You Are Not Doomed: Reframing the 8th House and 12th House

Upon first learning Astrology years ago, somewhat casually, I noticed that much of the narrative around the 8th and 12th houses was negative—they were dark and scary houses, destinations one mostly wants to rush through or avoid altogether. But my life experiences never seemed to match the depths of despair that these houses purportedly drag you into (at least, not yet). Dear reader, I am not here to subvert the nasties hanging out in these houses. I am not here to convince you that the 8th house can be fun or that the 12th house is a walk in the proverbial park. The 8th forms a square to the fun-loving 5th, and the 12th doesn’t even see it (aversion). As a Capricorn 8th house stellium owner, and a Taurus 12th house Moon dweller, I owe it to you and to myself to be down to Earth or realistic around the energies of these houses. And realistic is a great word—big blogs, accounts and Astrology websites have an incentive to reach the most people possible, which, for something as personal and subjective as Astrology, can cast a wide net that one may find themselves tangled within. And that can be okay—Astrology is the art of archetypes aka symbolism and motifs that are inherently quite general. But when those generalities, like with the 8th and 12th houses, skew towards negativity, a condition that the human mind historically has a complicated relationship with, it can pollute what can actually be productive. Negativity bias is the theory that humans tend to react more strongly to and dwell on negative stimuli even when neutral or positive things are present in equal or greater amount. So, when the first 4 pages of a Google search result for “8th house Venus” or a Twitter thread about the doom of a 12th house Sun lean primarily negative, it can be hard to undo that association. It can be hard to be realistic about the 8th and 12th houses when much of the PR around them is histrionic, sometimes performatively so.

(For some context, check out my article on the differences between the 8th and 12th houses.)

Houses are simply areas of life. Astrology is sophisticated in design, with each of the 12 houses corresponding in totality with what one experiences on this ride called life—relationships, work, pleasure, family, etc. Through aspect, the houses can inform one another as well, i.e., the trine from the 2nd house to the 6th house can connote money made through a job. Like with any other house, the 8th and the 12th houses come in to inform important parts of the human experience. There simply is no richly lived life without entering the domains of the 8th and 12th houses. They offer necessary pauses on our journey, necessary valleys upon which peaks can stand high, necessary breaks where the light comes in, necessary reflection that guides us forward. The 8th and 12th houses are domains of human intimacy—whether with the self, another, a creation, an emotion, or the timeless and shapeless wisdom of life that I call the Universe. Intimacy here means closeness, a familiarity. And while intimacy can stoke visions of cozying up with a loved one by the fireplace, in reality, intimacy is merely our proximity to things. The 8th and 12th houses offer an intimacy that acquaints us with our faults, our longings, our complexities. To be intimate with anyone, including ourselves, there is a necessary walk through and acceptance of all our ugly and tortured bits. That’s why when, for example, you share with a friend that you feel inadequate at your job, and they pull you in for a hug, the catharsis and soul affirmation is exponentially bigger in that moment than it would have been if you kept your feelings to yourself. There is a tenderness and an openness in these 8th house or 12th house encounters. They poke at our soul and remind us that we are alive, delicate, and divine. And the ability to remain pliable in a world that seeks to harden you is the very essence of human resilience.

The maligning of the 8th and 12th houses, or really, the misunderstanding of them, represents a common human folly—that pleasure and joy and contentedness and visibility are superior to depression and complexity and loss and isolation. But we all know the pedestrian maxim by now: sad times make the good times more…good. The joy you find in the 5th house, or the wisdom you accrue in the 9th house would remain hollow if not for the soul that informs it.

