It has always seemed entirely appropriate to me that the figures of both Aquarius and Pisces in the Zodiac should be drawn to ground in Glastonbury, placing the Isle of Avalon perfectly on the cusp of the astrological ages. The Pisces figure extends to Avalon’s western boundary, one of its fish shaped by Wearyall Hill, where the fabled Arimathaean staff was once planted. I have often stood on Wearyall Hill, looking out toward the Tor and reflecting on the shift from the mystical fish of Christianity, so often misrepresented through the dualistic struggle for transcendence, to the rainbow waters of Aquarius with its potential to manifest unity in diversity.

Aquarius by Katharine Maltwood

Aquarius can give us flight, it can lift us out of the deep water we find ourselves in. The constellation is a representation in the heavens of Ganymede, a beautiful youth plucked from his earthly existence by Zeus, in eagle form, and carried to Mount Olympus, high above the world, to became cup bearer to the gods. Knowing Ganymede’s story offers a way of understanding why an eagle-like bird (perhaps a phoenix) emerges in the landscape as the Aquarius figure, and why an eagle is the very highest symbol represented in the Glastonbury Zodiac, carved in stone high up on St Michael’s Tower.

The sign of Aquarius allows us to glimpse the interconnected web of relationships that underpin manifest existence, the sacred geometry of life, the ideal formulations of number, shape and pattern. It can put us in touch with our highest human potential, our capacity to work cooperatively within a community for the good of the whole. Aquarius also allows us to witness the blueprint for the Zodiac itself, a template for twelve perspectives which can come together in the round and create a whole infinitely more powerful than the sum of its parts. If the Glastonbury Zodiac is indeed a portal or a gateway to a “higher” dimension of experience, then Glastonbury itself is the focalizer (folkalizer) of that transformation.

Alchemical Journey Pilgrimage 2009

The Aquarius figure encompasses most of the places that the Glastonbury pilgrim is already familiar with; Glastonbury Abbey, the Tor, Chalice Hill, the white and red springs. The ancient oaks of Gog and Magog lie on one of the bird’s wings, St Edmund’s Hill on the other. As we walk between these hallowed places we help to resurrect the phoenix, as it ascends into the heavens out of its own flaming destruction. Glastonbury has a way of confronting the seeker with some kind of crisis, it searches us out, often putting an unusually intense pressure on relationships, bringing dark shadows to the surface. This experience is commonly recognised and even articulated on a poster at the Pilgrim Centre. It is characteristic of the Zodiac’s capricious charm that it offers both an underworld journey and a template for paradise. So as you stand on the Tor looking around for orientation, remember to contemplate the round table of zodiac signs laid out around you, and take a moment to get that Aquarian overview of where you are in your own journey, as you pour out a little more nectar for the gods.

Our Aquarius Workshop is on Sunday 5th February. Click here for more details.

“To make a difference, we must be different”.  Aquarian Abraham Lincoln said something along those lines – having the willingness to stand out, go against the grain, dance like no-one is watching, and love like it’s never going to hurt.  Aquarians seem to have a way of being themselves regardless of what others think of them.  And as we enter the mystery of this zodiacal perspective, our work is to release that freedom of expression that flies in the face of social convention and throws a spanner of works of the rules of etiquette and decorum.  Yes, free-spirited Aquarius gives us the wings to fly into a future of our own choosing.  Yet the goal for Aquarius is an impersonal one.  Unlike heart-centred Leo with his proud individualism, the water-bearer pours forth the waters of life for humanity as a whole, as a community as network of interconnected beings.  So we remove our own ego from the centre of the play and become “just” another member of the troupe.  The trick is to do that without losing our individual expression!

The Aquarian perspective seems to elevate our consciousness to a higher plane and lifts us above the fluctuating contingencies of feelings and passions, to a cooler, more detached realm of ideas and ideals.  It puts us in in touch with the humanity that we share in common with one another, and by adopting this perspective we can begin to glimpse the possibility of how we might live together in a community of shared values and principles.

