Mars, Uranus, and the North Node clash in Taurus: Here's Your Future
I explore the riptides of this ongoing astrological flash-point (arguably the stormiest astrology of 2022) through current events, Pelosi's Taiwan junket, art, ephemera, decan lore and history.
“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”
― Edgar Allan Poe (Uranus conjunct the North Node in Scorpio)
“For Death must be somewhere in a society; if it is no longer (or less intensely) in religion, it must be elsewhere; perhaps in this image which produces Death while trying to preserve life. Contemporary with the withdrawal of rites, Photography may correspond to the intrusion, in our modern society, of an asymbolic Death, outside of religion, outside of ritual, a kind of abrupt dive into literal death.”
— Roland Barthes, from Camera Lucida (Uranus conjunct the North Node in Aquarius)
“She quietly expected great things to happen to her, and no doubt that’s one of the reasons why they did.”
― Zelda Fitzgerald (Uranus conjunct the North Node in Sagittarius)
May you live in incomprehensible times… Astrologers have been bracing for the Mars-Uranus-North Node pileup in Taurus, anticipated as a flashpoint for 2022. A clash of cymbals curdling the marrow in our bones. The increasingly frenzied spirit of the times jumping the shark once more. A potential point of no return in terms of collapse, climate change, the bottoming out of the American empire, and this general feeling of acceleration that has many of my friends remarking that time just feels different now.
To this last point, CBS confirmed that the earth is indeed spinning faster than ever and recently recorded its shortest day ever. Scientists have remarked that if the trend continues, atomic time may need to be measured differently — potentially with the introduction of a negative leap second. This all begs the question if perhaps the matrix can no longer render fast enough, which could account for the feeling of the quantum flunkies pulling plot lines out of thin air. “What if we unleashed Nance in Taiwan, in a Baker-Miller-Pink pant suit, hopped up on her latest pharmaceutical cocktail, and had her girlboss her way to WW3?”
It does indeed feel possible that we’re living within that negative leap second. The Uranus-North Node event horizon will be warping reality until the fall, but Mars was the crucial slipping of a cosmic disc this past week. The cosmic canary in the coalmine. The push into the slipstream of the world to come (Pluto in Aquarius’s technological evolution — or devolution — of humanity, just around the bending).
Whether the future is careening toward us or we’re racing toward it, this clash of Mars, Uranus, and the North Node sure feels like the centre no longer holding. As Mars begins its square of Saturn today, the realities of our failure to heed this clarion call of the future may become increasingly clear. As Mars-Saturn was a major signature of the covid pandemic, we may be reckoning with the ways in which our lives have been permanently altered, destabilized — even clarified.
All of this is to say, the vibes are indeed off and the Taurus clusterfuck certainly didn’t disappoint. All during International Clown Week, no less. In fact, I think we can let the quantum flunkies off the hook for the Pelosi spanner in the geopolitical works. This was a much more garden variety instance of the Gods electing a human avatar for their machinations (and they’re not without a sense of surrealism). As it turns out, Nancy Pelosi is in the midst of her Uranus return, which was of course further triggered by Mars over the past week (her Mars return is not far away either). Her Sun was also just gassed up by Jupiter in a house related to pleasure, speculation and gambling, so she’s certainly not lacking in confidence at the moment.
Uranus, as we know, will bring disruption, chaos, rebellion and unpredictable circumstances. Despite repeated warnings from China that her visit would be viewed as a provocation, and against the wishes of Biden himself, Pelsoi went ahead with her junket. The CCP predictably denounced the visit as a brazen act of aggression and rockets started raining down in military formation all around the island. Pelosi’s Uranus return is perfecting in the 6th house of work, health, and service (the ancients saw it as a place of masters and slaves). I’ve always connected the 6th — the place where Mars rejoices both in toil and strife — to themes of sacrifice and martyrdom. Although the chance of a Ferdinance situation was probably miniscule, the pressures on her chart would’ve triggered a mood of defiance and grandiosity. Perhaps the visit was a sort of chaotic last-ditch attempt in securing her legacy as a renegade “servant of the people” (in her mind anyway).
