
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Great old monsters moving slowly.
I can’t stop being struck by the way your words reflect my literal experience… “The third face of Taurus is the most ominous one of the three, for here thunder and flood threaten well-laid plans and virtuous labor.”
Literally, my plans for the beekeeping year are gone straight out of the window, as it’s raining like I’ve never seen here… last year we had 0 rainfall during all of May (and June, July and August as well for that matter), now we’re at some 140mm in these 15 days…
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