Astrology Quarterly - Astronomy - Heavens Above

A S Morton

Heavens Above - June 2007

Summertime officially starts at 18:06 GMT (7:06pm BST) on the 21st of June, the Summer ‘Solstice’ (‘Sun standing still’), as the Sun climbs to the top of its particular annual mountain and appears to briefly pause as it reaches the very northernmost point of its apparent path, the ecliptic (so-called because it is the ‘great circle’ through our skies along which eclipses take place), at terrestrial latitude 23.5° N, which gives rise to another circle drawn around the Earth’s globe (but not a ‘great circle’ because the plane of the disc it creates does not pass through the centre of the earth) which we call the Tropic of Cancer, because at this exact time the Sun is deemed to be positioned at 0° Cancer (tropically).

[0° Aries is deemed to be the point along the ecliptic where the true centre of the Sun is positioned at the Vernal (Spring) Equinox, the intersection between the ‘great circles’ of the ecliptic and the celestial equator (simply being the plane of the earth’s equator extended outwards into space), and at that precise point in time the direction of the Sun’s movement is deemed to be from the southern hemisphere into the northern hemisphere.]

The Tropic of Cancer (as indeed the Tropic of Capricorn, the equivalent circle around the earth at latitude 23.5° S) is a name and concept understood and accepted by not simply astrologers but by peoples generally of most of our world’s civilisations, which would therefore have to include astronomers, geographers, teachers and pretty well anyone else you care to mention. And yet this basic piece of astronomical principle (although having read the above you may not agree that it is quite so basic at all) which was understood and has been passed down through the ages from such as Claudius Ptolemy (the archetypally famous astrologer, astronomer, geographer, cartographer from antiquity) is where modern astronomers and western astrologers (modern or otherwise) fundamentally disagree and begin to part company. Because, according to latter-day astronomers, the Sun on the 21st of June is positioned somewhere near the beginning of the officially designated constellation of Gemini.

And in fact the Sun in the sky on this date in June is actually against the stars in the early part of what we would all recognise as the constellation of Gemini up there in our ‘heavens above’. So what is going on? Have astronomers or astrologers gone completely mad by disagreeing over something which we all recognise, understand and acknowledge? All accept the principles underlying both the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn, all reasonably understand and accept which stars might belong to which constellation, certainly the brightest and most obvious ones, because of the patterns they form in the night sky, all would acknowledge that the Sun is at its highest point in the northern skies on 21st June and gives rise to the longest daylight of the year, so something must have gone wrong somewhere along the line, surely? Or is this some convoluted conspiracy designed by astronomers to confuse and undermine astrologers?

Unfortunately this may well be some bizarre concoction of astronomers, not necessarily aimed at astrologers, the outcome of which has been to befuddle everyone including themselves. There are two particular aspects to this conundrum, the first of which is the ‘precession of the equinoxes’, the wobble of the Earth’s polar rotation axis caused primarily by the gravitational pull of both the Sun and the Moon (and to a lesser extent the other solar system planets) on the Earth’s equatorial bulge which has the effect of then causing the Sun, and the Moon and the planets, to appear from Earth to be moving slowly backwards against the background stars over time at the rate of 50” (arc seconds) per year, equivalent to approximately 1° (degree) every 72 years. This is most noticeable at the time of the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes (hence the term ‘precession’, meaning ‘moving backwards’, of the ‘equinoxes’, meaning ‘equal night’ and by implication equal day), which also appear over time to shift westwards through the zodiac. Hipparchus, the ancient Greek astronomer, is the person credited with having first recorded and measured this effect around c140BC.

At about this period of time the system of astrology that we would recognise today was pretty well sorted out on the basis that the ecliptic was divided into twelve equal groupings of stars, the so-called constellations of the zodiac, and that the Spring Equinox was then taking place at the beginning of the constellation of Aries. Where one zodiacal constellation actually ended and another began, the cusp that is, was somewhat unclear (except perhaps to those around at the time) and, additionally, the effects of precession were either not taken too seriously, interpreted as some other phenomenon or simply ignored. Some nearly three hundred years later around 150AD when Ptolemy was engaged in the compiling of the various definitive (at that period of time) reference works produced under his name, including those on astronomy and astrology, he was aware of the work of Hipparchus, using much of it in his own work, particularly his star catalogue, but did not satisfactorily resolve the question of the effects that precession had already had and would have in the future in determining where precisely constellation boundaries were positioned in the sky. Hence, the protracted birth of ‘tropical astrology’ where the positions of the stars themselves is not such a critical matter. Of course progressively over time the problems that precession gave rise to, particularly amongst astronomers, grew to such proportions that the International Astronomical Union (IAU) decided to adopt fixed constellation boundaries, as determined by one Eugene Delporte, in 1930. How all this came about and the complications that have subsequently ensued can be left for some other occasion but suffice it to say that this has not resolved all the difficulties associated with constellation boundaries, most particularly for astronomers.

