Heavenly wanderers: The planets of our imaginations

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The sheer wonderment of the planets’ existence is one of the reasons I study astrology in the first place. Now, the speculative might wonder, why do you not study astronomy, and the poet in me would reply, I do, but I also get to research story, myth, history, and fantasy when I study astrology. And the evil-doer in me would mutter, under my breath, “and do not try to take those things away from me!!” But I digress.

The word ‘planet’ was (of course) originally from the Greek πλάνης planes (‘wanderer’). I believe the Ancient Greeks understood something we’ve somehow forgotten when it comes to our relationship to the planets, which is that they are with us only temporarily, as we ourselves are temporary.

It’s this bittersweet knowledge that rests uncomfortably in our collective consciousness, and gives us our sense of connection to the heavens. We have an emotional relationship to the planets that defies scientific understanding, facts and figures, because we are made of the same stuff they are; we are, literally, stardust, made from the same matter that created the stars and planets. So it’s no wonder we dream of them, long for them, and imagine them. They are part of us, and if nothing else I say ever matters to you, never forget where you came from. Do you doubt me? Read this: It’s completely true.

I tend to believe, along with Walt Whitman, that science provides a bit more information than I absolutely need to appreciate the grandeur of nature:

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

George Meredith understood the connection I feel to the heavens, and expressed this feeling with great beauty in his poem Meditation Under Stars:

…By day to penetrate black midnight; see,

Hear, feel, outside the senses; even that we,

The specks of dust upon a mound of mould,

We who reflect those rays, though low our place,

To them are lastingly allied.

So may we read, and little find them cold:

Not frosty lamps illumining dead space,

Not distant aliens, not senseless Powers.

The fire is in them whereof we are born;

The music of their motion may be ours.

Making the imaginative leap between the planet, the myth, and human behavior, English poet John Keats was inspired to write this about Saturn, in his poem Hyperion:

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale

Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,

Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star,

Sat gray-hair’d Saturn, quiet as a stone,

Still as the silence round about his lair;

Forest on forest hung about his head

Like cloud on cloud.

The Poetry Foundation, a wonderful resource, if you ask me, lists no fewer than 176 poems dedicated to stars, planets, and the heavens. If I could include them all, I would, but instead I provide you with these few, and the link to their website.

Finally, I think no discussion on the ways in which the planets have inspired our imaginations would be complete without reference to Gustav Holst’s marvelous contribution, the seven movement orchestral suite, The Planets. Written between 1914-1916, Holst wrote a movement named after each of the planets and its corresponding astrological character, each of which I find charming, each of which adds another tidbit of information about the myth of personality the planet symbolises:

Mars, the Bringer of War; Venus, the Bringer of Peace; Mercury, the Winged Messenger; Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity; Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age; Uranus, the Magician; and Neptune, the Mystic.

The symphony has long been analysed for its structure, which contradicts both science and astrological hierarchy. David Hurwitz, music critic, offers this explanation for the piece’s structure: that “Jupiter” is the centrepoint of the suite and that the movements on either side are in mirror images.

Thus “Mars” involves motion and “Neptune” is static; “Venus” is sublime while “Uranus” is vulgar, and “Mercury” is light and scherzando while “Saturn” is heavy and plodding. This hypothesis is lent credence by the fact that the two outer movements, “Mars” and “Neptune”, are both written in rather unusual quintuple metre.

I love the “Neptune” movement for many reasons, not least of which is that Holst managed to create an unusual effect in the final fadeout, which is so perfect for Neptune. In addition, the voices in their song bring out the ethereal, dreamy, enchanted side of Neptune, the gossamer cloud side that I think we all need a little of; perhaps it is a reminder of the glittering stardust from whence we came?

I hope you will listen and take the time to find all the other movements (or, better still, buy a recording of this enchanting symphony, one I have yet to hear live).