It’s also worth mentioning that Pelosi has a tight Uranus-Venus conjunction at 19 degrees of Taurus, so her Uranus return would also trigger her relationships, her money — everything she values. To this end, we can see the Venusian element playing out in her totally coincidental business interests in Taiwan, where her husband, an inside trader, just so happens to have stocks in semiconductor manufacturing (he was also recently involved in a DUI — further Uranian chaos). So we mix a little statesman lapring with pleasure…
As the face of the USA’s senile gerontocracy (and its ongoing Pluto return), Pelosi’s Taiwan visit truly encapsulates the inchoate spirit of the times. It symbolizes the cartoonish death grip of the elites as they cling to long-decayed stories of the USA as a global moral authority and magical bestower of democracy. Those Plutonic riches will have to be prised from their dead hands, but it’s the hoarding of moral currency that comes off as especially repulsive. Or as Michael Tracey tweeted, “Nancy has landed. You can already feel the freedom and democracy radiating through the region”.
In fact, I noticed a theme this past week of a very strange ret-con rehabilitation of the USA’s most rapacious and war-mongering instincts, repackaged by the DNC as the “kind of energy we need right now”. It reminded me of that video of Ellen Degeneres fawning and finger-gunning over George Bush and his coffee table book of portrait art, as if he was some sort of adorable pet and not a sociopathic war criminal. Is the democratic party the pro-war party now? Is this the real Uranus-NN vibe shift?
To wit, Dick Cheney was recently lauded by the DNC as a patriot for speaking out against Trump, while Pelosi’s hawkish Carmen Sandiego larp was celebrated as a girl boss win. Apparently all war crimes and stolen elections are forgotten if you utter the magic words “orange man bad.” Look, I am definitely no fan of Donald Trump but his foreign policy was undoubtedly less hawkish than what we’re seeing with the Biden administration, which has felt like a return to warmongering business as usual.
A natal Uranus-North Node figure himself, Trump did indeed rebel against the USA’s Jupiterian addiction to imperialism and imposing regime change abroad (and thus lining its pockets with those plumb weapons deals). The Cheneys are of course the face of the USA’s darkest neocon instincts, so it makes sense that Dick Cheney would denounce Trump for upsetting that status quo. What I find extraordinary, however, is the extent to which tribalism and never-ending Trump derangement syndrome now marionette the DNC, to the point of outright historical amnesia. Simply Denounce Trump and all sins are forgiven.
Again it’s all very Plutonic, as if in these days of the decaying USA empire a very real death instinct has captured this nation’s political elites and its institutions. Beyond Pelosi’s reckless Taiwan visit and China’s subsequent sabre rattling, Mars/Uranus/NN saw the rapturous admission of Sweden and Finland into Nato — something Putin has called a “red line”. I’m starting to think that this volatile configuration has simply been sublimated into a boner for war. Nostalgia of former imperial glory is one hell of a drug I suppose, as the horrific reality of supply-chain break down, infrastructural collapse, inflation, two ongoing pandemics, the mysteries of long covid, war in Ukraine, California tent cities developing into veritable shanty towns, an opioid epidemic and the climate crisis extend their tentacles.
“Lasagna Cat” was birthed in 2008 just as Pluto entered Capricorn
Looking back through history, the relatively rare Uranus-North Node conjunctions do seem to coincide with crisis-points in geopolitical conflicts that end up shifting the course of history. They also crop up in the charts of a fair few divisive American politicians whose legacies have courted controversy in some way: yes, Donald Trump, but also Obama, George Bush, and Bill Clinton. Trump and Obama, in very different ways, became lightning rods for sudden shifts in the zeitgeist. George W. Bush, as mentioned above, seems to have been rehabilitated as a holy fool (no longer a play-thing of the Gods — apparently quite harmless now). Perhaps most strikingly, the 1961 Uranus-North Node alignment in Leo saw the start of the construction of the Berlin Wall, which of course symbolized the intensification of the Cold War that would drag on for several decades.
In July 1946 Uranus and the North Node were conjunct in Gemini and square Mars when the King David Hotel in Jerusalem (the seat of the British authority in Palestine) was bombed by militant zionists, triggering the retreat of the British from the area and the establishment of the Israel state two years later. As missiles rain down on Gaza once more we perceive the echoing of an astrological signature seeded in that moment of senseless violence.
Finally, Mao Tse Tung died during an exact Uranus-North Node conjunction in September of 1976, symbolizing the end of a brutal regime that killed up to 80 million people. The murderous idealogical zeal and mass hysteria of the Cultural Revolution is itself decidedly Uranian, so it’s not surprising that Mao’s legacy ended on a Uranus-NN cymbal clash. With China rattling sabres once more and Europe beset by war for the first time in more than half a century, it’s hard not to see the events of this summer (especially this past week) establishing the coordinates and vectors for the stormy period of history we will be living through (and have already tasted). This is why the surprised pikachu face reaction to yet another ‘unprecedented’ drought, flood, heatwave, or flurry of Chinese military drills is starting to wear rather thin.