It is easier to deal with these houses when there are temporary transits activating them. But what if you’re like me, or I assume, you, and you have a natal vortex of energy in the 8th house or the 12th house or both? Are you doomed to a life of deep soul-searching and profound but exhausting encounters? First, thanks to savvy timing techniques, your natal 8th house and 12th house planets are not active for a lifetime. Like all things in life, there is a waning, waxing and the purgatory of plateaus. Sometimes planets are just there operating in the background while some other active planetary event kicks off. That’s why being realistic is an asset here—life simply is not 100% tragedy 100% of the time forever and ever amen. And even amid a negative experience, a simple cup of tea or call to your mom can insert some levity, for example. Doom is simply not a nuanced take. Life is mostly gray areas. So, peeling back the negative narratives and examining your life from a sobered and practical stance lessens the sting of 8th and 12th house fortunes. I used to try and fit MY life into the narrow and harrowing write-ups for the 8th and 12th houses instead of contemplating how they fit me, how they wear on MY skin and experience. Second, no one’s 8th or 12th houses are identical in manifestation. Archetypes are helpful at getting us in the ballpark, but the way the game is played is purely individual. Give yourself space to see how 8th house and 12th house things land for you. Hot take but the things that pop off in the 8th or 12th house can be benign sometimes, believe it or not. A lot of my 12th house Moon experience is just tweaking how I get the proper amount of rest. And a lot of my 8th house experience is just learning how to share. It’s still work, but not as daunting!

And third, a more spiritual stance: accept and learn and lean into the natal 8th and 12th house energies you possess instead of leaning away from them or hoping for a better outcome. Actively participate in your 8th and 12th house, get messy, play around in there. Do not neglect, as what you resist persists. At the end of the day, the planets in your 8th and 12th houses are parts of YOU, not some stranger. And like a machine, when one bolt or fastener is left to rust, the entire mechanism is threatened. Your fully embodied life is jeopardized when you avoid or detest or bemoan your 8th and 12th house planets. I believe every chart has a divine curriculum chosen by your soul. Avoiding the lessons or messages of the natal 8th and 12th house planets you have is a sure-fire way to flunk out and forever repeat the same courses. Life is gracious in that it graduates and changes as we graduate and change. You can do it, you can get complex, you can get deep and vulnerable, you can cry out to the Universe and hear nothing but your own echo—and still rise. You have incarnated here to do 8th house and 12th house things—and what a waste it would be if you let a blog bully you into fearing your own purpose, for which you came fully equipped.

Your 8th house and 12th house planets make you sensitive, soulful, a vessel through which life in all its unanswered questions, hardships and intricacies can pass through, examined. And the ability to look at a thing, however grotesque and difficult, to rise to the occasion of challenge, to pull life close again and again despite how many times it has hurt you or confused you is not something to fear. It is the muscle from which magic and meaning is made.

I want to end with an ancient parable that can help you think more critically whenever something in Astrology is framed as either good or bad:

There once was a man who lived on a farm with his son and his horse.

One day, the barn door was left open and the horse ran away. When the nearby villagers heard about it, they ran to the farm to tell the farmer how sorry they felt for him.

“How will you work your farm without your horse?” they asked.

The farmer simply shrugged and said “good, bad, who’s to say?”

A few days later, the farmer’s horse  , and following it were two more horses. The villagers were so excited for the farmer’s luck, they ran to his farm and told him so.

The farmer simply shrugged and said “good, bad, who’s to say?”

The new horses were not broken in, so the farmer’s son worked hard to break them in so they could be used on the farm. While doing so, one of the new horses threw him off and his leg was broken.

The villagers again ran to the farm and expressed their deep sadness about the son’s broken leg. “Now your son can’t help you on the farm,” they said with their heads hung low.

The farmer simply shrugged and said “good, bad, who’s to say?”

As the son was healing from his broken leg, a war broke out in the countryside. All the young men were sent to fight. Many died or were seriously injured. However, since the farmer’s son had a broken leg, he was not able to go. The villagers again came to the farm, to say to the farmer how very lucky he was that his son didn’t have to go fight in the war.

Once again, the farmer shrugged his shoulders and stated, “good, bad, who’s to say?”

(This parable teaches us to simply be a witness to life’s events.  The idea being that peace is found by observing the events of life and removing all judgement; by sitting back and witnessing without trying to attach labels, and avoiding life’s dramas.)

Thanks for reading.

