Venus enters Pisces
I am fascinated by the planetary exaltations in astrology. While most of them seem quite intuitive, it’s still curious to unpack their energetic components to create astrological alchemy – to extract the most valuable elements out of a planetary composition.
We all have friends that bring out the best in us. We also have (or have had) friends that bring out our inner mischief or deviance. Hanging out with people that bring out different sides of us is important to the variegation of our being – the health of an ecosystem depends on diversity.
As more mischievous youth, we knew who to call when we wanted to have a good time. We also knew who to call when we needed to get out shit together. Sometimes, they were the same people, but often not.
Pisces is the friend that Venus calls when it wants to be the most beautiful, romantic, and creative version of itself. Pisces is where Venus desires to traverse the dreamy depths. The Venusian aspects of life are imbued with ambiguity and nebulousness – they are often nonlinear. If you try to “right and wrong” your way through an art project or relationship, you often end up with something stiff and lifeless.
Pisces is the oil and water that makes masterworks in paint possible. It lubricates the earthy bodice of the Venusian aesthetic sensibility and animates it with liquid brilliance. As water seeps down into the desiccated earth, it nourishes the soil at its deepest – the roots. It is this kind of gentle penetration that gives Neptunian Pisces its intuitive prowess. Perhaps, intuition is a kind of energetic entanglement where the lines between us and other begin to blur,
Mud, clay, and pigments are the ancestral predecessors to our contemporary creative media and while they’re known for their ability to manifest, they are not transparent substances. They offer opacity over transparency. This is where the waters get a bit murky.
Creativity addresses the aspects of life that cannot be reasoned with. Math and science, while beautiful edifications of human understanding are distinct from the arts in this way. Ambiguity makes for good riddles, not equations. Where Venus in Pisces provides an expression for this ambiguity, it can also lure us into the depths in a way this is quite disorienting – hence the fragile veil between creative genius and insanity.
This same veil in different contexts provides the illusion necessary for a type of romantic and creative infatuation. Passion, in all regards, is a little bit obsessive, no? That initial stroke of insight that inspires a poem or the glance of a would-be lover from across the room needs to be followed up with a wave-like persistence that keeps the initial divination afloat. The determination of water can wear down even the densest earthen matter.
If, on the front end of every creative instinct, we felt the gravity of the work required to write a novel or be in a romantic partnership, would we ever begin? I wonder.
This little bit of illusion keeps us safe from the cold world of rationalism. Practicality can provide us with basic sustenance but it’s the Venusian aspects of life that bring us from ‘survive to thrive.’ You don’t drink rosé to hydrate your cells but that doesn’t mean it’s not an experience to be savored. In this sense, exaltation is about balance. It’s enhancement over exacerbation.
However, I don’t think exaltation ensures us a kind of mindless enjoyment. Overindulgence can take us from sweet inebriation to reckless intoxication. In the same vein, over-extraction leads to the depletion of resources. Ideally, we’ll leave behind some groundwater for future generations.
Venus into Pisces may feel like a nectarous sip of chilled watermelon juice, with a gentle squeeze of lime, after moving through the dusty winds and the scorching gaze of Mars retrograde in Gemini. Feel free to bask in this delicious relief. Weary travelers must also put down their maps and ambitions from time to time and enjoy the fruits of their efforts. May we remember that the phases of life (and the stars) are merely waystations and not destinations. Just because we paint a masterpiece doesn’t mean we’ll never want to create again.
Words: Ross O’Brien
Visual: ‘Frog Girl’ by Jane Ray