Felicity
sat on the fence of her family's ranch in Wyoming, her eyes
scanning across miles of wide open fields and flat land.
"I am so f…king bored," she complained, tossing
her thick mane of blue-black hair across her shoulders.
With a heavy sigh, she wondered if she would ever get out
of this hellhole of a town full of nobodies. She wanted
to explore the world. Maybe then she would finally find
the place where she belonged.
 If
a 9th house Venus in Cancer were a romance-novel heroine,
her story might begin just this way. Astride the family fence,
looking out at a wider world, she surrenders to her deepest
longing, the central paradox of her nature: her 9th house
desire for freedom and her Cancer need to belong. Felicity's
tale was in fact written by a 9th house Venus in Cancer. The
author was one of hundreds who responded to a brief note appearing
at the end of my last Venus article (which launched this planet
series two years ago): I'm currently working on a new report
about Venus. If you'd like to participate in my research,
I have a juicy questionnaire which will help you explore your
Venus placement and help me verify what the goddess wants
us astrologers to know. Email if you're interested.
I
expected a dozen, maybe twenty or thirty brave souls would
reply. That number would surely dwindle once they saw my questionnaire
with 32 open-ended questions probing into all facets of the
Venus experience-love, relationship, aesthetic tastes, creativity,
finances, sex, sorrows, and happiness. Having worked for years
in market research, I well knew the odds against getting respondents
to complete a lengthy survey, especially one so intimate.
I hadn't planned on joining the ranks of Michel Gauquelin
with a vast statistical project.1 Mine would be
qualitative, not quantitative research.
Quantitative
speaks in percentages. It requires a carefully controlled
sample and non-ambiguous questions, focused to support or
disprove some in-going hypothesis. Qualitative is used when
a researcher isn't sure what she'll find. It's exploratory
and subjective, as when gathering a dozen people in a focus
group to discuss potato chips or lighter fluid. The patterns
and design of the study become clear only after the talk gets
going. The data gathering instrument is not a computer, but
the mind of the researcher, who must become like a sponge
in a bucket, fully immersed in whatever shows up.
 Quickly
I was more than immersed. I was drowning. I was inundated
with surveys for months. When the same article appeared a
year later on the Astrodienst website (and I forgot to delete
my author's note), more Venuses stepped forward to volunteer.
After some dropped out and I had to turn others away, I tallied
up 426 completed surveys. This in itself was a finding. It
affirmed that interest in the Venus archetype was compelling
enough to drag many otherwise busy people through an extensive
self-revealing questionnaire. Happily, quite a few reported
that just answering the survey had brought them closer to
Venus. This was indeed my hope-that the questions would reward
both the respondents and researcher with a new awareness of
her presence.
Delighted
as I was, many days I was afraid to enter my office. The intimacy,
depth and sheer number of the responses was daunting. Like
many practicing astrologers, I was oblivious to my own transits.
Eventually I realized that by transit, Neptune was squaring
my Venus. I could have hoped this would lift the veils of
creative inspiration, bringing a feeling of timeless absorption
as I spent days reading questionnaires and nights receiving
dream messages from the goddess herself. Sadly we don't often
get the transit we want; we get the one that shows up. I got
the "lost" Neptune transit. Imagination froze and
I went blank. Any understanding I thought I had of Venus disappeared.
I'd alternate between reading questionnaires and avoiding
them, feeling perpetually at sea with the project. Once my
Neptune transit was complete, virtually on the day it lifted,
a vision of how to organize and report the results arrived
like a storm. As is often true of Neptune transits, a part
of me, shrouded in unconsciousness, had been working all along.
The result is "Your Venus Unleashed," not a book,
but a computerized report designed to give the reader the
best of what I'd experienced, deep immersion in the Venus
archetype. It contains what I've learned on my personal Venus
journey over the past five years, but more importantly, it's
filled with the voices of my generous research participants,
who allowed me to quote (with anonymity) their insights and
experiences.
Many
stories brought tears to my eyes, like this one from a Gemini
Venus conjunct Uranus. Gemini is the messenger and Uranus
can bring flashes of otherworldly knowledge; combine that
with a very psychic Moon/Neptune conjunction in the 12th house,
and it's not surprising that this woman works as a channel.
Quite literally in the following account of a happy memory,
her Gemini Venus became Love's messenger.
For
a long time I've known that life continues after death.
I needed no proof; it was simply a part of my awareness.
Within hours of my daughter's Beloved being killed by an
impaired driver, I began to hear-as  if
they were dropped into my mind-the words and music 'I will
always love you' and I had an image of a dozen dark red
roses with one white rose. Please understand, I rarely get
clairvoyant messages. I 'know' things; I don't 'see' them.
