Does Taurus even need to be reframed? I felt this preemptive question tickle up my spine as I sat down to write this piece. Behind it my own assumption that Taurus, of all the signs, is the least vexing, the least due for a paradigm shift or critical thought. Taurus hates a shift and has no appetite for a critical anything. But it is this grasp for simplicity, a Taurus virtue, that has perhaps relegated this sign to the nosebleeds of my life, of all our lives. Taurus grasps for what is uncomplicated, and in our tortured existence, with all our striving and trying and therapizing—uncomplicated is a herculean feat. If you’ve ever sat down to meditate, you know this. Being silent and still is hard. Before you know it, a moment of stillness turns into a cacophony of thought. Isn’t claiming a little simplicity, a little peace, the most vexing of all? Almost antithetical to our increasingly frenetic human race? Taurus energy is what watches us all contort ourselves into this performance we call life, waiting for us to remember that a rose blooms without interference. That we all could bloom with a little less interference. Taurus is the part of you that remembers, however briefly, that you are not a human doing, but a human being.
Taurus is a fixed Earth sign, unmovable, reliable. Lunar cousins with Cancer, sharing the compulsion to take care and nurture. Where Cancer moves like bodies of water, Taurus is the Earth upon which those bodies stretch, bend, expand, dry up, and flood over. Taurus is what holds together, the structure that supports experience and emotion. Taurus takes the burst of life that is Aries and gives it shape, it settles ash into grass. The Moon is an exalted guest in Taurus, telling us that the emotional body is a body. That if you want to feel supported through your own experience and emotion, your own life, you need to listen to that body. Our bodies are finely tuned machines, flashing at us like dashboard indicators, relaying key information. And Taurus is the part of us that listens.
Taurus energy pulls us closer to ourselves—the gravity of what is gratifying. Comparing Taurus to the Earth is hardly novel—Earth in all its resolute roundness, the most there a thing can be. Earth is nothing without the nature that animates it and the animals that call it home. Earth is nothing without the persistence of life. Enters the word instinct, or how we fix ourselves to a set of patterns and behaviors that provide reward. In spiritual circles, it may be called intuition—or how we bypass the complications of conscious reasoning and land immediately on the answer. Don’t go down that dark alley. That low drone sounds like a lion, run. Break up with him, he’s cheating. These conclusions conclude themselves, no mental interference needed. The reward is a saved life, saved time, cutting through the B.S. Intuition is simple. Animal instinct is simple. We make following it hard. We are suspicious, chronically alert, in our heads, scheming ourselves out of the present moment. We are trapped by our own intellect, our beliefs, our ego…what if-ing and romanticizing. We put distortions of the mind over Taurus matter, and then wonder why we feel so anxious all the time. Meanwhile, your body knew the answer the moment you posed the question. That is your animal instinct. Listen to it, and you’re in the realm of Taurus. Listen to it often, and you persist.
Here's an experiment. Where is your body right now and what is it doing? What is it wearing and what does it feel like? Chances are, these are strange questions. You’re here but you’re not really here are you? You’re thinking about what someone said yesterday or trying to sail a sea of tomorrows. Take a deep breath, feel your belly rise and recede, be here now. Any relief? Then you’ve experienced the wisdom of Taurus.
In meme Astrology, Taurus is boring, lazy and predictable. Other times, materialistic, stubborn and selfish. Taurus sleeps too much, eats too much, shops too much. But what if these behaviors, these Taurus instincts, represent an automatic and natural attunement to what one needs to survive? What if it’s not too much, but just that you have denied yourself? Taurus eats when it is hungry. Taurus sleeps when it is sleepy. Taurus masturbates when it is horny. Taurus replenishes when it is empty---whether lack of creature comfort, lack of support, lack of money, lack of calories, or lack of orgasms. Taurus keeps reserves, like squirrels that bury nuts to prepare for winter. Answering the call of this animal wisdom, what the body needs—that is not lazy or indulgent. It is wise. It fits you for survival. It soothes a life that is anything but. It positions you as well-rested and nourished, calm, and the squirrel as fed. We deny ourselves, our bodies, our desires. We ignore calls to stop, to moderate and to slow down. We curtail, make excuses, ask for bottom shelf. Taurus doesn’t. Taurus understands that we are embodied, dense, married to the physical plane—so why not care for it? Why not demand exquisiteness from it?
I always like to bring up Taurus in relation to Scorpio, the sign that smiles back at Taurus in the mirror, in that uncanny valley way that we think we catch our reflection blink when we didn’t. The Taurus-Scorpio axis is one of survival and security, the scorpion enacting sophisticated and finely evolved mechanisms to stay alive in the desert. Shrewd, calculating, alert. Compare this to the rich, open fields of the wild bull, or the green pastures of cows—there’s a lushness, a natural harmony with one’s environment. And that is the difference between Mars (ruler of Scorpio) and Venus—the difference between fighting and receiving. The entrance of peace after war. One person’s lazy and indulgent is another person’s desire to be catered to, to attract rather than procure, to save precious energy. It is receptivity made routine, because to Taurus, why strive when what you want can simply arrive? Is that lazy? Or efficient and wise? It takes a special kind of creature to wait on desire, to be given the thing, to experience it—and so enters persistence, tenacity, the ability to make millions out of a molehill. The Taurus reticence to divert or change doesn’t make it necessarily stubborn—but perhaps tuned into a result that others cannot see or fathom or dare work towards. Taurus is patient enough to see a thing through to its natural end.
I always bring in mythology to anchor the importance of any sign I reframe. Myths get straight to the essence of a sign. For Taurus, I choose Oshun, the orisha (goddess) of water, sensuality, beauty, fertility, and love in the Yoruba religion. She is the embodiment of Venus, ruler of Taurus. In one version of the myth, Oshun was the center figure in the creation of the world—savior of humanity, restorer of balance, bringer of sweet water and nourishment. Though, Oshun’s role wasn’t deemed worthy at first. Of the 17 deities sent to populate the Earth, Oshun was the only woman. In perfunctory patriarchal fashion, they diminished her importance, her gifts, and her contributions. So, she left. She did not try to convince them of her importance, and in classic Taurus fashion, sat unbothered, admiring herself in the mirror, knowing they would fail. And they did. Earth was barren, dry, devoid of lush and life. The male deities complained of their failure to the Supreme God, Olodumare, who noticed the glaring absence in their midst. Where was Oshun? Without her nourishing waters, the world was bereft. Life couldn’t bloom. Realizing her importance, the gods welcomed Oshun back, and the world animated with life, bounty, and beauty. In the end, Oshun told them to never dare diminish her significance again. Boom.
Oshun parallels the critical ingredients that Taurus energy brings into the world. Oshun’s story also parallels the shaft Taurus often gets in comparison to other signs. And the societal buy into masculine behaviors as superior to feminine ones (energetically). Beyond memes of naps and snacks, Taurus represents that which makes life a feast of the senses, that which silences the soul in a world that has too much volume, that which takes its time in a world hurrying us to hurry up. That which dares to enjoy. Taurus represents what just makes sense, not in our brains, but in our bones.