As above, so below … redux

I think this post from last year sums up the entire purpose of the blog, which is to discuss the theoretical grounding that astrology relies on, the idea that what goes on up in the heavens affects us below on earth…. and why anyone would buy that theory…? Astrology and myth go hand-in-hand, and the world’s history is intertwined with the history of astrology. We live primarily in our myths, and astrology is one of our founding myths, worth taking another philosophical glance at before we leap off this planet and go live elsewhere.

Astrological ideology is based on the unifying theme that the movement of time has a ‘natural’ correlation with human endeavor. Myths of how time functions for humanity revolve around this idea, that movement of the heavens, time’s progress, and people are all interconnected. Astronomers learned to link the movements of the heavens with the ‘natural order’ on earth, and civilizations eventually began to perceive this connection as a fact, leading … Read More

via Beyond the stars astrology

Tarot inspiration for writers

I finally found someone who unashamedly uses tarot cards and other divination systems to inspire writing-related creativity. His book is called Write Starts: Prompts, Quotes, and Exercises to Jumpstart Your Creativity, by Hal Zina Bennett, New World Press, Novato, CA. 2010, and what he’s suggesting is very clever, in my opinion.

He uses the cards to:
Break through writer’s blocks
Develop characters for stories
Organize chapter outlines for books

These are not “what will happen to me?” Celtic or future-oriented spreads. Instead, he suggests that you pick out cards one at a time, after thinking about some aspect of your writing project that’s either blocking you or needs more explication or direction (such as your characters or plot).

Ask a question that the cards can answer (such as “what is preventing me from writing the next chapter/line/paragraph/book?” rather than a “what is wrong with me??” question. Those of us who use tarot are used to asking open-ended questions, but in this case, you have to be careful that your question is not too open-ended, as well as not being too negative (as in, “what is wrong with me that I have not yet become a famous writer??”).

When assessing the reasons for writer’s block, the first card picked represents the root cause of the issue, what has happened to make you feel blocked. The example he gives in his book is the Five of Swords from the standard Rider Waite deck, which is the first card he pulls. This becomes the Root Card, which will give you an idea of what has created the problem in the first place.

If you’re familiar with the Rider Waite deck, you know that their version of the Five of Swords is a pretty grim image depicting a scene of what I’ve come to associate with embarrassment, pyrrhic victory, and/or defeat. It’s the one card I automatically think of when I know I won’t get what I want. In a simple yes-no spread dealing with outcomes, for example, I associate the Six of Wands with victory, the Five of Swords with defeat.

So his Root card speaks to a recent rejection he received just prior to experiencing his writer’s block. The next card he chooses is called ‘Gain,’ and he says it asks us to think about what we gain from the previous card. In his case, the messages are pretty clear, since the next card he pulls is the Four of Pentacles. His inner knowing about what’s going on for him tells him that he’s clinging to a vision of himself and his work that lies in the past; he’s resting on his laurels. He asks himself if the rejection slip he received is triggering this rather negative Four of Pentacles response, since this card feels true to him.

The final card he pulls is in the position of Solution, which is intended to be a guide out of your dilemma. In his case, he chooses the Wheel of Fortune, a card that symbolises what goes up must come down to me, but to most people is about gain and winning. He interprets this card to mean that all will end well with this piece of writing if only he can get it written. All he has to do is get over the rejection and stop clinging to the past.

I think it’s important to note at this point that your interpretations of the cards are what matters, not his or mine. The point is to know the cards well enough to be able to interpret the messages you receive from their images. The only reality that matters is yours; if you can’t identify with the messages from the cards, it’s important to trust what you think, feel, and believe. Ideally, tarot (or any other intuition-building tool) will be the most useful when the images convey some inner reality that perhaps you’re not consciously aware of.

Speculations on the reality of metaphysicians’ dreams

 

Millais' Ophelia (1850): "To sleep, perchance to dream"

 

My New Oxford American dictionary says this about metaphysics:

Metaphysics has two main strands: that which holds that what exists lies beyond experience (as argued by Plato), and that which holds that objects of experience constitute the only reality (as argued by Kant, the logical positivists, and Hume). Metaphysics has also concerned itself with a discussion of whether what exists is made of one substance or many, and whether what exists is inevitable or driven by chance.

