I dreamt that I reached the end of a series of stone archways reminiscent of an accordion paper booklet that extended the fields of visions further out than initially expected. These archways showed defiant survival through the ages while simultaneously untouched by time. My eyes followed the edges of the archways from one end to the other, down the support beams and along the ground, my vision circling around and around as if portals were forming in the curvature of their shape. Winds that had been caught in a jet stream found form in the stone circle that masons had secured together, cycles suspended above me. I couldn’t see the wind but I understood that it was the wind that was held in harmony by the earthly, curved stone structures. The wind was felt and seemed that the stone was there to temporarily hold them before they moved down the line, bringing whatever messages were being sent by the gods. Seeing an archway, a softening of the hard edges of time, invites one to walk under it. I have one window in my house that has a curved top and while I have lots of “conversation starters” in my wild and colorful home, it’s this one window that nearly everyone comments on. We love archways as humans. Shinto shrines are marked by the curved doorway welcoming in the changing spirits to the temple; arbors grown for wedding couples to stand under and voice their commitments of love. Through history and myth, archways are symbols of time, the coming to and passing away. They show a seemingly involuntary crossroad where it is self evident the direction that the energy must flow. If you walk through a botanical garden and see a path with an arbor or bridge, its presence helps you define yourself in the space of it all. It is that the path that’s usually chosen because of the symbolic movement of passing underneath one. Who doesn’t love a magical portal? Trolls under a bridge, timeless stories of crossing into other worlds, other realms. This ancient architectural shape suggest just how mutable signs connect the fixed light to the cardinal light. Mutable signs stand in as moments in a solar year that signal the hand off, the shifting of the wind, to the next point in the cardinal axis of tropical astrology. In the relay race, mutable signs don’t start or sustain, they keep the winds moving.
Astrology is the story of light from our perspective on earth and Virgo is the mutable earth sign placed at the end of summer to shepherd us into the autumn. Virgo walks us through the hard work of the year and into the changing of winds for the next half of the year to come. There is a diligence and dedication, sometimes fixation on the detail. Humble work is the talent and martyrdom of Virgo. It is thoroughness of earth combined with the microcosmic focus of Hermes.
Virgo is the only sign who holds both their domicile and exaltation ruler as a singular one. “Singular” in the sense that it is one planet: Mercury. Hermes, however, is anything but singular. It may be the most multifaceted of all of the planets, expressed in it’s most frequent retrogradation, yes, but in how it plays so many roles and wears so many hats. The myth of the birth of Hermes is hilarious. Born at dawn in a cave on Mount Cyllene, this trickster wasted no time getting into good trouble. Within hours of birth, he wandered out of his cave searching for adventure. From the entrails of a sheep (or a cow) and the shell of a tortoise that he killed, he created the lyre by stretching entrails across the shell. He’s a day old, keep in mind, but he stole a herd of Apollo’s sacred cows and hid them in a cave. He covered his tracks by piecing together shoes made of bark and to make it even harder to track him, he confused the herd's trail by driving the cattle backward and traversing sandy places that left no prints at all. Finally, after being confronted by his irate half-brother, Apollo, he denied that he had stolen the cattle, he says “I’m only a day old, I don’t even know what cattle are!” But soon he confesses the lie, reveals where the cattle are, and sits down to play his lyre. Apollo is so entranced by this music that his anger evaporates & they strike up a bargain to trade all of the cattle for the lyre. And so is born the Trickster god, the god of thieves, the god of travelers and traders and a helping hand to humans. Hermes also carries the caduceus (a gift from Apollo himself)…or so the story goes…
It is the quintessential messenger, quick footed, ready to move in any direction, willing to go to the highest & brightest places as well as the deepest and darkest depths. Mercury finds their joy at the helm of the chart. Mercury likes to find sight and communication, it is inquisitive & a collector. It is the psychopomp, a traveler between realms, between worlds. It is the currency of trade and the lilt of language that connects us through sound & thought. This very art: listening to music while writing on a communication device about the Hermetic art of astrology is about as Hermes saturated as can be. If only I was doing this while traveling…
Today, I was standing in line to be approved for a TSA PreCheck so that I can travel faster. There was a woman behind me complaining loudly on her phone that it was taking too long. I wasn’t rushed so I interrupted her to say that she’s welcome to jump ahead of me as I didn’t have any hard appointments today. As soon as I let her stand in front of me, the room got brighter and my eyes were drawn to the swinging sign above the desk that said “Tech Help” and I said quietly “Hermes..?” Mercury is everywhere.