The sign of the water bearer holds the tension of sameness and difference and can help bring us together as diverse communities. Through accepting that we originate from a common source, it teaches us to release our need to protect only our own clan, as we learn to accept our differences, embrace the myriad expressions of life.  It’s rainbow colours remind us that any form of meaningful unity can only ever be achieved through preserving and encouraging its diversity, and allowing that to emerge organically from its grass roots.  Indeed this is really the great tension that exists in Aquarius, for it is so much the sign of ideals, and marvellous plans and schemes that seem to work perfectly on paper yet can prove a disaster in practice if they (all too easily) overlook the contingencies inherent in the creative unfolding of life.  On our Aquarius workshop in the past, we have looked at Living Systems Theory, and one of the things that has always really struck a chord with me about that was the life never unfolds just according to the plan, but always with an element of innovation and surprise.  The key to evolution, according to Fritjof Capra is not adaptation, as Darwin had it, but creativity.  This is so evident in the human beings evolve their understanding, but equally it is a key component of how living systems evolve also.

Walking the Glastonbury Zodiac with John Wadsworth:
Part 10 – Capricorn

When one approaches the Capricorn figure, the northernmost point in the landscape temple, it seems important to do so with a particular degree of reverence and respect. Capricorn stands for initiation, correct alignment, and the hard-earned rite of one’s own spiritual authority. As the cardinal earth sign, though, it also manifests as greed, material ambition and corporate hierarchy, often inducing melancholy in its more spiritually inclined candidates, who may sense that their life has a higher purpose, but struggle to accept the integrity of the paths laid before them. As we process through the gateway of Capricorn, embodied through the rising of the Winter Solstice Sun, it is important that we make some kind of stand, in service of a greater destiny, and be willing to sacrifice those egoic attachments that prevent such a stand from manifesting in our lives. The lunar eclipse on the Solstice sunrise (just passed) reinforces that demand perhaps more than ever before.

The Capricorn effigy stretches from Havyatt at the head/horn to its hind-quarters at Launcherley in the Pennard Hills, and the image portrayed in it is multi-layered with meaning. Through one mode of seeing, we imagine Pan, the goat-foot god of wild hills and wooded glens, famed for his sexual powers, and who, in his fish-tail form, was placed in the heavens as the constellation of Capricorn. This connects him with the Sumerian Oannes, an amphibian God who rose out of the sea in half-fish form and gave wisdom to mankind. Also known as Ea, Oannes is often linked to Merlin, who takes his place in Glastonbury’s Arthurian Round here in this sign.

Interpetation of Capricorn by Gail Cornwell - with added fishtail

We can perceive a unicorn too, her magical horn drawn by the ancient earthwork at Ponters Ball. This cornucopia of life-sustaining energy returns us full circle to goats and to Amalthea, the goat-nymph who nurtures Zeus during his childhood exile, the latter rewarding her with the magical horn of plenty. It emerges out of the landscape at the creature’s pineal gland (a point identified by Serena Roney-Dougal as the figure’s third eye) and stretches to the south-west for about two-thirds of a mile. This raised earthwork delineates the boundary of (and entrance to) the sacred enclosure of Avalon, demarcating it as holy ground. The name Havyatt was originally hagyatt, “hagy” meaning heaven or sacred place, and “yatt” meaning gateway. Thus is, indeed, the gateway to Paradise.

In “The Enchantments of Britain”, Katharine Maltwood takes a local tradition of Ponters Ball being a “golden coffin”, as a clue to the Sagittarian Sun King’s resting place. An experiential layer of this mystery revealed itself through a participant on last year’s Alchemical Journey when she was suddenly awestruck by the dewy sunlit blades of grass glimmering brightly in the setting solstice sun, angled perfectly so as to pave her way with gold. I took this as a powerful reminder of how local zodiacal legends often reveal themselves when we walk the figures at the appropriate time of the year. We also found that the sacred horn is being well guarded by Chronos/Saturn, Capricorn’s ruler, via the local landowner, a curmudgeonly old gatekeeper who prevented us from taking the short cut to rejoin the horn across the A361 (which cuts the horn close to its root) forcing us to take a longer way round. This reminded us that there are no short cuts to enlightenment!