This does seem to be the fundamental conflict, doesn’t it, this question of what is knowable and how we can know it, and whether what happens is inevitable or ‘driven by chance’? It is the question that underlies everything to do with the occult (and I include astrology in my definition of the occult, since the word ‘occult’ means, amongst other things, ‘beyond the range of ordinary beliefs or experience,’ which is a category I think we can agree astrology fits).

So, the question for today is nothing less than “how do you know something is real?” But the real question (pun only sort-of intended), I would argue is, “what do you mean by ‘real’ in the first place?”

If you accept the Platonic view of reality, you’re okay with not knowing what you purport to know, and what you purport to know you can’t know through your senses. For those of you who believe that your senses can deceive you, you will like this approach. For those of you who have been, perhaps cruelly and casually branded as skeptics, however, “I know it because I have direct experience with it” seems more true, more ‘real.’ Then there are probably millions upon millions of people who straddle some invisible line somewhere on the philosophical continuum, and believe some version of both of these positions.

Philosophers (in their guise as skeptics) came up with a kind of test to determine whether or not you can reliably know something (since they’re, presumably, a nervous bunch, upon whom the cloak of ambiguity rests uneasily). This is called the dream argument, which states (tack så mycket, Wikipedia!):

The dream argument is the postulation that the act of dreaming provides preliminary evidence that the senses we trust to distinguish reality from illusion should not be fully trusted, and therefore any state that is dependent on our senses should at the very least be carefully examined and rigorously tested to determine whether it is in fact “reality”.

Now, the problem I have with this argument is that it was inspired in part by Descartes’ original postulation/assertion in his Meditations, that since his senses have deceived him before, they can do so again. Plato, who asked this question before Descartes did, was typically Greek in that he believed dreams play a large part of one’s metaphysical life. Although Plato had many doubts, he never doubted the ability of his dreams to divine the truth.

How can you be certain you’re not dreaming even while we’re speaking to one another? asked Socrates of Theaetetus in Plato’s dialogue of the same name. Distilling the essence of Descartes’ (or Plato’s) assertion is highly reprehensible on my part, but I can’t go on all day about this, and so I will say that Descartes, being human, and therefore a fallible being, had three dreams when he was young that he relied on to determine his future, and yet he later came up with his hypothesis of self-doubt:

On the night of 10–11 November 1619, while stationed in Neuburg (near Ulm), Germany, Descartes experienced a series of three powerful dreams or visions that he later claimed profoundly influenced his life. In the first of these dreams, Descartes found himself buffeted and thrown down by a powerful whirlwind while walking near a college. In the second, he was awoken by an inexplicable thunder or explosion-like sound in his head to see sparks coming from the stove in his room. In the third dream, he finds a great dictionary and an anthology of ancient Latin poets on his bedside table. In the latter book, he reads a verse that begins, “What path shall I follow in life?” Descartes concluded from these visions that the pursuit of science would prove to be, for him, the pursuit of true wisdom and a central part of his life’s work.

The question I’m left with is, did Descartes’ dreams determine the outcome of his life, or did he allow himself to be lead by his dreams? He was young, and so can perhaps be forgiven for listening to his dreams, but even now, it seems a little cavalier to be such a romantic that you would allow your dreams to tell you what to do.

Or we could ask, with Shakespeare, if the ‘sleep’ of death is real:

 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause…

One thing metaphysicians and skeptics agree on, I suspect, is the reality of death, the “undiscover’d country from whose bourn/No traveller returns,” although lack of direct experiential and empirical knowledge about what really happens after death leaves us all rather speculative on this subject, I have found.

