Firewalking

This is an updated post from May Day 2010

30th April 2010, Glastonbury, 10 pm, and I’m looking at the bed of glowing coals in front of me. We had spent the day watching huge piles of wood being reduced to these fiery embers and now it was my turn to walk across them in bare feet. Earlier in the day I had wished my bemused teaching colleagues a happy May Day and then left the school to walk on hot coals. They had come to expect strange things from me.

I look again at the shimmering, sparkling coals in front of me, so hot I know they would burn a hole in my hand if I were to pick

them up. I can't imagine the agony if I were to be burned on the bottom of my feet and my fear makes me take a step back to let another walker go ahead of me. I watch as her feet turn to a glowing orange and her steps kick up fire: she has become a Firewalker. And whilst I remain a petrified watcher, I cannot join her in this achievement. This moment is about overcoming fear, brushing away life’s cobwebs and affirming what one can do in life. 

Symbolically I felt this fiery ground represented the threshold from fear to faith. It was a journey I felt compelled to do for reasons that had completely escaped me as I stared at what could only be described as Hellish. 

And what the Hell was I doing taking such a crazy risk? Transiting Pluto opposed my natal Mars--it was such a perfect transit for the paralysis that had overcome me at that moment. And it would be an ideal symbol of spending several weeks in wheelchair with bandages on my feet if I got burned.

The Moon that night was in Sagittarius conjunct Antares, the baleful Heart of the Scorpion and it was in trine to Mars in fiery Leo which was in turn conjunct my natal Mercury. I looked up at the Moon and remembered She opposed Venus along the ascendent/descendent axis of my natal chart. I felt the heavens were calling on me, as a women, to embrace the boldness of The Masculine.

It was time to step into the fire or step into the shadows forever. I locked my mind in the Faith of divine goodness and walked on the fire in front of me. And at the end of Hell, there was no pain or scars to remind me of my journey. I was a Phoenix.

Just to prove to myself I could do it, I did it a second time.

This was not the end of the the extraordinary weekend.

The next day was May Day, 1st of May and it would be a day that I danced with the Green Man, sang with the Devil, drank beer with the May Queen - and walked up Glastonbury Tor to watch children dance around the May Pole and clap as Morris Dancers pranced about with their sticks and hankies: where I had embraced the masculine the night before, they were embracing the feminine. At least that was how I saw it.

Of course all magic has to end (so I thought) and as I boarded the bus to leave Glastonbury and return to the real world, I wondered

how I could bring the magic back. The bus journey gave me a chance to  reflect on my life's journey. I had come a long way from the divorced, nearly bankrupt woman with 3 children and no job. I had just moved into my new house with my new partner, I had a coveted Master's degree and a secure job in teaching and was enjoying a completely different life--one I had not dared to believe could actually happen.

These details were far too personal to share with my pupils. I guarded my private life carefully. Even as I turned the key to enter

my own home, I still did not have a clue as to how I could share my extraordinary experience. I was the kind of teacher who liked to know what she was going to do well in advance.

The next morning when I got to school, I saw that I had chosen the word "Euphoria" as the theme for the week. It had been chosen weeks before but what better word to describe how I was feeling? I asked my colleagues to share some of their more adventurous experiences such as running marathons or jumping out of planes and I used them in the assembly I had to lead. Then I showed the

pupils the photo of me walking on hot goals. There was an audible gasp from the otherwise unimpressed group of fourteen year olds.

‘Miss, you’re really a sick Gangsta!’ one pupil shouted out.

But that night of fire walking was not about me but rather what I could do--and if I could do it, I wanted my pupils to know they could also do extraordinary things (but please not fire walk when I'm on duty).

This past May bank holiday 2016, gave me an opportunity to remember Firewalking. I hadn't noticed on the night but transit Saturn had opposed my natal Saturn. And if you're familiar with my Growing Pains work, then you know how significant I think Saturn oppositions are. This week transiting retrograde Saturn has been squaring my natal Uranus/Pluto conjunction and my Progressed Sun and Mercury. And I just been feeling things have ground to a complete halt (I also note Saturn was retrograde in the event chart too!). I should have been preparing for my move to India but I was spending this time untangling myself from a long term relationship, raising a bit of cash to fund a long year of travelling ahead and finding my own voice. Indeed, this article had originally been written by my partner. It has been an empowering experience to go through it and change his words to mine. I cannot even say why I let him do this as this story has been the only one I had let someone else write.

I lost my friend Jonathan Cainer a few days ago. He was more than just an astrologer to me and I am grateful I have not had to grieve alone. As a group of mutual friends gathered on the first sunset of Jon's passing, we shared our stories about him. I remarked that he was like Jupiter with a gravitational force that was impossible to escape. And as I wrote my tribute for him for the Astrological Journal, I was reminded that Jon had been a huge part of the process of transforming a bit of space junk into someone who had achieved things far beyond the limitations of her wishes. It was Jon who told me that I needed to be in a classroom and I am just humbled by the mechanics of Saturn transits that I started my PGCE in October 2002 as Saturn was in a waxing square to its natal position in my chart, that another square from that point I was Firewalking and with any bit of determination, at the next square at the end of 2017, I'll be doing something even more spectacular. 

But I now see it is time for me to get to grips with letting go of my life here in London. For a few weeks I had been just marking time. But now I am finally moving forward.

In Praise of Mercury Retrograde

I get so sick of hearing people blame Mercury Retrograde for late buses, delayed flights, mail strikes, broken glasses, computers crashing, lost mail, broken fingers, popped eardrums, natural disasters and great goddess knows what else. When something bad happens, far too many people start exclaiming: "I KNEW it!! Mercury is retrograde!" Even though they know damn well any of those things could happen when Mercury is in forward motion.

