raccoon girl talks to the world

can astrology help me touch grass?

I've been increasingly interested in the neo-pagan Wheel of the Year over the past three-ish years as a means to pay better attention to the natural world and spend less time in my head and online. I'm looking for a grounding framework. But the truth is, it hasn't really worked for me.

In case this is your first run-in with the Wheel, it's a series of eight holidays (sabbats) celebrated throughout the year each about 6 weeks apart on the solstices, equinoxes, and cross-quarter days (halfway point between a solstice and equinox). Some of the sabbats have a historical precedent, like Beltane, some less so, like Mabon. The Wheel of the Year rose to prominence with Wicca (shoutout The Triumph of the Moon by Ronald Hutton if you're at all interested in the history of Wicca) and various neopagan traditions have their own stories and mythos surrounding the turning of the Wheel.

All that to say, it's a lovely concept. Eight holidays evenly spaced throughout the year to celebrate the progression of the seasons, that's exactly what I would think I want. But I have a hard time really getting into celebrating and reflecting. Perhaps if I had a specific spiritual tradition I was working within or was approaching the Wheel with a supernatural lens vs. as useful psychological frameworks and tool, I might, but that's just not the case.

Which brings me to astrology. I've always considered astrology to be utter bullshit. I don't like the declaration that "some balls of gas were in X position when you were born, therefore you are nurturing." Sometimes, poking at astrology, I've run across something that resonated, in the same way that Buddhist quote the algorithm serves up might resonate on a specific day. After all, fortune cookies are fun because sometimes they are spot on. Overall, though, I've felt it's of zero relevance to me. Also, seeing people on reality TV saying "hehe I'm a Virgo" (or whatever, I don't even know what signs people do that with most) to explain some less than ideal behavior has always struck me as odd (and yes, I know reality tv is meant to showcase the odd).

However. I do like tarot, and there's this thing called a decan walk. To explain, there are 36 astrological decans, which are 10-degree sections of the sky corresponding to 10 days each year, which begin with Aries I, Aries II, Aries III, then Taurus I, Taurus II, you get the idea. In the early 1900s The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a now very famous British secret society devoted to the study of occultism and magic, took these decans and assigned a minor arcana card1 (well, those numbered 2 through 10, anyway) of the tarot to each decan2. And, unarguably, for nearly, possibly literally, everything they did they pilfered through many dozens of different cultural and spiritual magical traditions, stole the bits they liked, and mashed them into their own thing. Syncretism! I just feels worthwhile to acknowledge their default of cultural appropriation.

I have looked into decan walks enough to have purchased T. Susan Chang's book 36 Secrets: A Decanic Journey through the Minor Arcana of the Tarot with some credits. A decan walk typically starts on March 20th or 21st with Aries I. However, I don't know enough about astrology to make sense of what Aries, let alone Aries I, II, or III, really means.

My question as I contemplate the closing of this year and my goals for the new one is whether the central conceit of astrology, perhaps paired with the tarot archetypes with which I am already familiar, would be a useful tool for reflection and marking the passage of time, giving me themes to lean into and helping me toward my goal of being more present and conscious in my daily life in a way that the Wheel of the Year hasn't.

In other words, can astrology help me touch grass?

So, in order to begin exploring this framework and whether or not it's one I want apply, I acquired some months ago the Guided Astrology Workbook: A Step-by-Step Guide for Deep Insight into Your Astrological Signs, Birth Chart, and Life by Stefanie Caponi. I have just started working through it and am cautiously optimistic that it might be a fun framework to try out.

Who knows, maybe I'll like it and starting ending all my blogs with "what can I say y'all, I'm a Cancer ¯_(ツ)_/¯"


reply via email: raccoonwrites [at] protonmail (dot) com

  1. The tarot is divided into sections. There are 22 "major arcana" cards numbered from 0 to 21 that tend to address the Big Things™️ in life. The "minor arcana" address smaller, everyday experiences and consists of 40 cards numbered 1 to 10 and further divided into four suites (think playing cards) of Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles (names vary, these are common) and the four courts of each minor arcana suite consisting of Page, Knight, Queen, King (again, names vary, but these are common). All this totals to the 78 cards of the tarot.

  2. The Rider Waite Smith (RWS) tarot the Golden Dawn created, drawn by Pamela Colman-Smith under the direction of Arthur Edward Waite, was informed by these decanic associations, and this fact is especially relevant because the RWS tarot would go on to become the most popular tarot in the English-speaking world and greatly inform the creation of many, many, many decks.