Sun Chiron by Transit: Into the Hole

Chiron square Sun, Chiron opposite Sun, Chiron conjunct Sun. I’m not going to make a distinction between these three in this blog post, but I can tell you that Chiron has been squaring my Sun for a while now (I stopped counting for how long) *and* I have this in my personal chart so it’s always Sun Chiron for me. (And I was born on a Chiron station so by default he’s the most important heavenly body in my chart.)

But about this transit, if you, too, are having a Sun Chiron: it’s uncomfortable. It’s the moment when Chiron becomes a verb: you can’t NOT Chiron. You are Chiron-ing all day and Chiron-ing all night and no matter where you look and every breath you take it’s CHIRON CHIRON CHIRON. No escape from Chiron the Wounded Healer centaur, who could heal others but not himself. He looks in the mirror and says, “You again?.” Any hard Chiron transit is going to remind you of what hurts as it returns you to that painful place in your natal chart, your most vulnerable hole. Chiron, my friends, dear star lovers, is a hole. It’s where you’ve been scooped out. And now something else, or someone else, is living there. Freeloader. Psychic vampire. Parasite. A bully.

So your Chiron transit comes and you’re painfully reminded of what’s so fundamentally wrong with you, but here’s the thing, the silver lining, because there’s always a gem inside the most wicked of transits. I was telling someone the other day that we can’t outrun the planets. I mean, if Mars is in your 12th House then Mars is in your 12th House and it’ll move on soon enough but better to understand and work with the energy than flail or resist. Mars going through your 12th House means you DO need to rest more. It doesn’t mean you’re lazy. But here’s the gem of the Chiron transit:

You get sick to get well. You descend to ascend. I know, I know, you rather not have the transit at all and I agree with you. But the deeper you go into the hole the higher you’ll climb out of it. Sitting in an uncomfortable position. That’s one way to sum it up. I remember some years ago going to a weekend meditation retreat in the city and my body was terribly uncomfortable, my back, my knees, my neck, my legs, my eyeballs, so I shifted a lot in my seat. I didn’t get up but I wiggled plenty and adjusted and kept on sitting through the rain and the wind and the storm. Everything hurt.

I’m not on the other side of this transit yet but I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong with what I’m suggesting here, that Chiron transits require our “be here now” mechanisms maybe even more than all the others i.e. how you bear the pain is by bearing the pain. Bearing it, looking at it, not letting it hide from you, not letting it hide its face.

There’s a story in the Torah, in Bereshis (Genesis), a famous story, in which Avraham (Abraham) is told to sacrifice his only son Yitzchok (Issac), the son he waited so long for, a child of his old age. And the story goes (and this is long story short): right as he’s about to sacrifice his son, knife in hand, an angel calls out, to stop him, saying his name twice: Avraham, Avraham. And he answers: heneini (here I am).

That, my friends, is the essence and the gem of your Chiron transit. That you answer it: here I am!

I think I’ll stop for today.
To be continued…

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