I once even had an astrologer friend (who shall remain anonymous) blame Mercury retrograde for a traffic jam.  I countered that traffic jams happen all the time along that particular stretch of road. This astrologer wasn't having it: Mercury retrograde had caused the travel delays. The next day, the same astrologer refused to get into a lift because Mercury was retrograde. We all got to the floor we wanted without the cable snapping. 

People, get a grip.

Mercury retrograde is an optical illusion. Like the tilt of the earth's axis, which gives us seasons and reasons to argue over house systems, Mercury retrograde is proof of the First Mover's sense of humour. That's right. I said it. Mercury doesn't really move backwards: it just looks that way from our perspective.

"Oh I knew that," says the collective bunch of astrologers who are busy updating their statuses with little Mercury Retrograde moans and groans.

"Someone put my astrology book between Anouilh and Brecht. Mercury must be retrograde!"

"Oh don't post letters because Mercury is retrograde!"

"My car broke down. Oh what a pisser to have Mercury retrograde!"

"Oh it's snowing today! I should have known it would happen: Mercury is retrograde!"

Mercury retrograde happens 2, 3 or 4 times per year with a duration of about 3 1/2 weeks a time. Not all bad things that happen to you over the course of a year are concentrated into those 12 weeks. Let me give you a couple of examples: Chernobyl, 9/11, Fukushima and the tsunami in Indonesia (2004) all happened when Mercury was in happy forward motion. I had a bike accident last summer--Mercury was not retrograde. Sure a few disasters such as the Hindenburg and the Titanic happened during Mercury retrograde but Buddy Holly's plane crash did NOT happen when Mercury was retrograde. Neither did a meteor strike in Brazil in 1930 occur during Mercury retrograde. Do you see where I'm headed with this? You can't cherry pick an event and then proclaim it happened because Mercury was in retrograde motion.

OK now let's talk about really cool things that have happened when Mercury was retrograde. Janis Joplin. Do you need more cool things? Michael Jackson. More? Hillary Clinton. Oh she's not cool enough--but it kind of shoots a hole into that theory about Mercury retrograde people being quiet and introspective, doesn't it? And I can tell you want one more cool person. How about me? Yes that's right, I was born when Mercury was retrograde and you would be hard pressed to find a more mercurial person than yours truly: my ascendant is Gemini and Mr Trickster is in my natal 3rd house and he's unaspected too. And I'm OK. I walk and talk and travel just fine.

Now I'm not doubting that awkward things happen when Mercury is retrograde but for the love of astrology, let's put some data behind it when we start Mercury retrograde bashing. Be a little selective. And for goddess' sake, stop scaring the muggles. Let's see some examples, let's do some statistical analysis or some other form of research because guys, I'm in the choir. You get me? I'm in the converted audience and I can see we're feeding the sceptics with our sloppy practices! We got to tighten the screws.

So let me give whoever is reading this a few ideas:

from: http://www.astrologyhoroscopereadings.com/2016-mercury-retrograde-calendar.html

1) The shadow phase of Mercury. At first I was eye rolling a bit because I thought it was just Retrograde Mercury bashers trying to extend the time of Mercury retrograde. But there might be something in it. Let's see it.

2) Mercury retrograde is part of a cycle and there may be common themes or threads within those cycles. Let's see those too. That's a lot more interesting than hearing about your cat barfing on your magazine collection.

3) The astronomy of planets in retrograde motion is fascinating. Let's weave a little more of the science instead of randomly tossing crap into the pot of communal reinforcement.

4) Almost every culture has a "wise fool": someone who appears silly but actually has an important message. Instead of blaming Mercury retrograde  when things go wrong, look at the message behind the situation. After all, Mercury is a god and is worthy of our respect whether in forward, stationary or retrograde motion.

5) Before you start blaming Mercury Retrograde for your bad day, remember this:

My Groovy Graduates

So much has happened in the past few months but I've only just realised I was in desperate need of updating my biography on my website.

In this process, I also realised that I totally forgot to formally announce the names of the groovy graduates from my "Astrology in Education" workshop held in Melbourne Australia on the 20 February 2016.

The event was organised by the incredible Head Agent of the Cosmic Intelligence Agency, Julija Simas and hosted by the wonderful Louise Senior at My Sacred Space healing centre.

My intention in teaching this workshop was to train astrologers of any level how to use astrology to teach and engage young people (of all ages) in a manner that would suit their learning needs. I did this in a few ways: firstly, by grounding the pupils through their own Saturn sign so they could understand their own inner disciplinarian and then through looking at the signs of Jupiter so they could recognise how Jupiter can be used to give their own students the confidence to learn in their own unique style. I explained brain development in adolescence and how it corresponded with transits of Saturn and Jupiter. I also went through case studies to show how retrograde, stationing and forward motion of Jupiter and Saturn could vary from person to person and how this knowledge can be used to provide guidance at the right time. Being a data nerd, I was also able to show how the behaviour of the younger pupils (ages 11-13) in secondary school varies significantly from the older pupils (ages 14-16). I also revealed some very surprising results on lunar phases and behaviour. I used further case studies to demonstrate the astrological hallmarks of anorexia, violence, dyslexia, addiction and explained why adolescents who have not experienced their final Saturn opposition should be given special dispensation should they commit a crime. I argued that there is a way to help troubled children at key areas in their lives so they grow into happy and well adjusted adults.

This was my first one day work shop but I was absolutely delighted with the enthusiasm that the pupils used to embrace these new and unconventional ideas. I was made to feel so welcome and as always, what a pleasure it is to work with pupils who are willing to put themselves "out there" to learn and experience new astrological techniques.

To show how happy I was with them, there was only one way a teacher could let them know it: by giving them certificates!!

