StarIQ.com's Cosmic Correspondent Kim Rogers-Gallagher has been invited
to the planets' secret hangout. She's the first astrologer to enter
this starry domain, and will report regularly on her findings there.
Another Dinner at the Café
up in front of the Café, and Mercury hopped out. He dashed around to
my side of the car and opened my door for me before I could even reach
for the handle. Of course, he was in charming, partner-oriented Libra—basically,
in the mood to be a perfect "date." Just as he was helping
me stand, the Moon came out of the Café—and by her appearance, I knew
I had been right about her being in Pisces.
an entirely different Moon from the one I had met last. That was the
Moon in her nurturing Cancer outfit—a small, round, grandmotherly lady.
She'd even been wearing an apron. This Moon who stood before me, however,
was definitely not wearing an apron. She was dressed for an evening
out in Florida. In fact, she looked like a wealthy retiree who lived
in an "adult community" and golfed with her husband (and,
occasionally, another couple) daily.
I got my
first glimpse of her after she released me from a long, tender hug.
While she gave Mercury instructions, I stood back and looked at her,
amazed at the form she'd chosen to wear for our meeting.
a stunningly beautiful older woman—about 60-ish, I'd say. Her outfit
was pastel pink, a pair of ankle-length capri slacks under a tight little
matching jacket. The polished toes that poked out from her white sandals
were perfect. They didn't even look like toes. Ah, yes. She’d had acrylic
overlays done on both her hands and her toes. She was tan, her
hair was a lovely shade of honey-blonde, and she'd obviously had her
share of plastic surgery—but it had been done well. Yep. Pisces. Definitely.
It's the sign that's in charge of cosmetics—and cosmetic procedures,
have been wealthy. She had to be to pay for all the plastic surgery
she'd had. Her breasts were high and firm, and there wasn't an extra
ounce of flesh on her. There wasn't a single line or crow's foot on
that lovely face, her make-up was impeccable and her honey-blonde hair
was teased high. It was odd, but I found that I couldn't take my eyes
off of her.
been sitting next to me for an hour, I suddenly understood our connection.
My own Venus is in the Twelfth House of my chart, and the Twelfth House
"belongs" to Pisces. As such, no matter what sign it happens
to be in, a planet that ends up in the Twelfth House of your chart takes
on a Pisces "tone"—from living in the neighborhood, you might
say. So my own Venus, even though she's in realistic Capricorn, still
had her dreams—and her belief in the fountain of youth. I sighed, and
saw myself in twenty years.
of Instinct must have heard my thoughts—or felt them. She turned to
me, patted my hand and poured us each a glass of wine. "The truth
is, dear, you have to get older, but you don't have to age," she
said, lighting a long, long cigarette, and taking a sip of her chardonnay.
"That's why the Goddess made plastic surgeons." She winked,
and I noticed that her eyelids and mouth were meticulously lined. She'd
been tattooed—and she was wearing fake eyelashes, too. Talk about feminine.
She may have been artificially created, but the result was a masterpiece.
She was gorgeous.
I'd forgotten that the Moon represents feminine energy just as much
as Venus does—although their motives are very different. Venus is after
love, and willing to be nice to get it. Basically, when we exhibit any
type of behavior that's deliberately aimed at getting someone to like
us, love us or give us something, we're using our Venus. She's the part
of us who doles out conditional affection, in other words—but she's
so charming, no one cares why they're getting this type of attention.
They just bask in it.
on the other hand, seems to be a more "mature" feminine planet,
the kind of lady who's learned through experience to love unconditionally—just
as long as she's needed. She looks like a mother because she's known
all kinds of love—the tenderness of a parent's touch, the embrace of
a familiar dear one, and the silky feel of an infant's cheeks. She's
just as attractive as Venus, but in a more experienced, comfortable
of Venus, the Love Goddess herself suddenly ran through the door. She
was crying—in fact, sobbing. Loudly. Her outfit matched Mercury's, so
I knew she was also in partner-focused Libra. She ran into the ladies
room at the back of the dining room, and just as she disappeared, an
absolutely gorgeous man charged into the Café. It had to be Mars, and
I just knew it was Mars in Leo.
directly to the ladies room door and pounded on it. "Venus! Come
on out, babe. I love you, and only you." He paused for a moment,
listening, and I saw he wore gold pinky rings on both hands, along with
several gold chains and a gold bracelet that was studded with diamonds
and rubies. His expensive suit was a wonderful shade of red silk, and
a gold handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket.
took a drag of her cigarette, leaned over to me, and said "He's
such a flirt when he's in Leo, you know? It just breaks her heart."
I got it. And then I saw a living, breathing example of a sextile, before
my very eyes. Venus in Libra was putting out air energy, and Mars in
Leo was all about fire. She was fanning his passions, and he was trying
to warm her up. Eventually, it worked.
just finished telling Venus (through the door) that he loved her madly,
passionately, and that he'd die without her. Yes, Leo was also known
for its love of drama—that was certainly true. But it's effective. The
ladies room door opened, and Venus reached through. She pulled Mars
into the bathroom by his tie, and the door closed with a click behind
them. The Moon began to applaud. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue
she produced from her sleeve. "I just love happy endings, don't
her. And then a bright light shone through the windows. It was as if
a huge spotlight had been beamed directly on the Café. Mercury jumped
up, pounded on the bathroom door, and yelled, "You guys! Get out
here! It's the boss!"
Week: The Sun