The Alchemical Journey

Following Your Bliss / Hearing the Sirens' Call

2010-03-08T13:05:00.014Z

The keynote of our Pisces weekend on The Alchemical Journey was Joseph Campbell's famous line "Follow Your Bliss". This was something we connected to quite profoundly during our recent workshop, when we explored our lives through the Piscean perspective and the myths and symbolism of that sign. One of the greatest realisations that came out of the weekend for people was that bliss is not something that you can simply attain, acquire or hope to covet. Rather, it is something that must be surrendered to. Like death, it requires us to release the control of our ego and take an uncertain journey into an unknown realm. In order to touch that realm, it seems that we must become like the poet in enchanted reverie for his/her muse, intoxicated with a divine, more-than-human desire. Yet that bliss that we crave will elude us the moment we try to capture it, possess it or explain it. If we truly desire transformation, then we must surely surrender the safety of the well-reasoned mind, for bliss can never be experienced through purely rational means.

Surrendering to the Enchantment

Yet what happens to us when we do surrender to the enchantment? The magic straw or golden bough that offers access to the otherworld, might come to us through falling wildly in love with someone, through ingesting a psychedelic substance, through ecstatic dance, kundalini meditation or through other means. Yet it seems that we must also guard against the experience until we are ready, lest we lose oursleves in that otherworld and lose touch with this one. For if we do not have a strong anchor, a strong sense of alignment or orientation, then it could destroy what we have, our relationships, our vocational path, everything we have worked for. Sometimes, perhaps that is necessary, in our own spiritual journey. However, it occurs to me that unless we approach the experience with a strong commitment and intention, the experience may lead us too wildly off our intended course, distracting us from our deeper purpose, path and commitment. If we do not have a sense of these prior to entering the enchantment, then the enchantment itself may become our "way" and we may become so consumed by the experience of bliss, that we completely lose touch with those around us. We could become messianic in our quest to recapture the experience, once the intense period of divine revelation has passed. In such a case, we are also more likely to attach the experience of bliss to the agent that apparently brought it about. So we end up associating the bliss with a particular lover, drug, dance form, or meditation technique - rather than embrace the deeper realisation that the capacity for surrendering to divine love lies deep within us and that the agent is simply a catalyst that releases an already existing potential.

I have a Pisces ascendant and Mercury in Pisces rising in my chart, and I feel know this perspective well. I have had experiences of intense "bliss" several times in my own life, sometimes through love or longing or loss, occasionally through an experience of spiritual awakening, and, earlier in my life, through psychedelics. And these have always been periods of intense, transformational learning for me. As I've got older I've learned to handle them better, and found ways to experience the enchantment and taste the "elixir of life" without completely losing my way. The zodiac has been my greatest teacher, and my greatest anchor in that way. I have found that the wheel both facilitates the possibility of me experiencing bliss, yet it also helps to bring me back and re-orient myself again in the world with a transformed perspective.

Odysseus: The Piscean Hero
The story of Odysseus and the Sirens really captures the spirit of the Piscean journey. I consider Odysseus (Ulysses) to be the archetypal mythological hero of the Pisces perspective. Although Odysseus has the sympathy of most of the gods and goddesses, his journey home to Ithaca is thwarted time and again by Poseidon (Neptune), who claims the modern astrological rulership of Pisces. Poseidon whips up ferocious storms that continually blow the hero off course. (Odysseus angered the God of the Sea, when he put out the eye of the Cyclops, Polyphemus, who was Poseidon's son). So Odysseus meets many trials on his journey home, and in each case he uses his famous wit and cunning to overcome these dangers. The most Piscean of his adventures is surely his encounter with the Sirens.

Odysseus & the Sirens
The Sirens are great enchantresses, they have bird-like forms with beautiful female heads and faces, and they resonate with the sweetest, most divine music such that even the strongest will cannot resist. When sailors pass by their island, they are invariably lured by the sirens call to their deaths and the shoreline is littered with the debris of ships that have crashed on the rocks there. But Odysseus the wily hero, enacts a cunning plan to avoid this fate. Advised by Circe, he blocks the ears of his crew with beeswax, so they will not hear the sirens' call, and instructs them to tie him to the mast of the ship, so that he will not be lured by them. He also tells them that each time he begs to be released, they should tighten his bounds, which they dutifully do.

The question that is always asked, of course, is why does Odysseus not simply stuff his own ears with wax? And the answer, I would say, is this. It has because Odysseus must experience bliss in order to learn, in order to grow, in order to transform his perspective. He knows that it is part of his journey to hear the sirens call, to be driven half-mad with passion and desire, to give up the control of his mind and surrender himself to the divine muse. Odysseus, of all the heroes in Greek mythology, is the one most willing to learn, and most prepared to experience deep transformation. Yet he also has a clear mission - to return home to his beloved Ithaca, and his ever-faithful wife, Penelope.

What The Story Has to Teach Us
In our Pisces workshop, we enacted the story of Odysseus and the Sirens. I myself played Odysseus, strapped to the mast, while the rest of the group played the sirens and the crew. It was a powerful experience, and we all learned a great deal from it. It prompted us to enquire into how willing we each were to surrender ourselves to bliss and what conditions we needed to have in place in order to take that journey. We discussed the meaning of the mast to which Odysseus is strapped and how important it is to have a strong support as we embark on our otherworldly journeying - a strong anchor that can allow us to journey into unknown lands, and that has the strength of commitment to bring us back to our more familiar reality, and then allow us to process the transformation that has taken place. In the alchemical work that we are doing on this programme, the container or alembic is crucial to the journey, and it is something that we pay great attention to. One of the greatest revelations for me has been the way that the zodiac itself acts as as a sacred container, particularly when we work with it in line the seasonal journey. It keeps us aligned and well-oriented as we go through these transformational adventures each month. It seems to have helped foster commitment and strong intention within the groups that we have taken through The Alchemical Journey process so far.

Penelope: Weaving & Unweaving the Cosmos

In our mystery play over the Pisces weekend, we also had someone playing Penelope, his wife, back on Ithaca. Penelope shares some of Odysseus's cunning, and she has her own way of deflecting the attentions of the many suitors who attempt to win her hand while her husband is away. She announces that she will only taker a suitor when she has finished making a particular dress. So she weaves the dress during the day, and then unweaves the thread at night, so the dress is never finished. Symbolically, then, Penenlope really encapsulate the mutable dance of Virgo (the weaver) and Pisces (the unweaver), the two signs opposed in the zodiac. At some level it seemed to us that Penelope was in some way the architect of the whole Odyssey, as if she were at some level weaving together heavens and earth, and cosmic drama of events that unfold through the narrative. And as Odysseus adventure unfolds itself between the integrity of her weaving that gradually guides him home, and the unravelling chaos of her unweaving through which he learns and transforms.

Reflections on An Extraordinary Alchemical Year

2010-02-25T11:33:00.004Z

Last weekend, we completed the final stage of the 2009-10 Alchemical Journey programme with our sublime Pisces weekend. In the two years since we've been running The Alchemical Journey as a full 12-month course, I don't think I have experienced a weekend of cathartic wonder quite like that. It was an absolute treat for me, as we had the whole of this year's core group, and the whole of last year's group participating - the old school meets the new school - it was amazing! It was the perfect way to complete was has been a really extraordinary year. Moving The Alchemical Journey to Glastonbury, bringing Anthony on board, and working directly with the landscape zodiac temple has added immense depth to the course, and I believe we now have one of the most genuinely powerful transformational programmes out there - and definitely one of the most original.

When I think back to The Alchemical Journey's humble beginnings began back in 2006, when I created it as a 12 week course, working with the twelve zodiacal dimensions of the law of attraction, it is incredible to think how far we have come since then. We are now effectively running a zodiac mystery school, working with profound alchemical principles connecting us to the cyclical / spiral wisdom of seasonal round and the astrological journey of the Sun through the twelve signs of the zodiac. And the work we are doing is providing the context for the most extraordinary transformation in people's lives. I am continually moved by the shifts that our participants are making in their own lives.

Our journey around the Glastonbury Zodiac has brought us full circle, from our start point up on Walton Hill and the "village" of Street, we again found ourselves on Sunday close to where we began. We walked along the "Beckery Salmon" to Bridies Mound, Pomparles Bridge (from where King Arthur is said to have thrown his sword Excalibur into the River Brue, as a final gesture before his death) and Wearyall Hill, where Joseph of Arimathea planted his staff out of which grew the Palestinian Thorn Tree, which flowers around Christmas time. It was one of the most meaningful walks of the year for me, and it embodied so much devotional Piscean energy. Wearyall Hill holds the unique distinction of looking like a fish on the map and in three dimensions when viewed from above. And we completed our walk, by parading down Fishers Hill back into Glastonbury.

I feel we are perfecting and refining a great work with The Alchemical Journey and we have moved so far this year in terms of that. It has become so clear to me this year how this way of working with the zodiac can really liberate our creative potential, whilst deepening our connection with the soul, and at the same time allow our spirits soar to new heights of awareness and revelation.

My Highlights of the Year:
I've been thinking about some of the things that stand out for me this year. So many rich, vivid memories - and as they say, "you really needed to be there", but I'd still just to honour them briefly here:

In Aries, it was the mask dance, and the ceremony with David Hatfield at Wagg Drove on the tail of the Girt Dog of Langport.
In Taurus, the process we did around money & the beautiful walk through the woods in the Taurus figure.
In Gemini, the flutter and buzz game, and connecting to the Spring at Dundon Beacon.
In Cancer, it was that beautiful Sunday we had with Marina and Celia offering their ways of accessing the wisdom of the ancestors, and then visiting Bradley Spring (which feeds the rines that make up the Cancer figure), and meeting Sheila Jeffries, its guardian.
In Leo, the stand out memory was the catwalk and coronation ceremony, one of the absolute highlights of the year. "All hail the King / the Queen". Unforgettable.
In Virgo, I felt we went some way to reclaiming the power and wisdom of the sign of the Goddess, and the walk around the village of Babcary was amazing - so deeply suggestive of the feminine mystery.
In Libra, I remember the wonderful altar that Colette created, dancing our ascendant / descendant positions on Sunday morning, the synchronicity of the dove feathers and the tranquil beauty of Sunday's walk in the Libran dove figure around Barton St David.
In Scorpio, the shadow process that was so profound, the Pluto dances on Sunday morning, and the underworld wood we found - complete with its own River Styx - in Alford.
In Sagittarius, what stands out is the guided journey & divining from our artistic renderings, then the walk up to Baltonsborough Flights on the third eye of the archer, my personal favourite spot in the Zodiac.
In Capricorn, the initiation process which was so deeply meaningful and then the walk along the Unicorn's horn.
In Aquarius, I'll always remember us pouring the rainbow waters of life over each other, dancing our Uranus positions and the magical walk around Glastonbury.
And in Pisces, so many memories still so fresh - the fish dance, Orpheus, the river of life, the Odysseus mystery play, the Neptune astrodrama pieces, and then the most sublime walk in the zodiac and discovering Bridies Mound within such a profound ritual context.

Well the cycle continues, and while we may pause for breath for a couple of weeks, our attention will soon turn to the new programme, when it all begins again in Aries, as buds break through on the branch and Spring begins in earnest with its full-on fiery force! Our Aries weekend, "The Alchemy of Intention" takes place in Street (near Glastonbury) on 27th / 28th March. Hope those of you reading this will join us on the journey this year as and when you can. I have a strong feeling it's going to be the best year yet!

love & blessings
John

Pisces: Diving Deep into the Mystic Ocean

2010-02-05T18:40:00.003Z

“And the seasons, they go round and round, and the painted ponies go up and down. We’re captured on a carousel of time…in the circle game”. I find Joni Mitchell’s sublime lyric quintessentially Piscean and it always reminds me of this phase of the year as the Sun journeys through Pisces and returns symbolically to the ocean of possibility from which new life can emerge in the Spring.

Melting...
Pisces epitomises the ups and downs of the circle game better than any other. It is traditionally considered the 12th and final sign of the zodiac, and is the third sign of the winter triad returning us to Spring Equinox where the astrological round will begin again in Aries. In Pisces, the contracted crystalline forms of winter are dissipating and becoming less defined. The ice is melting, and as the earth begins to warm up again, ground water breaks the surface and rivers flow. Nature is softening her brittle edges and dissolving her winter identity.

Surrendering...
Pisces is a sign that is full of paradox and apparent contradiction. It is famously associated with struggle, the two fish tied together pulling in different directions, yet is also the sign of surrender, where we sacrifice our attachment to a particular identity and learn to accept what must be. To sacrifice really means 'to make sacred' - or to return to what is sacred - through giving up something of significance to which we have become attached. In the Christian calendar, the Pisces phase corresponds with the season of lent, the season of fasting, traditionally a time to go on retreat or retire to a meditative or reflective place so that we might become ready to receive the new creative shoots of life that break forth at the Spring Equinox.

Poeticising...
Pisces is associated very strongly with the poetic impluse, where attempts at reason and logical deduction must be suspended if we are to be granted access to the mystery of who we really are. The Piscean phase of the journey resonates with the idea that the truth can only be reached through myth and metaphor. Pisces is synonymous with a profound ambiguity where nothing is certain. It is the phase of the journey where we might be well advised to seek guidance from those in our society whose perspective might normally be overlooked - the underdogs, the mystics, the artists, the storytellers, the disenfranchised and disadvantaged in society, for they may understand something that we have forgotten in our quest for distinction and success, clarity and order.

Dreaming...
The dreamtime of aboriginal Australians is far from delusion or escape, but rather connects the tribe to its origins, and to its deepest more-than-human reality. Our over-rational western biases tend to marginalise the importance of dream time and reduce the imaginal realm to mere thought projection, thus explaining it away in the rather narrow terms of humanist psychology. Yet the Piscean injunction is to truly to surrender rational control and open ourselves to the diverse possibilities that emerge from the mystic ocean. We can learn from nature at this time of the year, just as the crystalline forms of nature dissolve and dis-integrate, so we might which explore aspects of our own hard shelled identity we might be willing to relinquish.

Enchanting...
In numerous ancient mystery traditions from cultures spanning the globe, it was the task of the initiates to pass through astrological twelve gateways of experience in order that they might truly come to know themselves from the rich diversity of perspectives that the zodiac presented them with. Each sign of the zodiac carries within it the potential for philosophical transformation and as we journey around the year, consciously embracing and embodying these 12 archetypal energies, we are in essence, enacting an ancient, alchemical mystery play. By entering into the mysteries of the astrological wheel, with its ancient symbolic coherence, we can reconnect us to a paradigm of meaningful co-respondence, which Jung called synchronicity. Indeed, the enchantment that the zodiacal wheel casts on our imagination can liberate us from the suffering we experience from our attachment to the carousel of time.

"To Make a Difference, We Must Be Different"

2010-02-04T22:55:00.001Z

"To make a difference, we must be different". Aquarian Abraham Lincoln said something along those lines - having the willingness to stand out, go against the grain, dance like no-one is watching, and love like it's never going to hurt. Aquarians seem to have a way of being themselves regardless of what others think of them. And as we enter the mystery of this zodiacal perspective, our work is to release that freedom of expression that flies in the face of social convention and throws a spanner of works of the rules of etiquette and decorum. Yes, free-spirited Aquarius gives us the wings to fly into a future of our own choosing. Yet the goal for Aquarius is an impersonal one. Unlike heart-centred Leo with his proud individualism, the water-bearer pours forth the waters of life for humanity as a whole, as a community as network of interconnected beings. So we remove our own ego from the centre of the play and become "just" another member of the troupe. The trick is to do that without losing our individual expression!

The Aquarian perspective seems to elevate our consciousness to a higher plane and lifts us above the fluctuating contingencies of feelings and passions, to a cooler, more detached realm of ideas and ideals. It puts us in in touch with the humanity that we share in common with one another, and by adopting this perspective we can begin to glimpse the possibility of how we might live together in a community of shared values and principles.

The sign of the water bearer holds the tension of sameness and difference and can help bring us together as diverse communities. Through accepting that we originate from a common source, it teaches us to release our need to protect only our own clan, as we learn to accept our differences, embrace the myriad expressions of life. It's rainbow colours remind us that any form of meaningful unity can only ever be achieved through preserving and encouraging its diversity, and allowing that to emerge organically from its grass roots. Indeed this is really the great tension that exists in Aquarius, for it is so much the sign of ideals, and marvellous plans and schemes that seem to work perfectly on paper yet can prove a disaster in practice if they (all too easily) overlook the contingencies inherent in the creative unfolding of life. During our Aquarian weekend, we looked in some depth at Living Systems Theory, and one of the things that really struck a chord with me about that was the life never unfolded just according to the plan, but always with an element of innovation and surprise. The key to evolution, according to Fritjof Capra is not adaptation, as Darwin had it, but creativity. This is so evident in the human beings evolve their understanding, but equally it is a key component of how living systems evolve also.

The Aquarian Bird's Eye View

2010-01-12T18:01:00.002Z

The Alchemical Journey will shortly be entering its Aquarian phase and on 22nd/23rd January, we will be entering into the Aquarius perspective for our monthly weekend workshop. Having climbed to the summit of the mountain in Capricorn and entered the consciousness of the initiate, made our declaration of commitment and taken our stand in the world, it is now time to come down the mountain and share our elevated understanding with the world. From its lofty elevation, looking toward humanity from a high place of understanding, Aquarius is able to see life as an interconnected web, a network of relatedness, the unity in diversity. In this way Aquarius is like an eagle, flying high above the world, able to see the bigger picture and offer that up as wisdom. Katharine Maltwood identified Aquarius as an eagle in The Glastonbury Zodiac, rather than the more familiar water-bearer and the symbolism certainly seems to fit the sign. This is a freehand drawing of hers, depicting the Aquarius figure. Note the chalice well marked on, and Glastonbury Tor, which is the beak of the bird.