The second part of this problem is very much connected to the first part, insofar as not having clear constellation boundary lines to begin with, the IAU adopted boundary lines that were neither nice and neat nor ones which gave rise to equally sized or regularly shaped constellations. And as far as astrologers were concerned the ecliptic (zodiac) constellations were then determined as not being of a standard 30° of celestial longitude (length along the ecliptic) each and also the number of them increased from twelve to thirteen with the addition of the southern part of Ophiuchus intersecting the ecliptic. Very puzzling indeed.

The Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn are terms derived from a bygone era when astrology and astronomy were joined at the hip like a pair of Siamese twins, unhappily no longer the case as we all know. But don’t let any astronomer fool you, or anyone else for that matter, by telling you that you weren’t born when the Sun was in the astrological sign we all know it to be and that it was in the previous constellation or even that you are a ‘serpent bearer’ (Ophiuchus). Just ask them to explain how the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn got their names.

Interestingly enough, and just as an aside, the ancient Egyptian capital city of Thebes (modern Luxor – if you can call it ‘modern’) is located on the Nile almost exactly on the line of the Tropic of Cancer. Coincidence?

Meanwhile, up there in the ‘heavens above’, we still have four visible planets arrayed across the night skies: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn, but two of them are getting brighter whilst the other two are fading fast. Both of the inner planets, Venus and Mercury, reach their full eastern extent from the Sun within a week of each other at the beginning of the month, lazily rising up late in the mornings in the east after the Sun and attempting to stay up as late as possible in the western dusk, neither being inclined to go to bed too early in the balmy summer evenings. If you’re eagled-eyed you might just catch the two together either side and either end of the stars of Gemini in the first few days of June. Venus is easy to spot but Mercury is now very low down to the horizon and is a very faint crescent easily lost in the hazy sunset.

Mercury is at greatest eastern elongation (23° E) on the 2nd and setting nearly two hours after the Sun but within a week or so he disappears from view, turning retrograde on the 15th and moves rapidly during the course of the month to inferior conjunction on the 28th. Now you see him, now you don’t, such are his elusive ways.

Venus, increasing in brightness, arrives at greatest eastern elongation (46° E) a week later than Mercury on the 9th and then moves into the wispy constellation of Cancer around the 12th. She is still setting some three hours after the Sun, and even manages to add an extra little sparkle, but the incredible show she’s been putting on for many a month is just beginning to take its toll and no sooner has she stretched herself out from the Sun than the bright summer nights begin to beckon her in towards them. All the while she’s drawing ever closer to the fading Saturn. At the end of the month they are within touching distance at long last. It may only have been ten months since their last meeting but the wait has sometimes seemed interminable. If only they could just reach out to each other across that little patch of sky that separates them, they might almost …

Mars is actually rising in the middle hours of the night but so inconspicuously that he’s virtually become Mr. Invisible these past few months. What is he waiting for? Actually, there’s a technical reason for his long-time low profile in the heavens, it’s his zodiacal location. He’s been moving through what we might term the ‘southern constellations’ which should be from Libra through to Pisces, but taking precession into account, are in practise from Virgo through to Aquarius. The most central of these constellations, Scorpius and Sagittarius, are therefore the ones that appear lowest down to the horizon in our northern skies, which is why when the Sun is in those constellations during our northern winter months it doesn’t rise up very high. Similarly the planets, whose orbital planes are fairly close to that of the Earth/Sun plane, the plane of the ecliptic that is, are very low down in our skies when they are in these most southerly constellations. And that is where Mars has been roving the last nine months or so. So you could say that his absence from our skies is simply a result of the part of his, roughly, two year cycle that has taken him so low down to the horizon and out of sight. But that rather depends on whether you think that there is no rhyme or reason behind planetary cycles or perhaps, on the other hand, you may believe that this is not simply astronomical coincidence.

Well, whatever we each of us might believe to be the underlying reasons for his recent elusive behaviour, that’s where Mars has been for a while. The question still remains as to what he’s been up to down there. And we won’t have much longer to wait for the answer because the time is fast approaching for his long-heralded re-appearance and whatever revelations might accompany this particular resurfacing. Mars has now arrived in the constellation of Pisces, he may be in the tropical sign of Aries but in the ‘heavens above’ he’s still in the watery realms of the celestial sphere. The modern official constellation boundaries may not have a regular 30° separation nor a uniform shape but Aries is quite a short, sharp constellation (as you might imagine it to be) and the constellation of Pisces wanders about all over the place (as you might also imagine), which is all quite conveniently appropriate really.