So here are the names in the very first "Astrology in Education" graduating class of 2016:

Jacqui Spencer

Sara Gilbert

Lisa Simmons

Michelle Negri

Jayne Richardson

Rebecca Best

Diana Mattea

Vivian Hull

Louise Senior

Deborah James

Susan Kotrba

Suzie Galatopoula

Julija Simas

Well done groovy graduates!! And thank you so much for being so good!! I have no doubt you are now ready to show others how astrology can help educate even the most challenging pupils!

PS Is you're interested in hosting an "Astrology in Education" workshop, why not drop me a line?

Marking Time

Yep that's me after a 22 hour flight to Blighty

I was in one marching band or another through my formative years. Being from Michigan, I marched in all weather--sweltering heat, driving rain and blizzards--for football games and parades. Recent contact with my former music director, Jim Wright, from Western Michigan University (Go Broncos!!) has brought back a lot of memories from all those performances as well as the parties that went with them. But most of all I remember Band Camp when everyone who had anything to do with the Marching Band had to go to school a week earlier than everyone else to prepare for the long football season ahead. Jim calling out "squeeze the sphincter" to perfect the glide step is one of my enduring memories. I also remember the French Horn section (after two years of orthodontic work, my embouchure wasn't ready for returning to playing the trumpet) having to backwards march whilst the rifle guards tossed their rifles over our heads. It had to be one of the most terrifying--and perhaps exhilarating--things I had ever done. If it went right, it was amazing. If it went wrong, someone was going to end up with a broken nose.

One thing I always hated was marking time. One would think it would be easy just lifting your feet in time but actually the technique is quite gruelling as well as difficult. Jim or the Drum Major would be yelling for us to squeeze the sphincters and lift our knees higher until everyone got it right. And trust me, that could take a long time. It didn't matter if the weather was boiling hot, freezing cold or if it was pissing it down, for me marking time meant I wasn't going anywhere.

And so now, having just returned from an epic 5 continent, 5 month astrology tour, I find myself back in Walthamstow, back to a teaching post and back to waiting for something to happen. That thing waiting to happen is my return to India where I will take up my post as Secretary General of International Affairs and Professor of Western Astrology for Krishnamurti Institute of Astrology. So you can see why I'm a little impatient to get a move on and why I might regard this period of waiting as "marking time".

But, as with many things, passing time allows us to develop a whole new perspective. And so it is with my hours spent marking time all those years ago in marching band. And here's my new perspective: it may seem as if I'm not doing much but there's a whole lot of processing going on. So here's a little summary:

1) I cried at Sydney airport as I prepared to fly home. It was the end of an epic journey and so much had happened I was both sorry to see it end and concerned about what would be greeting me when I returned home.

2) After returning home, it felt like I had never really left

3) It really did seem as if I picked up the reins for my teaching career as if I had only been gone for a long weekend

4) My friends and family at home (that includes the four legged ones) hadn't changed much

5) I finally collected my diploma from the Faculty of Astrological Studies after 18 years. It was not the great feeling of achievement I had always imagined it would be

6) I missed the Church choir and I missed my Wynton (my trumpet)

And yet, everything has changed.

1) I now know what I am going to need to live abroad for an extended period of time. Marmite, pasta, mushy peas and a few carefully chosen astrology books (including my much-missed ephemeris) are high on my list of priorities.

2) Oh dear Goddess, the bills can pile up quickly

3) Having taught a few days at a primary school, I despair of the transition process. Guess who has a lot to say about this. Oh dear Goddess how I missed my pupils.

4) Despite everyone seeming to be the same, there are some crucial, if imperceptible, changes happening. I see this most in the impending birthday of my beloved daughter who will be 18 in a few days time. Where has the time gone? She has blossomed into a sensible (despite a few hiccups along the way), hard working and compassionate person in her own right. Her maturity, beauty, intelligence and strength--despite having me for a mother--is nothing short of miraculous.

5) There was a time when gaining the FAS diploma seemed to be the only thing holding me back from being a professional astrologer. I became a teacher to fund astrology classes and I refused to give myself permission to take on any other astrology courses until that diploma was completed. And now that I have it, I can see that there is SO much more to learn. Since passing the diploma, I've done Hellenistic, Traditional (Horary and Electional) astrology courses and I'm throwing myself into Vedic studies. And I'm only more thirsty. So thirsty that I'm learning Hindi/Sanskrit so I can get to grips with The Vedas. Thirsty. Gimme water.

6) I'm not feeling Easter. I feel bad about saying that but I missed Christmas, Lent, Maundy Thursday and now Good Friday. And I haven't even taken Wynton out of his case.

So there you have it: everything's the same and yet everything has changed.  I'm marking time.

Thinking Vertically in Melbourne

I spent half a Saturn cycle feeling trapped inside the damaged and ineffective educational system but yet this allowed me to feel comfortable and perhaps even grateful to be confined and "safe". I made just enough money to think I was comfortably above the poverty line, I nearly convinced myself that I didn't really need a pension after all and I came to believe that I was doing the world a favour by doing a job no sane and/or reasonable person wants to do. I do believe that might qualify as being symptoms of "The Stockholm Syndrome".

When I decided to leave the teaching profession to promote my book, I even felt quite a pang of guilt: have I abandoned by babies just when they need me the most? I couldn't even leave the profession entirely as I spent nearly four terms very happily employed as a supply teacher working in schools who were extremely wise in working around my hectic travel schedule once I left the vicious treadmill of teaching under a "permanent" contract.

But as my 5 months of travel across 5 continents (Europe, USA, Africa, Asia and Australia) comes to a temporary end and I'm facing up to returning "home" I've been wondering what on earth I'm going to do with myself. I'm in a weird place emotionally. I'm 8,000 miles from London but preparing for life back in the place I used to think I would never willingly leave. I've done things and accomplished things I never thought I would do two years ago. I've grown as a person in more ways than I could possibly describe in a single blog post. I thought I had done pretty OK.