Anthony and myself have walked the Aquarius figure with Alchemical Journey groups on two previous occasions, the last being when we made our promotional film. The walk takes in many of Glastonbury's most prominent sights, including Glastonbury Tor (the beak), the Red and White Springs, the so-called Gog & Magog oak trees, and St Edmund's Hill (which is one of the bird's wings). A remarkable thing happened at the top of the Tor. Anthony was addressing the question of why Aquarius was represented by a bird, rather than a human figure, and at that moment a hawk flew close to us and turned and looked directly at us. It was a remarkable moment of synchronicity and the timing of it seemed to confirm the "rightness" of the bird symbolism. Kevin and Tim, our film-makers, were sharp enough to catch the moment on camera and it features in our film and some of you may have seen it. We walked the figure in the snow in early February last year - here's a pictures from that walk:

So perhaps what that hawk was reminding us of was the way that Aquarius gives us that bird's eye view. Aquarius is unique among astrological perspectives in having the ability to rise above the human condition and to some extent detach itself from the unpredictable contingencies of human emotions. Aquarius must stand apart from the human experience, and at times, fly close the wind in order to appreciate the web which connects the nodes of our unique identities together into a seamless dance.

Aquarius challenges us to hold the tension between our uniqueness and our similarity to those with whom we share the web and it challenges us to express whatever it is that makes us stand out in the world. In Capricorn we stood up and accepted the mantle of responsibility. Now, in Aquarius, we stand out from the crowd and express our difference, and through that, realise the unique difference that we each make in the world. This is the sign of the future and we will be journeying into the future in our imaginations, as together we co-create a coherent vision of what is to come as we prepare to enter the Aquarian Age.

For more details of our forthcoming Aquarius workshop, click HERE

Walking the Horn of Capricorn

2010-01-12T16:28:00.006Z

I began 2010, on new year's day, with three friends walking along Ponters Ball, the Horn of the Capricorn figure in the Glastonbury Zodiac. Blessed with fine weather we walked slowly and deliberately along the ancient earthwork in the direction of the setting sun, imagining that we were taking into ourselves the magical energy of this most sacred of landscape symbols.

The horn of the goat, or in some representations, a unicorn, starts at the pineal gland in the head of the animal and then stretches to the south-west for about 2/3 of a mile, as Ponters Ball rises about 20ft in elevation. The Capricorn figure itself ranges over an area of about four miles across north-eastwards in the direction of Shepton Mallett, stretching from Havyatt at the head/horn (closest to Glastonbury) to Launcherley Hill at his hind leg. On our alchemical journey walk in December we focussed on the horn as being the potent symbol of initiation, the threshold between worlds, the experience of cornucopia (nature's abundance), and the realisation of our true nature.

The raised earthwork of Ponters Ball marks the boundary of the sacred enclosure of Avalon, demarcating it as sacred, protecting it from unwelcome intruders, and signalling the appropriate way by which to enter it. The name Havyatt was originally hagyatt, "hagy" meaning heaven or sacred place, and "yatt" meaning gateway. So this is the gateway to Paradise (one of Glastonbury's former names), and this indeed was certainly the traditional way that one would approach Avalon, which is olden times was surrounded on three sides by water. Here's a photo of Ponters Ball taken by Lone Bang, who has been taking groups around The Glastonbury Zodiac for several years. Her website is: http://www.zodiactours.co.uk

So, having parked our cars in a makeshift little parking bay off the A361, we crossed the road and walked through the field down to Norwood Farm on the nose of the goat and then back up through the head to the pineal gland gland, all the while blessed with the most stunning views of Glastonbury Tor. The pineal gland at the base of the horn is also considered by Serena Roney-Dougall to be the third eye point of the Glastonbury figure. Serena has identified third eye points for most of the zodiac figures and indeed most of them are water features in the landscape. In the Capricorn figure a stream extends north-eastwards from the pineal gland and it is indeed a powerful spot. From there we walked up toward the horn. And here's a shot of us walking along the horn.

A curmudgeonly old gatekeeper lives at the house by Ponters Ball where it crosses the A361 - a real Saturnian figure - and he prevented us from taking the short cut to rejoin the horn across the road, so we we had to take a roundabout route via the Baltonsborough road and cutting the across fields on the north side of the A361. We then began our walk along the horn in ritual silence. It was a deeply profound, moving experience and one I would highly recommend you do as and when you have the opportunity. It seemed an entirely appropriate way to enter the new year.

The Astrology of 2010

2010-01-12T10:44:00.001Z

So here we are in 2010, a new decade, and, according to the traditions of numerous ancient civilizations, the most anticipated decade for millennia. And while many are speculating about the Winter Solstice of 2012 & the end of the Mayan long count calendar, we astrologers are still very much focussed on the astrology of 2010.

The Cardinal Grand Cross - 7th Aug 2010
This year sees some very powerful planetary line-ups. The most striking of these occurs as Saturn, Pluto & Uranus form a challenging t-square in the cardinal signs over the summer. Indeed between 30th July and 7th August this year, we will experience a specific planetary configuration of the highest potency, prompted by Saturn & Mars entering the sign of Libra and a cardinal t-square forming into a grand cross. On 7th August, Saturn, Mars & Venus are conjunct in Libra opposing Uranus & Jupiter in Aries - making a grand cross with Pluto in Capricorn opposed Moon in Cancer. This whole configuration is exact within 5 degrees spanning the first 5 degrees of the cardinal signs. (see chart below).

It is many years since we have experienced a cardinal grand cross of this magnitude and it suggests to me that the events of this year carry tremendous significance for the future of humanity and our planet. We could call it a make-or-break year, a year where the choices we make and the actions we take carry a greater weight and importance and we may feel the weight and expectations of generations past and future upon our shoulders in a particularly intense or focussed way. I see this as a year where we are all being held to account, challenged to act with the highest integrity, to stand up for what we believe, align ourselves to our own deepest truth and act from that place. We are living in extraordinary times of unprecedented change, both in terms of consciousness shift and in geo-polictical-economic terms. As an astrologer, I cannot help but identify the energy of 2010 as being absolutely pivotal to those changes. (I will publish a longer article that goes into more detail about this in the near future).

Lunar Eclipse on Winter Solstice 2010
One of the most remarkable astrological phenomena of the year concerns the winter solstice sunrise, which, on 21st December 2010 coincides with a total lunar eclipse. This is the only lunar eclipse that will occur over this period of 36 years or so during which the winter solstice sunrise is directly aligned to the Galactic Centre. The Mayans, among other cultures, have identified this dark rift in the milky way galaxy (between Sagittarius & Scorpio) as the cosmic source of all creation (and destruction) and they have specifically tied their mythological and calendrical traditions to its winter solstice alignment. It is the place to which the Mayan shamans have always ventured on their visionary journeys in order to gain wisdom and understanding. On Winter Solstice this year, thanks to the lunar eclipse, and for the only time during this period of solar alignment, the Moon, Earth, Solstice Sun and Galactic Centre will all be in perfect alignment.

On a personal level, the astrological energy of this year has may have very significant implications - we all have our part to play in the incredible story that is unfolding on our planet. Those of us with planets in the early degrees of the cardinal signs may feel this alignment particularly powerfully this year, but we will all experience it at some level in our own personal lives. This is a challenging time, but also a time of extraordinary opportunity.

Astrological Consultations with Myself - January Discount
If you would like to gain some personal insights into how best to work with the astrology of 2010 in your own life, then I am offering my customary January discount on astrological consultations. So until 31st January, a 90 minute consultation with me will cost £70 (normal price: £90). Consultations can be conducted either face-to-face in Glastonbury (where possible) or by phone. All sessions can be recorded digitally and sent to you as an mp3 file, or recorded onto a CD.

Capricorn: Taking a Stand

2010-01-07T19:03:00.017Z

The Gateway of the Initiate
In the midwinter phase of the astrological calendar (21st Dec - 20th Jan) we encounter the sign of Capricorn, the goat fish, and this sign really holds a unique place in the astrological mystery tradition. For it is both the doorway of initiation, through which enlightenment is finally attained, and the portal through which the initiate willingly surrenders his/her divine condition, and returns to earth, cloaked in human form, to serve humanity. An esoteric keynote for Capricorn runs: "Lost am I in Light Supernal, yet on that Light, I turn my back."

Capricorn's Myths and Traditions
Capricorn is represented by a goat with a fish's tail, and we can trace its origins back to the founding Mesopotamian deity, Oannes or Ea. This great being of wisdom, vision and vast intellect, brings forth the arts of civilisation to humanity, and periodically re-incarnates during periods of crisis or cultural/spiritual transition in order to instruct mankind. In the Greek tradition, Capricorn is Pan, the goat-foot god, the god of wild hills and mountainside, overseer of shepherds and nature's sensuous delights. In the Christian tradition, the sign of Capricorn becomes demonised along with its ruling planet Saturn (who becomes Satan), and Pan (along with the pleasure of the flesh that he invokes) becomes synonymous with the Devil. Indeed, Capricorn has always been a sign traditionally revered, feared and made "scapegoat" in more -or-less equal measure. As I mentioned, Capricorn is the also the sign of the spiritual initiate or teacher, and it is into this sign that the dying-and-rising saviour of the culture is traditionally born; Jesus following Mithras, Horus and many other great mythical half-human/half divine figures are symbolically born on 25th December, the moment when the winter solstice sun begins to rise again. Esoterically, Capricorn represents the gateway through which the soul ascends, and this is traditionally with the moment when the Sun experiences its annual re-birth at Winter Solstice.

Proving Your Worth
Capricorn is a practical earthy sign, dour and determined, strategic, marked by an uncompromising ambition and single-pointed focus. The sign is ruled by the planet Saturn, Cronos, Old Father Time. It is Saturn who checks our stride, keeps us in time, and trips us up if we ignore the dictates of the unforgiving winter season that he presides over in his guise as Father Winter. Under Saturn's auspices, the Capricornian perspective commands respect and discipline, order and structure. In the yearly round, the Capricorn phase is a time of resolution and commitment to a long term future. Saturn demands his pound of flesh and he often materialises in our lives as an authority figure who confronts us with limitation, criticism and examination. Saturn demands that we prove our ability, commitment and dedication to task before we may be allowed to pass through the portal.

Saturnalia
It is a wonderful paradox that in the Capricorn cycle of the year, with all its weighty associations, we should also encounter the tradition of Saturnalia, out of which our modern Christmas festivities, and likely the "12 Days of Christmas", most probably originate. This is where we see the Capricornian Pan come to the fore. Saturnalia was a time of the year around winter solstice when society's roles were reversed. The servant becomes the master and the master temporarily becomes his the attendant of his own employee. The name Saturnalia derives from a tradition where the people of Rome would bind the statue of Saturn with ropes as an act of defiance against authority - and this was sanctioned by the powers that be every year for a limited period of time. Saturnalia was, and still is, a time to make merry, to unleash the wilder side of one's nature and reconnect to the free spirit of Pan.

Declaring Your Stand in the World
Saturnalia aside, Capricorn remains a sign of mission and purpose, accountability and integrity. When we walk the Capricorn way, we must consider what it is that we are willing to stand for, what we are prepared to put our weight behind, and put our head above the parapet for. On The Alchemical Journey this month, we are enquiring as to whether we have a sense of mission in our lives, asking questions like: “What am I here to do?”; “What am I setting out to achieve?” and “What is my stand in the world?”. We’re exploring what success really means to us and how to balance our worldly ambitions with our need to stay connected spiritually and to remain meaningfully engaged with those around us.

Out of the Darkness Fly the Arrows of Inspiration

2009-11-24T16:08:00.001Z

Knowing how passionate I am about the link between the zodiac and the seasonal cycle from which its meanings derive, people often ask me how I reconcile the fact that the fire sign Sagittarius falls within the darkest season of the year. I have done a lot of searching reflection on this over the years and have come to see how absolutely perfectly it fits. We can easily see how the other fire signs, Aries and Leo work perfectly with the element in a very visible and obvious way. Aries is the like the first buds of Spring bursting with life force, Leo the summer heat which makes everything grow so abundantly. With Sagittarius, that fire comes from within, filled with anticipation, promise, hope and faith.

I often think of Sagittarius as being that sign that carries the strongest "light" / "positive" energy in the zodiac, and this would fit with the symbolism we find in eastern traditions where the yang force emerges strongest when the yin is at its most saturated and we can reach that point in the Scorpio phase. In Scorpio we faced our darkest fears and shadows, journey into the underworld, as the sun accelerates lower toward the horizon and the realisation of death in nature confronts us, as the nights draw in ever closer. In Sagittarius, while the night still draw in closer, the rate acceleration of the sun toward the horizon is checked and begins to decrease as we move toward the solstice. And with that comes the ritual realisation that the Sun will return again, and it is this event which is anticipated in Sagittarius. This is celebrated, of course, in Christianity, with the season of Advent - which anticipates the birth of Christ, perfectly synchronous (and many would say derived from) with the Winter Solstice tradition which honours and celebrates the return of the Sun. So in Sagittarius, we can be inspired, like Magi-astrologers who predict the holy birth, to take that leap of faith, soar beyond our fears and limitations, rise again out of the depths of our shadows, with renewed hope and vigour.

I have also reflected that even in Scorpio, where we have a very male symbol Mars, which drives us downward into the depths of our soul - the arrow symbol in the Scorpio glyph is beneath the ground level - and represents how the seed of life's continuing cycle is sown under-the-ground, even though it appears that nature is dying. In Sagittarius, the symbol clears the ground and that realisation of eternal life rises up into the light of consciousness and we are given the possibility to travel beyond death into a bigger, more inclusive understanding of life.

In our recent alchemical journey workshop for Sagittarius, we imagined ourselves re-kindling the fires of inspiration that the goddess Hestia has been tending for us and spreading that fire far and wide. In the cycle of fire in the zodiac, Aries lights the spark that gets the fire going, Leo tends the fire and keeps it burning with an eternal flame, and Sagittarius, takes that fire and spreads it abroad with infectious energy and vigour. Sagittarius has the power to light up even the darkest recesses of the mind to realise the interconnectedness of life. Sagittarius provides the perspective to bring ideas together that we have forgotten are connected. It connects the heavens with the earth, the above with the below. It helps us to think symbolically, mythically and of life in terms a journey. It is the sign of pilgrimage and in many ways it defines our alchemical journey which is really born out of the Sagittarian perspective.

Mars, Pluto & the Poppy - Flower of the Underworld

2009-11-11T16:47:00.003Z

I have just walked the labyrinth in my garden to mark the armistice, and found myself, on this day of remembrance, meditating upon the symbolic qualities of the poppy. It is said that when WWI veterans returned to the fields of Flanders the year after the end of World War 1, they saw fields of red poppies where the bodies of their fellow soldiers had fallen, and it is said to have reminded them both of the blood that had been spilt there. The poppy was then instituted as the symbol of remembrance and it has been traditional to wear one in your buttonhole in the first weeks of November each year to remember those who gave their lives.

"In Flanders fields the poppies grow between the crosses row on row..." (John Macrae)

It has always struck me as so deeply significant, both that November should be chosen as the month of remembrance and that the poppy should be its symbol. As I have discussed at length in earlier blog posts, this is the season of the dead, the season of the scorpion, and it is the time when traditional cultures in the northern hemisphere honour their ancestors, remember the dead, and conduct underworld initiation rites, of which the poppy is commonly found as the traditional symbol.

The poppy has always been associated with both sleep and death. In Greek mythology it is a flower of the Underworld, and the twin brothers Hypnos / Somnus (god of sleep) and Thanatos / Mors (god of death) both have poppies closely associated with them. These two sons of the goddess of Night live in a cave that one reaches having travelled along the river of forgetfulness, the River Lethe. Near to the entrance of the cave, shadowy figures beckon the sleeper into the cave with fingers to lips ushering in silence, and shaking bunches of poppies in thier hands. Hypnos is often depicted with poppy heads in his hands and adorning his head. He is also said to have carried a goblet of poppy juice in his hand as he welcomes the sleeper into his realm. This obviously makes us think of opium, which can induce a liminal experience between sleep and death, and was the drug of choice for the romantic poets. Interesting that with so much current focus on the war in Afghanistan, we find that their most coveted and valuable asset (not to mention the most controversial) is the opium poppy.

Archaeological finds at ancient burial sites confirm that the poppy was used as a sacred plant in underworld rites of passage rituals. In some variants of the Perspehone myth it is through an underworld poppy that Kore (destined to become Perspehone), the innocent daughter of Demeter, is tempted into Hades realm. And in her long, desperate search for her daughter, Demeter is said to have found temporary relief from her pain from ingesting the poppy. It is interesting to note that the poppy is a companion plant of wheat and barley, the grains which Demeter granted as gifts to humans.

Poppies make us think of blood, with their bright crimson colouring, and of death with their black core. I've been reflecting on this in relation to the sign Scorpio, for these two colours represent the colours of Scorpio's two ruling planets - Mars (red) and Pluto (black). In the Greek tradition, Mars is called Ares, and was the most disliked of the Olympian gods - his warring impulses not suiting the palette of the supposedly more philosophical Greeks (Mars was a more celebrated figure in the Roman tradition). Yet Ares was certainly an ally of Pluto/Hades - unsurprisingly as the wars he helps to start offer up so many souls to Hades realm. When considering the influence of Mars, we should remember that many of the qualities that are celebrated in remembrance of those who die in war are governed by Mars. Courage, devotion to the cause, passion, focus, loyalty and leadership in battle - these all belong to Mars. And dying courageously for the cause unites Scorpio's two ruling planets perfectly.

There is a more profound aspect to this synthesis of Mars and Pluto, red and black - that again brings the poppy to mind. Having the courage is to enter into an unknown realm - to sacrifice what is known, what is safe, what is predictable and familiar. And as those poppies grow up between the crosses in the fields of Flanders, they perhaps honour that instinct that Kore-Persephone first modelled. For, in her story, she willingly sacrificed her own pure innocence for the crimson promise of underworld passion, embodied in the poppy, and entered willingly (at least, if not consciously) into possibility of death and transformation that follows closely in its wake.