Our next Alchemical Journey workshops is: Capricorn: The Alchemy of Vocation on 8th January 2012.

The horn of the goat, or in some representations, a unicorn, starts at the pineal gland in the head of the animal and then stretches to the south-west for about 2/3 of a mile, as Ponters Ball rises about 20ft in elevation.  The Capricorn figure itself ranges over an area of about four miles across north-eastwards in the direction of Shepton Mallett, stretching from Havyatt at the head/horn (closest to Glastonbury) to Launcherley Hill at his hind leg.  On our alchemical journey walk in December we focussed on the horn as being the potent symbol of initiation, the threshold between worlds, the experience of cornucopia (nature’s abundance), and the realisation of our true nature.

The raised earthwork of Ponters Ball marks the boundary of the sacred enclosure of Avalon, demarcating it as sacred, protecting it from unwelcome intruders, and signalling the appropriate way by which to enter it.  The name Havyatt was originally hagyatt, “hagy” meaning heaven or sacred place, and “yatt” meaning gateway.  So this is the gateway to Paradise (one of Glastonbury’s former names), and this indeed was certainly the traditional way that one would approach Avalon, which is olden times was surrounded on three sides by water.  Here’s a photo of Ponters Ball taken by Lone Bang, who has been taking groups around The Glastonbury Zodiac for several years.  Her website is:  http://www.zodiactours.co.uk

So, having parked our cars in a makeshift little parking bay off the A361, we crossed the road and walked through the field down to Norwood Farm on the nose of the goat and then back up through the head to the pineal gland gland, all the while blessed with the most stunning views of Glastonbury Tor.  The pineal gland at the base of the horn is also considered by Serena Roney-Dougall to be the third eye point of the Glastonbury figure.  Serena has identified third eye points for most of the zodiac figures and indeed most of them are water features in the landscape.  In the Capricorn figure a stream extends north-eastwards from the pineal gland and it is indeed a powerful spot.  From there we walked up toward the horn.  And here’s a shot of us walking along the horn.

A curmudgeonly old gatekeeper lives at the house by Ponters Ball where it crosses the A361 – a real Saturnian figure – and he prevented us from taking the short cut to rejoin the horn across the road, so we we had to take a roundabout route via the Baltonsborough road and cutting the across fields on the north side of the A361.  We then began our walk along the horn in ritual silence.  It was a deeply profound, moving experience and one I would highly recommend you do as and when you have the opportunity.  It seemed an entirely appropriate way to enter the new year.

Sagittarius by Osmond Caine

The ranging figure of Sagittarius in The Glastonbury Zodiac is one of the most impressive and audacious figures that we meet on our round table landscape quest. Whether envisaged as the centaur Chiron (mentor to heroes) or as King Arthur himself, the charismatic presence of this effigy is unmistakable. Hercules too stakes a worthy claim since his stars fall partly across the back of this figure. Whichever mythical hero we choose to represent him, our rider appears as a proud, helmeted knight, his profile drawn by the River Brue at Baltonsborough, with the weir known as the “flights” gushing from his brow. It is at this special point in the Zodiac, where two signs meet, from which the dove of Libra flies free, released through the vision of our Sagittarian shaman.

As the archer takes aim, his arm stretches almost to the centre of the Zodiac at Park Wood, a place of great power and mystery that we honour with a visit each year as part of our Sagittarius workshop on The Alchemical Journey. When we consider that the horse’s tail at Arthur’s Bridge on the Fosseway is a good five miles to the east, we can begin to appreciate the size of this landscape giant. It is a joy to walk this figure, always so full of synchronicity and meaning. On last year’s pilgrimage, we found an arrow-shaped headstone in the churchyard and later, opening our eyes after a meditation at the flights and looking toward the western horizon at sunset, we beheld a sky shot through with flaming arrows, as the fading sun’s light refracted upwards through the clouds.

