„Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns.
But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement.
The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.”
Khalil Gibran

It all starts with the point. A point is not a plane, nor does it have a spatial dimension. This is Euclid’s 2000-year-old definition. A point is a circle with a radius of zero. The point equals nothingness. Do you see the point? That’s home.
„That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, … every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam. The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. … Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark.“
(Carl Sagan)

The point emerged out of nothingness and created everything. The whole universe emerged out of one point: the Big Bang.
In 1950, Georgi Giardie founded the science of “Cosmic Chemistry.” He proved that the whole universe is a single organic entity. The whole cosmos is one body in which everything is connected. When one part changes, the whole changes, and we are part of it. Moreover, we aspire to the universe. The social philosopher Eric Hoffer (1902-1983) called this the “drive to return home,” something that would drive us back to where we came from. And indeed we all are, quite concretely, the universe. The atoms of our body come from the inside of extinct stars. We’re 97% stardust.
As citizens of the universe, we are a small leaf on a huge tree. There is no difference between our branch and the other branches because we all share the same roots. Everything is part of a larger whole. And, as citizens of the universe, we should also astrologically embrace the entire cosmos.
While astronomy moves towards the future at lightning speed, astrology remains stuck in the past. This has been a bitter necessity because we urgently needed to appreciate and understand our own roots, our heritage. Project Hindsight, Robert Zoller, Rob Hand, Ben Dykes, Sharon Knight and Chris Brennan, thank you!
In astrology, most of us delineate planets. We look only as far as the limits of our solar system and hardly beyond it. We astrologers are lazy. Of the things beyond our solar system, we say, “This is too exotic for me! I already have more than enough to do with the planets.” In the 21st century, we act like people who still cling desperately to the fact that a field can be tilled wonderfully with a horse cart. Why does one need all those new-fangled knick-knacks?
Ptolemy and Kepler were not just astrologers, they were also scientists working at the level of the knowledge of their time. If Ptolemy were alive today, he would be using all the exciting insights of modern astronomy astrologically. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, and star clusters: what do they mean? What relationship do they have with us and we with them? How can we astrologically interpret the cosmic space? How are we, and our clients, connected with the universe?
The roots of today’s fixed star astrology are in the past. In the 1st century CE, the stars were seen as mysterious points of light that never changed their position in relation to each other. They were organised in an eternal order. This is why we speak of fixed stars, in contrast to the planets, the “wandering stars,” which constantly change their positions in the sky. The fixed stars belonged to another sphere that was superior to the planets. The planets described worldly affairs on Earth, while the fixed stars were responsible for divine destiny. At that time “fate” meant something else. That is why the fatalistic fixed star interpretations irritate us so much today.
The division of the star groupings into constellations was an attempt to build a bridge between the unreachable universe and our earthly reality via the myths. This is how the astrologers of old tried to understand the cosmos. We are doing the same today. We name the beautiful images of the Hubble telescope the “Horsehead Nebula,” “The Pillars of Creation,” the “Butterfly Nebula,” and the “Celestial Snow Angel”. We also try to order the universe by sticking labels on the unimaginably distant, strange nebulae. We link them with something familiar. In those days they called the constellation “Orion,” today we use other labels. We have to do this because the huge distances between us and the celestial bodies really cause chills.
But times have changed and so has our knowledge. Today we know that these mysterious points of light are suns that are very similar to our sun. They are anything but fixed, they move. They are cosmic beings with an origin and an end.
Nevertheless, one reads all the time that a star has, for example, the nature of Mercury or Jupiter. We are still working with this outdated system because we have not been concerned with new methods of interpretation. Instead we refer to the “wisdom” of the “ancients.” Modern scientists are the enemy because they treat us astrologers so cruelly. But if we understand the stars so much better today astronomically, why do we still have to treat them like planets? Why don‘t we let them be what they are?
In order to become citizens of the universe astrologically, we should first understand the stars, nebulae, and galaxies. When we know their lives, we automatically derive astrological interpretations from them.
The parallels between humans and stars are amazing. Like us, stars are born, grow up, live their lives, and then die. This process reflects the universal principle of the triplicity of creation, preservation, and destruction. Each star is in one of these three life stages, depending on its physical characteristics. In astrology we know this triad as cardinal, fixed, and mutable. Each star can be assigned to one of these three principles, which in Hinduism are the three aspects of the divine: Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Shiva the Destroyer.
Let’s go on that journey.