Those whose horoscopes have a strongly Martian influence, perhaps even with Mars as the ruler of the ascendant, the interface between the interior and exterior worlds, may well have been going through a similar process to the old warrior himself. A lot has been re-evaluated since the latter part of last year but this has been very much a ‘behind the scenes’ activity. An internal developmental process has been underway, energies have had to be conserved and rebuilt like the recharging of an organic battery, a new direction and sense of purpose have been quietly evolving and are now coming nicely to the boil. It’s very much been a case of biding one’s time for a while. However, this time around though it’s going to be different, this time it’s going to be done better, this time we’re really going to go for it, this time it’s going to work, this time we’re going to make it happen! Not long now, just a little bit further, just a little bit more to do and then we’ll be off and running with a renewed verve and vigour! Watch out world, we’re coming! Soon!

Jupiter, meanwhile, has already arrived. In fact he was so full of his own importance, bustling onto our night time stage in all his pomp and glory, that in his haste he overshot the mark and has had to take a step or two backwards. Perhaps he was expecting a royal fanfare of trumpets to announce his arrival and not hearing them assumed he still had further to go. He’s positioned just slightly above and to the left of the bright red blinking star Antares in the constellation of Scorpius which perhaps fortuitously served as red stop light for him. We are unfortunately positioned just slightly too far north to see the whole of the southerly constellation Scorpius in all its menacing glory. What we don’t see in its entirety is the magnificent long curved tail and the sting poised at the very tip. Go further south and it is the most fabulous sight to behold, no mistaking why this grouping of stars was identified with the deadly scorpion.

Jupiter, however, is located in the most southerly part of the constellation Ophiuchus, that small section which intersects the ecliptic between Scorpius and Sagittarius. Rising in the east as the Sun goes down in the west he comes to opposition with the Sun in the sky on the night of the 5th/6th of the month and is at his nearest to us and brightest in the few days either side of this. Fairly low down in the sky, because he’s in the southerly part of the zodiac, he’s best viewed as the night progresses and he gets closer to the meridian. He’s big, he’s bold, he’s bright, you simply can’t miss him (or so he would have you believe).

Oh dear, Saturn, he’s definitely seen better days. Once upon a time there was a ‘Golden Age’ when Saturn was king and reigned benignly over his contented subjects, but that was a long, long time ago. Each year we pass by him on an inside track on our ‘magic roundabout’ and he puts on a brave show to make believe there’s life still in the wise old ex-monarch, but he can’t keep up the show for too long as memories, as well as his ancient grandeur, soon begin to fade. He’s had a long and arduous sojourn these past few years in two constellations that he is possibly least comfortable in, Cancer and Leo. He’s done his very best, he’s held as true as he could to his principles under the most testing conditions, he’s kept watch and tried to guide, if not protect, those whose needs have seemed to be the most pressing. If pride does indeed “come before a fall” he’s done his level best not to be too falsely proud himself and, at the same time, tried to dissuade those whose lofty sense of self-importance has perhaps exceeded their actual stature. What more could he do? It’s often hard to “keep your head while all around are losing theirs”.

At this moment he could probably do with some reassurance himself, a comforting word perhaps, or better still a warm embrace, someone to tell him that his efforts have not been in vain, have been appreciated and acknowledged. A little recognition and respect, perhaps? Saturn is trudging his way back towards Regulus, the bright star in Leo, from whence he came a few months ago. Here comes Venus, catching him up fast. Is she coming to his aid at his time of greatest need, will she deliver some kindly words, give him a gentle squeeze, throw her arms around him? Or has the long wait all been in vain? On the very first day of next month, July, they arrive at a conjunction in zodiacal longitude. Is this the coming together we’ve been hoping for? Or just another ‘brief encounter’?

Uranus and Neptune are not generally visible to the naked eye. Uranus, however, discreetly stations on the 23rd and then turns himself retrograde in the constellation of Aquarius. His own rotational motion is so off-the-wall that he might even prefer to be going backwards. Neptune, meanwhile, rises low down in the constellation of Capricornus in the early hours of the morning, both planets being once again in southerly constellations.

Our new ‘dwarf planet’ Pluto comes to his annual opposition to the Sun on the 19th, just two days before the Sun himself stands still. Of course you can’t see him except with a powerful telescope but if you stand facing south at the equivalent hour to midnight GMT (1:00am BST) on the night itself then he’ll be directly in front of you and possibly staring straight back from somewhere out there in the darkness. He’ll be low down in the sky to the left of Jupiter. You could always try it and see how it might feel to be in the penetrating gaze of the ‘Lord of the Underworld’.

Well, rather you than me!

© A.S.Morton – May 2007