On The Alchemical Journey each month, we walk the figure that corresponds to the sign of the zodiac that the Sun is in, each sign offering us to a clue to its meaning through the natural seasonal cycle. This is very obvious with Aries and the enthusiastic budding of Spring, and Leo with its golden wheat fields and long, lazy summer days. In our third fire sign of Sagittarius, though, as winter begins to bite, we have to look more closely within for the correspondences. After crossing the threshold in Scorpio, the season of the dead, Mother Nature now seems to turn her attention away from death and decay and toward the rekindling of an “inner fire”. Within the soil, elements are re-combining to warm and protect the seeds of life as a new cycle of gestation begins. This is marked in the Chinese Taiji wheel, where receptive yin energy is at its most saturated and creative yang energy is simultaneously being re-conceived. Some astrologers, too, consider Sagittarius to symbolise the beginning of the gestation phase in the human life cycle.

I experience the alchemy of Sagittarius re-opening my heart, releasing my spirit and offering me the freedom to dream a new dream, as thoughts turn to the future and to the celebration of that immortal being which survives death and rises again, re-born and re-inspired. Hope is re-conceived in this season of Advent, which remembers three wise astrologers who were inspired to follow a star in the east to that much-fabled manger in Bethlehem, on a chilly Solstice eve. And so perhaps we may hold a similar vision of hope and the possibility of a new dawn for our lives and for the world as we journey into our landscape temple of the stars this month.

Our Sagittarius Workshop, which focuses us on re-visioning our alchemical quest, takes place in Glastonbury and Baltonsborough on 26th / 27th November 2011. Then, in the new year, we have our Capricorn Workshop: The Alchemy of Vocation on 7th / 8th January 2012.

I often think of Sagittarius as being that sign that carries the strongest “light” / “positive” energy in the zodiac, and this would fit with the symbolism we find in eastern traditions where the yang force emerges strongest when the yin is at its most saturated and we can reach that point in the Scorpio phase. In Scorpio we faced our darkest fears and shadows, journey into the underworld, as the sun accelerates lower toward the horizon and the realisation of death in nature confronts us, as the nights draw in ever closer. In Sagittarius, while the nights still draw in closer, the rate acceleration of the sun toward the horizon is checked and begins to decrease as we move toward the solstice. And with that comes the ritual realisation that the Sun will return again, and it is this event which is anticipated in Sagittarius. This is celebrated, of course, in Christianity, with the season of Advent – which anticipates the birth of Christ, perfectly synchronous (and many would say derived from) with the Winter Solstice tradition which honours and celebrates the return of the Sun. So in Sagittarius, we can be inspired, like Magi-astrologers who predict the holy birth, to take that leap of faith, soar beyond our fears and limitations, rise again out of the depths of our shadows, with renewed hope and vigour.

I have also reflected that even in Scorpio, where we have a very male symbol Mars, which drives us downward into the depths of our soul – the arrow symbol in the Scorpio glyph is beneath the ground level – and represents how the seed of life’s continuing cycle is sown under-the-ground, even though it appears that nature is dying. In Sagittarius, the symbol clears the ground and that realisation of eternal life rises up into the light of consciousness and we are given the possibility to travel beyond death into a bigger, more inclusive understanding of life.

In Sagittarius, we can imagine ourselves re-kindling the fires of inspiration (that the goddess Hestia has been tending for us) and then spreading that fire far and wide. In the cycle of fire in the zodiac, Aries lights the spark that gets the fire going, Leo tends the fire and keeps it burning with an eternal flame, and Sagittarius, takes that fire and spreads it abroad with infectious energy and vigour. Sagittarius has the power to light up even the darkest recesses of the mind to realise the interconnectedness of life. Sagittarius provides the perspective to bring ideas together that we have forgotten are connected. It connects the heavens with the earth, the above with the below. It helps us to think symbolically, mythically and of life in terms a journey. It is the sign of pilgrimage and in many ways it defines our alchemical journey which is really born out of the Sagittarian perspective.