New stars are formed from giant nebulae consisting mainly of hydrogen. Gravity causes a nebula to condense into a cloud of gas and dust over millions of years. When it has become dense enough, it collapses due to its own gravity. A star precursor, a protostar, is formed. When the gas condenses on the protostar, the gravity of its matter transforms into kinetic energy and heat. After 30 million years, its centre is so hot and dense that something magical happens: the hydrogen nuclei, the protons, fuse to form helium. When this nuclear furnace ignites, a young star is born. It now generates its own energy. Nuclear fusion builds up an opposing force to gravity and thus stabilises the newborn star. It is difficult to observe this because gas and dust envelop the protostar like a cocoon and absorb all its light. If nuclear fusion does not begin, a brown dwarf, something between a star and a planet, is formed.
The star-birthing nebulae and protostars symbolise the principle of generative creation. Something new emerges from this initial impulse. This phase can be compared to the cardinal principle. For us on Earth, it symbolises the beginning of the four seasons.
When astrologically delineating objects in this phase, the primordial cardinal impulse is always involved: creating something new, but not securing what has already been achieved. These stars always have something to do with assertiveness and the suppression of the old. They set things in motion and deal with pioneering or developmental work. The constellation Orion, for example, contains the youngest stars that have been found so far.
A star that has left this turbulent phase behind begins its so-called “main sequence.” It burns steadily. The energy that is released radiates into space, and perhaps a tiny part of it reaches us here on Earth. We see a star in the night sky. This phase is what most of us understand a star to be: a sun burning the cosmic food provided by the mother nebula while continuously radiating.
The star now has its life ahead of it. But how long will the fuel last? That depends on its size. The bigger the star, the more energy it consumes and the shorter its life. The formula to determine a star’s energy consumption is the factor by which the star is bigger than our Sun to the power of 3. So if the star is twice as big as our Sun, it consumes not just twice as much energy, but eight times: 2 times 2 times 2.
Hot blue giants therefore have a short life, while inconspicuous red dwarfs glow for a long time. Our Sun is in the golden mean with a life span of approximately 10 billion years.
In its main sequence, the star experiences its prime, from youth to maturity, just like humans. Stability, constancy, and constant manifestation are the hallmarks of this phase, which corresponds to the principle of fixity. And suddenly the phrase “fixed star” makes sense again, because for most of their lives stars are in this state of equilibrium.
In the astrological interpretation of stars in their main sequence, this consolidating, stable influence is always involved. These stars preserve what is present, secure and stabilise the status quo, and then bring it to a climax. Vega is currently such a star.
The energy of nuclear fusion is given off in cold space in the form of heat and light. At some point the hydrogen is used up. In the core, the helium, the “ash,” is fused into heavy elements. The core of the star contracts and its shell inflates. Such inflated stars are called giants. They can be blue or red. And depending on their colour, they have a different fate.
Our Sun will reach this stage in about 5 billion years. Its surface will then extend into the orbit of Mars and will devour Mercury, Venus, and the Earth.
Stars the size of our Sun shine reddish in this phase. They become red giants. For example, the star Betelgeuse in the constellation Orion is a red giant. Red giants end their lives gently: they softly release their atmospheres into space. This creates a gas shell around the star, a so-called planetary nebula. This has nothing to do with planets. It is called this because when viewed with an old telescope these gas shells resembled the rings of Saturn. Today one can recognise many different forms, hourglasses and butterfly wings among them.
When there is no shell left, only the naked, hot core remains. This is called a white dwarf. It cools down more and more and shines less and less. Welcome to the Cemetery of the Stars! At some point the white dwarf becomes a black dwarf. One suspects that the universe is not yet old enough that there are already black dwarfs. A black dwarf is a corpse of crystallised carbon. Crystallised carbon? This is nothing other than a diamond. The star is dead, but it has become a giant cosmic diamond.
On the other hand, stars that are at least eight times larger than our Sun have a more spectacular exit. They are called blue giants, and their mass is so great that at some point their cores collapse. This leads to a gigantic explosion, a supernova, releasing enormous amounts of energy. Its radiation destroys everything in its wake. It leaves behind a cloud consisting of the star’s matter, just like planetary nebulae but distributed much more chaotically. The nucleus becomes either a neutron star or a black hole. A neutron star is a small sun consisting of neutrons pressed close together and rotating at high speed. A black hole is one of the most compact objects we know and has a huge gravitational force. It swallows all matter: gas, dust, and also the stars. Not even light can escape.