Reframing Cancer: Why Emotional Sensitivity is One of the Mightiest Strengths

How did Cancer come to be synonymous with crybabies? I have no doubt, reader, that you have learned about this sign through the lens of its sensitive emotional structure. But it seems that the profound emotional wiring of Cancer has won not the recognition of its own strength, but rather, a disparagingly crafted caricature of moodiness, tears, and the girlification™ of human emotion. Much like Taurus being talked about strictly in relation to food, money, and sleep, Cancer, unlike its other water sign brethren, has been loudly maligned, scorned, and joked about as if to distill this evolutionary and necessary human component down into memes about crying, hurt feelings, Drake, and mommy issues. It is true that weaponized emotion opens the door to passive-aggression, manipulation, and a particular brand of self-possessed lassitude. But then, every sign has its unproductive manifestation, not just Cancer. What is it about Cancer that triggers such a disproportionately spiteful response? Let’s reframe this sign, let’s highlight the strength and fortitude required to withstand the human condition with the open-heart of Cancer, and the brave act of daring to feel in a world that does not feel for us.

In all of my reframings, I find mythology to be a helpful starting point. The myth of Cancer I’d like to share today may have little to do with what you know. In the more popular rendition, Cancer the crab was sent to fight Hercules but ended up crushed to death. As consolation, goddess Hera made a place in the sky for the crab. End of story. But in other tellings, and instrumental in reframing this sign, Cancer was known as Crios, a giant crab that guarded Poseidon’s daughters. In exchange, Poseidon gave Crios immortality. Crios took his duties seriously—the protection, the sharp antennae for any danger. And so, when danger did come, Crios fought valiantly, and was left wounded. But remember, Crios was given immortality, destined to live with the injuries he had sustained, accepting of his wounded state without complaint. So, as a reward for his bravery, Poseidon relieved Crios of his pain, immortalizing him instead in the night’s sky. In this second telling, we get to the heart of why Cancer’s sensitivity is its greatest strength: the automatic ability to protect while enduring pain. Continuing to show up in a world that breaks our bones, rushing first to help others bandage up, while wearing a wound of their own.

Cancer is a cardinal water sign, and in an evolutionary walk down the zodiac, Cancer represents a necessary first—initiating emotion. It is here that all of creation—started by Aries, sustained by Taurus, perceived by Gemini—confronts the heart. Cancer answers the question of belonging, of community. Beyond zodiacal order, Cancer is also where life begins symbolically—the womb, the life-sustaining properties of water from which all else sprouts—from the relational mirroring of Libra to the experiential adventures of Sagittarius. And so the archetype of the Mother begins and ends with Cancer, the sign responsible for primordial nurturing, emotional connection, and the fundamental sense of love and care that allows one to extend fully into their humanity. Now think about how mothers are treated in society, and by extension, women individuals writ large. There is a chronic and institutional maltreatment of the feminine: from the fight to control our bodies, to be able to vote, to be able to hold positions of power, to be able to walk home at night and not fear being followed or assaulted. Even the pathologized and pseudo-scientific ways women have been belittled—from the Hysteria diagnosis of the 1880s, to the work of Freud relegating the complex (and still misunderstood) structure of the clitoris to just “a small penis.” Emotions have long been marred within the framework of what is weak, what is unnecessary, what is unbecoming, what needs to be shoved aside in order to succeed. In Western society, men are taught to rebuke all displays of emotions (the Cancer opposition to enterprising and stoic Capricorn). Think even of our treatment of planet Earth—mother Earth. We take, we pillage, we disregard. yet Earth continues to sustain and support. This profound distortion of what is natural and human has leaked into Astrological takes and communities, with Cancer being the only feminine sign that takes the heat.

Despite this chronic maltreatment, women continue to show up, to make strides, to give birth to the very people who may, later on, become part of the patriarchal machine. In my reframing of Cancer, I want to emphasize that continuing to show up is a fucking superpower in a world that denies the divine feminine a seat at the table, that denies emotion a seat at the table, that denies subtext, disrespects creatives, and mocks emotion. Bravery isn’t winning all the time—it’s losing and continuing to try again. It’s remaining convicted and purposeful in a world that brings you to your knees. Avoiding emotion is easy, folks. Feeling them isn’t.  And to be sure, one needn’t be woman to have this superpower. Cancer energy bleeds through any gender, any culture-- but setting the stage with Cancer’s undeniable link to womanhood, and womanhood’s subjugation, demonstrates the power at hand here. And all this gets to the heart of Cancer’s cardinal modality—it’s not just about initiating emotion but continuing to begin again in an environment dead set on killing you. People mock the safe space that Cancer creates, yet surely couldn’t thrive without it—a home, a community, a belonging, a sense that our feelings are valid. Cancer is the calling from deep in the heart that compels action. What life is worth living without that emotional compass? Sensitivity does not demonstrate weakness, but rather, points towards the strength of individuals who rise again, tender-hearted, to face the world.