So I find myself reviewing my position toward the red poppy, which I have always tended to want to replace with a white one, more indicative of peace and light. Yet for our Scorpio phase of the journey, meditation upon the red poppy seems entirely appropriate. However I might feel about the absurdity and futility of war, there is no denying the compelling power of the Mars archetype. It will always seek to find an outlet for its powerful red energy, and our innate fascination with death and transformation will, however unconsciously, draw us through Mars's warrior impulse into Hades realm. And until we finally grasp as a race that we are all interconnected and that when we aggress or kill another we are really aggressing or killing an aspect of ourselves, swords will continue to be drawn, in ignorance, in the name of that red-blooded god.

Crying Tears For the Gods...

2009-11-10T19:11:00.005Z

This post is inspired by a very moving dialogue on The Alchemical Journey forum, about death, despair, grief, loss, shame - and how sometimes we need to surrender our mental constructs and journey deep into the mystery of those perspectives in order to find catharsis and healing. Often it is not enough to just "understand" the psychological dynamics of a situation or apply positive thinking strategies or other mind games. We're in the Scorpio phase, in our natural alchemical cycle of the year, it seems like a very appropriate time to surrender our rational mind those perspectives within a safe ritual container.

Colette and I entered such a container this weekend. We've been doing a very intense tantric course - and it was a real weekend of shadows - it brought up so much shame and grief and deep, impenetrable emotions, which included joy and desire, as well as rage and fear. I cried more deeply on Sunday than I have for many years - without even really understanding why. Colette said she'd never seen me cry like that in 8 years. Looking in from the outside, one might ask why on earth would anyone want to go into that? Why risk opening up such deep wounds, wounds that go even beyond this one life? Yet by doing so we both experienced such an incredible sense of healing and re-connection to one another, and beyond that to something more profound, more-than-human.

We realised the extent to which we just been going along in a really kind of low-level way in our relationship - putting up with the way things were between us. And it reminds me how most of the time, in our everyday dialogues, we are just superficially dancing on the surface of life, playing with words, ideas and concepts - and they don't get anywhere near the powerful truth - which is always buried deep in our shadows through our complex relationship to sex, money, power, death and so on. And those shadows belong to the underworld realm of the soul, where deep memory resides - and that is vital to who we are - not something to be denied or suppressed.

I think astrology is very helpful here - especially when we treat it as a naturalistic path of transformation that can reconnect us to the divine, heavenly half of our natures. As Paracelsus said: "Heaven retains within its sphere half of all bodies and maladies" - that's the imaginal half, as Jung and others have described it - the part that belongs to the soul and cannot simply be "understood", fixed, or rationalised. It needs to be honoured in its heavenly, imaginal aspect. I like what James Hillman says, specifically in relation to astrology:

"The zodiac returns events to the gods. Each time an astrological consultation can return a characteristic to its divine character, polish a problem so that it shines in a different light, reveal the god in the disease, let the client see clearly for a moment that heavenly half, the astrologer is performing an epistrophe, returning a mess in the human to a myth in the gods”

Maybe this weekend was a kind of epistrophe for me (more than an epiphany - I've had those too!), and maybe my tears were for the gods...

In my opinion, astrology is far too easily reduced to an explanatory psychological model. Not by experienced practising astrologers, generally, though I have (too often) heard astrologers attempt to justify their alchemical art in quite reductive terms. For me astrology should not be used to reduce the complexity of our life experience to convenient, psychological "sound bites" - rather it should be capable of amplifying our experiences and opening us up to a more mythical, more-than-human realm of possibilities.

Astrology is not a reductive science, and should not be dragged, like psychology has been, down that cold, clinical and ultimately futile path, where the creative impulse to tell stories and connect to natural rhythms is starved of imaginative nourishment and imprisoned by the impossible fallacy of "objective truth". The paradigm of modern science is too narrow and exclusive to contain the mythic richness of astrology and the complex soulfulness of the psyche.

So when I work with the Zodiac, I seek to follow a naturalistic rather than psychological path, deepening the fabric of our understanding of natural cycles and systems in more-than-human terms. In other words to embrace the persectives of animals, birds, plants, trees, sacred places, each capable of embodying a divine presence. Let us not forget that this is accepted as real by every traditional culture other than our own, even though our maninstream culture has arrogantly dismissed them.

An experiential engagement with the zodiac reveals layers of mystery that cannot be comfortably be explained (away) by purely humanistic tools. Those layers of mystery can help to reveal our embodied connection to the songs and stories of the earth, songs that are ever chanted and re-chanted, stories that are ever told and creatively re-told, with modified and verses, additions, nuances and harmonies.

I believe the zodiac has the possibility to re-awaken awareness of our soul life. Like the zodiac, the soul is irreducibly plural in its perspectives. It helps restore our relationship to the gods, and although it is more comfortable nowadays to call them archetypes, we must remember that they have agency - they are alive, autonomous, capricious, and liable to surprise us at every turn.

The Alchemy of Darkness

2009-11-04T11:42:00.002Z

"Night and dark are good for us. As the nights lengthen, it's time to reopen the dreaming space."(Jeanette Winterson)

This post is inspired by a beautiful article by Jeanette Winterson in Sunday's Observer. In the article she reminds us just how important it is for our sanity and well-being to embrace the cycle of the seasons, and especially the autumn and winter cycles, as nights draw in and the air becomes colder and damper. She creates a lovely image of her "24-7 friends, high on electric light" coming to visit her at her home deep in the woodlands and her feeding them root vegetables like turnip, beetroot and suede, "grown in rich-black earth...food with darkness sealed in it"! The alchemical image of the black sun reminds us of Autumn, of the Scorpio cycle - the Sun radiating inwards, into the earth, where the seed of life has now been sown under the ground.

We have becoming so accustomed, in our culture, to conquering the darkness with electric light, and overcoming the cold with our fossil-fuel heating systems that we too easily neglect the value of the darker season. The ready availablity of perpetual light spawns the illusion of perpetual growth in our culture, makes us believe that we can conquer nature, live beyond our natural means, disregard the fact that we are part of the earth and subject to its rhythms and cycle. Inevitably our language, our metpahors reflect this - metaphors like light, growth, gain, new, development, evolution, progress, expansion, positive are welcomed and thought to be "good". By contrast, words like dark, decay, old, contraction, loss, shadow, negative - these ideas are considered to be best avoided, overcome, put out of mind and thought to be "bad".

This is an extreme perversity of the modern condition, endemic in our political system, our economic system and our personal ambitions. It is hopelessly out-of-balance and entirely unsustainable to wish for perpetual light, perpetual growth, to be perpetually "positive" in our outlook. That is why I love this season and want to embrace it. In spite of the fact that I'm sitting here at a computer with the light on, as darkness closes in outside, struggling with that paradox, yet I want to surrender to the deeper truth that only the darkness knows.

Jeanette Winterson makes the salient point in her article that "when the lights are on" conversations tend to be focussed on outer things, projects and plans, ambitions and strategies for changing things, making them "better". When the lights are out, and we sit by candlelight or around a fire, our thoughts slow down, turn inward and we become more reflective, more sensitive, more intimate with one another.

Last night, my wife and I turned all the lights off in our house and lit some candles. We live in the countryside and it was pitch dark outside, save for the moonlight. We realised that we hadn't sat together like that for a long time - within a few minutes we were reminiscing, journeying into the deeper areas of our relationship, and listening to each other at a level that we rarely do these days, so busy we are with our projects and plans. It was a rich and very rewarding experience.

I am of the belief that we should pursue what is pleasurable to us in life. I am a great believer in pleasure and there is plenty of it to be had in the alchemical wheel of the year. But pleasure comes in many forms and flavours, and each season brings a different flavour. Following the wheel and embracing each stage of the journey, as it takes its turn enriches our lives - keeps us awake to who we are. Eating, sleeping, loving, dreaming, in a way that honours the season we are in offers us so much more possibility to feel connected, in tune, in balance. This is at the very heart of The Alchemical Journey, and the stories and symbols of the Zodiac signs offer wonderful reminders of how to make those connections.

Link to Jeanette Winterson's article: "Why I Adore the Night"

Scorpio & The Beauty of Autumn's Decrepitude

2009-11-03T09:15:00.001Z

Thinking more about Scorpio and why I love this late autumn season so much, I'd like to share this beautiful reflection by Valerie Easton from a recent article in The Seattle Times. (Thanks so much Marcia for sending it to me)

"I’ve been trying to figure out why I love my garden most right now, when it’s so not at its best. And finally I think I understand: I find the garden’s quiet decline comforting, the mellow colors of autumn soothing. Only this late in the season is it possible to see the garden without a scrim of ambition and hope between me and reality.

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate it…But it’s now, during the garden’s waning weeks, that I relax into its pleasures and see every flower, falling leaf and remaining pumpkin most clearly. And it isn’t just the clarity of the low-lying sun slanting across the horizon; it’s the clarity in my head, where I’ve stopped anticipating, plotting and planning the ideal garden. Maybe this is the only time of year that most of us can get beyond our projections of gardens future and remembrances of gardens past. By this point in autumn, the garden is what it is.

As the weather cools and the days shorten so dramatically, we’re no longer aspiring. It’s not that fall dashes our dreams, but rather that it diminishes them enough so we can accept fall’s decrepitude as beautiful in its own right.”

(Valerie Easton)

The Season of the Dead

2009-11-01T14:29:00.000Z

I've been thinking about why I love this time of year so much, this Scorpio time, why I find it so compelling. I'm not a Scorpio and have no planets there (except for Neptune - and I do have a prominent Pluto). Yet for me, an Aries child of the Spring Equinox, so full of the optimistic endeavour, it is during this intimate Scorpionic interface with death, when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, that I feel most in touch with who I am and what it is to be alive. The Sun entered Scorpio on 23rd Oct and will move into Sagittarius on 22nd Nov, and I thought it was worth reflecting on the number of annual events celebrated during this period that have a Scorpionic flavour connected to death and remembrance, seasonal transformation, due enactment, and the journey to the underworld.

Dia de los Muertos
Today is 1st November, recognised and celebrated in Spain, Mexico & other Latin American countires as "Dia de los Muertos", or the Day of the Dead. Families and friends gather to remember relatives who have passed, and private altars are built to honour the deceased. While in the Christian calendar, this co-incides with All Saints Day, it also traces back a lineage in Mexico to an Aztec goddess, Mictecacihuatl, The Lady of the Dead. All Saints Day is a direct descendant of All Hallows and, in Northern European Pagan traditions, the cross-quarter festival of Samhain, meaning "summer's end". In the Celtic calendar, Samhain marks the end of summer, the end of the harvest, and the beginning of winter. Indeed it marks the moment of the Celtic New Year. Traditionally, doors are left unlocked and food and drink is left out for the dead.

Remembrance Day
And at this time of year, of course, during the Scorpio cycle, it is traditional to wear a red poppy, in remembrance of those who died during the two world wars of the 20th century. World War I famously ended on 11th November 1918 (during the 11th hour) - and this established the date of remembrance day. Poppies have long been associated with sleep and death, and they have long been used as offerings to the dead. The poppy is associated with Persephone - Queen of the Underworld. In a particular variant of her myth, it is her picking of the poppy that Hades makes grow that allows the God of the Underworld to abduct her. It is interesting to note that the choice of date for Remembrance Day involved the mystic Wellesley Tudor Pole, who founded the Chalice Well Trust in Glastonbury and was a trusted advisor to Winston Churchill. Tudor Pole is also the inspiration behind the "Silent Minute", a daily meditation that Churchill instated during World War II, and is often cited as a major factor in unifying the British people during that time.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November!
Next week, on 5th November in the UK, we still celebrate Guy Fawkes Night, where we traditionally light a bonfire and burn an effigy of Guy Fawkes, the Catholic restorationist, who attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605. He was arrested in the early hours of 5th November during that year, and as a mark of due enactment, and possibly a reminder to others who might be so inclined to copy him, his effigy is ritually burned every year. Extraordinary that such a tradition should have last over 400 years, but it has, and perhaps it has because of its incredible timing, during the time of the year when it is traditional to light bonfires. A bonfire was originally a bone-fire, a Samhain tradition where animal bones were burned as a way of warding off evil spirits.

In Sussex, Bonfire Night takes on a different slant, being associated with the execution of the Protestant martyrs. Hence, on 5th November the largest bonfire celebration in Britain takes place in Lewes, the county town of Sussex, and site of the last protestant execution. This is always a heated affair (forgive me!), and tensions run deep in the town. Thousands of people attend every year, and the police have a policy of announcing that it has been cancelled to try and reduce numbers, though they would never dare cancel it of course! Several bonfires are lit simultaneously in different parts of the town. The most controversial of these involves the burning of an effigy of the Pope. I attended this event about 12 years ago with my girlfriend at the time, who was Italian - brought up a Catholic - and she couldn't believe what she was seeing!

And there are many other calendrical traditions around the world that honour the dead at this season, and honour the journey into the Underworld that Scorpio represents. There is a marvellous website that gives details of these: http://www.novareinna.com/constellation/scorpioevents.html

To observe so many Scorpionic traditions constellating together at this time of year reminds me of the way that the calendar focusses our imagination and activates our deep knowing about the alchemical year, even if as a culture we have become largely unconscious of the process.

The Zodiac Memory Theatre

2009-10-31T12:14:00.000Z

When we open ourselves up to astrology through the imaginal realm and get can our whole body involved through play, movement, music, dance - acting out mythical stories, stories of the seasons - we start to remember the possibilities of who we are, where come from, the opportunities open to us. It can give our lives a profound sense of meaning and purpose, as it opens our imaginations to a richer, more meaningful narrative. Through connecting with the mythical images and symbols, we re-connect to our soul.

The work we do on The Alchemical Journey programme draws out this rich vein of symbolic resonance. The work is full of soul. For me, the Zodiac like an archaic memory theatre – a storehouse of cultural, psychological and spiritual knowledge. In alchemical terms, it operates as an alembic, a coherent vessel that can contain the pain, the suffering, the confusion that we experience in life, without judgment or analysis. Instead it offers us stories, stories that we can act out, play with, identify with and allow ourselves to carried away by - within a ritual setting. I see this as a powerful form of alchemical gold-making, or in James Hillman's terms, "soul-making". It enables us to transform our perspectives, and realise that there are many perspectives – when we do that, miracles happen.

I love Thomas Moore's analysis Ficino's astrological ideas. He shows how, for Ficino, illness comes in the form of monotheism, life dominated by a single god, imagiantion fixated in a singular consciousness. The beauty of astrology, engaged with as ritual theatre is that it maintains its polytheistic integrity. Each season has its own characteristic, as does each god, each zodiac sign. They have their entrances and their exits, and by honouring each appropriately at the appropriate time, we encourage the natural diversity of life to express itself.

I talk a lot about embodied learning, experiential learning. We all carry this incredible knowledge and wisdom within us, and when we engage the body as well as our minds, I believe it allows us to access a deeper knowing. When I first discovered astrology 20 years ago it was a very embodied and highly charged experience. It was like being flooded with memories – I was in a real crisis at the time - and it really helped me to weave my life back together in the most magical way. It helped to place my story into a mythic narrative – and that seemed to absorb the pain I was going through and enabled to me to re-create myself again – it was incredible – it helped me come out of a deep depression. It really brought me back to life. And that’s the value of experiential astrology, astrodrama, astrological theatre. It's a way of us bringing ourselves and the world around us back to life: re-animating our experience of the world.

The Imaginal Zodiac

2009-10-30T17:51:00.000Z

I consider astrology to be an imaginal art and the role of the astrologer, I believe, is that of artist weaving the threads of this mythic imagination in a meaningful and coherent narrative. The Imaginal Realm is the realm of Soul and it is irreducible plural in its perspectives and outlooks. The 12 perspectives of the zodiac cannot be reduced to one another, and neither the planets that govern them. The Zodiac belongs to the realm of soul, and is by its very nature a mystery that it will unfold its wisdom to us, only through our own imaginative participation. As James Hillman says: "the soul is not a sustance, but a set of perspectives..it is the imaginative possibility in our natures, the experiencing through reflective speculation, dream, image and fantasy - that mode which recognises all realities as primarily symbolic or metaphorical."

The Zodiac has formed the basis of mystery traditions, and initiatory journeys throughout the western world – we see this in incredible sculptures, mosaics and bas reliefs from all over Europe and the middle-east. The traditions have been carefully preserved in mythic memory, and through our own imaginative participation, we can still take that initiatory journey today.

On the Alchemical Journey, we’re really walking in the footsteps of countless ancient mystery traditions, following follow a twelve-fold path of initiation. It’s an alchemical training following the path of the Sun through the seasons, through the twelve months of the year and through the twelve astrological portals or gateways – the 12 signs of the zodiac. It’s really one of the richest and most coherent imaginative frameworks we have available to us as human beings. We’re working with a really ancient form of magical work, and we’re making it really relevant to the challenges we face in our modern lives, but without losing the magic. We’re really careful to honour that magic straw that takes us into the other world, the imaginal world.

We find the theme of the journey through the Zodiac repeated in the Greek, Babylonian and Egyptian iconography, but also in Christian, Jewish and Islamic art also. We find it in the stories of Arthur and his 12 knights, the 12 labours of Hercules, Jesus and his twelve disciples, the 12 tribes of Israel – they all carry a memory of this twelve-fold journey. They are relate directly to the Zodiac. The idea of an initiate taking a cyclical transformation journey around a wheel of animal figures – it has a powerful coherence for our imaginations – and it seems to be deeply woven in our collective psyche.

So The Alchemical Journey is a journey through the Imaginal Sky, the Imaginal Heavens. It is about re-connecting to the heavenly half of our experience, that more-than-human half, that we have neglected so much with our modern secular thinking. The heavens are the place of soul, they are a place where our imagination can play and these fabulous animals and beings in the night sky – they can enchant us – reconnect us to a meaningful cosmos.