At first I ignored the words but they kept repeating-not
the entire song, just 'I will always love you' with the
image of the roses over and over. I finally decided to act
on my intuition. On the way to my daughter's home, I arranged
for the red roses with the one white one to be sent to her,
writing on the card, 'I will always love you.' No signature.
The moment I finished writing, I heard deep within me, in
Arthur's voice, 'Thank you, Mother.' I was flooded with
such a feeling of love and gratitude I could hardly contain
it. It may seem strange that such an unhappy occasion was
also an occasion for happiness, but I'll never forget how
glad I was for this sign of continuing love and how grateful
I was to be able to help.
In
the three happy memories shared by respondents, themes related
to their Venus sign, house or aspects often appeared. The
same was true when I asked about three unhappy times, for
if Venus defines what brings us joy, she also defines our
sorrows. Venus can be saucy and sexy, but as the principle
of receptivity, she is tender and sensitive too, exposing
herself by what she cannot bear. The following anecdote comes
from a Venus in Libra. It's a small event, but likely it lingers
in memory because it confronts themes so central to this placement-the
attunement to others, the desire for beauty and harmony, and
the horror of anything rough, rude, or ugly.
When
I was a teenager, I went to boarding school, leaving my
sweet boyfriend behind. When I came home for the Christmas
holidays, I had caught the measles from an epidemic at school.
My face was all swollen. In those days in the country we
didn't have a phone. My sweet boyfriend showed up without
me having had a chance to tell him not to come. I did hide
in my bedroom as I didn't want him to see me so ugly, but
my mother insisted I show up. She insisted so much that
it became more uncomfortable to hide than to appear. I felt
profoundly unsupported by her, profoundly humiliated to
briefly show up and to watch the horrified expression on
his face, which was, in fact, the last time I ever saw him.
If
only the mother of this Venus in Libra had known some astrology!
When I drafted my questionnaire, I didn't know which questions
would be most productive. Happy and unhappy memories were
telling, but the most imaginative portraits of each sign's
Venus came from two questions in particular: I asked people
to describe someone whose feminine expression they most admired
and to describe their idea of a goddess-either one met in
real life or imagined. These answers were often strikingly
on sign, with women and goddesses of independence and strength
appearing for the Venuses in Aries, compassionate and nurturing
women/goddesses for the Venuses in Cancer, and for the Venuses
in Leo, bright laughing women/goddesses expressing themselves
with confidence. Although the following account is not typical
of the Venuses in Aquarius (who tended to admire independence,
unorthodoxy and the capacity to love unconditionally), it's
quite appropriate for this sign. Who else but Venus in Aquarius
would describe a goddess ET!
 Yes
I have met a goddess. One rainy night our sky-watching group
vectored in a craft in Britain and I, along with two other
men, one from the BBC, were sent to investigate the unusual
lights about a quarter mile away. We came upon a most perfect
woman floating over the mud in the field. She came within
a foot of my face, repeating my greeting back to me. I found
I could not move my body; neither could the others. Frozen
to the spot, we were silent, calm and stunned. She moved on.
After a minute we found we could move again. The three of
us agreed we had seen an ET Queen or a Goddess. She was shorter
than 5'6" and of perfect form and face. Her movements
were superb, full of grace and her cloak glowed with radiance.
She acted regal but without false ego. I'm still impressed
by this and it occurred over ten years ago.
***
By
research standards, my sample was healthy, but hardly representative
of the population as a whole. I heard from women and men,
but predominantly women. Ages ranged from 17 to 79, with the
majority being between 40 and 65. All had an interest in astrology
and many were involved in creative Venus-ruled professions.
That the sample was self-selected limits my authority to generalize
about everyone's experience of Venus. But which signs elected
to participate is itself an interesting finding. For each
sign, the average number of surveys completed was roughly
the same-with four notable exceptions. The Virgo and Scorpio
samples were nearly double those of the other signs; the Taurus
and Libra surveys were almost half the average.
Why
had I heard from so many Venuses in Virgo and Scorpio and
so few in Taurus and Libra? My theory on this evolved over
time, until it eventually led to the finding I consider most
important. At first the sample skew made simple astrological
sense. Virgo and Scorpio are the signs most associated with
research. Virgo has the patience and analytical curiosity
to complete a lengthy survey. Scorpio enjoys probing beneath
the surface into psychological patterns and causes. What's
more, in the article carrying my invitation, I had expressed
confusion about my own Venus in Scorpio, prompting many others
with a Scorpio Venus to commiserate.