I also want to look at Cancer’s ruling planet, the Moon, and the deep vestiges of myth that surround it. Specifically, the myth of Egyptian goddess, Isis. She was and still is considered a lunar deity, extolling the virtues of motherhood, protection, and harvest. But one of her primary powers was that of healing, another aspect of the Cancer archetype that bears importance. Isis’ lover, Osiris, was cut up into a million little pieces by his brother Seth. Isis went on not only to heal and make him whole again, but to bear his child nine months later. She was revered for these skills, known as a great magician, and has been said to possess powers that were far stronger than other male deities like Osiris or Re. The moon watches over Earth when the Sun is away, casting a magical haze that gives way to dreams, to sleep, to restoration and healing. Without the reflective nature of the Moon, life is unbalanced, it burns up under the heat of the Sun. The Moon, and by extension, the Cancer archetype, provides a balanced ecosystem. With no emotional, subtextual, or subliminal exercise, the inner life suffers, and so does the outer life. Like Isis and the Moon, the Cancer energy carries with it profound healing, the ability to turn nothing into something, to smooth over what is wrought and wrinkled. In the tale above, despite the odds, the hatred, the embroiled battles—Isis came to represent what it means to possess emotional wit, to circumvent challenges, to wear proudly the scars borne from protection over what is loved, what is needed, what is cared for. Is that not strength? Isis was actually a very obscure goddess but came into prominence because of her abilities. You could say she was reframed—once her gifts were recognized, she was elevated in importance. Cancer deserves the same renaissance. While the sign of Cancer itself is not obscured—it’s gifts and strengths certainly are. Even the literal Moon, cratered from millennia of space debris, continues to rise, to wane, to wax—to be alive in a hostile environment, to take the hits, just like Cancer. The Moon’s presence in the night’s sky, like Cancer, is enduring and resilient. It cares even when we don’t.

Dear reader, I hope this piece has allowed you to see Cancer differently, to see that beyond notions of crying oneself into a stupor or being a needy smotherer, that Cancer offers a profound strength, not found in any other sign. If you have Cancer in your chart, see it not as an invitation to belittle your wonderful emotional wiring or to mindlessly participate in the meme-ing of your character, but to come into respect and admiration of the superpower you possess. The world needs it, even if it does not yet see it.

Princess Diana of Wales and the Posthumous Saturn Return

Princess Diana is such a behemoth public figure and will probably live on for centuries in the zeitgeist and culture. Very rarely does a human being seem to have a legacy that continues on for hundreds of years. Its a specific condition of some celebrities. I believe Princess Diana will be one of those few. So does examining current planetary transits against her chart make sense or seem weird? Her natal energy seems to continue on. This is the Saturn Return of a legacy.

Specifically, Princess Diana would have been in her second Saturn Return right now, having been born with the planet at 27 degrees of Capricorn. The Saturn Return is a time of taking stock, making hard but necessary adjustments, and acknowledging the passing of time. Looking back on how you spent the last 27-31 years, and how you intend to move forward. Both Saturn Returns, and the rare 3rd one, are maturing factors.

Astrologer Chris Brennan pointed out that Michael J. Fox and Barack Obama, both Saturn in Capricorn, have recently released memoirs. This is one function of a Saturn Return--the act of constructive retrospection. It got me thinking of how Princess Diana has been all over the news recently because of the newest season of The Crown. Don't get me wrong, I know Princess Diana is a permanent fixture in tabloids and other media outlets. But there is a clear uptick in articles re-examining her relationships, her fashion, her motherhood, her demise, etc., now that The Crown's 4th season is available. Princess Diana's natal Saturn was at 27 degrees of Capricorn. This is where Saturn is now, and where Saturn was when The Crown premiered its 4th season two days ago.

