By Mary Plumb | February 11, 2013
This morning there are four planets (and Chiron) in Pisces. The Sun enters Pisces on February 18, and Venus on the 25th. On March 9 the Moon will enter Pisces, when Mars is at 28º of the sign, so for two days there will be six planets (i.e., Moon, Neptune, Mercury, Venus, Mars, and Sun) and Chiron clustered in the part of the sky we call tropical Pisces. We might just as well all volunteer to get lost and to cultivate that far-away look in our eyes these days.
Such a strong emphasis on a zodiac sign is not common:
For two days in February 1962, all seven visible planets were in Aquarius. (This includes Saturn and Jupiter, whose conjunction every 20 years is an astrological marker of a great new cycle of time.)
Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune formed ongoing triple conjunctions in 1988-89, and for several months in each year, five or six planets were in Capricorn.
And, on May 2, 2000, seven planets were in Taurus, including Saturn and Jupiter. (1)
The glyphs for the signs have somewhat mysterious origins, but the one for Pisces looks like two fish swimming one way and another. The paradox and ambiguity often experienced through the archetype of the fish is an echo of the vastness of the sea and the extremes to which the fish are drawn. It is not a moderate sign, but longs to experience wider possibility in every realm, e.g., sensation, purpose, meaning. Fish can only live in water; fish can only survive when part of something larger than themselves.
Pisces gives the ability to sacrifice a personal reference point and has a predilection for being absorbed in some ineffable thing. The sign brings the experience of being both pulled and held by the longing for greater inclusivity.
Some have seen the glyph as representing the two sides of the brain. In the physical brain, there are different pathways and connecting mechanisms that join the right and left sides. A primary one is the bundle of nerve fibers called the corpus callosum, one of the parts of the brain that has been shown to benefit from meditation. (2) This reminds me that the main star in the Pisces constellation is a binary star, Al Rischa — the Arabic word for knot, which binds the fish together. (3)
Years ago, when my sister, New York astrologer Kate Plumb, was studying with Zoltan Mason, she told me something he said that has always stayed with me: the so-called higher octave (i.e., modern) ruler of the planet cannot function well unless the traditional ruler is in good stead. With Pisces we always have to consider Jupiter before hoping for the best from Neptune. Maybe we can take this to mean that as Jupiter — who the Romans saw as the one who puts the cosmos in order — sets our direction and aspiration to grow along lofty lines, we can more purposefully surrender to the labyrinth of sensation, empathy, chaos, imagination, introspection, dissolution, divine allurement, and all the magical and delicate decoys that may prevail at this time.
(Jupiter is visible in the night sky now and will be especially easy to spot on the 15th, 16th, and 17th when he is near the Moon.)
I wrote last night to my editor Kate that the words for this blog kept slipping away and I wouldn’t have it finished until morning. (With Chiron making its final passage over my natal Sun, I seem to be especially prone to Chiron’s suggestion of being outside of ordinary time.) Mars, Mercury, Chiron, and the Moon are closely together as I finish writing this morning.
For something more concrete, I’m remembering a few conversations with various people in my life in the past 24 hours that display the Piscean quality of renunciation. These calls announced: (1) a 40-day break from alcohol, (2) a 3-day silent retreat and fast, (3) a week-long retreat from ordinary business to devote to art and music, and (4) the beginning of a 10-day Master Cleanse. These people are all naturally attuning to the opportunity to clear the inner channels and doors of perception to recognize the refined states that Pisces may bring. (It is eminently malleable; after all, if we don’t like the feel of where we’re heading, we can always change course.)
(1) These are the ones I remember without doing any additional research, and there may be others. I will check with “the human ephemeris,” Nick Dagan Best, when he comes to Ashland in March for our local NCGR meeting.
(2) “The corpus callosum….connects the left and right cerebral hemispheres and facilitates interhemispheric communication.”
“UCLA Laboratory of Neuro Imaging, and colleagues used a type of brain imaging known as diffusion tensor imaging, or DTI, a relatively new imaging mode that provides insights into the structural connectivity of the brain. They found that the differences between meditators and controls are not confined to a particular core region of the brain but involve large-scale networks that include the frontal, temporal, parietal and occipital lobes, and the anterior corpus callosum, as well as limbic structures and the brain stem.”
(3) You may enjoy this article:The Corpus Callosum, Buddha’s Enlightenment and the Neurological Basis for Creativity, by Jeffrey M. Levine, M.D.
“It occurred to me that connecting the left and right brain is very similar to prayer and meditation, marked by the physical gesture of bringing together the left and right hands. This union of the two sides of the body is a universally recognized symbol that transcends religious boundaries.”