But
why were the Taurus and Libra samples in such short supply?
As Venus-ruled signs, these might have been most eager to
explore Venus matters. I suspected the tone of my article
had driven the sample in the opposite direction. I had been
dissatisfied and mystified by my experience of Venus, inadvertently
skewing representation toward the traditionally unhappy placements.
Venus is in detriment in Scorpio, in her fall in Virgo; in
Taurus and Libra, she's more regally disposed. Perhaps my
sample merely confirmed astrology's system of rulership and
detriments. Those with a well-placed Venus were busy enjoying
their happy lives and had little need for further exploration.
Those with troubled placements were more amenable to recounting
and hopefully unraveling their difficulties.2
 Yet
once I read through the surveys, I no longer believed this.
Many of the Virgos and Scorpios had wonderful Venus expressions.
The level of their sensuous awareness and creative engagement
indicated a strong alignment with Venus in their daily lives.
These signs weren't at all bad for the goddess. In fact, I
later discovered that among the Sumerians, Virgo and Scorpio
were the two constellations most associated with Venus (as
Inanna/Ishtar).3 Among Venuses in Aries, a sign
also in detriment, I found a passionate sensibility that was
reminiscent of early historical descriptions of this archetype-as
both a goddess of love and of war. The group with Venus in
Pisces, a sign considered favorable for Venus because she's
exalted here, did have a special Piscean flavor of creativity,
idealism, and supernatural leanings. But the group's overall
blessings fell into the same bell curve as the other signs,
with a few at the fringe seeming inordinately graced or cursed,
and the rest enjoying an average range of Venus ups and downs.
In survey after survey, difficulty or ease with the Venus
archetype seemed less conditioned by sign or house than by
life experiences-which often showed a greater correlation
with aspects to Venus. But the real meaning of these experiences
was decided by free will, that is, by the individual's attitude
toward what had occurred.
So
what caused the Virgo/Scorpio and Taurus/Libra skew? I now
believe it was astrology itself. My readers are astrologically
savvy people. I suspect those with Venus in Taurus and Libra
were less inclined to participate because they were generally
happy and inspired by what they'd heard or read about their
Venus. Those with Venus in Virgo and Scorpio were left dissatisfied
or mystified by astrology's experts. In their questionnaires,
many respondents were openly angry with these judgments; others
agreed ("Yes I'm cold and picky," or "Yes I'm
withdrawn and vengeful. Am I doomed?") Often enough,
I found myself delighting in someone's unique portrayal of
Venusian sensibilities throughout a survey, only to find at
the end, when I asked for an opinion of their Venus placement,
the individual would fall sadly into line, thinking he or
she was cursed.
This
led to what I felt was my most significant finding: astrology
has some cleaning up to do. We've got to look beyond the cultural
Venus stereotypes. And we need to abandon our habit of naming
"good" or "bad" placements. Assessing
planetary weakness or strength, quite valuable in horary judgments,4
has less relevance in natal astrology. In birth charts, detriments,
falls or exaltations aren't particularly useful, except as
they make people feel blessed or cursed. Better is determining
why a person was born with a particular arrangement of Venus
sign, house and aspects. I've come to believe that whatever
this is, it's the ideal position for that person's feminine
expression. It is their assignment, the road to their happiness.
Helping that person travel this road in confidence and joy
is a good use for astrology, although it requires new listening
and new learning. The more questionnaires I read, the more
convinced I became that every Venus placement is beautiful.
It was simply my job to discover why. This is indeed a Venusian
approach, as her core values are acceptance and appreciation.
Consider
Venus in Virgo. Astrology books typically portray her as an
uptight school marm, cold in love, full of criticism. But
as a group, the Virgo Venuses I found were more sensuous than
any other sign-if sensuality is  measured
not by how quickly one falls into bed with a lover, but how
developed are one's senses, how attuned one is to the pleasures
of taste, sight, touch, and sound. The Venus Virgos loved
quality more than criticism. They were so at home in the natural
world, that shy as they indeed were, they enjoyed being naked
to a much higher degree than any other sign. How should we
write this up for a cookbook? Consider the following description
from one of my Venus-in-Virgo participants:
My
Venus is strong, willowy, and magical. Amazonian. Very grounded
yet full of life force. She can perform seemingly impossible
feats. She is a loner. Connected to nature. Out in the moonlight
conversing with stars. She has the kind of eyes you fall
into and don't want to climb out of. She is pure openness
and fluidity. She can't be held or possessed, only delighted
in-if you are fortunate enough to encounter her. She is
strangely powerful yet timid, rare as a unicorn and equally
as shy.