The Scorpion-Eagle

The astrological sign of Scorpio is much maligned in our culture, and in my opinion this says much more about our culture than it does about Scorpio. It says more about the general failure in modern, western culture to embrace death as a part of life, to embrace our own shadow nature, accept responsibility for our sexual intensity, and own most destructive desires and obsessions. In failing to integrate these essential aspects of life into our self-understanding, we become increasingly unable to life fully from a perspective of truth. Instead we live superficially, protecting our own insular perspectives and projecting our fears outwards onto an apparently ever-more dangerous world. We think it will be enough just to think positively and smile our way through our inner turmoil. As Jung said, though, it is no use merely imagining figures of light, rather we must make the darkness visible.

One of the most profound teachings that astrology, and especially the Zodiac, offers us is that life is cyclical (or spiral if you prefer) and nature reflects this perfectly through its annual seasonal round. The Scorpio part of the annual cycle (when the Sun is in that sign) corresponds with the time of year when nature’s green mantle decays and rots down into the ground. The season confronts us with the process of death and dying, and we meet that life/death threshold more starkly than at any other time of the year.

The symbols associated with the twelve signs reflect the seasonal transformations, and on The Alchemical Journey, we take our cue from Mother Nature’s process and engage with these stages of transformation, and realise how they are mirrored in our own life experience. So on our Scorpio Workshop we explore our relationship to death, to our intensity, to our own shadows, and to deepest desires and commitments. The beauty that we encounter in Scorpio is deep, dark and utterly compelling Scorpio puts us on that edge in a way that no other sign does. For this reason many fear it. But here nature can be a great teacher. For we know that life force doesn’t actually die in Autumn, for life never dies, it simply recedes and its seed is sown under the ground, from where it will be reborn anew in the Spring.

In Sagittarius, our spirit will rise and we will encounter a spiritual truth beyond that of our incarnate experience. So on our alchemical adventure around the year, this Scorpionic phase offers us the opportunity to journey metaphorically into the “underworld”, beneath the ground of our physical being, where we may meet our shadows and discover a deeper truth. And in that deeply buried place lies our true gold. As Jung said, “the shadow is true gold”. It takes courage of course – Scorpio is traditionally ruled by Mars, after all. But the healing and transformational potential of this sign is profound, so rather than demonise this sign, we must embrace it if we are achieve any form of meaningful self-knowledge.

Here is a beautiful muse on this time of the year by Valerie Easton:

“I’ve been trying to figure out why I love my garden most right now, when it’s so not at its best. And finally I think I understand: I find the garden’s quiet decline comforting, the mellow colors of autumn soothing. Only this late in the season is it possible to see the garden without a scrim of ambition and hope between me and reality.

It’s not that I didn’t appreciate it…But it’s now, during the garden’s waning weeks, that I relax into its pleasures and see every flower, falling leaf and remaining pumpkin most clearly. And it isn’t just the clarity of the low-lying sun slanting across the horizon; it’s the clarity in my head, where I’ve stopped anticipating, plotting and planning the ideal garden. Maybe this is the only time of year that most of us can get beyond our projections of gardens future and remembrances of gardens past. By this point in autumn, the garden is what it is.

As the weather cools and the days shorten so dramatically, we’re no longer aspiring. It’s not that fall dashes our dreams, but rather that it diminishes them enough so we can accept fall’s decrepitude as beautiful in its own right.”

Scorpio Figure Created in Google Maps By Gail Cornwell

As the veil between life and death thins and winter’s dark cloak starts to draw itself in around us, something stirs in the muddy fields, murky streams and lost woods of the Somerset countryside. A menacing claw reaching out from beyond the threshold of the Fosseway and a scorpion’s sting unleashed through a pointed church spire at West Lydford; as a warning call of immanent submersion echoes from a decaying tower in Hornblotton, the “Horn Blower’s Town”, whose impressive church mural tells the story of a brazen serpent.

The Brazen Serpent Mural at Hornblotton Church

But what is this figure that moves enigmatically around the eastern edge of our Zodiac? Katharine Maltwood offered us a rather unconvincing scorpion, its still half-submerged body later developed by Mary Caine, who added a leg and another claw to give it a little more form. Yet Robert Coon and Serena Roney-Dougal both saw an eagle, a traditional symbol of Scorpionic transformation.