And yet, I've also gone through a couple of crazy phases (lasting all of 24 hours each time) thinking "OMG, what the hell am I doing?" I think it might be similar to being in a row boat in a whirlpool. What have I gotten myself into? My Saturn in Pisces starts screaming for an anchor. Anything to stop the inevitability of disappearing down the plughole.

So on Sunday I think I finally went down that plughole. I had just completed my very first full day "Astrology In Education" workshop, had held several Palmistry workshops as well as several tarot and astrology consultations. It was the first time I was starting to get the very uncomfortable feeling that I didn't have a clue if what I was doing could possibly be replicated anywhere else on the planet but in Melbourne.

Enter my new friend Marianthe who had attended my lecture at the Melbourne Astrology Meetup and made an immediate impression on me (just in case there's any doubt about which one she is, just check out the photo, left).

Marianthe, whose Mercury is exactly conjunct my Jupiter, knocked on my door Sunday morning and announced she was going to take me to breakfast. She didn't tell me where she was taking me but if she did, I would have declined. It was breakfast on the 28th floor and I'm an not only a well known arachnophobe but I'm not fond of heights either.

Marianthe talks a lot (in the best possible way). She says I make her. I would have told her I suspected otherwise but I couldn't get a word in edgeways. But I reckoned anyone who talked so much must have something important for me to hear so I stopped trying to speak and listened to her. And also, there was no chance for me to protest that I was scared of heights, earthquakes, lifts and/or helicopters flying into tall buildings.

So we ended up on the 28th floor of a building with floor to ceiling windows but a very fine selection of breakfast goodies. I concentrated on the smoked salmon and cream cheese and listened carefully to what Marianthe had to say.

Marianthe told me coming up to the 28th floor to have breakfast was part of her way of reminding herself to think big. She said she worked hard and deserved to treat herself. "Just look at this view!" she said with such enthusiasm that I couldn't resist inching a little closer to the windows. Then she said that I needed to think big too. I might have said I thought I was thinking big but perhaps it's best I never got the opportunity: I wasn't thinking big at all I increasingly realised as I listened to her. I was thinking scared. I was thinking in the way people who expect failure--or limited successes--tend to think. "Oh it's not going to work, I want my duvet, the building is going to collapse any second, get me down now."

It was around this point that other things started to dawn on me. During the time I was building a career as a teacher, I was also building a life with a partner whose Saturn/ Pluto was sitting on my Mercury. For years this was absolutely fine with me and it worked perfectly. But re-read the first paragraph in this blog post: it wasn't just the teaching profession that was stifling me. I've recently decided to leave that relationship. And of course the astrology speaks poetically. Transiting Jupiter had passed over my natal Uranus/Pluto conjunction late last year and by retrograde motion is about to do the same again (I'll get a third fly by in June). The door of opportunity has been opened and it's time for me to make a break for freedom. And it was Marianthe's natal Mercury on my natal Jupiter that was telling me it was going to be OK (and by the way, astrology can also show the way to leave relationships without hate, animosity or fear).

I have a lot of stuff happening (big announcements coming soon). I want to help to create a better profession for teachers, inspire unhappy pupils of all ages and bring astrologers from across the globe together irrespective of the astro containers they want to put themselves in. I need to think outside the box of expected limitations. I need to have the faith that I can be in high places and enjoy the new perspective. It's that simple.

With great thanks to Marianthe!

Krishnamurti Institute of Astrology Conference, Kolkata India

In my 30 year career as an astrologer, I've been to a lot of astrology conferences and I've enjoyed every single one of them. But I also have to say one conference in particular stands out for its beautiful culture, quality of speakers (a-hem) and hospitality: the Krishnamurti Institute of Astrology's annual conference in Kolkata India.

Up until a year ago, I had no particular interest in India. I mean it was on my list of places to visit but I had just never given any thought to go to conferences there (although on reflection I should have). As a Western astrologer, I knew there were huge differences in the manner astrology was practised between the two cultures. But I had rather stupidly assumed that it was a gulf that was too wide to bridge.

How wrong I was (and with my Mercury in Leo, you know it hurts to say that).

So that leads to the question of how I did get to India.

Bollywood actress Mahima Chaudry at the KIA conference, 2016

I had just presented my work on astrology and education in Austin Texas with my (now) good friend Naomi Bennett. She turned to me and said: "You know your work is wasted in the US and UK. Maybe you should think about India." So we looked at the astrocartography lines for me in India and saw that the Sun/MC line ran through Kolkata and the Jupiter/MC line ran through Delhi. Those were pretty good indications that I might be successful in India. A seed had been planted. A few weeks later, after doing some research, I found a conference that looked good and emailed the organiser, Gopal Bhattacharjee, to express an interest in speaking in 2016. To my surprise, he invited me to the conference in February 2015 and the rest, as they say, is history. 

Nope, you won't find this at Heathrow

Every moment of my first visit to India was a gift to my senses but I was a bit overwhelmed with culture shock even before I landed. So many people, so much noise and the language was completely beyond my grasp. I was a lone traveller so how was I going to get from the airport to the hotel? 

I need not have worried! Gopal had sorted it out.

You know when you see people at the exit gates holding up signs with the names of the folks they are supposed to be collecting? You know, important people? Well there were two very nice gentleman smiling and holding up a sign with my name on it. And it was even spelled correctly!

As we sped very noisily through the Kolkata night (I've never heard so many horns blaring in my life!), I was still expecting to be staying in very basic accommodation. I had been warned that I would be sick, that malaria was a real threat and that I really shouldn't expect too much. How wrong these presumptions were.  I hadn't had a clue about the hospitality of India.