Or, you can try watching this, and see which side of reality it leaves you on:

Astrology and the healing power of rocks and minerals

Avebury's standing stones are so cool, I really hope you get to visit someday, if you haven't already

As a species, we have never lost the need to feel connected to the natural world. We can do this through what amounts to animism, where we find our ‘animal totem,’ but we also do this by imbuing rocks and crystals with intention and an ability to provide some kind of healing energy. I remember touching the massive but dead Stonehenge bluestones and feeling nothing, then touching the standing stones at Avebury and knowing within my bones that they emitted some form of energy—I could absolutely feel it, and I’m really, truly skeptical about this stuff, since it doesn’t matter to me whether these things are true or not. I’m happy noodling around my house, making soup. In fact, if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s eating regularly, but I digress.

Massive and massively interesting historically, there's no life left in these stones IMHO

My subject is medical astrology, and what it looks like nowadays. (I have to type things like that out, otherwise I’ll forget what I’m supposed to be doing.) What I’ve learned by researching on the internets and by living life and noticing what others do, is that medical astrology is alive and well, oh ye scientists who keep wanting to squelch belief in something you can’t prove via an experiment.

These days, most people who are into medical astrology do not also cut up human cadavers to see whether the humours really are black or yellow, thank g/God. Instead, what they do is get themselves some healing stones, or stones they think will provide healing energy (you see these a lot at metaphysical shops, where they are very popular). It’s important to keep in mind that these stones have an ancient history (you knew the Greeks would come in here at some point, didn’t you?). Those who believe in the power of these stones to heal are not just making this stuff up out of Whole Cloth. No. There is a lineage to their beliefs.

For example, take a recent blog entry about medical astrology on the subject of Bloodstone. Here is the ancient history the author has been kind enough to provide us:

Historically, in the Middle Ages it was believed the gem could make you invisible.  And, if you pressed a Bloodstone on a bleeding wound, it would stop it from bleeding.  Greek athletes wore it because it gifted them with extra endurance in their sport to win.  And going along with that idea, Bloodstone is said to oxygenate the blood to its fullest, thereby lending more endurance.  Many believed that if you wore Bloodstone, the knowledge of the ages would be downloaded into you.  In general, Bloodstone has always been a gemstone that aided strength and power of the physical body.  Wear the stone and you had more energy, more vitality and endurance to do what needed to be done.

Bloodstone was seen as a diplomat when it came to friends splitting up.  It was believed to have helped to heal such rifts.  Along that same line, it also revitalized romance between couples and dissolved negativity in any relationship.  Some wore it to help them improve and increase their intellectual capabilities.   In high stress environments, Bloodstone gave courage to the wearer.  It also protected the person from their own destructive  patterns and behaviors.  Bloodstone has also been called the “Stone of Courage” and gives the wearer the fortitude to stand and fight.

To this day in India, Bloodstone is ground into a powder and drunk, in the belief that it is an aphrodisiac (I don’t recommend doing this, by the way).  Bloodstone has always had an affinity for red blood cells in the body. Because it is said to fully oxygenate a red blood cell, it could help those who had such blood related difficulties.  For women, it eases menstrual pain and slows the flow.  And, today, it is used to clear and cleanse the aura of positive ions that are like “dust bunnies” to our energy fields.

One of the most interesting facts about Bloodstone is that it is highly sensitive to heat.  That means, if you wear it, you are ‘exciting’ the energy of this gemstone and it’s going to start sending out its energy into your aura quite rapidly.  Not all gemstones do this to this extent.  The Quartz Family, in general is highly sensitive to body heat but Bloodstone is far more reactive.  That means that it ‘radiates’ out its energy even faster and more intensely.

During Babylonian times, engraved Bloodstone was used as a divination device.  The Egyptians utilized it as part of their magic to defeat their enemies by becoming invisible.  The Leyden Papyrus said, “The world has no greater thing than bloodstone.”  Today, it is seen as the Mother Goddess stone and is associated with the Black Madonna, as well as Isis and Horus.