Beyond the frantic geo-politicking as Pluto-Return cope, Biden’s recent playing down of the recession also speaks to the delusion, hyperreality and feckless revisionism of these late days in the American empire. The speech itself was accused of being rendered in CGI, as Biden didn’t seem to be blinking. I mean, I think we can all agree that the difference between a real and deep-faked Biden is pretty negligible at this point. What struck me as ominous, however, was the immediate rewriting of the Wikipedia article that defines the word “recession”. From July 25th any mention of ‘two negative consecutive quarters of GDP growth’ was deleted from the article, and a Wikipedia administrator even froze the edit feature.
It's been obvious for a long time that Big Tech and the political elites are in bed together, but this was an especially blatant example of the goal posts being adjusted and reality rewritten in real time. Especially unsettling with our first glimpse of Pluto in Aquarius just around the corner, a transit that will further entrench concentrations of power through tech and AI (if a solar flare doesn’t take out the internet first) .
Apart from Nance’s Taiwan shenanigans, the powder keg of Uranus-Mars-the North Node has been felt in the storming of Iraq’s parliament, where Shia followers are still camped out. As you’ll recall, the last time Mars was in Taurus the events of January 6th played out (just as the planet was ingressing, in fact). Lightning stuck near the White House last week, seriously injuring a handful of people, while just today a lightning strike set off a fireball explosion at a fuel depot in Cuba, with dozens reported missing.
Unprecedented flash floods ripped through Afghanistan, Oman and Kentucky, while baseball-sized hailstones pummeled my neighboring province of Alberta (meanwhile we were in the grip of a viscous heatwave). The sign of Taurus pertains to the land itself and I’ve noticed erratic weather patterns peaking when Uranus is aspected by either of the malefics (Uranus square Saturn is in effect for the rest of this year).
A week of shock floods was also marked by intense drought and heatwaves: Belgium apparently suffered its driest July since 1885; the Netherlands announced a water shortage; millions of hectares are burning in Eastern Russia; and the source of the Thames dried out for the first time in history. The UK’s record-breaking heat wave, apart from buckling tarmac, also caused hospital computer systems to crash, leading to pandemonium as digital records were lost and treatment had to be postponed for countless patients. Yeah, it’s important to remember that our IT can simply melt like anything else.
Meanwhile, The UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres warned “humanity is just one misunderstanding, one miscalculation away from nuclear annihilation.” (Or one Nance junkit to secure her husband’s Taiwanese investments). In recent days Russian soldiers have occupied Ukraine’s largest nuclear plant and its staff have essentially been forced into a situation of radioactive blackmail, unable to fire back and defend their position lest the unspeakable happen. As you’ll recall, Mars was squaring Uranus in March the last time a Ukraine nuclear plant was under threat of being shelled.
Finally, a team of scientists at Yale have apparently developed a technology that can bring pig organ cells back to life. This is an especially uncanny permutation of this signature and its tendency to play God: Uranus’ defibrillator pads jolting flesh back to life.
Uranus and the North Node will be sidled against each other for the rest of the summer, bringing even more frenzy and volatility to world affairs. Mars, thankfully, has moved on from this configuration though our enfant-terrible must now face Saturn’s baleful eye (the transit peaks today). If it suddenly feels like you're wading through molasses in your great escape, know that this too will pass. The past days may have clarified, under no uncertain terms, the radical change you must embrace to surf this riptide of the future (lest you be swallowed by it). You may have felt like you time-traveled this past week, as the ghostly coordinates of your future emancipation brushed their alien moth wings against you.
Recognizing the chains of the Devil card is one thing, but actually stepping out of them is quite another. As Mars temporarily grinds to a halt, we may feel paralyzed in taking that crucial first step toward greater freedom, authenticity, or accountability in our lives. The path ahead may feel daunting as the Saturnian malaise thickens. All of this Taurus action is happening in a decan ruled by Saturn itself, which corresponds to the Tarot’s 7 of Pentacles. In the Thoth this card is called Failure, as a farmer pauses in his sowing to lean on his hoe — an ambiguous look on his face as he gathers energy for the next push.
