11. Libra Season
LIbrA SEASON
Mercury is in Libra today, and as it’s your ruling planet, you’ll feel the effect. Be prepared for a happy accident, a mistake that will initially feel uncomfortable, but is necessary for growth and moving forward. Resist the urge to take the easy way out, dear Gemini. A bit of risk and exploration will do you good.
Here we are,” I say, carefully carrying two mugs back to my kitchen table, where my pupil awaits. “Two hot cocoas, extra marshmallows, and my special ingredient: just the tiniest sprinkle of cinnamon.”
Kylee immediately fishes out a marshmallow, pops it into her mouth, and then extends a piece of paper my way as I take my usual chair across from hers. “What’s this?”
“Let’s see,” I say, accepting the paper. I barely withhold the cringe when I see what she’s been studying.
“That would be a natal chart.” I try to say it matter-of-factly, and also a bit dismissively. As though it’s not worth discussing. As though I’m not kicking myself for somehow leaving it out instead of putting it where it belongs: with the astrology stuff I hide for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday while Kylee’s at my place.
“What’s a natal chart?” she asks, not buying my dismissal. She snatches it back before I can discard it, peering at it in a way that makes my heart sink. Her expression is the same one I see when one of my students—well, former students—latches on to a particularly cool concept like quantum entanglement.
Only this isn’t advanced science that Kylee’s latched on to. It’s an ancient belief that’s been proven wrong by science time and again. My first instinct is to put on my firmest teacher voice, take the chart away, and refocus her attention.
But then a memory bubbles up of when I was about Kylee’s age and at the science summer camp my parents had sent me to instead of Aunt Lillian’s. During one of the stargazing sessions, I’d wished on a star, just as Lillian had taught me.
But I’d made the mistake of saying as much aloud.
A counselor had overheard and been swift to tell me that shooting stars were merely a small piece of rock or dust hitting Earth’s atmosphere—and that, by the way, wishes weren’t real .
The most acute emotion in that moment had been the embarrassment at being called out. With cheeks hot with humiliation, I distinctly remember resolving that from then on, I would make sure to learn the facts of something before speaking on it.
I haven’t wished on a star, a penny in a well, or a birthday candle since.
And I wonder if that hadn’t been the real wound caused then. Not the sting of embarrassment that faded in a day or two, but the loss of a sense of wonder, the squashing of the possibility of anything magic.
I find myself suddenly unwilling to play that role in Kylee’s life.
My horoscope had promised a happy accident. This is it.
And I won’t be taking the easy way out, brushing aside magic with cold facts. I close the book on the Coma Cluster lesson I had planned for the day and decide to lean in.
“So this is a natal chart,” I say, scooting closer so we can both see the paper. “It’s an astronomical map of the exact moment someone was born.”
She squints. “Is this the moment you were born?”
“It is. I’m trying to learn how to read it.”
“But there are no words.”
“Exactly,” I say. “But all these little symbols? They mean something.”
“Like what?”
I smooth a hand over the paper. “Okay, so, you see this ring around the outside divided into twelve sections? Those are the constellations, or the zodiac signs. And all these little symbols,” I continue, “these are the planets.”
Kylee points at the symbol of the crescent moon. “But the moon’s not a planet.”
I smile. “Not as defined by the science community. The moon is not a planet by astronomy’s definition. But in astrology , the sun and the moon are treated as planets. They’re actually called luminaries.”
“Astrology,” Kylee says, testing the word. “That’s what horoscopes are, right?”
“Well, actually, horoscopes are just a part of the study of astrology. For example,” I say. “You know how when you talk to some people about space , and they can maybe name our solar system’s planets, and they think that’s all there is?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “ Oh yeah.”
“Well, that’s probably how astrologists feel about horoscopes. It’s a tiny piece of a really big puzzle.”
“Probably?” she asks, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. “You don’t know?”
“Well, I’m not an astrologist. I’m more… hmm. Do you know what it means to audit a class?”
She shakes her head.
“Well, on college campuses, you can sometimes sit in a class outside your field of study. You don’t get a grade, but you also don’t get any academic credit.”
Her nose wrinkles as she blows on the hot chocolate steam. “So what’s the point?”
“I used to kind of wonder that myself,” I admit, poking at a marshmallow. “But that’s sort of what I’m doing this year. Auditing astrology. Doing my best to understand it, even though it’s not my typical field of study.”
Kylee considers this, then nods before bending over my chart again. “What does it mean when each planet is in a different zodiac slice of the pie?”
Her fingertip moves in a circle, touching each symbol in turn.
“Well, for example, here is the symbol of the sun, and the sun is in Virgo. That basically means that from the vantage point of someone here on Earth, the sun was crossing in front of Virgo at the time I was born.”
“It’s close to the line,” she says, bending her head to peer closer.
“Yes, it’s only one degree into Virgo. Just a tiny bit the other way, and my sun sign would be a Leo.”
She lights up in recognition. “I know all about signs. I’m a Leo. August 3. That means I’m fiery.”
I smile. “Quite probably. But all that means is on your chart the sun would be right about here.” I point. “To really get the full picture, we’d need the rest of your chart. Especially your ascendant sign.”
“What’s that?”
“In astrology, it’s the important one,” I say, waggling my eyebrows comically.
She leans eagerly forward, far more excited about this than the science lesson we’re supposed to be having. I know I should feel guilty, but it feels sort of nice to fuel this sort of creative thinking rather than squash it.
The facts will always be there. This kind of wondrous, open-minded thinking may not be.
“So what is my ascendant sign?” Kylee asks.
“I don’t know. I’d need the year you were born, the city where you were born, and the time.”
“Hmm.” She bites her bottom lip and thinks. “I’d have to ask my parents about that.”
“Well, I’d be happy to tackle that next time,” I say, starting to put the chart away to shift gears back to what I’m actually getting paid to teach her.
Once again, she reaches out and grabs the chart, chewing her lip. “My mom’s a Taurus, and my dad’s a Sagittarius. That’s why they never got married.”
Oh dear.
I sip my hot chocolate, knowing I’m in potentially dangerous waters and need to proceed carefully. “Why do you think that?”
“I’ve seen the charts in my friend Emma’s magazines,” she informs me very matter-of-factly. “Taurus and Capricorn aren’t compatible. But my stepdad is a Cancer, and that’s why he makes her so happy.”
When I don’t immediately reply, she looks up at me. “Right?”
“Well.” I take another sip of hot chocolate, trying to figure out how an astrologist would approach this conversation. “We can’t forget that the natal chart is made up of a lot more components than just the sun. Which means we’re made up of a lot more elements than just whatever personality traits are associated with our sun sign. So compatibility is dependent on a lot of different factors, even if just from an astrological perspective.”
And the responsible adult in me can’t keep from adding: “What’s really important is that your stepdad and mom make each other happy. Regardless of what their charts might say.”
“But charts do say something,” she says, persistent. “About love compatibility, right?”
“Sure. There’s a whole branch of study of astrology called synastry.”
“Synastry.” Kylee tries the word. “It can tell you if two people are meant to be together?”
“Um. In theory. You’re awfully interested in this. You have someone special in mind?” I ask, wondering if this line of conversation all stems from a crush on her classmate.
Kylee nods very solemnly. “Yes. I want to find a girlfriend for my dad. His perfect match.”