Once settled in the beautiful accommodation, we were taken on a tour of the city. Living in London, I thought I would know what to expect from a busy city. Once again, nothing could have prepared me for Kolkata: the differences in culture could be seen wherever I looked. I saw men being shaved with straight razors in the open, I saw millions of people just getting on with their daily lives (washing, cooking, shopping, arguing) and of course I saw poverty like I've never seen before--and it bothered me. As I was thinking this, I saw a boy about 7 or 8 years old on a bicycle that was too big for him, pulling a small, open trailer on which a toddler sat. There were no safety precautions--and to my western eyes, it was just so dangerous with so much traffic whizzing by in what seemed like from all directions. At that moment, the boy caught my eye, gave me the biggest grin and waved. "This is my life," he seemed to say, "And isn't it great?" It made me realise who the real pauper was.

Just after visiting Kali Temple, Kolkata 

We were taken on a tour of the Kali Temple and I, who can barely manage the crowds at Sainsbury's on a Saturday morning, was oddly soothed by the chaos of what was around me. I looked up to the fading sunlight and felt this unity with my fellow travellers and natives of this hectic place. We were all in it together and wasn't it divine? All under one sky. It was a feeling that would stay with me for my entire journey through India and would return to me when I visited again.

The conference itself was again something I could not have prepared for: the queue of people waiting to get in was massive. It was not unlike the crowds that might be expected at a rock concert--and we foreign delegates were directed to take the stage almost immediately. I could not believe the audience filled the hall to capacity and beyond--standing room only! I had been worried I would offend someone with my ignorant Western ways and indeed, it didn't take long. During the lighting of the ceremonial lamp, I hadn't realised I should have taken my shoes off out of respect. Whoops! I wouldn't make that mistake again. My embarrassment was completely forgotten with the opening dance.

I was completely spellbound by the beauty of the dancers, the music and the atmosphere. Oh yes, I thought to myself, I am in beautiful, mysterious India.

During conference breaks, I was again completely surprised by the enthusiasm of the crowd who wanted photo after photo of us speakers. If there was any disappointment, it was only my inability to speak Hindi. I vowed that if I was to be invited back to the conference, I would put that problem right.

Of course at any conference, the joy comes from the people you get to know better and the people you meet. I enjoyed hanging out with fellow speakers but I was entranced by Sanjay Pandya and High Court Justice Shankar Nath Kapoor. (A week or so later, I was invited to have dinner with Kapoor Ji and his beautiful wife in Delhi along with Naomi and Ehsan Kh of Iran). As an aside, I am so pleased Naomi, Ehsan, Michelle Gould and Richard Fidlar became such close friends and that we were re-united in Cape Town later in 2015 and returned to Kolkata in 2016.

Shortly after my lecture, we were presented with the clothes we were to wear to the closing ceremonies: saris for the women and kurtis for the men. Me in a sari? Fortunately there were dressers to help because I would have worn the sari like a sparkling toga.

The biggest surprise was being crowned "Krishnamurti Institute of Astrology's International Astrologer of the Year, 2015." Yes, I got a tiara and beautiful jewellery but even better, the award was presented by Kapoor Ji and Minister for Women and Children Dr Shashi Panja--that's right: a top judge and politician at an astrology conference!

Shocked to be "KIA International Astrologer, 2015"

I really had no idea there was any sort of judging going on: I just wanted to show the good people of India how astrology could be an aid to education. But for me, the greatest honour came from the opportunity to meet Shashi, whose interests in women's and children's rights were so close to my own heart. I didn't have too much of a chance to speak to her at the time but we have kept in contact via social media. Both she and Kapoor Ji are very busy people but they each made time for me in their own ways. How fortunate is that?

Once the shock wore off, all I wanted to do was bring more Western astrologers to the conference in 2016 and I was delighted UK astrologers Julian Venables, Robert Currey and Laura Boomer Trent, along with even more delegates from afar, were inspired to attend the KIA conference in 2016. It was nothing short of a delight to watch them take in the very things that had so impressed me in 2015. They raved about the opening dance, couldn't believe the crowds, looked beautiful in traditional Indian clothes and were just as enchanted as I was (and still remain) the year before. I was so proud of their lectures and was particularly pleased Robert Currey won a well deserved "Lifetime Achievement" award.

And oh yes, after a lot of practice, I did present my opening address in Hindi! Here I am, being very careful with pronunciation:

Gopal Bhattacharjee will surely go down in astrological history as the man who has so successfully united Vedic and Western astrologers in a way no other astrological conference organiser has ever done before. The wonderful collection of astrological essays are compiled in the beautiful "Nakshatra Barta" magazine and everyone eagerly looks forward to raising the bar even higher in 2018. What a wonderful honour it was to have been a part of KIA in 2015 and to be invited back in 2016. I'm not sure exactly what Gopal has in mind for 2018 but I do know he and the KIA board members have already been called to begin preparations. Already looking forward to it!

For further details about the 28th KIA Conference, go to this site

On Eating Humble Pie

Just a little over a year ago, I was an anti Star Sign kind of astrologer who spent an awful lot of time telling other astrologers why Star Signs were stupid and a complete waste of time. Until then, I never thought I'd see the day when I would give in and begin my own Star Sign column. I guess the impetus to give the old Star Signs a try came with the realisation that I didn't even know what it was like to actually spend some time writing a column. So I decided to take the Star Sign challenge which you can read about here. And the results here.

I can clearly remember thinking that I was setting myself up for a very big piece of humble pie but at the time, this was preferable to being the kind of person who runs her big mouth without actually knowing what she is talking about. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to anyone else that I'm still writing a Star Sign column every day--for free.

This is not to say I enjoy writing the daily column. Oh no--most days instead of jumping out of bed (a-hem) and hitting the keyboard doing something useful, I am drinking 3 or 4 cups of tea, playing on Facebook and bracing myself to write 2 sentences for each star sign. I can procrastinate with such pathetic skill that a full hour can pass before I feel ready to get on with things. And most days I think I have something better to do than write them.

