I'm coming clean

A few weeks ago, I took a fantastic newsletter creation course led by the incredible Sarah Faith Gottesdiener of The Moon Studio. The course gave me some juice to refresh my own newsletter and try something new – and channel my voice and perspective more fully, creatively, and unabashedly. Wooo!

So, today, I’m going to start by sharing a story and a confession that I have mostly kept secret:

For most of my life, I rejected astrology.

Yes, you read that right. Me! The person who now CONSTANTLY nerds out about astrology, built a small business around it, and shows up in your inbox specifically to gush about it.

So here’s what happened:

Growing up, I knew a little about astrology. My mom, who worked at our local library, loved learning about Sun signs. She often brought home astrology books to read and share with me.

When I read about my own Sun sign (Aries), I didn’t really understand or resonate with it. I never felt like an Aries in how the books talked about them. I didn’t feel courageous, risk-taking, assertive, impulsive, or headstrong. By contrast, I was very shy, reserved, and quiet – to the point where someone once asked me if I was mute (which was extremely offensive, although this was also the ‘90s). I remember secretly wishing that I was an Aquarius, because Aquarians sounded so cool: progressive! visionary! intellectual! aloof! weird!

My mom, however, had a different interpretation. As a devout Capricorn who truly identifies with her Sun sign, she frequently labeled me as an Aries. If I was impatient, she said it was “because you’re an Aries.” If I got bored, it was “because you’re an Aries.”

I felt frustrated and boxed in by this Sun sign that I supposedly shared with everyone else born within a ~30 day period (which, in my little mind, also made NO sense – how can everyone born in March-April have the exact same traits?!).

So, I rejected astrology entirely, in a refusal to be defined by my supposed Aries-ness.

Fast-forward a few decades later…

I was in my mid-20s and talking with a friend who was really into astrology. She shared some of her favorite astrologers with me, which reminded me that you could look up your birth chart and get more information from that.

Now a bit more distant from my childhood experience, I dug up my birth time and pulled up my chart.

Seeing my full birth chart changed everything.

As I learned about all of the components of my birth chart – not just my Sun sign – things started to click.

I was blown away by how clearly my birth chart seemed to describe my particular orientation to the world. For example, my Mars and Jupiter in Gemini made sense of my incessant, roving curiosity. My Saturn in Capricorn named my stoic, reserved, and sometimes extreme sense of discipline.

And, the cherry on top: I found out that both my rising and Moon were in Aquarius, the sign that I secretly yearned to be as a child.

It turns out I was already who I wanted to be.

This experience profoundly shapes how I practice astrology today.

I carry a strong ethic that astrology, at its highest and best use, can expand our sense of self, purpose, and potential — and that we must be careful about using it in ways that constrain, limit, or label what is possible for us. Each of us contains incredible nuance that deserves to be witnessed fully, holistically, and compassionately.

I believe that the birth chart, while describing a specific moment in time, unfolds in meaning throughout our lives. I regard it not as a fixed map, but as a supportive compass that serves our vitality, healing, and liberation.

And this is why I gush about astrology now – because, like a gentle witness, it can help us recognize who we've been all along.