Scorpio - Journey into the Underworld

2009-10-20T12:27:00.000+01:00

"The dimension of soul is depth (not breadth or height) and the dimension of our soul travel is downward" (James Hillman)

Scorpio offers us a poignant reminder of how the zodiacal journey can serve a process of soul retrieval. It is the experience of the three water signs that most suitably reveal the qualities of soul in the zodiac, as we have already experienced in the sign Cancer. In the sign of the crab, we first level of initiation, through reconnecting with the ancestors, with a deeper sense of home, memory, roots and origins. But in Cancer, we were still in the season of the light. Now in Scorpio, the season is darkening, and it is time for us to take responsibility for our deepest fears, desires, and destructive impulses, if we are to proceed along our soul’s path and re-discover the truth about who we are. In all traditions of initiation there is a journey into the underworld that must be undertaken in order for the initiate to know her/himself. In our alchemical journey process, this is it!
Image courtesy of Josephine Wall

The Sun wears a dark cloak in its Scorpio phase, Samhain marking summer’s end, reminding us that Mother Nature has exhaled all that she can on this turn of the wheel. Revealing the thin veil between worlds, she prepares now to breathe in, focussing deep within herself. While the beauty of her turning colours may have distracted our senses during the Libran cycle, so the stark reality of Autumn’s mission now confronts us in Scorpio. Nature’s once verdant mantle rots down on the damp forest floor, and fungus devours the leaf corpses.

Scorpio is the phase of the zodiacal wheel that we in the west seem to have collectively chosen to ignore, failing to acknowledge our own shadows, or deal with our waste; turning away from decay and death and refusing to see this as essential to the sustainability of life. We have created unsustainable structures based on perpetual growth and increase, which break the essential life cycle of transformation, and pile up toxic debts for ourselves and the planet. Our fast-disintegrating monetary systems pervert nature’s gift of abundance with their artificial reliance on debt and scarcity rewarding the few and condemning the majority to poverty. As Scorpio’s ruling planet Pluto moves now into Capricorn, I believe the self-destructive potential of the corporate structures that prop up these systems will be exposed and, ultimately, transformed.

This phase of the year teaches me the importance of learning to die well, so that I might be able to live more fully, relinquish my dependence upon what I already know and have the courage to face that which I may once have feared. It confirms something for me about the true nature of alchemy. Far from attempting to control nature and bend it to his own human will, the alchemist is always seeking to submit himself to nature’s power and mystery. Through practice, she learns to transform the hard shell of the human ego so that she might enter that liminal realm between worlds and experience the very common ground that we share with plant, animal and rock.

On The Alchemical Journey programme, we seek to penetrate nature’s deep mystery by cultivating an attitude of ‘wonder’ toward it, exposing our imaginations to a range of initiatory processes, which draw on astrological and seasonal myths and traditions. In this way, we seek to complete the cycle of transformation, and thus learn to live both magically and sustainably in our everyday lives.

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious." (C.G. Jung)

Tensed Like the Strings of Amphion's Lyre

2009-10-16T18:14:00.000+01:00

There is a new moon in Libra this weekend and the Sun, Moon, Mercury and Venus conjoin in that sign. The image I have for this line up is of a four-string lyre, played by one of my favourite characters from Greek myth, Amphion. Libra holds taut the tension of the strings, without which there could be music. I'll tell you the story of Amphion who I see an archetypal Mercury/Venus in Libra character. It's a beautiful Libran story!

Amphion and Zethos were the twin sons of Zeus and Antiope. Like many of the herous of Greek they were raise in secrecy of a remote mountainside to avoid the malevolent forces that sought to destroy them in their infancy. While they were growing up on Mount Cithaeron, Amphion, the more sensitive of the brothers, attracted the favour of Hermes (Mercury) who gifted him a lyre. Amphion became devoted to the instrument and played it night and day. Zethos, his more practical brother taunted him and accused him of being lazy and good-for-nothing. As far as he was concerned, Amphion's love of music prevented him from doing anything useful.

But later, after the two brothers had conquered Thebes and were set the task of rebuilding and fortifying the city, it was Amphion who had the last laugh. For while Zethos toiled to shift the mighty stones, Amphion simply played his lyre and the resonance of his music was so perfectly in harmony with the cosmos that the stones simply slid effortlessly into place. So it was that Seven-Gated Thebes was raised through the power of music!

This weekend is a perfect time to come together with someone you love and experience the creative tensions that exist between you, not by trying to make something happen and move the stones into place - but by tuning into the cosmic music and allowing it to happen naturally. It's a time, where you can experience the world of possibility that opens up when you really allow that person's unique "otherness" to meet you head on. Often, we relate to the significant others in our lives simply as a projections of the judgments and assumptions that we already hold about them. So take the opportunity during this beautiful Libran line-up to open up to this "other" really is.

I'm doing just that this weekend. I'm off to a couple's tantra weekend with my wife Colette. I'm slightly apprehensive (I have an exact Venus-Saturn conjunction after all), but nonetheless open and ready to experience our relationship again, as if for the first time. How appropriate that it should be happening over a Libra new moon, with Amphion hitting the sweet spot!

Beautifully Balanced in the Claws of the Scorpion

2009-10-12T17:54:00.000+01:00

It is worth remembering that Libra has not always been represented as a pair of delicately balanced scales. There was a time when that constellation was actually marked as the claws of the Scorpion. The memory of this is beautifully depicted in this image of the constellation. I've been thinking a lot about this symbolism and would like to share the follow insights that have come to me about this.

I think of Libra as the sign in the zodiacal journey around the wheel where we become conscious. If we think in terms of its association with the 7th house, then, it is the sign where raise our head above the horizon for the first time. It is the sign where we first encounter opposition (in its opposition to the first sign, Aries). So it is the sign through which we become conscious of ourselves in relation to the other, where "otherness" comes to meet us!

So here we have a threshold point, where dwells the threshold guardian, whose persective is directly opposed to that of our own most personal, Arien / first-house identity. I somemtimes think of it as personal blind-spot in the wheel. And this "otherness" that both opposes and mirrors us, might appear in our lives as a lover, a business partner, a soul mate, or a worthy opponent. But whichever it is, there is an irresistible attraction that draws the other into our midst during this stage of the journey. And the spirit of Libra throws us another prop too - a very fetching pair of rose coloured spectacles through which to view our "mate".

During this period of attraction and seduction is the Autumn season greets us first in its more balanced Libran phase. And it meets our gaze with the most remarkable natural beauty and quality of light as leaves turn a rich array of colours and shades. But remember the scales are really a pair of Scorpion's claws. Autumn is possessed of a darker intent, and will reveal its true identity in the next sign. The pans, or the claws? Either way, they hold us transfixed in the immutable grip of death and re-birth, that so characterises this extraordinary season.

Capturing the Sunset
Again when we consider the Libra association with the seventh house and, thus, the setting sun, we find powerful imaginal resonance. One is at once enthralled by the beauty of the sunset, and capivated by its myriad colours. There's a kind of nostalgia held fast in that moment of the day as light it fades and darkness approaches. It seems to me a perfect mirror of the seasonal moment. So the Libran artisan attempts to capture the beauty of the sunset, the beauty of Autumn, trying to hold the tension in the colours as they turn. What we want, it seems, is to preserve that moment, freeze it, dedicate it to memory, capturing it with our camera, or on the canvas or in a musical score.

So it is in this confrontation with that which opposes our known identity, through having to dance with the tension in the opposition that we are prepared, nature-readied for the unfolding process of death and re-birth. For six months, since that first Arien bud broke seed pod on the first cherry tree, we have been shown nothing but visible signs of life, that are so obvious that they overwhelm us with their vitality and presence. Now on that cusp of death, of night, of dreamtime. We are readying ourselves for the journey of the soul into the underworld-wonderworld, where we will need very different instruments of navigation that we required during the 'light' phase of the year. We must learn much about our shadow if we are to make a successful crossing, and embrace death as an essential part of life. Through this we come to know that the opposite of death is not in fact life, but birth - and that life indeed has no opposite, for it is all-embracing, all-composing, all-engaging.

From the Wedding to the Marriage
Life, then, is the journey and re-birth is a stage in that journey that we will learn about as Autumn's true mission begins to confront us now. In Libra we are still flirting with commitment, playing the mating game. And we may try to play along with that Libran lightness, long after the colourful leaves are composted in the ground, and we are left dancing with shadows - mourning the lack of response that we receive back from the other. We may marry in Libra, quite appropriately too, for it is the sign of the wedding and nature's backdrop could not be more poignantly beautiful. As we enter Scorpio, though, we are confronted, inevitably with the truth of that marriage - as the confetti withers and the albums of memories begin to gather dust, and the real work of marriage - transformation - begins. The marriage that is unable to foretell, or embrace, the shadow and when it inevitably arises, unable to experience the depths of its transformational power, is liable to suffer the confines of a lightweight, compromise union. Or else have it played out repeatedly to some form of conclusion through the dark arts of the divorce lawyer or criminal investigator.

In terms of time, of course, the astrological year is a metaphor for our life's journey, but not "just" a metpahor, for its cycle is relentless and existentially 'real'. We may spend years, or lifetimes, predominating our attention in the Libran phase, vaguely glimpsing or consciously avoiding the successive phases. The power of following the year in this ritual way, as we do on The Alchemical Journey allows us to imitate Nature's extraordinary teaching in an embodied, processional way. As we start to weave that deep understanding back into our lives, so we begin to recognise the symbols, the metaphors, the deep, timeless archetypal stories when they appear to us, in our dreams, and in our everyday encounters.

So, here we are in Libra - held fast in the pans of the scales, in the claws of the Scorpion, illuminating the tension in our lives between light and shadow, such that we might know a deeper truth of our destiny and be prepared to surrender the known for the unknown, the identity for the Soul.

PostScript: The Southern Hemisphere
As you might imagine, I am often asked the question "what about the southern hemisphere?", where the seasons are reversed and thus not in synch with the symbolism of the signs, or else opposed to them. I have done quite a bit of deep thinking about this and have some quite passionately held views about it - which I am more-than-happy to converse about here or any other other internet platform for that matter. And I may write up my ideas as a blog topic in the future.

A Time To Consider. To Be with the Stars

2009-10-04T11:18:00.000+01:00

Libra holds a unique place in the zodiacal wheel. It is a sign full of paradox. As the only sign in the zodiac not represented by an animal or human figure, we might expect it to be less possessed of animal instinct than the other signs, somewhat aloof, too from the emotional roller-coaster of human experience. It is possible to recognise both of these traits in the Libra, yet here we have the sign that is the representative of relationship and marriage in the zodiac. It is through the Libran perspective that two people are drawn together in union, in matrimony. Libra is the sign of marriage, the marriage of opposites. It is the sign that holds the tension of the polarities - male and female, light and dark, yin and yang.

People born under Libra often describe how they cannot make their minds up, find it difficult to decide which way to go, which lover to choose, when to act. During my 18 years as a practising astrologer, I have observed a predominance of clients with strong Libra (and 7th house) themes in their charts, looking for guidance. Whereas a strong Aries type will just act, and then work out the consequences later, the Libran must consider the consequences first, weigh things up, assess the pros and cons, and perhaps seek guidance for others as to what to do.

During our recent Libran weekend on The Alchemical Journey, we addressed this issue through experiential play, and what emerged was quite revelatory, especially for the two strong Libra-types that we had present in our group. The gift of the Libran perspective is to resist the tempatation to act, to suspend judgment, to hold the opposites in tension, to hold the middle ground. This is why Librans make natural mediators of course, why they can facilitate individuals and groups with violently conflicting points of view to sit down at the table together and "air" their differences. Libra belongs to the element of air, the element of communication, dialogue and exchange of ideas. People who can stand authentically in the Libran perspective have to ability to hold up a mirror for each side and enable each side to cultivate an attitude of reflection, to see themselves reflected in the other, to enable self and other to remain engaged, in relationship. This is Libra's great gift and it is a profound one. It is little wonder however, in a culture that values action over reflection, that Libra has such a hard time!

This does mean, of course, mean that Librans should just avoid make decisions. But it does seek to honour value of reflection and consideration. Libra is the 7th sign of the zodiac, and it offers us the first opposition in the wheel, the opposition with Aries, the first sign. So the "I" of Aries becomes the "We" of Libra. The desire (de-sidere - to be separated from the stars) of Aries becomes the consideration (con-sidere - to be with the stars) of Libra. As astrologer Darby Costello has noted in her beautiful essay "Desire & the Stars", (http://www.darbycostello.co.uk), the gift of consideration, is the gift of union with the other half of our being, the heavenly half. Our two Librans found this realisation to be extremely helpful, as they were both anxious that they should be making a decision - and perhaps hadn't really given themselves permission to truly "consider" their options before resting upon an actual decision.

As with all the sign perspectives, the gift of Libra is not just for Librans. It is a perspective that we all have the ability to hold, and during the month when the Sun travels through that sign, as it is now doing, we can draw strength from nature, which mimics the Libran disposition and thus teaches us how to integrate that perspective into our lives. That great Libran figure from Greek mythology, Themis, teaches us that the social order is derived directly from natural order. Themis is always depicted blindfolded with a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in the other. As daughter of the original pairing of Ouranos (sky-god) and Gaia (earth-goddess), she is close to the centre of things, and it is her wisdom of balance and natural justice to which the divine hierarchy of the Greeks must always defer. In the Libran cycle of the year, initiated by the equinox of equal day and night, Summer turns to Autumn and nature is held in a delicate balance. So the Spirit of Libra invites us to imitate this situation in our lives, and consider what is in the balance for ourselves, and to both recognise and allow the tensions to exist, for these are creative tensions, tensions out of which beauty, insight and opportunity may emerge.

Bless you Libra!

Life in The Balance

2009-09-15T17:09:00.000+01:00

I've been thinking a lot about my relationship to the sign of Libra in the last week or so as I contemplate our forthcoming workshop for this sign (26/27th Sept). Being an Aries, it's my opposite sign, so it's one I know I have a lot to learn from. I went through a phase when I was in my twenties of being irresistibly attratced to Libran women. I always put that down to the "attraction of opposites" and there's certainly a lot in that. The perspective that is directly opposed to my own most familiar perspective is the one I'm likely to be attracted to if I am looking to complete myself and become more than I am. And Libra is really the sign where we confront the principle of both opposition and attraction. It encapsulates the much publicised "law of attraction" principle, in that if we focus our desire in a particular way toward what we want, we will attract it to us and ultimately unite with it. But equally (and fasincatingly), as we face up to what is, in effect, our mirror image in the people and circumstances we meet in the world - that which we attract, being different from what we already know - it inevitably stimulates tension, conflict and even repulsion when it actually comes knocking on our door! So, I've been working on the Libra chapter of my book over the last few days. Here are some extracts from what I've written...

Embracing Paradox

As the wheel turns from Virgo to Libra, our attention turns toward beauty, balance and harmony. With the harvest in, the crop can now be weighed in the scales and, as day and night find their equilibrium again, so we are gently prompted by nature's alchemical cycle to redress the balance in different aspects our own lives, especially in relationships. As our elemental focus shifts from earth air, the Zodiac invites us to lift our gaze, raise our vibration, and take time out to reflect upon, and really appreciate that which is other than ourselves. Libra is the sign through which we may learn to relate to phenomena as it appears to us, learn to respect its 'otherness'. It is an invitation to suspend our hasty judgments, relate more openly to those who cross our path, however different or opposed their viewpoint might be from our own. Libra offers us the perspective through which we may learn to become more accepting of paradox, develop our aesthetic appreciation of life, and consider the possibility that things are what they seem.

Autumnal Reflections

This time of the year offers us a perfect opportunity to appreciate nature, reflect upon her gifts and give thanks for her bounty. The harvest moon, the full moon closest to the Autumn Equinox, is the second moment in the year when light and dark are again balanced. Just as the Spring Equinox initiated a period of light, growth and verdancy, so the Autumn Equinox initiates the elevation of darkness over light as nature begins to withdraw from its outward expression, and we move into a more reflective mode. Just as Aries, embodying the dawn of the year, is sunrise time; so Libra embodies the setting sun, the dusk of the alchemical year. As the scales tip gradually toward shorter days and longer nights, it seems an appropriate time to weigh our own lives in the balance, embrace other viewpoints, suspend judgment and hold out an olive branch for peace, understanding and reconciliation.

The Alchemical Wedding

Libra represents the archetypal wedding of opposite forces, the uniting of male and female, of light and dark, of day and night. It invites an alchemical fusion that is fraught with creative tension, yet which enlivens the imagination to create new ways of combining opposing energies. It is the taught strings on Apollo's lyre that will bring forth the harmony, the stretched canvas of the painter mirrored in his own struggle for expression pulls at his heart strings and motivates his art. Libra, always looking for refinement, for that ideal partnership that will transcend conflict, elevate the soul and resonate with the harmony of the spheres. This notwithstanding, Libra is the divinely packaged usherette of death and transformation par excellence. The reality of this may not be felt until we meet the next sign, yet the preparations for that transition are all made here. It is Libra's role to disguise the deeper truth we must face in Scorpio, and seduce us into the mysteries of transformation through her beauty, her art and her gift for diplomacy.

Autumn leaves, in the process of their dying, inspire the artist to reach for her palette as colours turn golden, red and orange. So too, the myriad colours of sunset constellate our imaginings and turn our minds toward mystical union, which always involves the death of that which is known and a leap of faith into that which is not. The Wedding, too, so beautifully designed, choreographed to produce a perfect image of togetherness, seduces us into a marriage that will require us to surrender our individual status, give up our singleness of outlook, and merge our own unique light with that of our opposite. So it is that Libran beauty and idealism precipitate the reality of union in which we must learn to embrace otherness, recognise that which confronts us and learn to appreciate an opposing perspective.

