The Fixed Stars

I check a dozen of them in every chart I build. Most charts have none within range. When one does, it tends to explain something the planets alone had not.

What a fixed star is, and why fixed is nearly true

The planets are our neighbours, circling the same Sun we do, which is why they move against the background of stars from month to month. The stars are suns themselves, so far away that their own movement is invisible across a human lifetime. Relative to each other they hold their pattern, which is why the constellations your grandmother knew are the ones you know.

Fixed is nearly true because of one slow thing. The Earth wobbles on its axis like a spinning top, taking about 26,000 years to complete one wobble, and that wobble is called precession. The effect of it is that the whole backdrop of stars creeps forward through the tropical zodiac by about fifty seconds of arc a year, which is one degree every seventy two years or so. A star that sat at 29 degrees Leo when I started reading charts has since crossed into Virgo. The positions I give below are for about the year 2000, and a chart from the 1960s will find each star about half a degree earlier. For a conjunction orb of a degree and a half that barely matters, and the calculator I use allows for it.

How a star is read

A fixed star is read by conjunction only. If a planet or an angle in your chart sits within about one and a half degrees of a star's position along the zodiac, that star colours the planet. Nothing else counts. There are no star trines or star squares in my work, and a star on its own in an empty part of your chart is just a star.

Longitude is the measure, the position along the zodiac, and the star's actual height above or below the Sun's path is ignored for this purpose. That is the old convention and I keep to it. Some of these stars sit well off the Sun's path in the real sky, Canopus most of all, and they are still read by the degree they line up with.

A planet on a fixed star is a planet with a second note sounding under it. The Sun on Regulus has something regal in it. The Moon on Algol feels more than most people can bear and does not fall over. The planet keeps its sign and house, and the star adds a flavour on top, and in my experience the flavour is often the thing a client recognises first.

The twelve stars my chart work checks

These are the twelve my calculator looks for, in zodiac order, with their positions for about the year 2000. The orb is a degree and a half either side.

Hamal sits at about 7 degrees Taurus, 7 degrees and 40 minutes to be exact, and it is the brightest star in the Ram, the one the ancients saw as the head of Aries. Its nature is Mars with a dose of Saturn, which gives a planet on it a headstrong independence and the drive to lead, along with a stubborn streak that can run people over. Hamal is the only one of these twelve not written up in my library yet, so take that as the short version.

Algol sits at about 26 degrees Taurus. It is the famous one, the Demon Star, the eye of Medusa in the old sky maps, and it has the worst reputation of any star in astrology. I read it as Mars and Saturn at their most intense, the capacity to look straight at what other people cannot bear to see and to come back with something. People with a planet on Algol are often the ones in the room who say the unwelcome thing. The shadow is being drawn to darkness for its own sake. I say more about this below.

Alcyone sits at about 29 degrees Taurus, almost on the Gemini line, and it is the brightest of the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters. Its nature is Venus and Jupiter, and it carries sisterhood, the pull to bring people together and make a group feel like a group. The shadow is losing yourself in the collective and not knowing who you are when the group is not there.

Aldebaran sits at about 9 degrees Gemini, the red eye of the Bull, and it was one of the four Royal Stars of the ancient world, the watcher of the east. Its nature is Mars and Venus together, force with appetite, and a planet on it is built to acquire, to build something solid and to hold it. The gift is tenacity. The shadow is the bull that will not turn, and the fall that comes from being too identified with what you own.

Rigel sits at about 16 degrees Gemini, the bright foot of Orion the hunter. Its nature is Jupiter and Mercury, and it is one of the most fortunate stars in the catalogue, swift success and obstacles that seem to dissolve ahead of you. I have seen it in the charts of people for whom things simply tend to work out. The shadow is never having had to build the resilience that effort would have given you.

Betelgeuse sits at about 28 degrees Gemini, Orion's shoulder, a red giant you can see with your own eyes. Its nature is Mars through and through, courage, confidence, the willingness to take on what others avoid. The shadow is recklessness and the hubris that comes from winning too often. The work is choosing the fights worth having.