It’s hard to argue with this kind of historical pedigree. Further, she tells us the astrology of the Bloodstone:

Bloodstone has two rulers:  Mars and Pluto.  And I’ve assigned it to Scorpio.  The reasons are below.  This is a Pluto ruled gemstone.  Mars, the first ruler of Scorpio (and later, Pluto was given rulership over this zodiac sign)  rules the red blood cells of the body, so this is a perfect fit. Given Bloodstone’s vaunted energy and vitality it gives to the wearer, only Mars will do here.  Our ‘engine’, which is our daily physical energy, depends upon Mars in our natal chart.  With the “drops” of red blood on the dark green gemstone, Mars is the only one that can be selected.  But on a deeper, Plutonian level, this gemstone is about our DNA; our heritage from a family long past that we didn’t even know.  And our family DNA is with us whether we realize it or not.  For those who look at our family tree, the information can be monumental and important.  Why? Because we can look at our past family members and see patterns of behavior and perspective setting up.  What they were, we may be.  And to borrow from a history saying, “What we forget we are doomed to repeat.”

Here is an important caveat about who should wear Bloodstone, and why you should not stop taking the medicine your scientifically-trained doctor prescribes for you:

Bloodstone is not to be worn in lieu of any medical drugs or directions by your physician.  As with all gemstones, they are background supporters and cheerleaders [ed. note: I just like the way that sounds; it makes gemstones sound so cheerful, doesn't it?]. Worn together, the person should have more energy than they did before.  People who are exhausted, stressed out and tired, should consider Bloodstone.  Those who are ungrounded, spacy and out of their body should wear this stone all the time.  Anyone who is suffering from a loss of confidence should wear this beautiful stone.  You can get confidence IF you are grounded and grounding is one of this gemstone’s many skills.  This is a stone about the family’s past, its history and how it is affecting you.  Anyone with an unhappy childhood might want to wear this healing gemstone.

If you research almost any gemstone, you will see that at one time or another, some civilization (most often the Greeks and Egyptians) carved them and used them as magical and protective stones and amulets. Magic and astrology have long been intertwined, although we don’t generally think about that connection as much as we once did. However, at some point, I do intend to discuss the connection between astrological cycles and magic.

Egyptian carved lapis scarab beetle, one of the most common protective amulets

The Cheshire Cat forces Alice to stop and answer its questions

The phrase appears in print in John Wolcot's pseudonymous Peter Pindar's Pair of Lyric Epistles in 1792: "Lo, like a Cheshire cat our court will grin." Earlier than that, A classical dictionary of the vulgar tongue by Francis Grose (The Second Edition, Corrected and Enlarged, London 1788) contains the following entry: "CHESHIRE CAT. He grins like a Cheshire cat; said of any one who shows his teeth and gums in laughing."

I’ve been hesitating about posting this, since technically it was not a comment made specifically to the blog, but it’s been niggling at me, poking me, bothering me, and irking me, all at once, so here is a comment someone made to me in email, and now I am including it here, in edited form to preserve the writer’s anonymity.

I have no wish to upset, simply to discuss and set my own record straight within my mind, if nowhere else. Oh, and to defend the right to be interested in astrology. You may not know this, gentle readers, but astrology is looked down upon in the world outside the temple, and that lack of openmindedness always REALLY BOTHERS ME, as I have discussed (or, more accurately, ranted about, before).

It’s not that I believe in astrology as the type of pursuit most of those who are closed-minded about it assume I must believe. But I do believe in my fundamental, god- (or God) given right to think about and write about whatever I damned well please, as long as I don’t scare the straights or the horses.

I shall explain where all of this vehemence comes from, since it builds over time before I blow like Vesuvius, as befits a Moon in Scorpio. First of all, I’ll tell you what—I believe people should get to think about, play with, and touch the exhibits in museums. I got in a lot of trouble one year the Van Gogh exhibit came to town, and there I was, touching the canvases (true story). I’m not one to deny myself too many pleasures, intellectual or otherwise, and if I want to play with astrology, then, by gum, I am not denying myself that right in this lifetime. (In other words, I believe in freedom of thought and speech.)

