Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I find myself suddenly unwilling to play that role in Kylee’s life.
My horoscope had promised a happy accident. This is it.
And I won’t be taking the easy way out, brushing aside magic with cold facts. I close the book on the Coma Cluster lesson I had planned for the day and decide to lean in.
“So this is a natal chart,” I say, scooting closer so we can both see the paper. “It’s an astronomical map of the exact moment someone was born.”
She squints. “Is this the moment you were born?”
“It is. I’m trying to learn how to read it.”
“But there are no words.”
“Exactly,” I say. “But all these little symbols? They mean something.”
“Like what?”
I smooth a hand over the paper. “Okay, so, you see this ring around the outside divided into twelve sections? Those are the constellations, or the zodiac signs. And all these little symbols,” I continue, “these are the planets.”
Kylee points at the symbol of the crescent moon. “But the moon’s not a planet.”
I smile. “Not as defined by the science community. The moon is not a planet by astronomy’s definition. But in astrology, the sun and the moon are treated as planets. They’re actually called luminaries.”
“Astrology,” Kylee says, testing the word. “That’s what horoscopes are, right?”
“Well, actually, horoscopes are just a part of the study of astrology. For example,” I say. “You know how when you talk to some people about space, and they can maybe name our solar system’s planets, and they think that’s all there is?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Oh yeah.”
“Well, that’s probably how astrologists feel about horoscopes. It’s a tiny piece of a really big puzzle.”
“Probably?” she asks, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. “You don’t know?”
“Well, I’m not an astrologist. I’m more… hmm. Do you know what it means to audit a class?”
She shakes her head.
“Well, on college campuses, you can sometimes sit in a class outside your field of study. You don’t get a grade, but you also don’t get any academic credit.”
Her nose wrinkles as she blows on the hot chocolate steam. “So what’s the point?”
“I used to kind of wonder that myself,” I admit, poking at a marshmallow. “But that’s sort of what I’m doing this year. Auditing astrology. Doing my best to understand it, even though it’s not my typical field of study.”
Kylee considers this, then nods before bending over my chart again. “What does it mean when each planet is in a different zodiac slice of the pie?”
Her fingertip moves in a circle, touching each symbol in turn.
“Well, for example, here is the symbol of the sun, and the sun is in Virgo. That basically means that from the vantage point of someone here on Earth, the sun was crossing in front of Virgo at the time I was born.”
“It’s close to the line,” she says, bending her head to peer closer.
“Yes, it’s only one degree into Virgo. Just a tiny bit the other way, and my sun sign would be a Leo.”
She lights up in recognition. “I know all about signs. I’m a Leo. August 3. That means I’m fiery.”
I smile. “Quite probably. But all that means is on your chart the sun would be right about here.” I point. “To really get the full picture, we’d need the rest of your chart. Especially your ascendant sign.”
“What’s that?”
“In astrology, it’s the important one,” I say, waggling my eyebrows comically.
She leans eagerly forward, far more excited about this than the science lesson we’re supposed to be having. I know I should feel guilty, but it feels sort of nice to fuel this sort of creative thinking rather than squash it.
The facts will always be there. This kind of wondrous, open-minded thinking may not be.
“So what is my ascendant sign?” Kylee asks.
“I don’t know. I’d need the year you were born, the city where you were born, and the time.”
“Hmm.” She bites her bottom lip and thinks. “I’d have to ask my parents about that.”
“Well, I’d be happy to tackle that next time,” I say, starting to put the chart away to shift gears back to what I’m actually getting paid to teach her.
Once again, she reaches out and grabs the chart, chewing her lip. “My mom’s a Taurus, and my dad’s a Sagittarius. That’s why they never got married.”
Oh dear.
I sip my hot chocolate, knowing I’m in potentially dangerous waters and need to proceed carefully. “Why do you think that?”
“I’ve seen the charts in my friend Emma’s magazines,” she informs me very matter-of-factly. “Taurus and Capricorn aren’t compatible. But my stepdad is a Cancer, and that’s why he makes her so happy.”
When I don’t immediately reply, she looks up at me. “Right?”
“Well.” I take another sip of hot chocolate, trying to figure out how an astrologist would approach this conversation. “We can’t forget that the natal chart is made up of a lot more components than just the sun. Which means we’re made up of a lot more elements than just whatever personality traits are associated with our sun sign. So compatibility is dependent on a lot of different factors, even if just from an astrological perspective.”