Is Princess Diana getting a posthumous Saturn Return? The media is doing the retrospection for her, clearly, but it is very symbolic nonetheless. Saturn also rules her Aquarius 3rd house, bringing in the theme of written communication.

In looking at her chart to support this narrative, I saw Saturn sitting in her 2nd house making a trine to Venus in Taurus in her 6th house. Venus also rules her Libra mid-heaven in the 11th house. The sign of Capricorn is all about legacy, hierarchy, how we establish in ways that stand the test of time. The trine to her Venus in Taurus is emblematic of things that just stick. Could this trine echo how Princess Diana is forever loved and remembered for her style, her beauty, her duty to causes, her work in the world, her daily life--what she did in it, what she wore during it?? How she is stuck in time, young forever? By itself, can Venus in Taurus come to represent her fixed, solid, and reliable nature in the eye of the public as it relates to her love affairs, her beauty and her fashion? This Venus rules her Libra MC in the 11th house of humanity. The only other aspect Saturn makes in her chart is a square to this MC, mitigated in part because Saturn exalts in Libra.

Season 4 of The Crown has just premiered with Mercury at 8 degrees of Scorpio. Princess Diana's natal Neptune was at 8 degrees of Scorpio as well. In thinking about romanticization of a person, other- worldliness, fame, scandal, television shows, binge watching, living on in the zeitgeist, and having a saintly kind of legacy--one must look at Neptune. For Diana, it was in her 12th house. Nothing interesting is happening to Neptune in her chart regarding this theory, but the current transits of the time seem to support my narrative. Transit Mercury in her 12th house conjunct her Neptune at the exact time a television series (a very popular one) seems to dredge up and examine (Mercury in 12th) her life again is compelling. The 12th house is one of loss, death, tragedy--and her Neptune there can cement that her particular loss of life in mortal form seems to takes on a spiritual quality, a porous and imaginative quality, and most importantly, one that embeds into the culture for eons to come. Neptune does things on that scale, it can transmute physical life forms into immaterial and immortal ones. Scorpio as her 12th house cusp also explains, sadly, our morbid pre-occupation with her tragic life, why films and documentaries and, now, television shows continue to be made about her. Mercury blew all of this into an observable and rather tidy form (a series), and also manifests as the increased media coverage of her life.

JoJo & The Blessing of a Saturn Return

Random but it had to be written. UPROXX recently uploaded a short documentary on JoJo and it resonated so well with what I saw in her chart, rated AA.

At 13, JoJo experienced massive success (2nd house profection year, hers ruled by expansive Jupiter, which trines her MC--more on that later), but was subsequently held hostage by a greedy (and now defunct) music label. As a result, she couldn't release music for more than a decade.

JoJo is an Aquarius Rising, and her Saturn is at 24 degrees of Capricorn, placing it in the 12th. When the ruling planet of the ASC is averse or "hidden" from the ASC, a theme of "delay" can prevail, as the steersman of your ship cannot see where it is going. Very frustrating. In JoJo's case, it is further compounded by the fact that her ASC ruler is the planet of delay and restriction. And that is further compounded by the fact that its a 12th house placement of loss. Whew!

In the midst of recording additional songs, her label dissolved (12th), yet she was still bound (Saturn) by the terms in her contract. She continued to record music but was not allowed to release any of it. We need to note that JoJo has a massive 12th house Capricorn stellium--Mercury RX, Venus, Neptune, Saturn, Uranus and NN. That she was forced into relative obscurity reinforces 12th house themes of things hidden, things ending, doing things in secret. Music studios are also the 12th house--forced creative isolation. She remarked in the documentary that she would constantly read articles that proclaimed she must have died. She recalled how frustrating it was to see musicians who started after her start to pass and out-pace her. (Personally, this is such a huge Saturn struggle. It is the bane of my existence. Anyway....)

JoJo has Neptune and Venus closely conjunct in the 12th. In the documentary, she was gaslit into taking medication to make her thinner, under the guise that her label just wanted her to be "healthy". The fogginess of Neptune playing out next to her creative planet, Venus, is also indicative of being sold a bill of goods that never comes to be. In the beginning, she was very glamourized by Hollywood, private jets, opening for Usher, etc.--but when the fog settled, she was completely and utterly screwed by signing that contract: Mercury RX in the 12th. RX Mercury begs of you to dive into the details, to double check, to be sure, transit or natal. And music contracts are complicated and obtuse already. Placed in the 12th, she became a victim of her own pen. (Not blaming her, by the way.)