Also, I am just simply sick to death of criticism about astrology. I long ago promised myself (and maybe I promised you too, my readers) not to “defend” astrology, and I don’t. I criticize it constantly, albeit gently, kind of the way you do an old friend who you’ve grown to accept and love for their idiosyncracies, weirdnesses, and eccentricities. I came to astrology 40 years ago this year, and I have often tried to throw it out, but like that pair of shoes you just can’t let go of because they’re too comfortable, I find astrology is still in my hands long after everything else is tossed.

Here is the segment of email that grates on me, just in case I forget, and you wonder what was the point of all this umbrage:

“Astrology?  Tell me it’s a metaphor, tell me you don’t really believe it…”

I’m tired of defending this interest of mine against those who consider themselves more rational or scientific or just simply smarter. These people all get really disappointed in me when they find out that I have an education and yet I am still interested in something “we” should have left behind with A) the Stone Age B) the Spanish Inquisition C) the Renaissance (pick one or all, it’s all the same for those who believe firmly in the power of the Scientific Word).

However, “we” didn’t. Leave astrology behind, that is, as I have discussed since November of last year. There are reasons we didn’t abandon humanity’s oldest system of thought, belief, and cosmological structure, and I am beginning now to think that the reason we didn’t is intimately tied to what it means to be human. I shall no doubt explore that concept further over time, but one thing I do think is true—science and its rationality, indeed all forms of knowledge based solely on rationality, die over time.

Humans require intellectual food comprised in equal parts, perhaps, of rationality, emotion, and hope, and no purely rational discussion (logos, for those in the know, or who are interested) will ever win an argument on its own. If you want to win over your listener, always make sure you include the other two: pathos (emotion) and ethos (believability/honour/ethics).

One of the reasons I continue to be interested in astrology is that it’s one of the oldest ways humanity has to describe our reality to one another. I think its longevity alone makes it worthy of sociological and historical study. I have described all the other ‘intellectual’ reasons I’m interested in it (it’s a language, it’s a metaphor, it’s rhetorical, and on and on).

Ultimately, it’s all part of the mystery, and I’m okay with ambiguity. Apparently that’s a sign of maturity… to be okay with ambiguity. If there is something that is more ambiguous than astrology, its history and its psychology, I don’t know what that thing is, other than human beings themselves.

Related articles

• Where does Alice see the Cheshire Cat (wiki.answers.com)
• Quoting my present state of mind… (via My butterflies) (econtra.wordpress.com)
• Manx – A Must Have for Literary Cat Lovers (prweb.com)

Astrology, Hierarchy, and Iatromathematica

There is possibly no better representation of the pervasive power of traditional hierarchy in astrology than the excessively simplistic method used by ancient astrologers to order the rulers of the various sections of the body. After it was decided that Aries would be the “first” sign, all else unfolded as though fated (when in fact, there was nothing fated about deciding that the sign coincident with the Vernal equinox would represent the birth of the new year. If anything, you can attribute that designation to agricultural and economic reality in an agrarian society, but I digress).

It could be argued that without Roman Marcus Manilius’ Astronomica we wouldn’t have come to believe, as early as the first century A.D., that Aries “should” rule the head, Taurus the throat, Gemini the lungs, arms and shoulders, etc. I sometimes wonder if things were just simpler for people of Rome in 1 A.D. or something, but Manilius was a Stoic, and Stoics had a tendency to think reductively, so maybe that’s where astrological principles really come from: ancient philosophers.