Sirius sits at about 14 degrees Cancer, the Dog Star, the brightest star in our sky. Egypt set its calendar by it. Its nature is Jupiter at its most generous, and it carries a sense of purpose, of being pointed somewhere and having events line up to help. A planet on Sirius is amplified toward its best. The shadow is spiritual arrogance, believing you alone can see what is true.

Regulus sits on the Leo Virgo boundary, listed in my calculator at about 29 degrees Leo and 50 minutes, though by most reckonings it crossed into Virgo in 2011. It is the heart of the Lion and another of the four Royal Stars. Its nature is Mars and Jupiter, nobility and authority that people recognise without being told. The old warning that goes with Regulus is that it gives a high place and takes it away again from anyone who betrays the star's own standard. Lead with integrity and it is one of the finest stars in the sky to have a planet on.

Spica sits at about 23 degrees Libra, the ear of wheat in the hand of the Maiden, and it is the brightest star in the constellation Virgo. Its nature is Venus and Mercury, and it is as fortunate as a star gets, success and honour that arrive through merit rather than luck. The shadow is self righteousness and the quiet assumption that virtue guarantees reward. I have seen it sitting on an Ascendant, and it fitted the person exactly.

Antares sits at about 9 degrees Sagittarius, the red heart of the Scorpion, Mars's rival in the night sky. Its nature is Mars and Pluto, intensity, depth and the capacity to see what is hidden in people and situations. A planet on Antares is magnetic and a little unsettling to be around. The shadow is obsession and the confrontation you did not need to have. More on this star below as well.

Vega sits at about 15 degrees Capricorn, the brightest star in the Lyre, the instrument of Orpheus. Its nature is Venus and Mercury, art with craft behind it, the capacity to make something beautiful and make it well. A planet on Vega wants to create and has the discipline to finish. The shadow is caring more about being seen as an artist than about doing the work.

Fomalhaut sits at about 3 degrees Pisces, the mouth of the Southern Fish, and it is the last of the four Royal Stars, the watcher of the south. Its nature is Mercury and Neptune, clarity inside mystery, the knack of putting words to what has none, and a prophetic streak. The shadow is drifting off into the invisible and leaving the dishes in the sink. People with a planet on Fomalhaut are often the ones who knew something before it happened and could not say how.

The others in my library

Nine more stars sit in my library and I turn to them when a chart asks for it, though my calculator does not check them as a matter of course. Altair, the eagle, is a quick clear mind that acts on what it sees. Arcturus, the bear guard, is the wise overseer who keeps many things in balance. Canopus, the pilot's star of the old navigators, is knowing where you are going when nobody else does. Capella, the little she goat who nursed the infant Zeus, is caring strength, the carrying of what is tender. Castor and Pollux are the Twins, Castor the mortal one, sharp and restless, Pollux the immortal one, eloquent and devoted. Deneb, the tail of the Swan, is grace that moves easily between worlds. Polaris, the North Star, is the fixed point everything else turns around, constancy and true direction. Procyon, the lesser Dog Star that rises just before Sirius, is loyalty and watchful service. Each one has its own page in my files, and if one of them lands on a planet in your chart I will tell you about it.

No star is a curse

Algol and Antares frighten people who have read a little. I want to say something steady about that.

A star describes a capacity, never a sentence. Algol on your Moon says you feel at a depth most people never visit, and that you can look at the hard thing without flinching. Like every capacity it has a shadow side and a piece of work attached. Antares on your Sun says you see what is under the surface, and the work is learning to say so with kindness.

I have read for people with both and they are among the most interesting charts I have had across my desk. The old books were written in a time when a bad omen sold more than a good one, and I read the stars as I read everything else in a chart, as a mirror and a piece of work, never as doom. You are the one holding the mirror.

Do you know which stars were overhead when you were born? Most people have never looked. It is worth finding out.

If you would like your own chart read, my readings are here.