Libran Mythology

In Egyptian myth, Libra is Ma'at, the goddess of the scales who, at the time of death, weighed the human soul on one pan and an ostrich feather on the other. If the scales tipped, then the soul must re-incarnate with the aim of releasing the surplus weight. Ma'at reminds us that the prime goal in life is balance, and for the Egyptians this was necessary to prepare the soul for the afterlife. In the Greek tradition, she is the seer Themis, who wears a blindfold and holds a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in the other. Themis is the daughter of Gaia and personifies the social order of law and customs on Mount Olympus, reminding us that social order is always drawn from natural order. In Christian tradition, the scales are held by the archangel Michael, who is celebrated during the Libran phase of the year at Michaelmas. Each of these deified beings bears a similar function that maintains both social and spiritual order.

There was a time before the Greek zodiac established its autonomy, when the constellation we know as Libra was actually an extension of Scorpio, its claws, and it is worth remembering that there is always a sting in the Libran perspective, as the blind prophet Tiresias found out to his cost. Before his blinding, Tiresias was granted by Hera the rare opportunity to experience life as a woman, so that he could have knowledge from both male and female perspectives. This trans-sexual initiation gave him a unique insight, which the gods exploited in the settlement of argument. Zeus and Hera were arguing over whether man or woman enjoyed greater sexual pleasure. Asked to adjudicate, Tiresias shared his honest experience that woman enjoys nine tenths of the pleasure, while man only one tenth. Furious that Tiresias should divulge such secret knowledge, she strikes him blind, while Zeus grants him the gift of prophecy in respect of his honesty.

"To the Fairest"

Adjudication is an obvious Libran theme and it features prominently in one of the most fitting of Libran stories, the Judgment of Paris. When uninvited guest Eris (also known as Discord, a classic aspect of the Libran shadow) gatecrashes the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, deep passions are stirred. She throws a golden apple before the gathering of goddesses. It bears the inscription "To the Fairest". Paris is called in to judge the beauty contest that ensues and is set the unenviable task of choosing between Hera (goddess of marriage), Athena (goddess of wisdom) and Aphrodite (goddess of love). Paris is seduced by the latter choosing love over wealth and power, a decision that seals the fate of Troy. Lest we forget that is was for the beauty of Helen, Aphrodite's prodigy and "the face that launched a thousand ships", that the bloodiest war in Greek history was fought.

Reflecting on Eris's challenge, I am struck by the wonderfully Libran ambiguity in the wording inscribed upon the apple. "To the fairest". We would naturally translate that as to mean the most beautiful, but the actually wording throws up a question as to what is meant by that. The fairest equally implies even-tempered, well balanced in judgment and possessed of the quality of equanimity. It is interesting that this Libran story should emphasise "fairness" rather than voluptuousness or sensuousness. For Libra is not a sign of passion, but rather a sign of balance. In our story though the aesthetic pleasure derived from a well-balanced deportment is inevitably rejected in favour of a deep lust that lurks insatiably in the heart of the cool headed adjudicator.

The Libran phase of the alchemical journey around the wheel of the year, then, offers an opportunity to ponder, consider others opinions and learn to walk a middle path. It forms the first and most fundamental opposition in the Zodiac, that which exists with Aries, its opposite sign. We are six months in, half way around the wheel and for the first time in our unfolding journey, we are compelled to stare face-to-face into the eyes our opposite number. As much as Aries is impulsive and self-willed, with a single-minded, warrior-like passion, so Libra is considerate, reflective, and relationship-minded, with a taste for mediation and refinement, fairness and reconciliation. This is the first time on our journey where we are really forced to consider the consequences of our actions, and the impact they have on others. It is thus through the perspective of Libra that we first become truly conscious.

Transforming Relationship

Libra is a double-edged air sign, presenting us with both our partner and our opponent, stretching us to acknowledge our differences, learn mediation and find ways of reaching agreement, even if it forces us to reconsider our own cherished view of the world. Libra teaches us above all else that it is no longer enough to simply satisfy our own individual appetites, for we must now embrace our mirror image, and recognise how that which we do not appreciate or understand in ourselves, will inevitably manifest through those with whom we are drawn to unite. Whether as lover, business partner, opponent or rival, we are challenged to establish the principles of engagement in Libra, to draw up contracts, learn to listen to one another, develop strategies for meaningful exchange and learn to see the world through the eyes of another.

The Alchemy of Harvest

2009-08-24T21:46:00.000+01:00

Virgo must surely be the most misunderstood and undervalued sign in the zodiacal wheel. For beyond the popular image of an innocent virgin, secretary or nit-picker, lies an experienced mistress of purification, discernment, and sexual control. Virgo is the only woman in the Zodiac and one of only three remaining in the whole heavenly sphere. Two of them were chained in the Greek cosmos - Cassiopeia & Andromeda - but Virgo remained free, as the sole representation of the Goddess in the constellations of the night sky. To the Greeks, she was Demeter, with her wheat sheaf, or ear of corn, overseeing the grain harvest and holder of the key to the secret of agriculture. To the Egyptians she was Isis with her child Horus and in the Christian cosmos, Mary with the Christ child. She is a virgin in its older meaning, certainly, as one who owns her own body and chooses when and with whom to unite! Virgo marked the Summer Solstice around 5000BC, and her departure from there is said to have coincided with the end of the Golden Age.¹ She left in disgust, some say, at how humanity had fallen from grace. So, like the mystery school initiates who invoke her return, we are re-imagining her on The Alchemical Journey this month as the Great Goddess that she once was, as we invite her qualities into our lives.

The Virgo phase represents a critical moment in the alchemical year, when the crop must be cut down in its prime, harvested and its essence extracted. In the human life cycle, Virgo represents the rite of passage, where we find out what we’re really made of. This is marked in traditional societies by being cut away from familial roots, through circumcision or ablation, or other initiation rite. We experience Virgo whenever we are examined, judged, cut down to size, as wheat is sorted from chaff. Just as our Leonine experiences have helped us realise and express our confidence and creative potential in life, so our Virgoan ones have set us to task. The harvest goddess shapes and moulds our spontaneous impulses into practical, useful, sustainable projects that serve the greater good. She strips away our indulgences, hones our creative instincts and transforms our promises into everyday miracles, like golden wheat being turned into the food that nourishes a community.

Virgo is ruled by Mercury the wily magician, whose skill and cunning knits together the fabric of life into a seamless dance, his magic embedded in the details of life. Our task in Virgo, then is to sweep, to clean, to tidy, to order, to polish, to wax, to sharpen, to distill, and to become still ourselves as we perfect the ordinary tasks of life. Through bringing mindfulness to our repetitive actions, honouring time, work and our body’s rhythms, we actually open up the possibility of transcending those ritual structures, and entering a liminal space between worlds where transformation can occur.

This puts me in mind of the 1970s rite of passage film, The Karate Kid, in which a young American wannabe is trained by a Japanese zen master, so that he can stand up for himself against a local bully. In one classic sequence, as part of the boy’s karate training, he is set a series of menial tasks, waxing his teacher’s cars, painting his garden fence, sanding the floor. This goes on for days with no apparent connection to karate, until the boy eventually snaps and accuses the old man of exploiting his trust just to get his household chores done. His frustration then turns to revelation in an extraordinary scene, when he suddenly realizes that in the embodiment of these repetitive actions he has actually learned a series of powerful karate moves which are now second nature to him. As with the alchemists, as they attempt to imitate and perfect Nature’s own creative process in their laboratories, these repetitive trials offer the ritual service necessary to precipitate our inner gold.

In the Glastonbury Zodiac, Virgo is “Old Mother Cary”, her figure drawn by the River Cary, a name suggestive of the Celtic harvest goddess, Ceridwen, mother of Taliesin. The river which rises at the springs of “our lady” paints her flowing robe at Wheathill, her swollen belly at Babcary and her breast at the bronze age barrow, Wimble Toot. She holds her sheaf of wheat at Keinton Main-de-Ville, where her hand rests.² These associations continue to enchant our journeys into this landscape temple, which meets us with new synchronicities on every walk.

If you’d like to keep following the journey, please join our mailing list, as I will continue to post a monthly article online. You’ll now find on our website a YouTube film about The Alchemical Journey, superbly crafted by Kevin Redpath & Tim Knock. We have two events lined up in September. On 12^th /13^th September, Anthony Thorley and I are running a weekend for the Isle of Avalon Foundation, entitled “Living the Glastonbury Zodiac”, where we’ll be exploring the origins of the Zodiac and how we can work with it practically in our lives. We’ll be walking in two of the zodiac figures. Our next Alchemical Journey workshop is for Libra, on 19^th / 20^th September, “The Alchemical Wedding: Beauty, Balance & Partnership”. Happy harvesting!

Leo: Alchemical Gold & All That Glitters…

2009-07-27T11:27:00.000+01:00

Ever had the feeling that you have a much greater destiny in life, a royal or heroic path? Ever feel like the people you encounter in your life should really be laying a red carpet before you as you arrive? This probably sounds a bit over the top, and one might well be embarrassed to admit ever entertaining such fantasies. Before we dismiss the idea, though, let us indulge the Leo phase of the annual cycle we now find ourselves in, and consider how our personal narratives are stitched together. After all, our life stories are never just a collection of random personal events and circumstances; they are woven through with mythic, archetypal themes that entwine themselves around our everyday experiences, even when we are largely unconscious of them.

We all have the ability to identify ourselves as a King Arthur, a Cleopatra, a Luke Skywalker, or a Lara Croft, and it can inspire us to rise to the challenges we face in life, go beyond our fears and limitations. To have our hearts suddenly ignited with an uncommon enthusiasm, to be in the presence of an inexplicable synchronicity or otherworldy power, to glimpse the possibility of who we are, how we may once have been and what we may become.

This month, as the Sun passes through the sign of the Lion, the Zodiac seems to grant us permission to let the divine light within us shine out in the world. We can take our cues from nature - sunflowers turning their proud faces toward the Sun, or the golden fields of wheat and corn swaying elegantly in a royal summer breeze. The work of the alchemist is mimetic; it seeks to imitate nature’s transformational cycles and evoke their symbolic power. So during this season of fruition and growth, we should celebrate the glory of who we are and allow the natural warmth and confidence within us to radiate out.

Children have no problem playing kings and queens, goddesses and heroes. It just pours forth effortlessly from their creativity and their joy. As adults we’ve become serious and significant, careful to distinguish reality from fantasy, but the line can never be clearly drawn. So let’s welcome this great fire sign of Leo and honour those Leonine characters that bring colour to our lives and invite us to trust the spontaneous impulse to make things up in the moment, play-act, and lose ourselves in fabulous stories.

To experience ourselves within a mythic setting through dreams or visionary journeys, even just being here within the enchanted Isle of Avalon and its great Zodiac temple, is to be in touch with the heavenly half of our being. We should be careful not to overly literalise or personalise this imaginal experience, though. Trying to steal fire from the gods to inflate our individual identities invariably leaves us chained to the impenetrable rock of self-importance! Better to honour that great solar power from which we draw each inspirational breath - allow its fiery force to shine through us and radiate out of us, whilst tending the candle flame of our own personal destinies with dedicated humility.

There is a wonderful character in alchemy, the Green Lion, often depicted swallowing the Sun and causing blood to flow from it. Green is the colour of transformation, and of the earth, and the lion can be seen as the alchemical flask to which the “sun-that-bleeds” surrenders itself. After a series of initiatory stages, the green lion reappears as a king marked with seven stars regurgitating an eternal sun of pure gold, a celestial lion of the verdant earth impregnated by the immortal heavens. Part of our journey into the Leo archetype, then, is to distinguish which Lion / Sun we are dealing with - the golden light of our heroic lion-heart or the glittering ego with its polished surfaces and grand gestures!

On The Alchemical Journey workshop this month, we practised being seen by each other and exposing the truth of our hearts. It is one of the most simple, yet profoundly challenging processes that we do on the course. As each person stood before the group, we gently coached each other to distinguish for ourselves that aspect of our nature that is continually trying to impress others, from that which is naturally, effortlessly impressive. What we realised through this exercise is that when we allow our innate presence to shine joyfully through us, our ordinarily inflated egos gradually begin to fall into line and give up trying to run the show!

Our next Alchemical Journey workshop is Virgo: The Alchemy of Everyday Life on Sat 22^nd & Sun 23^rd August. It will be held upstairs at The Avalon Conservative Club on Glastonbury High St. This is the month where we really get down to the business of harvesting our gold. The price is £125 for the weekend (some concessions available). See our half page advert for more information. I’m still here living in Glastonbury, so feel free to get in touch. My number is 07869 133759. Have a great month!

The Mystery of Home

2009-07-06T22:15:00.000+01:00

One of the key questions that we pose during the Cancerian phase of the Alchemical Journey is “what does home mean to you?”. What emerges from our enquiries continually is that home is a place of peace or solace, connection, effortless joy, love, warmth, a place to return to, a place that sustains and nourishes us; time and again, the answers seemed to echo each other. Invariably, home is re-called by participants as an experience of being 'at home', surrounded by the natural beauty of the world around them, a return to a temporarily lost connection to the natural world and the divinity implicit within it.

The Greeks have a term oikos, which I find particularly helpful as I ponder this same question myself. It is from oikos that we derive our root term ‘eco’, and it is translated as meaning ‘home’. It is a richly conceived term though. While it can refer to a human experience of home as the place where you live, or originate from, it can also be a temple, or an astrological 'house'.[1] It embraces not only a place, but also an experiential desire or search for home, which incorporates the building and caretaking of temples and precincts, wherein the gods may be accommodated, and wherein both human and divine may dwell together. Our modern term ‘ecology’, coined by the naturalist Ernst Hackel in 1869 to describe the relationships between plants, animals and the environment, thus suddenly seems to carry a more profound, mysterious connotation. It embodies a spiritual longing for return, a desire to reconnect to one's home, to one's roots.

Few things are more important to us in life than finding a home, and we may spend much of our lives searching for that experience. Thomas Moore speaks of the experience of enchantment, “thick in the air”, when we experience, albeit momentarily, this oikos, and how we are “haunted by its elusiveness”, when we lack it. Martin Heidegger describes the experience of being 'at home', as an experience of authenticity, something the human beings tends to encounter only as rare, but profoundly enlightened moments. For Heidegger, these moments exist among a vast sea of inauthentic experience when we feel cast adrift from the experience of being at home. Maurice Merleau-Ponty talks of moments when the distinction between subject and object temporarily dissolves in our perception and we recognise that we are genuinely connected to that which we perceive in a way that no longer renders us separate from it. Such realisations are momentary, and seem to exist outside of the delineation of normal time and space. Or practice of making a home for the soul, then, is one of creating a temple that can accommodate the possibility of such momentary exaltation.

So home must be something more than just shelter. It must embody a sense of belonging, a sense of being in the right place with the right people around, in the right kind of environment, engaged in activities that feel right and that allow the soul to penetrate our experience. For Thomas Moore, ecology is the ‘mystery of home’, a mystery that can embrace more than just the place where we live, for our sense of home can even extend to include even the planet itself as our home; enough that it might inspire us to act to protect and take responsibility for it.
[1] Moore, The Re-Enchantment of Everday Life, p. 41-2

Cancer: The Alchemy of Memory

2009-06-23T23:06:00.000+01:00

Re-Membering Where We Come From

As the ever turning wheel of the Zodiac now enters the phase of Cancer, I like to remind myself of what really nurtures, nourishes and supports me, of what is sacred in my life. Considered in many spiritual traditions to be the gateway through which the soul enters incarnation, this is the sign that beckons us to reconnect to our roots. Cancer is immortalised in the heavens as the Crab whose once nipped the ankles of Hercules to remind him of his origins. Somewhat lacking in sensitivity, that great brute of a hero simply crushed that divinely sent creature beneath his feet. In thinking about this myth, it struck me how our own modern Herculean egos can act in a similarly insensitive way towards our own past, our heritage and ancestral lineage. In striving for individuality and independence we may all too easily over-rule our soul’s irreconcilable need for belonging and continuity as a kind of childish homesickness. So I always welcome this phase of the wheel, as it draws me back to the source, to the wellspring, where I can drink deep of Memory’s healing waters, remember where I come from and re-vision what I may have come here for.

Mnemosyne the Memory Weaver

Cancer is the sign that evokes Memory. The Greeks knew her as Mnemosyne (mother of the Muses so beloved of poets and artists) and she is no mere archivist or record keeper. Rather, she is pregnant with imaginative potency, a spinner of yarns, a falsifier of facts and a literalizer of fictions. So it is with our own memories, which are never just factual accounts of what has happened to us, but rather a collection of mythic strands woven through events and circumstances, conjuring images of the past which our minds quickly assemble into a convincing order. So in the Cancer phase of the wheel, I court Mnemosyne with care, re-weaving the stories that feed my soul and reconnect me to the ancestors.

Solstice Crab

The Sun reaches its zenith at Summer Solstice as it enters Cancer, and with tentative, crab-like caution, appears to pause, stand still, before descending. In many traditions, this is the time when the Sun God begins his descent into the underworld. So the energy of the Sun succumbs to that of the Moon, Queen of the Night, whose ebb and flow might echo in our moods, making us more psychically sensitive and closer to our emotions. For here we are, deep in the belly of summer, the trees pregnant with their fruit, their roots drawing deep for water and sustenance.

The Imaginal Memory Theatre

The Greek philosopher Plotinus coined the term epistrophe, to describe the desire inherent in all things to “turn back” toward their original guiding principles or root metaphors, their archai (archetypes). The movement of the crab and the rhythms of moon and tide seem to embody this quality of turning back, as they echo an instinctual longing for home, for roots. One of the most compelling characteristics of the zodiacal wheel, the centrepiece of most western mystery traditions, is that it seems to preserve the integrity of those root metaphors. So when people come to learn astrology, it often feels more like remembering, exposing a tacit knowledge of its imagery and symbolism that already exists within us. I always take care to foster this quality of remembering in my courses through experiential work as it enlivens the learning process. As we enter the Zodiac, I remind people that we entering an imaginal temple, a theatre of archaic memory, through which we may release the alchemical potency of its images and symbols.

