A lot of folks seem to be worrying the Uranus Taurus ingress to death. With these outer planet transits and ingresses, we expect big things to occur on the world stage. Uranus’ trips through Taurus have a way of coinciding with major shake-ups to the foundations of society; his last transit of Taurus lined up with that weird and worrisome period between the Great Depression and the outbreak of World War II. But bear in mind that Uranus in Taurus was not the only thing happening at that time.
What I want to make clear here is that Uranus’ property is not to create geopolitical crises. His property is to disrupt such that it forces adaptation. Uranus qua Uranus is the crisis waiting to happen, the precipitating factor, the change agent.
There’s a reason that a number of astrologers are starting to refer to this planet as Prometheus. In his myth, Prometheus steals fire from the gods as a boon for humanity, but then humanity still has to adjust to the new reality that having access to fire engenders for everyone. All Prometheus did was say, “here you go, now deal with it.”
Uranus queers–that is, Uranus makes things weird. Honestly, I need more astrologers to be talking about Uranus power to queer. Whichever house cusp Taurus lies on in your chart will be queered with this ingress.
Consider what it is that the Fab Five do on any episode of Queer Eye: they come in unexpectedly, rumble around a man’s entire wardrobe, living space, grooming, pantry, and confidence, leaving no matter untouched. And the men whose lives they impact, though they are completely unsettled and jostled around by this process, come out on the other side for the better.
Uranus will draw the elements and qualities of all that which is on the outside, the margins, the unexpected—”All things counter, original, spare, strange; / Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) / With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;” to quote Hopkins—right to the center, where it will demand adaptation. The power of the Fab Five is not that they come in and teach a man how to wear pants that fit; they teach a man how to make manifest his divine dignity by uprooting his comfort, his ugly-ass dad sneakers, and addressing the emotional baggage that caused that man to become stuck and fixed in the first place. In other words, Uranus will be the sand in the particular oyster that Taurus represents in your chart, as he always is and always does. She ain’t give a damn, hennie.
That’s the gift of queerness. We exist on the margins and when we draw the margins to the center through our presence, we create an adaptive crisis for the status quo. For me, Uranus was transiting my third whole sign house (second Placidus) and so much of the last seven years was about queering my relationship with traditional religion, which is now my day job—as well as learning how to talk about my own queerness and communicate it. There were any number of crisis points on the way that played into the whole theme (which I won’t list here), but looking back, I have a clear view of what it was that Uranus was doing in my life over the last seven years.
This goes to show that even though the precipitating crises Uranus instigates might be tied to specific events, those are amplified points of the overall theme of the transit. Is Uranus hitting favorable aspects to planets in your chart? Be ready for boons you aren’t expecting that still require you to adjust. Squares or oppositions? The same, but those will be tougher.
Regardless of the quality of the transits themselves, whether we experience them as positive of negative, we still have to be flexible, and each of the specific contacts between Uranus and other planets play into the overall story of this transit.
And we can sit around and speculate, but all the while, Uranus transits are by their very nature unpredictable. We can refine the possible manifestations of a Uranus transit by looking at our charts, but ultimately, the odds are that we won’t be able to nail down exactly what it’ll be until after the fact.
Worrying possible transits to death will make you rigid, and rigid can’t deal with Uranus. Better to bend than to break. So, friends, meet Uranus’ transits to your Taurus-placed house with Taurus’ cool head and patience. Think more Ferdinand under his cork tree, less rage-blinded animal charging at a toreador.
So I ask: what are the things that hold you to the ground? What is it that gives you a sense of stability and fixity? What are the material things with which you surround yourself in order to feel a sense of pleasure and peace? Uranus’ transit through Taurus is going to ask you to reevaluate anything that you would root yourself in, and that question is not going to come in the form of a gentle “have you considered this,” but rather, “oh by the way, your house is on fire and your investments are all over the place and your paycheck is screaming and your food is killing you and eat a vegetable and prom’s tomorrow!!”
So, as always, be prepared.
If you’re ready for a given area to be jostled in your life, if you can roll with the punches, if you can abide—and participate in—Uranus messing with all of your stuff, you’ll come out on the other side a reformed person. For our society, so rooted as it is in our relationship with money, this might necessarily mean some unprecedented shifts. And for each of us on our own, Uranus will come wheeling into whichever house Taurus is on and—as Prometheus did in the myths of ages past—hand us something fiery like “universal healthcare” or “cryptocurrency” or “food justice” and say, “well, here you go. Let’s zhuzh it a little.”