Plot Twists and Black Outs
Navigating Seasons of Eclipse
For the last few years I’ve been engaged in a study of Jyotish. This is usually translated “Vedic astrology” but it’s perhaps best understood as the study of time: its textures, colors and currents. It can tell us when to run the rapids, when to dive deep; when to sit on the banks and when to seek high ground.
In the coming months I’ll be learning muhurta, the branch of Jyotish that deals with selecting a time to begin a project. Sometimes called “electional astrology,” the discipline entails a kind of reverse engineering: if we know that such-and-such a pattern in the heavens favors such-and-such results, then, when it comes events under our control, why not choose a ‘birth’ time that will result in a favorable pattern?
This part of my Jyotish training begins in earnest in a few weeks. What I can say at this stage, though, is that the process of choosing an auspicious muhurta (moment to commence a thing) begins with a process of elimination. You black out the most inauspicious days and times, no-go windows when the stars simply don’t augur anything positive.
For instance, in Hindu India it’s exceedingly rare to see a wedding celebrated on a Saturday or a Tuesday, days ruled by the difficult planets Saturn and Mars, respectively. Life has enough difficulties; why court more of them?
At the very top of the black-out list, however, are eclipses. These are times long associated with shadows, betrayals, corruption, decay, deception, confusion, and falls. (For a discussion of the mythology behind eclipses, see “When the Snake Swallows the Sun”).
As a friend likes to say, eclipses typically bring plot twists. This happens at the level of the collective story and at the level of our individual stories as well.
Typically these twists are not of the pleasant kind. War, illness, scandal and natural disaster are but a few of the ways eclipse drama can show up to thicken the plot.
Anything—a life, a job, a construction project—begun on or around (within 3 days on either side of) an eclipse will carry the eclipse signature to a degree. (The degree will depend on the type of eclipse, how close the birth was in time to it, how the eclipse is configured in the chart, whether it was visible at the place of birth, and so on.) In any case, the eclipse pattern shadows the birth chart and will play out somehow. This doesn’t necessarily spell disaster by any means, but it does represent complications most would prefer to avoid.
A famous and dramatic example of an eclipse-born was Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, the last empress of Russia, whose larger-than-life story is riddled with eclipse themes (and characters, like Rasputin), and whose fate was tied to that of her country in gruesome and shadowy ways through a series of eclipses associated with the Russian revolution. (Her story is rich enough that I may dedicate a post to it at some point, especially if there’s interest.)
Donald Trump is another figure with a strong eclipse pattern in his chart, which certainly fits with some of his more bizarre behavior, daddy issues and mental disturbance, and with the polarizing role he’s playing in furthering the fall (whether fast or slow remains to be seen) of a certain superpower.
Moving to less well-known figures, another eclipse native I’m thinking of (a private chart) has been the victim of sexual abuse and struggles with addiction and self-worth.
Any of these examples could bear elaboration, but for now the point is simply to suggest the kinds of difficulties associated with eclipses, and to echo the traditional advice of the Jyotishi for such times: Lay low. Don’t begin anything new. Keep it real simple. Don’t view the eclipse. Do pray, if you’re the praying type. (The mahamrtyunjaya mantra, a liberation prayer, is traditional.)
Remember, this too shall pass.