But here's the thing:

My blog viewing stats before and after the star sign column

I can't argue with how much traffic the column brings to my other work. I easily get at least 100x more visits to these pages with links to my "real" work than I did when I wasn't writing them. This means that about 10,000 good people who stop in to read their Star Sign written by me have access to the external links to full articles, workshops and other things that I get up to: in other words, they are exposed to "real" astrology far more often than if I didn't write the column.

And what on earth is "real" astrology anyway? If you had asked me before I started writing the column, I would have told you that "real" astrology was a beautifully written piece demonstrating the functions of every planet, every aspect and every technique in astrology. In other words, articles loaded with obscure references that no one was going to take the time to read--not even fellow astrologers. And to be really honest, it was stuff I wasn't writing anyway. And if I did have the time to write these articles it would appear to be just as much bullshit as any Star Sign column.

So I'll bet you're wondering why I'm so touchy about this today.

Last night, I received my first ever criticism for writing a Star Sign column from a fellow astrologer. It was a moment I had been anticipating for some time (given that I had made myself such a big target by being anti Star Signs for so long) so I thought I would been prepared for it. The other astrologer said my column was "tacky" and that it undermined all my other good work and credentials.

I mean "ouch".

But how many times I have wondered, being highly qualified in the teaching profession, the value of saying again and again "a lot is two words", the differences between "there, their and they're" and the value of reading a "real" work of literature?  I have probably said something along these lines to my eager pupils at least once every lesson--and that is a very conservative estimate. I mean, why should I, having so heavily invested in my education, stoop so low as to even waste my breath on these ignorant heathens? Shouldn't I be showing off my in-depth knowledge of the Complete Works of Shakespeare or something? The answer is because the kids I teach just don't know any better and they aren't going to understand Shakespeare until they understand the basics of the English language. I know better and so I can teach them. It's what I do--and what every other teacher on the planet does. And I feel exactly the same way (now) about the Star Sign columns. Yes, I have more important things to do--but there is nothing more important than putting oneself in the front line by providing non astrologers with the opportunity to learn something. So it goes with the column: here's the Star Sign stuff and here's a way to find the more important stuff.

Another point is on the topic of practice. Writing a daily column essentially forces me to pick up an ephemeris and look at it and work with it and to put the meaning into every day language to be understood by a non astrologer. It's a bloody hard skill. But by the Great Goddess I got better and faster at doing it.

It's not unlike being a trumpet player--which I've been for 40 years.  I dislike practising scales--but if I don't do it, I wouldn't be much of a trumpet player. And if I don't do it often, I become a bad trumpet player very quickly. So I get out the Arban's (that's the trumpet Bible) and make myself practice. It's not the only way to become better and it certainly isn't fun to listen to or to do but it's efficient and effective. Ditto for the star sign column.

So I have faced up to being wrong about Star Sign columns for all but one of the 30 years I've been an astrologer. And I have to eat a big old piece of humble pie. But I'm going to wash it down with the fact that it's better to realise one's mistakes sooner rather than later.

Cheers!

Duh. . .delirium!

As experienced during my three week stay in Kolkata India. . .

I have no planets in earth signs (unless you count Uranus and Pluto and quite a few astrologers--including me--don't really count these in a natal chart). I've said this before but most people do have at least one planet in earth so therefore they can't understand the stupid shit I do sometimes. So this blog is for you people so you can watch out for people like me. What kind of stupid shit do I do? For example:

1) Assuming everyone has GOT to be way more organised than me and therefore I can rely on them to help me sort my shit out. Case in point? Recently I had to get a visa for India. Last year I waited a little too long and ended up getting stressed because it (which had been sent off with my passport) was taking so long. Come to find out, I had thrown away the delivery slip--and my passport (and visa) was waiting for me at the post office. Oh yeah, India visa part deux--this year I trusted India visa services to have way better internet than me. Did they? No and I ended up in near meltdown because I had to, yet again, wait until the last minute to get my visa.

2) Assuming everyone else will completely misunderstand my need for certain, shall we call them, security items. Yes I have a teddy. No not really but there are certain things I'm not going to let out of my sight for very long (my laptop is a given but that's fastened to my person most of the time and ditto for my passport). My toothbrush is always right where I can find it. Wherever I am in the world, I have to trust my toothbrush is where I put it and it's safely protected from contaminants (can't stand scuzzy teeth cuz I am paranoid about cavities). A pen, although it's true I may go through several over the course of week, is always where I can find it (never know when someone might want me autograph, ;)). My manners are always with me because I like people to think I'm nice (I mention manners for a reason--hold on). Something to wash my hands with because I hate having sticky fingers. You get where I'm going with this: I'm a woman of simple needs who easily loses track of shoes, clothes and knickers (a-hem) but the laptop, passport, pen and wet wipes are where I can find them.

3) Assuming everyone is as paranoid about their bank card as I am. Yes I'm compulsive wallet checker (my own that is). I generally have an awareness of how much I'm worth and whether or not I'm actually worth robbing. Generally speaking, I'm not worth the bother because I have no planets in earth and walk around in a financial fug.

4) Assuming that my body does not need much conscious care. I mean, what? It works so what's to worry about? I HATE taking tablets! I'll take any other form of anaesthesia--hate tablets. Oh I'm scared of needles!! I'll do anything to avoid needles (again I mention this for a reason)

So I started to get a headache last week after I had a bit of a meltdown. It got better eventually but was kind of always there in the background but it wasn't bothering me so I could ignore it. So Sunday rolls around and I'm starting to feel a little stressed: the noise was bothering me. In fact I was starting to think it was giving me a headache but I got a lot of work done this day--because people with no planets in earth tend to worry people with planets in earth will think they are lazy if they're not doing something.

