“AF Rex, who was alongside us then, told us there was nothing to worry about, that the Sun had ways of reaching us wherever we were. He pointed to the floorboards and said, ‘That’s the Sun’s pattern right there. If you’re worried, you can just touch it and get strong again.’”
— Kazuo Ishiguro, Klara and the Sun
Astrologers disagree on almost everything, but one thing many of us recognize is that a planet too close to the Sun gets burnt up, overshadowed by a light so bright its presence erases the night.
This is embedded in our stories: don’t fly too close to the Sun. Never look at a god in their true form: their light is so bright it destroys mortals.
The Sun’s light is essential to life, but overexposure burns and causes cancer.
Our relationship to the Sun is complicated: both life-giving and life-destroying.
And yet, there’s this moment, when a planet conjoins the Sun exactly, that it’s granted respite. In the heart of the Sun, the old gunk is burned away. Astrologers call this cazimi.
Think jewelry in the forge; a caterpillar dissolved into primordial goo before growing into a butterfly.
The process of re-creation at a cellular level.
The threshold from one heliacal phase to another. For Mercury and Venus, the shift from evening star to morning star, or morning star to evening star.
As with planets, so it is with us.
The cazimi is a plot change, a shift in the narrative from which there is no turning back.
A great day. A long path ahead.
To an astrologer, a planet’s cazimi looks like this:
A planet is in bad condition, it gets a break, and then it goes back to being in bad condition. For a while.
This morning, waking up to the midterm election results in the United States and the excitement in the sharp autumn air, I took note of Mercury’s position, retrograde and at the heart of the Sun.
And it made sense.
This moment of celebration has been hard won: inflation, ongoing war, deported family members, student debt, etc., etc.
None of that went away when the polls closed, but for many, the weight of those troubles was replaced by hope, a word bubbling all over social media.
This is a turning point in the narrative of our country.
Now, if you’re Elon Musk waking up this morning, hope probably isn’t on your mind. Maybe we replace the word hope with anger, frustration, or defeat.
No matter. The effect is the same: whether you see the results as a win or a loss, we can all acknowledge that something has shifted and some things will never be the same.
(I, for the record, see this shift as a huge win.)
The cazimi is a resting point. Not a destination.
If things feel hard again by the end of today, or by tomorrow, that’s part of the project.
The enormity of politics aside, whatever this cazimi brings to you, whether it be victory or heartbreak, the death of a loved one, the excitement of a promotion, or something much, much more subtle, let yourself sit in the heart of it for a while.
Right now, as I write, Mercury has already slipped away from the embrace of the Sun, and it’s back to getting burnt up.
In a few weeks, it will rise as a morning star. A moment, perhaps, of something coming to light, of clarity.
Even that won’t last. It’s a never-ending cycle: burnt up, renewed, burnt up again, rising.
The cazimi is a revelation, not a solution.
Something has been revealed, and we can return to it again and again: a charm, a talisman to hold onto as we work toward a vision of what’s possible.
If you’re looking for a group of likeminded astro seekers, Club Astro is your place!
We meet weekly to explore the sky in real time and make sense of what is unfolding in our lives and in the collective. This is your chance to ask me questions about your chart, share stories, and connect with a cohort of fellow astrologers.
Club Astro members also get exclusive perks:
Discounted astrological readings & mentorship
Secret invites
Discounted tickets to the Los Angeles Astro Salon and the LA Astro Fest.
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