Joan Miro “Constellations”

May 20 - June 20, 2021

We are entering the season of the storyteller, as the Sun brings us into the celestial library, shining its light over a part of the sky that contains much myth and star lore, and into the sign that itself contains multitudes. Let’s skim the shelves and see what piques our interest. There are stories of woe, such as that of the Seven Sisters, one of whom went missing ages ago; or the Hyades, who weep for their slain brother. There are stories of power and might, featuring Orion, hero and hunter—and ravager—sent to his death by the scorpion; or Michael, archangel and avenger, whose heavenly seat is the royal star in the bull’s eye. We find adventure when we get to Polaris, the North Star, watcher and guide to untold numbers of sailors and travelers; and to the Gemini twins themselves, Castor and Pollux, one mortal and one divine, humanity’s ancient symbol of connection and separation. Even the Sun itself, when in Gemini, may recall the shade of some long lost companion star, a forgotten red dwarf, or what astronomers poetically call a “Nemesis”, whose original sacrifice imbued our sovereign with its absolute power. This year, eclipse season adds strange portals and hungry dragons to the repertory. Retrograde Mercury will bring the comedy of errors, plot twists, missed cues and last minute epiphanies. And aspects to Jupiter, Saturn and Neptune give our players guts, gusto, gravitas, romance and redemption.

Where Gemini sees stories above it also constellates them down below, in characters like Superman and Clark Kent, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, Romeo and Juliet, Anna and Elsa, Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. Its signature is found in Tales of Two Cities or of Twin Towers. It looks like Scheherazade spinning tales into 1,001 nights to stay her own execution; or the Brontë sisters and their forgotten brother, poor Branwell; it is Anne Frank narrating the fear and optimism, depth and triviality of her teenage mind while the Nazis closed in; or Frederick Douglass teaching himself to read and then learning the word “abolition.” 

The archetype of Gemini is alive anywhere you find duality, doppelgängers, or the myriad uses of language: to persuade, to teach, to disarm, to deceive, to engage, to empower, to entertain or to bear witness. It gives birth to Mercurial souls and silver tongues. Beware the shadow—that is, the shadiness: such dexterity can lend itself to mischief, or even malice. Trickster energy is highest with this sign, so let us lean toward the better angels of our nature rather than the devil on our shoulder. There’s a lot to love about this divine child, this blithe spirit and merry pollinator: Gemini is the embodiment of high spring, refreshing us with its playfulness and exuberance, and reminding us that levity is ok, and change can be a welcome thing.