Whether the crop will bear fruit or not is uncertain, though Crowley’s account is especially pessimistic: “There is no effort here; not even a dream; the stake has been thrown down, and it is lost. That is all Labour itself is abandoned; everything is sunk in sloth.” It’s hard not to think about the challenges (and outright failure) of this past planting season, as the climate crisis kicked into another gear and further destabilized global food production.
Austin Coppock notes the powerlessness that can grip this decan — or a radical humility, at least. It’s in Taurus decan 3 that we face the primordial (and often violent) turnings of history that can suddenly make failures of our crops, or see our most sophisticated empires descend into mass hysteria, malaise, and thanatos:
“Though confined to the deepest layer of Tartarus by the civilizing agenda of the up-above Olympians, the Titans still abide. Though their powers of earthquake, tidal wave, drought, forest, fire, hurricane and lightning storm have been borrowed and copied, they have not been stolen, for Titans are not of the elements — they are the elements, the firstborn children of Earth, the organs of her body. And though the stories say they are caged safely in the underworld, there are no prisons in myth which do not cyclically riot. There are no permanent endings to those narratives, only points in a circle of stories which again and again recur.
The third face of Taurus is the most ominous one of the three, for here thunder and flood threaten well-laid plans and virtuous labor. Not only that, but the raw power of creation rises up against the hubris of any tiny human portion.”
Of course, Uranus has been wielding its cattle prod in Taurus since 2018 and this eclipse series is hardly new. Depending on the house Taurus occupies in your chart, the current astrology may feel like an older story (even a pattern of trauma or alienation) boiling over, or reaching a crucial juncture. It may simply be a time of sorrow’s shrapnel shifting, especially within Venusian themes: relationships, love, our value systems.
Taurus is my 12th house and ever since Mars ingressed I’ve noticed an uptick in anxiety, sleep disturbances, and just a sense lately of feeling profoundly lost (I think the Gemini risings need a support group). The 12th is also a place of exile, whether imposed deliberately or through circumstance (or perhaps a combination of the two). Uranus in my 12th presided over the isolation of grad school, a long-distance breakup through the pandemic, and my ongoing estrangement from Spain — a place that was a soul home for many years. So yes, there’s been a tremendous amount of grief resurfacing around this bewildering Madame Olenska era of my life, especially as my return to Barcelona continues to be deferred (and the emotional closure this pilgrimage will hopefully bring). All in divine timing, I suppose.
Sometimes it sideswipes me with such force though: the fact of my former life dissolved by the mists of the pandemic. As I’m cutting vegetables alone in my apartment, say — as I’ve done nearly everyday for two years now: a memory of my ex handing me a glass of rioja and rolling himself a joint, as he scatters a spread of his scruffy vinyl singles on the kitchen table, where Sunny has pooled herself in the August heat. He has me close my eyes and pluck them like tarot cards, marking the night in 6 minute intervals: The Smiths, The Monochrome Set, Big in Japan… Maybe we dance a bit in the living room then spend far too long deciding which screwball comedy to torrent and project on the wall. Ten years is a long time to harvest memories: these endless shards of love.
Late actor James Gandolfini, who channeled the dark American unconscious in The Sopranos, had a Uranus-North Node Conjunction in Leo.
In true 12th house fashion, the Taurus pileup has registered as sudden rips in my subconscious (and my carefully architected defense mechanisms). Repeated dreams of my fugitive self wandering Barcelona’s shadowy antichthon and speedrunning the maze of its metro system. Sometimes I wake up convinced I’m there. I actually reach for my phone to text Robsie and Julie that we should finally meet for cocktails at Paspartu, before it dawns on me…
Anyway, one can only weep on their living room floor for so long. I decided to embark on another sober season, which I know will bring the gift of a deep inner peace and stabilized moods. Big life changes are coming down the pipe for me this fall (Mexico! Cow Girl school! My roving poet and mystic era!). For now I take one crucial step in laying the emotional foundation that will keep me steady through this transition. This call to freedom will play a long game and sobriety is my way of honoring Lord Saturn. And to the Seven of Pentacles (and the increasingly distant dream that is my past life in Barcelona) I offer a cheerful Becketian riposte. “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
Editor’s note: If you enjoyed reading these ruminations, the best way to support my work is by signing up for a paid subscription. Your patronage is deeply supported and will help me continue to keep the Mercury Papers alive in the future.