Finding the Source

Here in Glastonbury, of course, we are privileged to have those zodiacal images inscribed in the landscape, courtesy of the extraordinary imaginings of Katherine Maltwood in the 1930s. Each month Anthony Thorley and myself ritually journey along the pathways that delineate each sign in the Glastonbury Zodiac, and we are continually met with profound synchronicities. In preparing this month’s workshop, we quietly mused over how exactly we should approach the Cancer figure, it being the least visited in the wheel, located on relatively featureless low-lying land. Seen from above, the figure appears to cradle the divine child in the Gemini figure in a quite remarkable way. Guidance came in the form of a ‘chance’ meeting with a fellow zodiac enthusiast, who took us to see the recently uncapped wellspring on the land adjoining her house near Compton Dundon. Around the spring, this very special lady has created a beautiful sanctuary garden, and, it just so happens, this spring actually feeds the waterways which draw the Cancer figure in the landscape. Not only had we been shown the way in which we should approach the figure, we had actually been taken to the source of it!

Next Workshop...

Our next Alchemical Journey workshop is Leo: The Alchemy of The Heart on Sat 25^th & Sun 26^th July. It will be held at Meadway Hall, Compton Dundon (about 3 miles south of Glastonbury). On Sun 26^th July, we will walk in the Leo figure of the zodiac, which is one of the most dramatic figures in the wheel, and the first that Katherine Maltwood discovered. The price is £125 for the weekend (some concessions available).

The Alchemy of Gemini - Betwixt & Between

2009-05-26T20:33:00.000+01:00

As the days get longer and the sun rises to its zenith in the sky, so the alchemical carousel turns again and we enter the sign of Gemini. The dialogical exchange of the divine twins invites us into the mysteries of the air element and Nature responds with a rich variety of sounds, colours, scents and textures. The blossom of Taurus has attracted bees and butterflies and the pollination cycle is beginning in earnest, carried on winds of change. Endlessly darting from flower to flower, the Gemini messengers buzz and flutter happily from one source of interest to another, spreading the news, stirring nature’s alchemical mix and heralding the arrival of summer. It seems like everything is up for grabs in this hubbub of trade and exchange. We find Nature’s theme reflected in the Christian calendar with the festival of Pentecost or Whitsuntide, which remembers the story of the holy spirit coming as a rushing wind, carrying divine “wit” and inspiring the apostles to spread the word of Christ’s ascension.

Changing the Buzz

The bee is an apt animal totem for Gemini and its activities are so obviously essential for the sustainability of life. Yet, as we know, the bee population is declining at an alarming rate, and one of the contributing factors, it seems, may be the electromagnetic radiation emitted by mobile phones and wireless internet signals, our modern Geminian pollinating devices. The airwaves are now saturated to near exhaustion with our half-baked human jabberings and it appears to threaten the very essence of life.

The Sacredness of the Air

Many indigenous cultures, past and present, recognize the air, the wind and the breath (that we moderns have secularised and commodified) as aspects of a sacred power. It is the sensuous medium through which they live and have their being. Moreover, spoken words, drawing their communicative power from this invisible realm, are still considered by many indigenous groups to be the “structured breath”,¹ which voice the intentions of the spiritual powers. And for those who have their sensitive antennae intact, the sacred air through which we all breathe and think and speak is still perceived as being richly endowed with myriad elemental beings, carrying with them the spirit of our interactions.

A Tapestry of Evocative Language

Gemini carries the power of Hermes or Mercury, the god of language and communication, trade and commerce. All that is betwixt and between comes under the auspices of this duplicitous messenger, wordsmith and riddler. So, on the alchemical journey this month, with this wily daemon at such close quarters, we are paying extra attention to what we are thinking and saying! Gemini always reminds me to choose well from the web of words and stories and to voice them with more ritual care. We do well to remember that words do not simply label things that are already there, but can also carry an incantative power which reverberates in the aether, echoing back and forth as the great tapestry of life is woven.

Including the Middle

The alchemy of Gemini can re-enliven our awareness of the more-than-human otherness of life, help us reconnect to those emissaries of the air that dance between worlds. Daemons, elves, sidhe, little people - a plurality of spirits marginalised by our disenchanted modern worldview - still close enough to this world to be occasionally sensed in certain special places, yet elusive enough to escape too close a scrutiny. But, if we are to re-enter such a perspective, it will take a suspension of our logic, literalism, hasty judgments and singleness of vision; we will need to embrace metaphor, ambiguity and the “middle” that Aristotle would have us exclude. The rewards are great, though difficult for the analyst, to glimpse for a moment a deeper truth in that enchanted realm where the bard and the ovate - speaking in tongues - still hold court.

The Bull's Injunction!

2009-05-04T10:04:00.000+01:00

This month has really been a journey for me in the art of embodiment. My arrival at Abbey House in Glastonbury has slowed me right down, from the pace of inner city Bristol to the tranquility of this retreat with its magnificent grounds and the hallowed turf of Glastonbury Abbey, which is considered by many to be the most sacred ground in the whole of Christendom.

Taurus is not a sign that features strongly in my own natal chart, though I do have a Taurean mother, so was inculcated early in the slow, deliberate ways of the bull. Money, food, safety before all else...frustrating for an Aries who wanted just to risk his heart, but profoundly instrcutive in hindsight, especially as I embrace this alchemical journey around the wheel.

I have reflected a great deal on our extraordinary Taurus weekend - which was so physical in nature - perhaps the least verbal workshop I have ever run - and how appropriate that is for this earthy sign. It was as if there was nothing much to say - it was much more appropriate to hold it in the sensory domain. We were fortunate to have no less than four people present in our band of 12 with their natal moons in Taurus - holding the space for us to drop deeply into that bovine energy!

Yesterday, Colette and I walked again in the Taurean figure of the Bull in the Glastonbury, such a sensuous walk, spectacular views and, as we played merrily under a hawthorn bush in full blossom, with sun beating down upon us, on the bull's left horn, the syncrhonicity of the season was alive and potent in a really quite remarkable way.

This is a piece I wrote in response to the first Taurus walk that we did over the workshop weekend.

The Bull's Injunction
A bull stands before me, solid of stature, single of gaze
Watching, his eyes penetrate to my core
Waiting for me to make the first move
Implacable, caring nothing for my sweet manipulations.

"Oh please step aside and let me past, you are blocking my path. I mean you no harm. You are in my way, and I must progress."

And the bull's reply?

"I do not block your path. I am your path. You cannot by-pass me. You must pass through me. Become me. Ingest my bovine spirit.

"Do not make an object of me, for our destinies are entwined. You must sacrifice that which is within you, that which is afraid of your true Taurean power. You cannot manipulate me with words or clever schemes. For I am your medicine on this turn of the wheel.

"My medicine will slow your thoughts, release the hunch in your shoulders, ground you in your body sense.

Stand squarely before me. Claim this sacred ground that we share. Do not shirk me. Be the Bull that you are!"

bright blessings,
John

A Poem for Beltane

2009-05-01T13:12:00.000+01:00

Oh, to be here in Glastonbury on a bright May Day morning, to celebrate with kindred spirits. How at home I feel here honouring the wheel of life! Here's a poem I wrote, inspired by this morning's ceremony:

Beltane fire,
Crackling with life
Each lick of flame a line of verse
An enchantment to bewitch and befuddle
Reason, suspended, must dance like a fool

Jumping the fire, wild awakening
A chanted spiral takes me deeper
Eyes meet 'midst a cluster of memories and longings
Each glance of recognition inebriates my senses
A momentary glimpse
Perhaps
A precious shred of the mystery
To which my soul is wedded, entwined

Dance, my heart, around the may pole
Jack's erect and true, capped with a crown of blossom
Here he stands, the tree of life
The axis mundi around which we merrily play
Weaving our way
This first of May

The Alchemy of Taurus: Appreciation & Authentic Ownership

2009-04-20T16:36:00.000+01:00

What does it mean to have, to own, to be in possession of things? What is money and what role should it play in my life? What is my relationship to the earth, to my own body, to my experience of the world though my five senses? These are questions I am pondering this month, following a very powerful workshop at the Chalice Well, where our group of intrepid alchemical adventurers marked the entry of the Sun into the astrological sign of Taurus, this abundant phase of the year where nature offers us its first blossom. As the bright colours, sweet smells, sounds, tastes, and tactility of Spring awaken our senses, so we are offered an opportunity to fully inhabit our sensuous nature and appreciate the great fullness of life. The beauty and sanctity of the Chalice Well and the ritual journey we took in the Taurus figure of the Glastonbury Zodiac, offered us the opportunity to experience this at a profound level.

Magnetic Attraction

In contrast to Aries, Taurus quietly draws toward itself what it needs for its own sustenance and well-being, drawing on the magnetism of the earth element, and the attractive power of Venus, its ruling planet. So it is then, through connecting to this energy in our own lives, we can learn to attract and magnetize things to us, by being attentive to and appreciating what is right in front of us. As we learned during our Taurus weekend, by drawing on this resource and allowing our sensory experiences to come to us (rather than seeking them out), we gain access to a level of perceptual sensitivity which we might ordinarily miss. Ben Rayner, who was co-facilitating the weekend with Anthony and myself really helped us to realise this, through the sensory perception and expanded awareness practices that he taught us.

Enough Already

The Taurus phase teaches us the value of “enough”, the recognition that we may already have everything we need to live a happy and fulfilled life. In the current economic climate, our culture is having to face the realisation that stuffing our lives full of “more” isn’t sufficient for our sustenance and well-being. I remember Lynne Twist once saying that in our modern quest for abundance, we often sail right past the exquisite beauty of “enough” without even realising it – driven on by our scarcity-ridden belief that “more is better”. So my own practice this month is to sense what is enough for me, to realise what I actually need to be secure and what I could happily and joyfully do without - and celebrate that!

Authentic Ownership

I equate this practice of what I call “authentic ownership” with the experience of fully inhabiting my body, claiming a right to the ground that I walk upon, the air that I breathe, the interactions that give my life value and the sensuous delights of the present moment. To embrace this without attachment, without seeking to claim exclusive rights over any of these things frees me to be more fully present to the natural abundance of life.

Sufficiency & Sustainability

The manifestation / law of attraction books and films such as “The Secret” have offered us powerful keys to help us manifest our creative potential, and they include gratitude as an important component of that. However, I’d personally love to see them focussing more on the distinctions of sufficiency and sustainability as part of the context for manifestation, and less on the acquisition of monetary wealth and the accumulation of material things for their own sake. A celebratory appreciation of the resources that we already have, including money and material assets, as well as our own skills and abilities, can free us up to find more creative ways to express and channel that which we have blessed with. When we relax the anxiety that comes from thinking we need more of everything, a whole world of already existing riches opens up. We also become more powerful attractors in the process!

Next Workshop in Glastonbury: Gemini - 23rd / 24th May

Our next Alchemical Journey workshop in Glastonbury is our Gemini event, The Alchemy of Communication, on the 23^rd / 24^th May in Glastonbury. We'll be exploring the creative power of language and learn to become more effective communicators. For details, visit: http://www.thealchemicaljourney.com/may2009.php

The workshop is open to all – and it would be great if you can join us and taste the magic of this journey with us. Have a great Taurean month and hope you find your treasure.

Taking Pleasure in The Turning Wheel

2008-12-10T21:14:00.000Z

I've been thinking a lot about 'pleasure' this month - seems appropriate as we are in the Sagittarius phase, which has plenty to do with loosening up and having a good time. I've been reflecting upon just how much pleasure I have derived from my experiential encounters with the astrological wheel over the years - my deepening awarness of, and rootedness in the wheel. It's a learning journey that can never be exhausted, just revealing more and more layers of depth and subtlety - and with it, ever greater possibilities to simply enjoy the transformational ride!

The 16th century German mystic Jakob Boehme said: "The essence of God is like a wheel...the more one beholds the wheel, the more one learns about its shape, and the more one learns, the greater pleasure one has in the wheel." I've spend a lot of time contemplating this quote and the more I work experientially with the astrological wheel and with the wheel of the year, and the seasonal transformation it relates to, so it continues to reveal even more profound layers of meaning. The "wheel that turns" is a common motif in many traditions. In Buddhism, it is most often related as the wheel of samsara into which the immortal soul incarnates to experience the transformational cycle of birth, desire, suffering, death and re-birth. It is the wheel of karma, where we experience ourselves "in the world", the aim being to find balance or peace, to become aware of the turning wheel of samsara that we are bound within, and, in doing so, free ourselves from suffering. The wheel of samsara reflects, of course, the turning wheel of the year through the seasons, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, and then relates this directly to the human experience.

The Still Point at the Centre

One of the primary features of a turning wheel is that it has a point at its centre that remains still - yet is the fulcrum point from which all the energy from the turning wheel emanates. I have come to equate this still point at the centre of the wheel as the point of awareness, where we are aware of the turning around us, yet, as we hold our presence at the centre, can remain unmoved by it. In the Samsara model, I equate this point with an experience of nirvana, an experience of simply being, that we access through the stilling of the mind. The more able we are to access the stillness at the centre of the turning of the wheel, the more able we are to move back out into the wheel and simply enjoy its turning for what it is. If we are not practised in accessing this centre, then we will tend to experience the wheel as dangerous, frightening, and its inevitable turning as something to be fought against and resisted. As Boehme says, the more we learn about the wheel and how it functions, the more awareness of the cyclical nature of life's wheel and its irresistible turning, the more pleasure we can have in that wheel and so we can become free of suffering. This, for me, is that heart of true alchemy, as I believe it is the heart of all true spiritual practice.

The Zodiacal Dance

Ten days ago, Anthony Thorley and myself ran a weekend introduction to The Alchemical Journey in Glastonbury, called "Awaken the Alchemist Within". It was a magical weekend with huge amounts of learning all round - and as I have reflected upon it, so many insights have been dropping - like golden raindrops! The weekend was based upon an experiential journey around the whole wheel of the year - through each one of the 12 signs of the zodiac. We did this primarily through music and movement, envisoning our playspace (the upstairs room at Glastonbury Conservative Club!) as that ever-turning wheel with the still point marked at its centre. And so, on the Saturday, we danced our way around the wheel from Aries to Pisces, responding to music and visual cues that resonated with each zodiac sign and each of the 12 stages within the annual seasonal round. We began our journey by focussing at the centre of the wheel, and after we had experienced fully the energy of each zodiac sign, we returned to the centre, consciously releasing our involvement with the energy of each sign. By following this structure each time, we were able to realise deeper and deeper within our embodied experience, how, no matter how far we have abandoned ourselves to each stage of the unfolding drama, we can always return to that still place of awareness at the centres. Indeed, what we all found was that the more we rooted our experience in that centre point, the better able I think we became to consciouly abandon ourselves to the dynamics of each sign, dancing ever more passionately, whether to the bright harmonies of Libra, the discordant rhythms of Scorpio, or the off-the-wall jazz beats of Aquarius. I would say that the more connected we became with the centre, the more pleasure we we were able to experience in the wheel.

The Sagittarian Finger That Points to The Centre of the Wheel

On the Sunday of our workshop, we focussed on the sign of Sagittarius and the day culminated in Anthony guiding us on an extraordinary walk around the figure of Sagittarius in the Glastonbury landscape zodiac, a series of 12 figures stretching out across 10 miles of the Somerset Levels- marked out by rivers, roads and field boundaries, and identified by artist Catherine Maltwood in the 1920s, and ever since linked with and identified Arthur's knights of the round table - the round table being the reflected in the perfectly flat landscape of the Somerset levels, in which these figures are found. The Sagittarius is by far the largest of the 12 figures, rather unsurprisingly perhaps for this larger-than-life, Jupiter-ruled sign. Depicting a centaur (or else rider and horse), this figure has been indentified as Arthur himself and all sorts of clues in the landscape features and place names suggest some kind of shamanic-healer figure, not unlike Chiron, the mythological shaman-centaur of Greek mythology. The arm of the Sagittarian figure reaches deep into the heart of the zodiac and his finger almost touches the very centre point of the wheel. This point is marked in the landscape by a dense and rarely visited wood, called Park Wood. We ventured into this wood on the Sunday afternoon and stood around a particular tree at the centre point of the zodiac. It was an extraordinary experience and I personally felt the most incredible sense of peace and stillness there. Again, an embodied recognition of the power of the still centre. It was our starting point for the ritual journey around the profile of Arthur / Sagittarius that was to follow. Having stilled ourselves, we were ready to venture out into the fiery energy of the Sagittarian figure - better able I believe to really abandon ourselves to the pleasures of walking in the wheel.

These are my reflections for now on this experience. I will perhaps add more to them over the coming months. I really welcome any comments and feedback. You can respond by clicking the 'comments' link below.

Visit www.thealchemicaljourney.com for more information about The Alchemical Journey - and come on board for the ride of your life!

all good wishes

John x

The Alchemy of Sagittarius - A Time to Rekindle The Inner Fire

2008-12-10T18:41:00.000Z

People often ask me why the hot and fiery sign of Sagittarius should appear in the wheel of the year just as we start pulling on the winter woollies and getting our wood stocks in for the winter. It might be easier to understand the seasonal association of Aries with its spring burst of life and Leo appearing in the heat of summer. Sagittarius, it would seem expresses the energy in a slightly more subtle way (that said, Sagittarians are not exactly renowned for their subtlety!).

I have come to understand the Sagittarian turn of the wheel through an understanding of the Christian festival of advent and its pagan predecessor. During Scorpio, we experienced the cycle of decay and "rotting down". If we are honouring the wheel, then we have, symbolically, "buried our dead" in Scorpio, and let go of that which can no longer be sustained on this turning of the wheel. Around the time we enter Sagittarius, nature begins to turn its attention away from death and toward the possibility of new life rising again - even though we don't see it so obviously, it is happening within the soil and within the plants and trees themselves, as elements recombine to warm and protect the seeds of life to allow a new cycle of gestation to begin. As humans, I believe we pick this up psychically, and experience this phase this of the year as the beginning of a new gestation cycle, as we turn our attention turns toward a time when the Sun or "saviour" will be born anew. The Christian festival of advent anticipates the birth of Christ, and celebrates the new hope that will bring. It's interesting to note that this seems to be marked also in the Chinese Taiji wheel, where receptive yin energy has reached its most saturated point (in the cycle corresponding to Scorpio) and, more-or-less as we enter Sagittarius creative yang energy is simultaneously being re-conceived.

