Hello Pluto…

            Tuesday the 19th began like a lot of mornings do for me. Drinking coffee. Scanning news headlines. Scrolling through posts on X. Unlike most mornings though I was drawn into the world of astrology as more and more people, many of them not at all known for talking about the stars, announced that Pluto had entered Aquarius. Pluto, I learned, is the planet of death, rebirth and transformation. The last time Pluto entered Aquarius its powers of transformation were so great we experienced both the American and French revolutions as well as the dawning of the Industrial Age.

            I’m not mocking any of this. I’m ready and, dare I, the skeptical Virgo, say it? I’m optimistic.

            I am far from being an expert on astrology. But I am also not one to laugh or roll my eyes at those who study it; after all people have done so for thousands of years. So I am truly open minded about this new Age of Pluto in Aquarius. Besides, I’m ready for rebirth, for renewal. For myself. For society. For planet Earth. A full-blown renaissance would be nice.

            For years now I have watched and listened while a lot of people have succumbed to ugly rhetoric, anger and fear. Disappointment and indignation have soured relationships, crushed hopes and left so many depressed and deflated. We have, as a society, stagnated even as we fragmented as a result. I’ve felt the pull of pessimism and despondency. I’ve found myself falling into the easy trap of critiquing others rather than working to transform myself. Because real transformation is hard. It takes work and discipline. It also requires imagination and a decent dose of hope.

            Death and rebirth; endings and beginnings. We see this theme throughout history in religion, mythology and great journeys. The Hindu god Shiva is the destroyer, the preserver, and the regenerator of the Universe. Kali Maa represents the cycle of destruction and rebirth-- things must die if there is to be space for new beginnings. The Egyptian Phoenix must be engulfed in flames in order to rise, renewed from the ashes. In our daily, more tangible lives, all we need to do is look to a lotus flower blooming each day in a pond only to be submerged under water in the mud and darkness each night, to be reminded of this symbolism.

            I often wonder if we, as a society, are all secretly longing for rebirth, for transformation. If this is one of the reasons for the chaos around us; people scrambling and blaming and wanting something but not quite sure what it is other than something abstract like meaning, clarity. We often look in the wrong places—from the superficial to the Spiritual. I have tried diet fads and new hair colors. Yoga retreats and ayahuasca ceremonies. Political activism and earnest philosophical debates. I’ve learned and grown from each experience. But ultimately, what I have realized is that, cliché as it may sound, the journey that leads to a symbolic death enabling one to be reborn renewed, lies within each of us. We can and should grasp lessons along the way, be inspired by others, take chances and expand our horizons. But eventually it is all you—not a political party, or new Spiritual movement or new group of friends. Even if it involves what a Zen Buddhist might call chopping wood and hauling water.

            And so no, I am I not secretly hoping Pluto, this time, will do the work for me. But I’m happy to be inspired, to grasp hold  of this idea that the energy will be different now. And I think it already is. That the chaos I wrote of feels like it has receded a bit. Words online may still hold vitriol, but out on the streets, after the most contentious and ugly election of my life, things are actually pretty calm.

            So I’m looking to Pluto with hope and optimism. And I’m thinking back to 2006 when Pluto was demoted from its status as the ninth planet to that of a dwarf. It was a controversial decision by the International Astronomical Union, and a lot of people were upset. It was on the news, written about in magazines, talked about and joked about on late night TV. I remember Neil deGrasse Tyson laughing at those who were standing up for Pluto. He blamed their feelings, their loyalty, on Walt Disney naming Mickey’s dog Pluto after the then newly discovered planet. Perhaps so. Maybe we cartoon-loving star gazers transferred our animated affections to a ball of ice so far away we needed Disney-like imaginations just to envision it. Even so, I like to think that Pluto, now in the news and heralded as powerful as its Roman god namesake is having the last laugh. I’m ready to join in.