Personally, I find it perfectly appropriate that both scorpion and eagle should co-exist here in this shadowy realm of the zodiac that embraces both death (the scorpion’s sting) and spiritual re-birth (the eagle’s flight) within its alchemical scope. We are reminded of both creatures continually on our trail, like the pool of rather stagnant water that could mark the third eye of the scorpion, or the impressive eagle that crowns a nearby summer house at Hornblotton Hall.

I find walking in the Scorpio figure in early November to be one of the most deeply moving experiences of the year in our pilgrimage around the Glastonbury Zodiac. This landscape carries a darkness about it that is eerily compelling, and I feel this particularly strongly as we cross into a small woodland at Alford near the curiously named Brueclay Mountain. The plunging River Blue meanders through the trees like the Styx, as we walk mindfully across its rickety bridges through an imaginal underworld.

It seems to me that Scorpio is the phase of the zodiacal wheel that we prefer to ignore in western culture, as we all too often fail to acknowledge our own shadows, or deal with our waste; turning away from decay and death, unable to integrate their poignant lessons into our daily lives. Instead we create unsustainable ideological structures based on perpetual growth and increase, which break the essential life cycle of transformation, and pile up toxic debts for ourselves and the planet.

From Our 2009 Scorpio Altar

Our task on The Alchemical Journey this month is to welcome the shadow and to allow its voice to be heard, responding to the seasonal cue that nature offers us, and enabling our own darkness to be felt and transformed. Jung said that shadow is pure gold, and through heeding Scorpio’s call, we may be able to tap the true wealth that lies buried within the deepest, and often most authentic, aspect of our nature.

This phase of the year teaches me the importance of learning to die well, so that I might be able to live more fully, relinquish my dependence upon what I already know and have the courage to face that which I may once have feared. It also confirms something for me about the true nature of alchemy. Far from attempting to control nature and bend it to human will, the true alchemist is always seeking to submit himself to nature’s power and mystery. Through practice, she learns to transform the hard shell of the human ego, and might thus be granted access to that liminal realm between worlds and experience the very common ground that we share with plant, animal and rock.

You can join us this month on The Alchemical Journey for our Scorpio weekend workshop, The Alchemy of Desire, Shadow & True Gold, which happens on 29th / 30th October in Hornblotton.

Archangel Michael with Scales - stained glass at Mont St Michel church

As the wheel turns from Virgo to Libra, our attention turns toward beauty, balance and harmony. With the harvest in, the crop can now be weighed in the scales and, as day and night find their equilibrium again, so we are gently prompted by nature’s alchemical cycle to redress the balance in different aspects our own lives, especially in relationships. As our elemental focus shifts from earth to air, the Zodiac invites us to lift our gaze, raise our vibration, and take time out to reflect upon, and really appreciate a perspectives that are opposed to our own and learn to respect their ‘otherness’. It is an invitation to suspend our hasty judgments, relate more openly to those who cross our path, however different their view of life may be.

Autumnal Reflections

This time of the year offers us a perfect opportunity to appreciate nature, reflect upon her gifts and give thanks for her bounty. The harvest moon, the full moon closest to the Autumn Equinox, is the second moment in the year when light and dark are again balanced. Just as the Spring Equinox initiated a period of light, growth and verdancy, so the Autumn Equinox initiates the elevation of darkness over light as nature begins to withdraw from its outward expression, and we move into a more reflective mode. Just as Aries, embodying the dawn of the year, is sunrise time; so Libra embodies the setting sun, the dusk of the alchemical year. As the scales tip gradually toward shorter days and longer nights, it seems an appropriate time to weigh our own lives in the balance, embrace other viewpoints, suspend judgment and hold out an olive branch for peace, understanding and reconciliation.