Personally, I sense the alchemy of Sagittarius re-opening my heart, releasing my spirit and offering me the freedom to dream a new dream. It seems right to turn my thoughts to the future and celebrate that immortal, spiritual part of me which I know survives death (this is something I believe we all know intuitively, even if we have learned to doubt it). This inspirational fire is essential, I believe, to lift us free of our material attachments, and, like the phoenix rising out of the ashes, it can re-inspire our creative impulse, stretch our minds and open up new worlds of possibility.

I see Sagittarius as a time for contemplation and wonder, a time for sacred journeying and the potential revelation of a divine connection. As the archer takes aim and fires his arrow toward the far horizon, so might we naturally look to the stars for guidance, just as the three wise astrologers did as they followed the star in the east that led them to that much fabled manger in Bethlehem.

On The Alchemical Journey programme this month we are seeking to expand our perspectives and explore the bigger picture of our lives, ritually journeying into a future of our own intentional creation. We are exploring our relationship to God, the Universe, Allah, Great Spirit (or whatever name we choose) and questioning what we mean when we use these terms. Having confronted our shadows in Scorpio, visited the underworld and offered the ferryman his toll, it is time for us to regain our wings and take shamanic flight, prepare to meet our spirit guide and ready ourselves for initiation at the winter solstice in the next sign of Capricorn.

This cycle marks a time of the year when you we are likely to be more responsive to dreams and visions, new ideas and possibilities for the future. It is time to wonder, to contemplate the deeper mysteries of life; to broaden our horizons and adventure into the unknown. It is to laugh and be merry, to let our hair down and have a good time.

So here are some things you might want to try as a way for getting the most out of the Sagittarius cycle:

Keep a Dream Journal by your bed - and write down whatever you remember as soon as you wake up and pay attention to symbols.
Create a Vision Board - Think about the bigger picture of your life and imagine the things you like to draw into your life. Then find images to represent this. You can do this by cutting pictures out of magazines and downloading images from the internet - and sticking them on a large piece of card or stiff paper. Then put this up on your wall - somewhere you will see it regularly.
Observe the practice of a cultural or religious tradition other than your own - you might want to visit a mosque or a hindu temple for example, and their something of their culture and tradition - or observe a particular practice - just as a way of broadening your own cultural and/or religious perspective.
Laugh more! It's good for the soul.

We also have a number of introductory talks line up in the new year:

See: http://www.thealchemicaljourney.com/news3.php for details.

Wishing You All a Happy Sagittarian Advent-ure,

Alchemical blessings,

John

www.thealchemicaljourney.com

Confessions of a Gemini Moon!

2008-06-02T16:43:00.000+01:00

Well, I'm experiencing this month of Gemini as varied and unprecictable as one might expect of such an buzzy, fluttery and elusive sign. I am born with my moon in Gemini and I would say I am particularly sensitive to Gemini energies - I have always been tremendously magnetised toward Gemini-type people, unceasingly rivted by words, thoughts, ideas, associations and connections between people and ideas. I can also relate very deeply to the erratic nature of this sign - up one minute, down the next - compelled and fascinated by an idea or relationship one day, and bored or disinterested by it the next. This might be viewed as a fault, or a mark of faultly attention, and there have been times in my life, when I am certain that such a judgment would have been justified within a particular context, yet I also identify a deep need (as expressed always by the moon) for colour, variety, diversity and a continually shifting re-interpreting of reality. I have been reflecting on the phenomena that when I find the Gemini energy of communication is getting too much for me, it may be more that I'm losing presence to the truth of the presence of this moment that is always-already there underpinning the contunually shape-shifting phenomena I encounter. When I lose my energy, and feel depleted is when I identify primarily with the phenomena, and I forget to hold my presence within it.

I've been thinking a lot od bumblebees this month - that beautfully apt symbol of Geminian buzz. Through spreading the pollen, this "accidental hero" of nature ensures the rich variety and diversity of life continues. However essential the process is to life and how ignorant to think that we should be trying to controlling that natural process through genetic modification of plants and crops - now being put forward as a likely reason why bee populations are declining so much. The bees movement as it buzzes from flower to flower is so apparently erratic, yet at a level we probably cannot appreciate, it is a perfectly choreographed expression of the dance of life, perfect for that moment, perfect in a way that cannot be entirely replicated or copied. The movement of the bee, like all aspects of nature has a pattern to it that we can discern and identify, yet within that pattern is the essence of that particular moment. The essence of that moment ensures that the bee will not tire of his dance, but he is being endlessly replenishes by the unseen web that enables his dance. I've been feeling a bit frazzled the last few days - lack of sleep and an excess of buzzing - this is something I am reminding myself of today. Remember the invisible web that supports all the patterns and apparently erratic movements that I make. Remember the web that gives me my life, the web supports my breath, the web that connects to me every other living thing in the web.

Bumblebee, when you enter the flower, I know you are not thinking already of the next flower - you are fully and completely present with the life giving nectar that feeds you in that moment. Bumblebee, when you and buzzing in the air between flowers, I know you are not thinking of the last flower you alighted upon and mourning its loss. Neither are you anxious for the next. I know you are fully present in your buzz, in the flutter of tiny wings. Bumblebee, let me into your secret. Let me bee with you.

Love John x

The Question of Intellectual Property

2008-05-03T10:46:00.000+01:00

Does The Alchemical Journey belong to me? This is a question I have been asking myself over the past few days. Is it “mine”? Do I own it? And if I do own it, what does that mean? Does that make it exclusively my property, and what happens as it starts developing its own identity out there in the big wide world of possibilities. Gerard and I are currently involved in a fascinating discussion about intellectual property and its implications, and looking at the idea of “creative commons” as a potentially more progressive model for the thorny and complex issue of IP rights. The Creative Commons movement enables authors, scientists, artists, and educators to mark their creative work with the freedoms they want it to carry. It allows a person to change their copyright terms from "All Rights Reserved" to "Some Rights Reserved." See www.creativecommons.org - it leaves me with these questions: How do I honour my own creative input and ensure that I am properly remunerated for that? Do I give it away in trust, or carefully license it and how do I guard against my work being used by others without proper license and perhaps in ways which I deem inappropriate?

Protecting What You Have
I did a fantastic training recently called “Leadership Presence”, which took skills from the acting profession and applied them to leadership. It was full of superb material, beautifully facilitated and I got a huge amount from the experience. However, I almost pulled out of the training beforehand because I was so appalled by what I saw as the organisation’s fear and control around their intellectual property. This came to a head when a friend of mine was told she would not be allowed to participate in the workshop because she was promoting herself as a corporate coach and trainer. The organisation were afraid that if she participated, then she might steal the material and use it in her own work. I was really quite shocked by this and lost a lot of respect for the organisation. I’m glad I did the workshop, because the material was brilliant, but what about this issue of intellectual property? It began an enquiry for me in relation to my own programme.

Originality
I have created The Alchemical Journey – it’s an original project, but it naturally draws on a huge number of variables that aren’t exclusively original to me. Yet my formulation of the material and the way I’ve put it together makes it pretty unique in both the field of astrology and in the field of self-development. And, yes, it is something I naturally think of as my intellectual property. Yet, here I am in putting ideas forward, running courses, seeking collaborations with other trainers and facilitators, making my intellectual property extremely vulnerable! I run the obvious and very real “risk” of it being changed, re-interpreted, mis-interpreted, used and potentially abused in other contexts, even without my knowledge.

The Alchemical Formula
What should I do about this? One response might have been for me to keep the ideas to myself (bit late for that, now!) until I had broken down each element of it, copyrighted each element, patented it, trademarked it. Then that would need to be policed and a lot of time and energy put into making sure others weren’t pinching what I had developed. To stand any chance of preserving it in a recognisable form, I would need to standardise the course with very clear set practices and delivery requirements and I would need to formularise it, so that the IP of each component can be readily recognised and legally identified. This seems shrewd and I’m sure that if I was being strictly business-like about it all, I’d probably attempt to do something like that. I haven’t though. Why not?

I’ve thought a lot about this issue and wondered at how I might protect myself. After all, I have developed this and put a huge amount of time, energy, money and resources into it. I don’t just want someone to pick up my years of research and then churn something out that isn’t in line with the ethos or intention of what I’ve created. So there is a need for balance here. I recognise that I need to hold the integrity of the programme. But what would I lose, and what would The Alchemical Journey lose if I were to turn it into a more easily identifiable formulaic process. Well, I figure there would be a loss of spontaneity, a loss of creativity, a loss of participation. Basically, I would destroy it as a living, transforming, evolving entity. I have been part of the process of giving birth to The Alchemical Journey, and it now lives and breathes in the world. I can’t control each step of its growth – any more than I could or would want to control the growth and development of a child. But I can gently guide and support it; respond to its own transformational journey and let myself be guided, supported and responded to by the journey. I want to stay in relationship with it, keep my love for it alive, allow it to evolve in a way that is going to make the most difference in the world, in a way that is going to enable learning, healing, community, love.

Guardian
In my more philosophical and altruistic moments, I question whether it was really me who created it at all – wasn’t I simply the vehicle through which it manifested – my particular dimensions of body, mind and spirit just happened to be a fit for it to be born through me! So, wouldn’t it be more accurate for me to consider my relationship to it more as a carer or guardian?

Perhaps, by calling The Alchemical Journey “mine” in any kind of exclusive sense I run the risk of robbing it of its own autonomous life force. Yet, just like a parent, if I didn’t nurture it, water it, protect it through its early development, it would die of neglect and be exposed to unnecessary dangers before it is strong enough to cope. So I guess what I’m doing by carefully delineating the distinctions of each phase of the journey, and being specific about the way I’m using language, images and stories in particular contexts, I am helping to support its integrity, firming up materials and resources, becoming clear about a pattern of delivery of the programme.

So, more and more, I am seeing myself as the guardian of The Alchemical Journey, rather than its owner. And the beauty is, that, as its guardian, I can have so much more access to gratitude and appreciation, because I am so much more sensitively awake to the relationship I have with it. I can respond to its needs, it can respond to mine; it can surprise me in ways that it couldn’t if I was busily controlling every aspect of it. Running this programme becomes a joyful privilege that I can never take for granted.

The Consolidation Phase
With regard to The Alchemical Journey, we can see that each stage of the journey has its own theme and dynamic. We are currently experiencing the second stage. This stage is about recognising what we have and consolidating our resources. It is actually about saying “this is mine”, and experiencing it as such. My sunflower has been doing that in the last couple of weeks – claiming the soil for its own, becoming more established in its pot, after that initial burst of life when it broke the shackles of its seed pod and pushed its way through the soil. This is only a phase of the journey though – the energy will change and become something else soon – what was clearly experienced as “mine” in Taurus will become less clear as we enter the mutable sign of Gemini, and the realm of Mercury, the language trickster, in a couple of weeks time. For when we start thinking and speaking about what we have and engaging in dialogue, our experience of what we have will change. I find my awareness of this immensely helpful in this whole question of IP, and what to do about it. It reminds me that there is a need to consolidate and strengthen my resources before talking about them too openly and sharing them with everyone I meet.

The enquiry continues…

John x

Taurean Resistance

2008-05-03T09:48:00.000+01:00

One of the great things we are learning through the Taurus perspective is the value of gratitude and appreciation for what we have. This principle is clearly at the heart of alchemy and the process of creative manifestation. As Lynne Twist says “What you appreciate appreciates”. However, when this appreciation is limited to those things that we have come to identify as being exclusively “mine”, as being opposed to “yours”, then surely we are doing precisely the opposite, and actually resisting and stifling the creative process. Perhaps there is a fine line between gratitude and smugness.

For example, I might value and appreciate and love the house that I live in. I might love it so much in fact, just so, the way it is, that I take steps to preserve it that way at all costs, ensuring that others don’t come in and ‘mess it up’, rearrange things, disrupt the perfect order of it. I might love and appreciate it so much that I forget to live and let live in it, so anxious that it might become something else that doesn’t fit my picture of perfect order and contentment. I might love it so much the way it is that I forget that it is alive with possibility, alive with participatory presence.

If I try and keep something the way it is and use gratitude and appreciation as a way of resisting the natural cycles of life, then it would seem that I am inhibiting or restricting the dynamic of transformation necessary for the processes of life to occur. The “thing” that I appreciate only has value when I experience myself as being in relationship with it, and I can only be in relationship with it, if I experience its aliveness. By restricting its own transformational potential by attributing exclusive ownership to it and guarding it against the interest and attention of others, I will actually strangle the life out of it, and end dragging it around with me, like the proverbial “dead horse”.

When we are living our lives from the Taurean perspective, then we can become very comfortable with what we have. After all, if everything was really fine just the way it was, why would we want to change anything? This is really part of the paradoxical quality of this sign. Does it mean that gratitude and appreciation is really a double-edged sword? Through reflecting on this, I have been reminded me of the need to be inclusive with my gratitude. I mean, it’s one thing to be grateful for the all the things I obviously love and cherish – but what about all things I don’t ordinary welcome or enjoy. Can I be equally grateful for those? Can I be grateful for the things that upset the status quo and disrupt our sense of contentment? Can I welcome in change and transformation over settlement and security. Can I feel secure in the midst of uncertainty? Can I remain in touch with the centre of our being, even as the wheel turns and crushes the old form? I strikes me that these questions lie at the heart of our alchemical enquiry and should thus certainly be included in our practices of gratitude. Again, the story of the Buddha is instructive, that great Buddhic realisation that the circumstances need not determine your inward experience of being. And it is this inward experience of being which is the alchemical gold sought by the true alchemists and misunderstood by the “puffers”.

So the Taurean perspective can very easily become one that resists the journey of transformation. Certainly, the element of earth offers a natural resistance to fire. In Aries, it was all about creativity and sparks of life. Taurus has a settling influence, but can easily become too settled! After all, when the element of earth is well nourished it is a natural extinguisher for the creative fire. So it is worth asking ourselves this month where in our lives we may be getting complacent with our current situation in life and afraid to change.

John x

Thank You Mum!

2008-05-03T09:38:00.000+01:00

I'd like to share with you my most profound Taurean revelation of the month so far.

The last couple of days I've felt really good about myself and the world and really in a profound state of gratitude - and I'm it putting down to listening to the Taurus soundtrack that I've created for myself. I've been playing it over and over and a lot of the songs are ones that I wouldn't normally listen to. They are unashamedly happy and positive Taurean songs, and the thing is, many of them are my Taurean mother's favourites! More than that, even, they are songs which I grew up listening to as a child. My mother's mission in life is that she and everyone around her should be happy and positive. I grew up with this message - we listened to happy songs, watched happy films, and read happy stories. When I was young, my Mum would read me and my brother a happy story, or sing a happy lullaby, would kiss us goodnight, and say "see you in the happy morning" - every night, without fail. I don't think I've ever really appreciated what a gift that was. By the time I was a young teenager, I was rebelling against all of it. I was asking difficult questions of the world, focussing on all the things that were wrong with it, all the things that were wrong with me and all the things that were wrong with my mother! I was questioning everything, listening endlessly to The Smiths (such classics as "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now") and fighting endlessly with Mum and what I saw then as her overprotective control and anxiety, and her inane "sing-a-happy-song" approach.

When I discovered astrology at age 21, it all made perfect sense. She was a Taurus (a double-Taurus in fact)! I was an Aries - two sets of horns locked - one set focussed on trying to burn bridges and change things, the other set on preserving what she had, a propogandist of positivity resisting change at all cost! A battle that couldn't be won but both set on trying to prove the other wrong! But what if neither persepective is wrong? What if both - set appropriately within their own context - are "right"? I've been thinking a lot about this for the past two days and really getting in touch with how grateful I am for the exposure to all that happy, loving, supportive, positive, nurturing attention I received as a child, especially within this phase of Taurean enquiry. I have always tended to look back on it with a lot of criticism and say "oh, she tried to wrap us in cotton wool", "protect us from the world" - well maybe she did to a certain extent, but as I contact these memories now, as I listen to these songs, I just feel incredibly grateful. The Carpenters, Abba, Don Williams, Leo Sayer, Val Doonican, Julie Andrews, Showaddywaddy - (I mean how inane, and middle-of-the-road can you get?!!) - this the music we would play on the car as we drove off to my Grandpa's holiday house on the Norfolk coast, and we would all sing along, play I-Spy, and try and be the first to see the sea, across the flat Norfolk landscape. They were idyllic times - up to the age of 10 or 11, I remember. It was a real age of protected innocence and it's only in these last few days that I've really let myself get in touch with what a wonderful childhood that was. So thank you Mum!

It's her birthday on Sunday, and I've decided to drive up to Nottingham to surprise her, and as a birthday present, I'm going to present her with a Taurus soundtrack with all those inane, middle-of-the-world, yet wonderfully positive and innocent songs. It's a long way to drive up there just for the day, but I'm really excited about it and I'm going to share my revelation with her.

John x

Taurean Reflections

2008-04-24T15:53:00.000+01:00

So we’re into the sign of Taurus, the first of the three earth signs and what a contrast to Aries! While the impulsive Ram goes chasing after what it wants with wild abandon and irresistible charisma, Taurus quietly draws toward itself what it needs for its own sustenance and well-being. Taurus draws on the magnetism of Earth, and the attractive power of Venus, our brightest and most beautiful planetary neighbour and fabled goddess of love, also known as Aphrodite. So through connecting to the energy of the sign Taurus, we can learn to attract and magnetize things to us, by being really attentive to and appreciating what is right in front of us. Taurus teaches us about abundance by teaching us the value of “enough”; that we actually have everything we need to live a happy and fulfilled life already, if we could only appreciate it! The power of manifestation from the Taurean perspective, then, requires us to fully embody and inhabit an experience of gratitude and appreciation for what is already here.