I'm not feeling much better on Monday so I reckon the remedy for this is a pint of beer down at the "Restaurant Cum Bar"--because people with no planets in earth signs think they can just ignore their physical bodies as if they can forget they actually have one. I'm still working when I start to think I should wear my glasses more than I do. Where are my glasses (because being able to see should be more important than my teeth, right)? So when things get a little too blurry I think I should get some fresh air. In downtown Kolkata. Because surely all those people with more planets in earth signs are so much more conscious about the environment and would NEVER do stuff like allow fellow citizens to have a trillion petrol burning cars.

Anyway, by this time, I'm not feeling too clever. And I'm breathing in all those glorious fumes, metabolising a pint of strong Indian lager and ignoring the fact that I'm getting a little warm. Of course, I immediately put this down to the environment, not down to the fact that I'm starting to run a temperature. In fact, by the time I get back to the hotel, I'm feeling distinctly panic stricken because surely it must be down to the stupid ways I can't manage my life--due to lack of planets in earth--that I can 't have my daughter and my cats on the same continent as I am. I spent hours sitting in front of my laptop, frustrated because I can't write and wiping my nose because if cry I'm going to punish myself by not speaking to myself for the next couple of days. And when one is staying on one's own that can't happen. I never thought to myself "Alex, something ain't right. Ya think you better run those symptoms through google?"

About 10 minutes later, I'm barfing. What could be worse than barfing, on your own, in a foreign hotel, away from your mates with absolutely no one to talk to and share this experience with? Judging by my reaction, it was akin to being hanged, drawn and quartered. I tried to take a cold shower to cool off but my skin hurt. Probably because I so worked up--so I thought.

So I took a nap, thinking I'm probably over-tired and little over-excited. I wake up three hours later. My first thought? Having no planets in earth, I'm thinking "Oh my God, you lazy bastard! What will all those people with planets in earth signs think about you?" I get back to my laptop and I'm feeling hot and dizzy and I got this weird pain in my back. So what does someone with no planets in earth think? "Well you have been either sitting or laying down most of the day, you lazy git. Maybe you need a bit of yoga." So I do a little yoga and this weird pain in my back is getting to be a little distracting--and that's going to mean I won't be able to write. So now I'm angry with myself. My thought process:

"Jeez Alex, can't you do anything right? All you have to do is write--like you've always said you wanted to do--and you even screw that up. And you know why? Because you don't try hard enough (actually this might have been my Mars square Saturn talking)." So I do end up crying because I'm so pissed off with myself. It's out of character because generally speaking I'm a tough old bird.

So I tried to have a convo on the internet and the person I'm talking to asks me if I'm pissed.

Who? Me? Pissed? I mean the very idea!!

He tells me to go to bed so I do (actually I did try to put up a bit of a fight on this one but thought I was drifting in and out of sleep because my hearing and vision were playing up). Besides the headache and backache were getting hard to ignore and some sleep may be what I needed. Right? Fortunately I did have the foresight to place a bucket for puking next to me.

I wake up and there's a strange man in my room. But it's like I'm underwater or dreaming and can't even shout or scream. And everything hurts. But I managed to barf again. And go back to sleep. Smart eh?

I wake up again to someone shaking me. I hear the word "hospital". Or least I think I did. So I open my eye (I couldn't get the pair to coordinate) and there's a smiling man and another man I recognised as the waiter who brings me tea every morning. Eventually I worked out the man I didn't know was a doctor and he wants a urine sample.

I laugh.

I mean, are you bloody kidding? I barfed everything up! (see point number 2)

He motions for me to drink out of an opened bottle water.

Hahaha, laughs Ms No Planets in Earth Signs, I'm not so out of it that I'm going to drink out of an opened bottle of water.  He explains if I don't drink, I'm going to need to go to hospital and have an IV (see point 4 above).

Well why didn't you bloody well say so (point number 2 if you've forgotten)? I asked (I also asked and said a whole lot of other shit that I can't remember because I was pretty near delirious with a fever). The thermometer said 40 degrees Celsius!! Holy shit--I knew what that meant. So I drained the bottle.

Then promptly barfed.

The doctor held his head in his hands. He may have face palmed. He got another bottle of water, poured a bit out into a glass and added what looked like white powder. He held it out to me like I was stupid.

He did that head shake thing and told me it was sugar and salt. I was dehydrated. He needed to test my urine so he can work out what should be done with my barfing self. He told me, very sternly, to sip the water.

At this point of the story, can I just say despite the indignity of barfing in front of other human beings that I'm extremely grateful nothing was coming out of any other orifice?

So what do you know, half an hour later I'm ready to pee into his little vial. He goes into the bathroom and then comes back and tells me I have a kidney infection.

For a second, I'm dumbfounded. I have kidneys? I have heard of such things but having no planets in earth means that I walk around this planet thinking I don't have a human body.

There's a chemist next door and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask the old boy to pick me up some valium while he was there. Anyway I chickened out, he left and then returned with what I hoped was a prescription (having no planets in earth, I couldn't quite pull myself together to ask). Antibiotics and ibuprofen. The fever must come down, he said and added I really should stay in bed--which of course meant (having no planets in earth)--I was back at my laptop as soon as the door closed.

Once the coast is clear, the first thing I noticed is that my tarot cards are out on my desk. I'm paranoid about my cards. I always put them away. Why were they out? I read through some messages. Oh yeah, I tried to do a couple of "readings". I could only hope I didn't fuck anyone's life up. Now I'm kinda scared to touch my laptop lest my brain disengage again. On a positive note, I was pleased to note I didn't lose my ability to type when under such physical stress.

But I was really too ill to be up for more than a few minutes and ended up sleeping most of the day between barfing--because having no planets in earth means I keep forgetting my body can't process more than a sip of water at a time. But the tablets stayed down. Bummer I can't have beer or tea for the rest of the week. But the fever is coming down.