Interestingly, there was a conference held in 2008 at Columbia University in New York called “Forgotten Stars: Rediscovering Manilius’ Astronomica“ that attempted to reclaim Manilius’ work, but not coincidentally was also an attempt to resurrect astrology as a subject worthy of scholarly attention. Here is one of the abstracts from that conference, which I include because I was cheered by the writer’s attitude (you know how depressed I get when people reject astrology out-of-hand; such a backward attitude, I always think):

The Logic of Astrology

I plan to extend the argument of my recent paper, “Probing the Entrails of the Universe:  Astrology as Bodily Knowledge in Manilius’ Astronomica” (in König and Whitmarsh, Ordering Knowledge in the Roman Empire [Cambridge 2007] 229-41) by examining in greater detail the physical premises that sustain belief in astrology. My tentative argument is that astrology should be grouped with other ancient practices and beliefs that resist the tyranny of Aristotelian science, with its disavowal of the experiential basis of knowledge.  I do not mean to defend astrology, but want to specify its strategic usefulness to Roman thinkers more generally, and Manilius specifically.  Especially in the light of contemporary developments in neuroscience, continuity psychology, and evolutionary biology, astrology looks no stranger—indeed may even be more logical—than other ancient modes of thought retroactively privileged by the modern academy.

I am so glad he’s probing entrails. See? That takes us right back to extispicy, and it was high time we remembered that skill. It is to be expected that he cannot feel comfortable “defending” astrology, but at least he feels comfortable bringing it up in the first place. I think that would not have been possible 10 years ago.

I stole the following from GreekMedicine.net:

In ancient Greece, medical astrology was called Iatromathematica, or “Doctorly Calculations,” since it involved calculating the positions of the planets to arrive at an assessment of the patient’s condition. Medical Astrology grew out of Hermetic philosophy, with its guiding principle: As above, so below. As within, so without.  In other words, the microcosm of the human body reflects the macrocosm of Nature and the cosmos.  The aim of Medical Astrology, like all the world’s great traditional medical systems, is to harmonize the health of the individual with the Universal Life Forces of Nature and the cosmos.

Medical Astrology could be considered as a subspecialty of Greek Medicine.  Some, like Hippocrates, were staunch advocates of Medical Astrology, whereas others, like Galen, were of a more dubious and skeptical bent.

Medical Astrology encompasses all uses of astrology in health and healing.  Either the natal chart, or horoscope, is used, or a decumbiture chart, drawn up for the place and moment the patient first fell ill, is used.

Uses and Benefits of Medical Astrology

Medical Astrology has a number of distinctive uses and benefits:

Socrates said, “Man, know thyself.”  The natal horoscope depicts one’s individual constitutional nature and temperament, which is the key to all diagnosis and treatment in Greek Medicine, with incredible depth and sophistication.

Medical Astrology also elucidates the psychosomatic relationship between mind and body with unparalleled sophistication and depth.  The deeper psychological and karmic reasons behind the individual’s illness or condition are also revealed.

Each person, according to their own individual psychosomatic makeup, will respond differently to different therapies and treatments.

This plate comes from the astrolabe and equatorium displayed in the 'Cosmos' case. Lines for predicting the development of fevers indicate that the instrument was used for the astrological aspects of medicine. It is also significant that the astrolabe side of the complete instrument has two retes, the smaller one consisting only of an ecliptic circle, engraved with a zodiac scale, and a circular scale numbered 1-28, representing the mansions of the moon.

I like the following list, culled from Medieval and Renaissance astrology by Peter Morrell, who has, presumably, made a study of astrology:

The Planets govern parts corresponding with the Signs they rule and in which they have their exaltation.

Physiological rulership, in relation to the Signs, is as follows:

Aries : The brain faculties and the distribution of mental and physical energy.
Taurus : Recuperative forces.
Gemini : The breathing and those things connected.
Cancer : Nutrition.
Leo : Distribution of vital forces and especially through the blood.
Virgo : Processes of assimilation and absorption.
Libra : The liquid processes of the body.
Scorpio : Procreation and reproduction.
Sagittarius: The senses, malady as studied through the nerves.
Capricorn : Processes of preservation and reserve of energy.
Aquarius : The circulation and eliminative processes.
Pisces : Perspiration and the lymphatic processes generally.

I like the fact that Pisces gets to rule sweat, but Libra rules the “liquid processes” of the body. I’m not sure how those are different, but I would imagine Medieval astrology would have explained it to me, if only I spoke Latin.