Taurus is the Spring Bull, focused on sensuality, pleasure, enjoyment, ease. Pleasure-seeking and pain-avoiding, Taurus favours what is nice, what is sweet and what is easy. It stands for that basic drive within us to pleasure, satisfy and gratify the body, bringing an acute awareness of the five senses: Of Sight, of Sound, of Touch, of Smell, Of Taste. The Bull is a horny beast, erotic and sensual. Taurus desires cornucopia - the horn of plenty in all things. Taurus is expectant of the Great Full-Ness of Life; voluptuous, fertile, seductive, embodied, rich in spirit and gratefully abundant. Taurus has great affinity to food and sustenance and enjoys the best of culinary delights. This is a slow, deliberate, stubborn and conservative sign. Taurus is concerned with appreciation and what you appreciate appreciates. Taurus is concerned with money and security, assessing assets and resources, taking care of what it has and is concerned with the prosperity of life. Taurus is a sign of beauty. Physical beauty, artistic beauty, beautiful music. Taurus is associated with the throat, with the dulcet tones of the voice. We find Taurus well-expressed in the professions of farming, banking, accountancy, fund-raising, music, massage therapy, sports which involve physical prowess and patience, beauty and nursing to name but a few. We meet Taurus in the kitchen, in the garden, in the accounts department, in the art gallery, in the auditorium, in the restaurant, in the well-kept home, in the gym, in the dressing room, and in the bedroom!

Lessons of Taurus

Everything I've written above sounds great, of course, but then every sign has its shadow perspective, the perspective that is rooted in fear, rather than love. The shadow of Taurus can be seen in the tendency toward acquisitiveness and the hoarding of money and resources, driven by fear of poverty and the belief in scarcity and lack. Security expressed in such a way becomes a way of closing down from the natural abundance, or "enoughness" of life and acquiring as much stuff as possible and feathering your own nest, to protect yourself from the uncertainties of life. This may be culturally acceptable of course, and considered shrewd, sensible budgeting and so on, but if it is driven by the fear of scarcity, then it is actually closing down relationship and shutting off the possibility that the universe will naturally meet your needs. I think Lynn Twist's perspective in "The Soul of Money" is really valuable here.

The Story of the Buddha

One of great lessons of Taurus, then, is non-attachment – and this is famously woven into the story of that great Taurean figure of Gautama Buddha. The teaching of the Buddha emphasized the nature of desire and attachment and how, by trying to secure the pleasures of the senses, and the desire for more, we perpetuate suffering. The Buddha was fabled to have been born on the full Moon of Taurus (when the Sun is in Taurus and the moon in Scorpio), also known as Wesak. If we think about the Buddha's life, it really sums up the Taurus-Scorpio tension very well. Born into outrageous Taurean affluence, he is taught how to appreciate what he has and is protected from harsher aspects of the world outside the walls of the royal palace. It is only when he leaves the safety of the palace and ventures out that he realises the suffering of the world, and this compels him to renounce the stuff of the world and he famously decides to live on a grain of rice a day. Importantly though, he renounces this too and decides he can enjoy the wonders of the phsyical experience without becoming attached to it. So the fat, happy Buddha, as we often see him represented, comes to stand as a symbol for that condition of joy and abundance that we can experience through the sensuous experience of being in a body, fully engaged in the world, but without attachment to it. Circumstances will continually change, as we learn from the wheel of life, and nothing of the physical world can truly be possessed or owned. The physical experience is not permanent and if we identify with it alone, we cannot achieve lasting security or real happiness. The story of the Buddha teaches us that when we come to embody this realisation and inhabit this way of knowing a deep level within us, then we have access to true joy.

The Taurus Enquiry

So what I'm finding is a really good way to engage with the Taurus enquiry then is to really let myself experience the pleasures of the body this month, to experience myself as a physical, sensuous being, to really explore my relationship to money and wealth, to really look at my relationship to what I have, to what I own. And, even if what is revealed is uncomfortable, let myself acknowledge how attached I am to the desire for money, stuff, or physical pleasure. That's why the money exercise we did is so great, because it throws up those dynamics that we often try to keep hidden from others in our attempts to "look good" and look like we don't succomb to such things! So the enquiry is to notice our reactions and responses to all these themes, but also to notice what we really value beyond the money, the stuff, the physical indulgences. What we we really place value on? What are our true assets? What's it like to trust at such a deep level of knowing that all our needs are being met perfectly by the universe? Can I trust at such a deep level that I can release the need to own, the need to know where the next pay cheque is coming from, and remain grateful and appreciative even when the evidence for my abundance doesn't seem to be obviously forthcoming? Easy to be grateful when things are going in my favour. What about when they're (apparently) not?

In many ways, this month is a meditation on the experience of ownership. When we say that we own something, what do we mean? It's a good question to ask ourselves. What do I own? What can safely say is "mine" in this world? And how do I define "mine"? The common cultural defintion would define "mine" as 'belonging to me, not you'. We confront this question again very directly, and with more depth and stark consequence when we get to Scorpio in October, but it is an important enquiry for us to open up here, lest we become too smug in our Taurean affluence, too cosy inside the safe walls of the royal palace.

Looking forward to your comments and reflections on this.

love John x

Definitions of Passion

2008-04-15T17:25:00.000+01:00

Just looked up the dictionary definitions of "passion". Quite interesting range of assocations, worth reflecting on.

From the Oxford Concise Dictionary...

1. Strong, barely controllable emotion
2. An outburst of anger
3. Intense sexual love
4. a) Strong enthusiasm; b) a thing arousing this.
5. (the Passion): a) the suffering of Christ during his last days. b) a narrative of this from the gospels; c) a musical setting of any of these narratives.

The word "passion" actually has its roots in the latin word "passio" meaning "to suffer or endure". The earlier meanings of passion, are to do with fire and with the suffering of martyrs who die and are resurrected - its association with sexual desire was not attested until 1588. It is also strongly linked to fire from way back, and fire in Chrsitianity is primarily associated with the devil, purgatory, the fires of hell, blame, retribution, suffering and so on. Fire in alchemy, by contrast, gives access to the creative power itself, yet is also dangerous work accessing the power of fire. Remember Prometheus? - he stole fire from the Gods, and, for his enterprise, was chained to rock for eternity with vultures pecking at his immortal liver! It was his passionate love for humanity that motivated him! Jesus, too - we are told it was his passionate love for humanity that ave him the strength to to endure on the cross.

I have called the Aries cycle "The Passion of Spring", and I think of the passionate endurance required from the life force of nature to break through the shell of winter (encpasulated in the "passion" of the bud) . Through passion comes resurrection, whether we see that as Jesus resurrection or the resurrection of the life force in the natural world. Many religions celebrate a dying and resurrecting god (e.g. Dionysus of Greece, Attis of Phrygia, Osiris of Egypt, etc, etc) and the vernal or spring equiniox is always the time of the year when this god experiences the passion and resurrects. It's worth considering that these religious traditions may in fact be narrating the story of the fetility of nature, the reawakening of the seed of life, and the resurrection of the life force. Many scholars now attest to this. These gods are all very passionate characters!

And was Jesus really without anger? As passion and anger are so intricately linked, I very much doubt it. Anyone seen The Last Temptation of Christ? - one of my absolute favourite films - really shows a passionate Jesus with very human doubts and fears, not to mention his sexual passion - and a lot of anger - another "must see" for Aries, really!

No wonder the word "passion" generates such an emotional charge for so many of us, and hence the enquiry "what are you passionate about?" may not be quite as straightforward a question as it might have once appeared!

Then, the element of fire is hardly benign!

Th Alchemical Journey Begins!

2008-04-06T18:14:00.001+01:00

This blog is intended to constitute a record of my own reflections upon The Alchemical Journey programme that I have initiated and am facilitating this year.

I feel it is important, in the spirit of action-learning, that I am open about my own learning process. After all, I have as much to learn about myself through this process as anyone else. So I hope that the sharing my own insights, can be of value to other members of the group as well as myself.

We began the journey with a 3-day weekend workshop on 28th-30th March at The Minerva Centre in Bath.

Here are my initial reflections, from that weekend, and the insights that I have gleaned in the week since then.

First of all, I think we made a great start as a group. I was pleased with the way the weekend went. There are things I would change next time around, but overall I am happy that the balance was about right and that we captured the spirit of the journey well in its initiation.

The Educational Value of The Alchemical Journey (as I see it)
I have been working towards this for a long time and it feels like I am engaged in my life's work through this programme. That is immensely satisfying. I am passionate about the way that we learn as human beings; about how we learn to orientate ourselves in the world, how we relate to those around us, how we make meaning of our life experiences and how we make choices about where we should go in life and what we should do. I believe we learn primarily through engaging creatively with stories, far more than we do through analysis or interpretation. We learn through journeys, much more than we learn through destinations. I have been reflecting on this during the week and I reckon The Alchemical Journey, as it is indeed a journey, provides a incredibly rich context for exploring story. It is a story in itself too, the story of the seasons, of the Sun's journey through the signs of the zodiac. It provides an inclusive mythical framework for us to become aware of the way in which we weave the stories of own lives, and it will remind continually that we are doing that! Because of this, I believe that the alchemical journey has a huge amount to contribute to the field of education as a whole.

Time as a Wheel
I have conceived this programme as a journey of transformational self-enquiry around the twelve-fold turning of the astrological, and the turning of the four seasons, each with its own threefold journey of transformation. We spent quite a bit of time on Friday evening exploring our relationship to the turning of the wheel, to circles and cycles and spirals. I played the song "Turn, Turn, Turn" by The Byrds and we considered what was turning in our lives. We explored the idea of time as a wheel; as a cycle, the perspective common to aborignal peoples across the world. There is clearly a fundamental tension that exists between this view of time and the more familiar, virutally unquestioned idea of time having an irreversible linear character. How different time appears as a cycle. Perhaps time becomes mythic, rather than historical, when we consider it as a wheel, and I have spent much time in reflection on this during the week.

The wheel of time, it seems to me, is more familiar to us at an intuitive level; reassuring, nurturing, strengthening. When we trust our embodied experience of ourselves and the world, time is clearly cyclical. We recognise it in the seasons of the year, the ryhthms of our body, the movements of the Sun, Moon and planets. I feel that time conceived as a straight line is abstract, distant, disembodied, stress-inducing, counter to the rhythms and cycles of our body, counter to our experience of the seasons, counter to our entire phenomenology of being-in-the-world. Yet this is how we have learned to conceive it and it is palpably real to us, however counter-intuitive it may actually be.

This reflection puts me in touch with the sense that things are spiralling out of control in our world, as time and the pace of change apparently speeds up and we seem to compelled to pedal faster and faster just to keep up. It occurs to me that this tension between linear and cyclical time is really at the heart of our enquiry and something we would do well to return to. I think there would be great value in us revisiting the wheel meditation as a way of centreing our experience within this cyclical way of knowing.

I have been reflecting how in myths and stories, the journeys are always cyclical. They return us to the place we began, but in such a way that we can see that place again with new eyes. We enjoyed Martin's story of the plum tree that so exemplifies that. What defines a myth, it occurs to me, is that exists outside of linear time - it crosses that boundary and speaks to us in the present moment. If we ask "but, when did the story happen?", or "but, when did it all begin?" (as we continually do in considering the origins of our world), then we linear-oriented mind can become confused because the question defies an answer that makes any sense within that paradigm.

The Golden Age
On Saturday morning we considered the great myths of a Golden Age, that we find in so many cultures - whether it be the Garden of Eden, the golden age of Greek myth when the gods and goddesses walked the earth and all was abundant, or the golden age of our Kalahari tribe in the film. Equally, we have the golden age mythologised as a future destination - "heaven", "paradise", "nirvana", "the promised land", "the Age of Aquarius" and so on.

Some say there was actually a time that marks historically, and that we can trace this Golden Age back through the astrological ages to a time when the celestial equator and the ecliptic were in alignment. This phenomenon of "precession" was introduced by Anthony introduced so eloquently on Saturday morning, and may indeed stimulate us to another level of alchemical enquiry in due course. Yet, at a mythic level, we found we could engage with the idea of a golden age in our lives, perhaps when we were young, or perhaps as something we can access when we return, even momentarily to a condition of absolute wellbeing, timeless bliss or contentment in our adult lives.

We explored that moment when the golden age ends - when Eve picks the apple, Persephone plucks the flower, when the coke bottle falls from the sky - and I've been reflecting on this during the week, in the context of my own golden age reference points. I can identify with various golden age-type experiences in my life, both in childhood and in adulthood when all I knew was a profound at-one-ness with all life - where no separation existed between myself and the world. The end of this golden age experience, if I am to call it that, seems to be marked by a point where I am shaken out of such infinite timeless bliss and thrust into a finite, problem filled neurotic state of affairs, what I probably take for granted as the rough and tumble of everyday life. Yet, in reflection of this, considered in the context of the myths we explored at the weekend, the end of the golden age seems to me to be linked in some way to all of the following:

self-consiousness
an ability to be both self-reflective and self-critical
shame
separation
an impulse to hide, cover-up, conceal
an awareness of time as a limited resource, as something that we will eventually "run out of"
an awareness of duality, right and wrong, good and evil
the belief that there is "something wrong with me" and/or "something wrong with the world".
anger
mistrust
the beginning of a journey
the beginning of a story
the beginning of a quest to overcome whatever is perceived as "wrong"
the beginning of a journey to recover the golden age experience.

It would be easy, one might imagine, to see this moment where the golden age ends as inherently bad or wrong, and yet, as I contemplate it right here and now, it does not occur to me in that way. In fact, all sense of right and wrong seems, just for the moment, to have dropped away. Even though I can recognise the anger, mistrust, separation and so on, and can remember well being deeply involved with such emotions, I am strangely unattached to it now. This intrigues me and it inspires me too. I feel strangely alert and ready to respond. I feel a call to adventure, a call to return to that so-called "promised land", with a longing to return, yet also a sense that the journey itself may be enough. Perhaps the sense of longing is essential to motivate us to take the journey. I am reminded of my friend David, who walked from Bristol to Jerusalem a few years ago. He had a calling, a powerful draw to go to Jersualem, that mythical destination that seems so deeply embedded in our collective imagination. Yet, he walked, he didn't fly. He engaged with the journey, and what really struck me a few weeks when I saw him telling a story about his pilgrimage to an audience. he didn't once mention his destination - only the stories of what happened on the way. This has stuck with me in quite a profound way.

The Journey Begins in Aries with a Burst of Energy! - the Passion of Spring
So what of beginnings? If time is a wheel, where does it all begin? We have begun in Spring, at the Spring Equinox (or shortly after) traditionally a time of new beginnings, herald of the new year in many ancient calendars. We could have begun elsewhere of course, and different calandars do begin at different times in the year. We can all sense a beginning at this time of year, and did as we made our connection to the birth of spring as we wandered around the botanical gardens in Bath on Sunday morning - the buds on the trees, the sense of awakening in the natural world, mirroring the sense of awakening within ourselves. The new year begins with a burst of passionate energy, a fiery blast of potent creative inspiration. That was what the first weekend meant to me. I took a risk - jumped headlong into the unknown! I launched myself at it with everything I had at my disposal! I spent a lot of time in preparation of the material that we covered during the weekend, but when it came to it, much of what was delivered was of the moment.

I have reflected this week on this word "passion", so indicative of Aries, and this time of year. I reflected upon the exercise where we asked "what are you passionate about?". And, reflected on some of the feedback I've heard about that exercise, I began to think about the limitations of language - and how this word "passion" may mean so many different things to different people, and we may get stuck on the word. Perhaps this happened to you as a participant? If it did, then that is worthy of valuable self-enquiry - and, too, I wonder if you would have been better able to more easily access the spirit of Aries if I had asked any of these questions, instead.

What lights your fire?
What wakes you up?
What gets you into action?
What fires you up?
What ignites you?
What enflames you?
What gets you angry?
What gets you going?

And I wonder if it would make a difference to ask related question in the present continuous tense instead?

What's stirring in you soul?
What's firing you up in your life right now?
What's moving you to act?
What's pushing your buttons?
What's making you angry at the moment?

So what about this relationship between passion and anger. Should we be asking these questions in the same breath? Isn't anger something we should be avoiding? Well, not if we're being true to the spirit of Aries, no! Aries is the astrological expression of anger. We didn't really look at that much over the weekend. That makes me wonder if something I'm attempting not to look at (mmm...). Perhaps there's some enquiry required for me around that. What is this relationship between anger and passion. I've already identified anger as being associated with the end of the golden age, and the end of golden age with the beginnning of the journey - so it seems only fitting that anger should be a primary factor in getting us started. A lot of therapeutic process begin with the expression of anger, the primal scream, the authentic release of the pain associated with the memory of separation. How many of us really want to look at that? I think there is some valuable enquiry to be had here.

What have I learned myself from the weekend?

One thing I have learned is that I hold back some of my own Arien fire, as hinted it in my previous comments. This was fed back to me by Sue, who suggested that I could have been more Aries-like at certain points during the weekend. It's true, I held back some of the more challenging, more confrontational exercises that I had in reserve. I have learned much about facilitation in my time working as an astrological counsellor and coach, running groups and courses. I have learned to temper much of my Arien fire, drawing more on the Gemini, Piscean and Libran sides of character, to listen, adapt and reflect the experience of the other. Perhaps, as Sue suggests, there may be value in me facilitating the weekend in the style of the sign we are working with. This is not something I had particularly considered, but has now become an important part of my own enquiry.

There's more to say, of course, but I'm going to leave it there for this evening. I realise I've written a lot in an intensive, Arien writing burst. Maybe that's how I most effectively express my Arien side, through words!

Anyway, I hope this inspires others of you in the group to put finger to keypad and share your reflections with the group.

love & best wishes
John