The Alchemical Wedding

Libra represents the archetypal wedding of opposite forces, the uniting of male and female, of light and dark, of day and night. It invites an alchemical fusion that is fraught with creative tension, yet which enlivens the imagination to create new ways of combining opposing energies. It is the taught strings on Apollo’s lyre that will bring forth the harmony, the stretched canvas of the painter mirrored in his own struggle for expression pulls at his heart strings and motivates his art. Libra, always looking for refinement, for that ideal partnership that will transcend conflict, elevate the soul and resonate with the harmony of the spheres. This notwithstanding, Libra is the divinely packaged usherette of death and transformation par excellence. The reality of this may not be felt until we meet the next sign, yet the preparations for that transition are all made here. It is Libra’s role to disguise the deeper truth we must face in Scorpio, and seduce us into the mysteries of transformation through her beauty, her art and her gift for diplomacy.

Autumn leaves, in the process of their dying, inspire the artist to reach for her palette as colours turn golden, red and orange. So too, the myriad colours of sunset constellate our imaginings and turn our minds toward mystical union, which always involves the death of that which is known and a leap of faith into that which is not. The Wedding, too, so beautifully designed, choreographed to produce a perfect image of togetherness, seduces us into a marriage that will require us to surrender our individual status, give up our singleness of outlook, and merge our own unique light with that of our opposite. So it is that Libran beauty and idealism precipitate the reality of union in which we must learn to embrace otherness, recognise that which confronts us and learn to appreciate an opposing perspective.

Libran Mythology

In Egyptian myth, Libra is Ma’at, the goddess of the scales who, at the time of death, weighed the human soul on one pan and an ostrich feather on the other. If the scales tipped, then the soul must re-incarnate with the aim of releasing the surplus weight. Ma’at reminds us that the prime goal in life is balance, and for the Egyptians this was necessary to prepare the soul for the afterlife. In the Greek tradition, she is the seer Themis, who wears a blindfold and holds a pair of scales in one hand and a sword in the other. Themis is the daughter of Gaia and personifies the social order of law and customs on Mount Olympus, reminding us that social order is always drawn from natural order. In Christian tradition, the scales are held by the Archangel Michael, as mentioned above. Each of these deified beings bears a similar function that maintains both social and spiritual order.

There was a time before the Greek zodiac established its autonomy, when the constellation we know as Libra was actually an extension of Scorpio, its claws, and it is worth remembering that there is always a sting in the Libran perspective, as the blind prophet Tiresias found out to his cost. Before his blinding, Tiresias was granted by Hera the rare opportunity to experience life as a woman, so that he could have knowledge from both male and female perspectives. This trans-sexual initiation gave him a unique insight, which the gods exploited in the settlement of argument. Zeus and Hera were arguing over whether man or woman enjoyed greater sexual pleasure. Asked to adjudicate, Tiresias shared his honest experience that woman enjoys nine tenths of the pleasure, while man only one tenth. Furious that Tiresias should divulge such secret knowledge, she strikes him blind, while Zeus grants him the gift of prophecy in respect of his honesty.

“To the Fairest”

Adjudication is an obvious Libran theme and it features prominently in one of the most fitting of Libran stories, the Judgment of Paris. When uninvited guest Eris (also known as Discord, a classic aspect of the Libran shadow) gatecrashes the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, deep passions are stirred. She throws a golden apple before the gathering of goddesses. It bears the inscription “To the Fairest”. Paris is called in to judge the beauty contest that ensues and is set the unenviable task of choosing between Hera (goddess of marriage), Athena (goddess of wisdom) and Aphrodite (goddess of love). Paris is seduced by the latter choosing love over wealth and power, a decision that seals the fate of Troy. Lest we forget that is was for the beauty of Helen, Aphrodite’s prodigy and “the face that launched a thousand ships”, that the bloodiest war in Greek history was fought.

Reflecting on Eris’s challenge, I am struck by the wonderfully Libran ambiguity in the wording inscribed upon the apple. “To the fairest”. We would naturally translate that as to mean the most beautiful, but the actually wording throws up a question as to what is meant by that. The fairest equally implies even-tempered, well balanced in judgment and possessed of the quality of equanimity. It is interesting that this Libran story should emphasise “fairness” rather than voluptuousness or sensuousness. For Libra is not a sign of passion, but rather a sign of balance. In our story though the aesthetic pleasure derived from a well-balanced deportment is inevitably rejected in favour of a deep lust that lurks insatiably in the heart of the cool headed adjudicator.