What ensued were years of substance abuse, another 12th house theme, especially with Venus ad Neptune co present. Unable to release or perform music, JoJo became "a shell of herself" and had to be "buzzed" in order to function. Only the realization that her dad was an addict (who died of his addiction it seemed--went to sleep and never woke up) snapped her back into reality, and she begun to take control. She hired a lawyer and became embroiled in a bitter legal dispute with her former label. Her Venus, in the 12th and conj. Neptune, rules her 9th house Libra of contracts, law, legal endeavors. So she was in for an uphill battle. But she has Mars square her ASC, which, yes, can render one a victim to martial energies from others (her label), but also energizes you for battle as a result. In Taurus, it also meant/means she has to fight for her art.

In the meantime, she decided to release free mixtapes. A Saturn theme is stripping down to bare essentials. Ideally wanting to release music for profit, she had to settle for releasing music for free, and self-funding a lot of her creative endeavors. Though not firmly in her Saturn Return when she released these mixtapes, Saturn themes prevail for as it is her final dispositor.

Anyway, the story gets happier. In 2014, she was freed from her contract. It was a 12th house profection year, and during Capricorn season. So matters of the 12th house were doubly activated. And Saturn lurked still behind it all. Mars trine Saturn natives also never give up no matter how steep the odds are stacked. Go JoJo!

"Just imagine how the free bird will sing after being caged for so long," wrote one reporter. Holy 12th house! Only now, instead of entering a prison, she was leaving it. And thus began a new cycle for her, as she entered a 1st house year soon after. She signed to Atlantic Records.

Despite being away for almost a decade, JoJo still had very loyal fans. During her legal battles "#FreeJoJo" was used on social media as a means of support for the singer, and many media outlets and blogs publicized her struggle. Fans and celebrities alike stood in solidarity. And when she was finally able to tour and release music again--she sold out shows, was streamed/downloaded tens of millions of times, soared to #1 on iTunes, and recouped all her expenses. Why? Sun and MC in the 11th house in Sag, ruled and trined by benefic Jupiter in Leo in her 7th. The 11th house describes the nature of our fans and friends. Though a "victim" of her business relationships early on, Jupiter in the 7th and ruling the 11th ensured JoJo would always have support from others. It also ensured that her public image, career, and reputation would always remain afloat and gifted positivity and expansion. The Sun and Jupiter also have mutual reception, each in the sign that the other rules. That's a wonderful tag-team to have by yourself to mediate the 12th house loss. Jupiter and Sun inflate you up again---and again and again. Jupiter also rules her second house so: money.

As her Saturn Return started, JoJo re-recorded and re-released her first albums, as her former label removed all of her music from the Internet. Having to go back and re-do everything, and with precision and perfection, (Mercury RX) is Saturnian, but JoJo found it extremely cathartic. She also changed some of the lyrics to reflect that she was in her late 20s now, and not an adolescent. Saturn as ruler of time and maturity.

As her Saturn Return became exact in early 2020, JoJo won her first GRAMMY for a comeback single released in 2019. She went on to be nominated for several other awards, and is slated for bigger things in the future. She announced a new album and tour for Spring 2020.

Whew, won't Saturn do it y'all! After he hits you with 2 by 4 after 2 by 4.

I hope this is reflection for people with heavy 12th house, and retrogrades, and heavy Saturn. Or people just curious/afraid of the Saturn Return. Mine is exact today so I found JoJo's story extremely resonate and because I'm also a trapped musician with Saturn in aversion to the ASC. Yes, shit does end up sucking hard---but never forever. And usually for the better. Saturn came back around for JoJo and as a result, all the planets in the 12th were loosened up to express more freely, retribution was delivered, debts were paid and money was flowing, and most importantly, life purpose was solidified and confirmed.

p.s. One of her collaborators noted that she had a wise soul trapped inside the body of a young girl. Apropos for Saturn dominate people.