So that's what life without any planets in earth is pretty much like.

PS I'm absolutely fine now!

A Day in the Life of a Bad Cancerian

I lost the plot yesterday.

To those who know me well, perhaps this comes as a complete surprise as I'm so normally so calm, cool and collected.

OK, you can stop the giggling and listen to this little astrological tale.

For the past year or so, Jupiter has been my friend, my pal, my bosom buddy. Lately this friend has been totally broadsided by Pluto--you know, God of the Underworld. To make matters worse, my other buddy Mercury has been stationing on Pluto. 

Before we go any further, I just need to point out I really dislike it when people start blaming retrograde Mercury for everything from lost post to internet disruption to getting lost on the way to a party: Mercury doesn't cause that--people who aren't paying attention do. It's become an excuse: "oh I got stuck in traffic and it's all because Mercury is retrograde" as if traffic jams, delayed messages and dodgy internet connections never happen when Mercury is in forward motion. It's just ridiculous. Throw some empirical evidence in and the data nerd might pay attention.

Anyway, this story is different because Mercury was stationing (getting ready to change to forward direction again) on Pluto with a personal connection to my natal Jupiter.

So this past week, I've travelled across a continent (a big one at that) to be at a conference in India. I've have spent the past week pretty much under hot lights, getting my photo taken, getting bossed around, eating on schedule and getting lost in a 5 star hotel. Things are a little different to the way I like them to be, i.e. drinking tea all morning while I write, eating when I feel like and admiring sunsets.

Yesterday I just could not cope anymore. I was physically exhausted and rendered mentally incompetent. Decision making? Forget it! To top it all off, I had a splitting headache (I cannot even remember the last time I had a headache). In other words, I felt like shit. Really.

What had happened was I had booked some hotels to go to after the conference. These were online bookings with booking.com which has never let me down. Ever. But this is India. There are so many addresses no one knows where anything is. And I've been so busy with the conference I hadn't been able to sort out a sim card. I really didn't even know what that meant or why it was so important: until I needed to book a flight to Varanasi. Despite my best efforts, I just couldn't book a flight and suddenly felt very alone and helpless on this great big heaving continent full of people, horns, pollution and different languages. I also ended up losing--and paying for--my hotel bookings.

So I had a meltdown.

Nothing made sense to me anymore. Nothing! It took 3 people to talk me down (thank you Victor, Gopal and Julian) plus Michelle, Richard and Nick to assure me they had my back. I was totally ready to head back to the UK and get back to teaching until I was old enough to retire. My cats! My duvet! Yah, that's how freaked out I was. Get me back to where everything is familiar.

It was at that point I realised that perhaps I'm not such a bad Cancerian after all. All my life, I have denied being a Cancerian because I'm not even a little home-loving and shy. Or so I thought. Put me under (a lot) of stress and I just want my mommy (OK things never got that bad).

So these are a few things I learned about myself when I experience extreme conditions:

1. I hate packing
2. My hearing goes funny when I'm stressed
3. My decision making process, dodgy at the best of times, goes tits up
4. I have some damn good friends.
5. I really need to remember all this

First the Ocean, Now the Sky

I've woken up this morning with the distinct feeling that the universe cracked while I was sleeping. And maybe it did. Yesterday the Moon-Venus opposition was on my nodal axis and the midpoint of transiting Mercury and Pluto were on my natal Jupiter.

I knew something profound was about to happen yesterday at 1:22pm (astrologers always take note of these things). I had been contemplating going to the beach but I had this uneasiness about what the ocean had to say. It wasn't a fear, it was just an uncertainty about how much change one person can tolerate in such a short space of time.

As I was thinking this, a small feather floated from the sky--and I kid you not--landed near my feet. My first thought was of my grandmother. So I picked up the feather and thanked my ancestors. Like a good Ojibwa. And then I was overcome with such intense homesickness--the first bout I've had since being away for so long--that tears sprang to my eyes.

Home. Where is that, I wondered.

I'm such a bad Cancerian (or so I thought) that I couldn't even answer that question. I've been wrestling with a certain terror that I've managed to scatter the people I love all over the globe and the only way I can communicate with them is via Facebook. I felt ashamed. What the hell am I doing? I need to go home.

And then the sky spoke. This feather, this feather that floated from the sky from the wing of some unseen  bird, reminded me that I am home. This is it. Home. I am home. Wherever I lay my hat.

A few hours later and I'm on the beach with two South African Sangomas watching the first sunset of the Summer Solstice. One of the sangomas had not worn shoes in over 20 years and he made me wonder what it would be like to feel the earth under one's feet for so long without the barrier of shoes. He also had long, uncut hair. I asked him if it was in his tradition to cut hair in grief as it for the Ojibwas. My own hair was pretty much down to my waist when I lost relatives and cut my hair very short. I wore my grief and was reminded of it every time I went to pull my non existent hair from my collar. My hair is just starting to grow back but I still remember my grief when I look in the mirror. The sangoma told me that he last shaved his head when his father died. Then we both laughed at our good fortune to have growing hair. How fleeting life is and how long is the recovery from grief. But now we can laugh because we understand what it means to regrow from loss. 

The sangomas had brought me to a place to watch the sunset. It felt like the edge of the world. Behind us were "The Twelve Apostles" hills and before us was the ocean. There was a very light mist as the light of the dying sun turned the atmosphere to lavender. When it was getting dark, I took my shoes off so I could feel the rocks beneath my feet.

And I knew I was home.

And I also knew that wherever life takes me I am home. Here. Now. I am safe, balanced and far heartier than I had thought.

And the other thing I know is that I too am a sangoma. It might be known by a different name in different languages but by the Great Goddess, I now know I am--and have always been--a sangoma. I had just forgotten.

And it's great to be home.

I know this because a seemingly insignificant feather floated down from the sky and landed at my feet.