The Libran phase of the alchemical journey around the wheel of the year, then, offers an opportunity to ponder, consider others opinions and learn to walk a middle path. It forms the first and most fundamental opposition in the Zodiac, that which exists with Aries, its opposite sign. We are six months in, half way around the wheel and for the first time in our unfolding journey, we are compelled to stare face-to-face into the eyes our opposite number. As much as Aries is impulsive and self-willed, with a single-minded, warrior-like passion, so Libra is considerate, reflective, and relationship-minded, with a taste for mediation and refinement, fairness and reconciliation. This is the first time on our journey where we are really forced to consider the consequences of our actions, and the impact they have on others. It is thus through the perspective of Libra that we first become truly conscious.

Transforming Relationship

Libra is a double-edged air sign, presenting us with both our partner and our opponent, stretching us to acknowledge our differences, learn mediation and find ways of reaching agreement, even if it forces us to reconsider our own cherished view of the world. Libra teaches us above all else that it is no longer enough to simply satisfy our own individual appetites, for we must now embrace our mirror image, and recognise how that which we do not appreciate or understand in ourselves, will inevitably manifest through those with whom we are drawn to unite. Whether as lover, business partner, opponent or rival, we are challenged to establish the principles of engagement in Libra, to draw up contracts, learn to listen to one another, develop strategies for meaningful exchange and learn to see the world through the eyes of another.

Detail from "The Dove & the Claw" by Yuri Leitch

We’ve found eleven houses so far that are named after birds in this tiny parish and at least two dovecotes. My favourite part of the walk begins at Baltonsborough Flights – the gushing weir on one of the dove’s wing tips where the bird appears to take flight from the third eye of the Sagittarian figure – and carries on along Dunstan’s Dyke to Tootle Bridge, where one of the dovecotes is, which made us think of tootle/turtle doves! Birds appear to us everywhere as we walk with informed imaginal intent around the figure, and they often seem to carry messages for our participants. I remember being enthusiastically greeted last year by a huge gaggle of white geese, on a farm at Plot Gate in the village.

"Dove" by Gail Cornwell using Google Earth

On the Sunday of our workshop weekend, we use the village hall in Barton St David, which is on the wafer or peace message that our landscape dove carries in its mouth. From here we can appreciate the most spectacular view of Glastonbury Tor, the long sweeping view of the Tor that you get when approaching it from the south. The nearby parish church sits on the very tip of the peace message. It is dedicated to St David who is, of course, the patron saint of doves, and is often depicted with a dove on his right shoulder. The church houses two American flags, positioned with apt Libran symmetry, commemorating two American presidents, John & John Quincey Adams, who are direct descendants of Henry Adams of Butleigh, an early colonist who emigrated to America in the 17th century.

The entry of the Sun into the sign of Libra marks one of the two equinoctial moments in the year when light and dark are balanced and, as the summer recedes into Autumn, so we are gently prompted by nature’s alchemical cycle to redress the balance in different aspects of our own lives, especially in relationships. As our elemental focus shifts from earthy Virgo to airy Libra, the Zodiac invites us to lift our gaze, raise our vibration, and take time out to reflect upon, and really appreciate those perspectives that seem opposed to our own. Libra is the sign through which we may learn to relate to a phenomenon as it appears to us, learn to respect its ‘otherness’, and at the same time learn to embrace it as an essential part of our own being. It is an invitation to suspend hasty judgments, relate more openly to those who cross our path, however different or opposed their viewpoint might be from our own. As we walk around this landscape figure each year as part of The Alchemical Journey, we always carry with us a sense of the peace, balance, harmony and partnership that this astrological sign evokes, and this is reflected back to us at every turn in the landscape features that we meet.

You’re very welcome to join us for our Libra workshop this month on The Alchemical Journey. It’s called “The Alchemy of Partnership” and happens on 1st / 2nd October. Click here for Details. We are offering special discounts for the rest of this year’s workshops. Providing you book at least one week before the workshop then the price is just £110. And if you book two workshops together, or two places on the same workshop, then the second place is half price. Or you can book three workshops together for £200.