The
portrait is fanciful, but captures Virgo's femininity better
than anything I've seen in an astrology book. Venus in Capricorn
is another sign often mistreated by astrologers. This Venus
is typically described as unaffectionate and reserved, tending
to marry for status more than love, choosing partners who
can bring her material advantages. Among the Capricorn Venuses
I looked at, I found little indication this was true. The
problem with most Venus interpretations is they do nothing
more than drape a Sun sign in a dress. Because Capricorn Suns
can be stodgy and calculating, the same traits are presumed
of Capricorn Venus. Such thinking altogether misses the Venus
archetype, whose qualities are universal. Venus brings everyone
access to pleasure, passion, abundance, joy, creativity, sexual
potency and self-love. The challenge is discovering how her
values best thrive in a particular sign. The possibilities
are more diverse than is usually imagined. Consider the following
portrait from a Capricorn Venus. The person whose feminine
expression she most admired was not some Donald Trump in a
dress, but someone earthy, responsible, and beautiful by being
both sturdy and soft, who valued tradition and was willing
to work. These are also Capricorn traits.
 I
admire my grandmother-a formidable old lady. She was very
hard and very strong. She had a hard life as many of her
generation had and she'd been widowed and therefore single
for all but 6 years of her adult life. She embodies women
for me as she demonstrated such strength of character. So
fierce in some ways-a former nurse, a single parent, a meticulous
housekeeper and cook-yet so feminine in others-always dressed
correctly, always jewelry or hats or brooches, always the
right coat, always dignified. There were handmade lace mats
all over her house and hand knit shawls for babies she adored.
Her display cabinet held remnants of bridal bouquets from
both her daughter's and daughter-in-law's weddings.
Who
knows whether the grandmother described actually was a Venus
in Capricorn. Beauty lives in the beholder's eye, so the portrait
reveals a kind of feminine beauty that inspires a Capricorn
Venus. Another Venus sign often labeled as less than passionate
is Gemini. It's believed that androgynous Mercury, who rules
this placement, somehow dilutes her sensuality. I found the
opposite was true. Clever, playful, and flirtatious, the Gemini
Venus group was delightfully adept in many Venusian arts.
Even more than Venus in Libra, who's often praised for her
social charms, the Venuses in Gemini had no qualms about walking
up to people and turning on the charm (while Venus in Libra
was more reticent and sensitive, being more easily mortified
if she was rejected).
Contrary
to astrology's party line, Mercury gives Venus a special advantage.
That's because of this truth: Love and Sex are intimately
connected to the Mind. Knowing this was actually Cleopatra's
secret weapon.5 She was no beauty-her nose was
hooked, her lips were thin, her body was squat. But she rolled
herself up in a rug and had this delivered to Julius Caesar.
When he unrolled it, Cleo immediately began dazzling him with
conversation, speaking in perfect Latin and Greek, charming
him with poems, stories and laughter. She conquered him that
night. Like Cleopatra (who, by the way, adored libraries),
Venus in Gemini has mad skills. She is the ultimate courtesan.
 But
then every Venus has mad skills. To discover your own, you
must learn to approach her as a lover. See her as Don Juan
deMarco sees women. 6 "I see women for who
they truly are-glorious, radiant, spectacular. … I am
not limited by my eyesight. Women react to me the way they
do … because I sense out the beauty that dwells within
them until it overwhelms everything else and then they cannot
avoid their desire to release that beauty and envelop me in
it." Your Venus merely wants the same from you.
Article
originally appeared in The Mountain Astrologer magazine.
References
1 Michel Gauquelin is a French statistician and
astrologer who demonstrated the strength of planets within
ten degrees on either side of the angles through correlating
celebrity and career with planetary positions in thousands
of charts.
2 Venus in Aries is also in detriment and Venus
in Pisces is exalted. Both of these signs, however, showed
representation within the average.
3 Anne Baring and Jules Cashford, The Myth of
the Goddess (Arkana, 1993), p. 200.
4 In horary astrology, a chart is calculated for
the moment a client asks an astrologer a question. Planets
are symbolic of certain persons or outcomes; their strength
and weakness is used to predict their likely success.
5 For this the information on Cleopatra and many
seductresses who used brains over beauty, I'm grateful to
Betsy Prioleau's book, Seductress: Women Who Ravished the
World and Their Lost Art of Love (Penguin, 2003).
6 This the character played by Johnny Depp in the
1995 film, Don Juan deMarco.
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