Welcome to my monthly astrology series, Follow the Sun. I’m tracking the Sun’s transit through my natal chart, focusing on key themes every astrological season. Click here to get caught up. Today, we’re chatting about Pisces.
I never know what to do with Pisces season.
I have Venus and Mars in Pisces’s opposite sign, Virgo. To put it simply: I like what I can understand and am motivated by what I can touch. Pisces–with its emphasis on the intuitive and intangible–loses me every time. It’s not that I don’t get it; I don’t know how to use it.
Looking to my Pisces house doesn’t help. The Eighth House represents death, anxiety, loss, debts, taxes, and inheritances. Matters that, to me, require a feet-on-solid-ground approach. Especially with tax season happening while the Sun is in Pisces. Acceptance and letting go here seems like an invitation to surrender to the Internal Revenue Service. (Which happened a few years back when I let a charlatan do my taxes and ended up owing the government. Can we say a bad manifestation of Pisces in the Eighth House?)
After research, I landed on this explanation for the Eighth House: “Transits through this house often show a need to consolidate and accept the loss of elements of life that are no longer fruitful or have served their purpose; the nature of the planet will indicate how the loss is accepted.” Now that? Sounded like a good application of Pisces energy. I would purge based on nothing but my intuition. If it didn’t feel right, I would thank it for its contribution and let it go.
As the season began, I decided to move, sacrificing some of my material comfort and lifestyle luxuries for much-needed solitude. I suppose that’s a purge of sorts. But beyond apartment hunting, I spent most of the month in foggy confusion about astrology techniques and my identity and holy fuck, I should’ve done my taxes before Mercury went retrograde.
As much as I tried to avoid it, I did have a Mercury retrograde money snafu. While trying to check my credit score, I got hit with a $99 fee from Transunion for what I thought was a 7-day free trial. A couple frantic customer service calls later, all was well.
Maybe I struggle with Pisces because that section of my chart deals with a bunch of shit I’d rather not be bothered with?
Or. Perhaps. I struggle understanding Pisces because it’s not meant to be understood; it’s meant to be felt in ways not even the sharpest wordsmith can articulate.
We’re gonna call this season a wash. Which is pretty Piscean when you think about it.
Next up, my astrological opposite, sister, rival, and favorite sign to troll: Aries.