Enter the thrice great Hermes into his earthly temple where the Apollo, the half-brother to Hermes and guest in his temple greet us as the visiting decan lord for Virgo 1. Let’s look at the card that shows the very star around which we all orbit.
The Sun card originally displayed two people, not the singular one in Pamela Coleman Smith’s depiction. I love her paintings, yet in this situation, I refer back to the Sun that predates Smith’s version. The Tarot of Marseilles was a popular deck used by occultists in Europe in the 17th & 18th centuries. While it’s depictions of the Major Arcana are the inspiration for the Rider Waite Smith and subsequent tarot decks later produced, there are some significant detours from this deck. Notably is the image on the Sun card. The Marseille Sun shows a large yellow star with 24 colorful rays of alternating red and yellow coming from behind the sun’s face. There are 20 multi colored yods cast out and towards the two barely clothed figures below. These figures are standing barefoot on the ground in front of a low brick wall andconnected by the touching of each others arms, each of them wearing a red loin cloth.1
So, how does the new Sun look compared to it’s predecessor? The large star still sits at the top of the card, filling the space with it’s rays (21 rays this time). The hyper exposure of the Sun’s rays dissolving any grey area and creating stark shadows, removing ambiguity. There is a naked child, riding a white horse in front of a low brick wall placed in front of a row of sunflowers. The child is holding a large red flag and wearing a flower & feather crown, it’s body language showing openness and celebration.
The Lord of Prudence.
Shining light on the hard work that is displayed in the 8 of Coins, Virgo I, the Sun brings fuel to finish the job, to perfect the craft, to see all of the shadows and flaws that Virgo is primed to identify. What we have here is a figure at diligent work. A man wearing red leggings, blue shirt and a black protective vest sitting on a bench working away at the coin in hand. He holds a hammer and a chisel in use with the coin while a line of six identical coins hang as a trophy wall along the right hand side of the card. There is one last coin laying on the ground underneath the man. His attention is focused on his current work which isn’t to ignore what work has already been completed, but to show a dedication to keep working at it to get better. Oprah says that there is no real thing as “Happiness” but rather “Happierness” This drive to get it more perfect is Virgo’s Happierness.
Overseeing this work is The Hermit, the card that represents Virgo in the Tarot.
The Hermit is a bleak, simple character. An old man with a white beard, head tilted down wearing a grey hooded robe, he walks along a white road (snowy path?) and the only vivid color showing is the bright illumination of the lantern that he holds in one hand and a bright yellow staff in the other. The path he walks is one of illumination, nothing more and nothing less. There is little distraction to his gaze and he brings with him the knowledge in his hands. Mercury is the god who travels between worlds. I consider the starlight inside of the Hermit’s lantern as the Sun’s approaching journey into the darkest time of the year, the lunar realm. The days are shortening in the Northern Hemisphere and the Sun will begin to journey into having less influence on the earth as night begins to take over in Libra I. Hermes is best used when he’s on a quest. Hermes as the psychopomp (“psychopomp” translates to “guide of souls”) is equipped to act the ferryman for light and in this decan, Apollo & Hermes team up again for the Sun’s journey. Instead of Apollo’s cattle being hidden in the cave, it is Mercury herself.
Continuing the light that shines from the Sun’s throne room, The Hermit walks the path to welcome the Queen of the night, Venus, into his Temple.
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