So a planetary nebula or supernova remnant is a process of dissolution and redistribution. Something comes to an end but already contains the seed of the new. Astrologically this is the mutable principle. The old season is coming to an end but the new one has not yet begun.
This energy is always involved with the astrological interpretation of planetary nebulae or supernova remnants. The wealth of experience wants to be used. If one commits oneself, one loses oneself. The best-known supernova remnant is the Crab Nebula in the constellation Taurus.
When the universe was young, there were only hydrogen and helium. But we breathe oxygen, our cells are based on carbon, and our blood needs iron. These more complex elements were forged much later into giants. Supernova explosions or planetary nebulae blew them into our corner of space. Their material formed our Sun and the Earth, and finally life developed from them. We humans would not have been possible in the early days of the universe. Planets like Earth could not have existed. A dying star always contributes to the emergence of new generations.
So the atoms of your nose once originated in a star. Billions of years ago, a giant star was produced, and then generously blew itself up into outer space. From its offerings, the planetary nebulae, supernova remnants, and all the elements that make up the Earth with all its plants and animals were created. So we owe the fact that we exist to past generations of stars. We really are children of the stars, a part of the universe. When you look in the mirror tomorrow, say, “Hello, star.” At some point I will get a T-shirt printed that says, “I was a supernova.”
How do astronomers actually know all this? Through spectral analysis, which wasn’t discovered and developed until the middle of the 19th century. But what is that?
When a star has stabilised in its main sequence, its colour remains constant: it emits a certain spectrum of light its whole life. So the stars permanently send us mail in the form of light and colour. All we have to do is read and interpret this mail. If you diffract the starlight with a prism, you get the characteristic spectrum for that particular star. From this we can draw conclusions about its chemical composition and temperature. Since many stars have a similar spectrum, they were grouped into seven spectral classes that make up about 99% of all stars: O, B, A, F, G, K, and M. The letters have no meaning, their usage is simply historical. The order can easily be remembered with the mnemonic, “Oh, Be a Fine Guy, Kiss Me”.
The hottest stars belong to spectral class O, followed by B, A, F, G, K, and M, with M being the coldest. Hotter stars shine bluish, colder stars reddish. The hot O- and B-stars radiate mainly in the blue and ultraviolet range, the cool M-stars in the red and infrared spectrum.
Now you may be saying to yourself, this is all very exciting and interesting, but what does this have to do with astrology? He hasn’t shown a single chart yet! Why do I have to listen to this? I don’t need all these bells and whistles.
When I looked more closely at the spectral classes, I noticed that there are seven. Okay, what’s so exciting about that? Seven is a special number. If you ask people for their favourite number, most say seven. That’s what psychological experiments have shown. We are happy when a friend is still in seventh heaven after the seven-year-itch. James Bond is 007 and not 006. God created the world in seven days. The Catholic Church recognises seven sacraments and seven deadly sins. During the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, the Kaaba is to be circumnavigated seven times. The Buddha sought his salvation for seven years. The menorah has seven arms. In Hinduism one finds the seven slopes of the world mountain. The Bhagavad Gita has 700 verses. Snow White lived with the seven dwarves beyond the seven mountains. There are seven visible planets, seven rays in Esoteric Astrology, seven main chakras… and seven spectral classes.
I was wondering, is there a connection here? Yes, there is, for the old hermetic axiom says, “As above, so below; as below, so above.” As within, so without. As on the large scale, so on the small scale. Everything is connected with everything else. The seven chakras are a small-scale reproduction of the seven great qualities of energy of the cosmos. Could these seven types of light be connected to the seven main energy centres? After all, humans are a mirror of the cosmos from which we originated.
Is it a coincidence that the first chakra vibrates red, as does spectral class M? Is it a coincidence that both the second chakra and spectral class K are assigned the colour orange? And, once again, is it a coincidence that the third chakra, the solar plexus, is yellow and spectral class G is also yellow? But now there is an apparent deviation: the heart chakra oscillates green but spectral class F is yellow-white. Is the whole analogy collapsing here? No. If a star radiates mainly in the green spectrum, it is difficult for our eyes to distinguish it from white. Green is exactly in the middle of the visible spectrum, so we also see red, yellow, and blue, and in the end this does not result in green, but in exactly that yellowish white. So the star actually shines green, but due to the physiology of our eyes we see yellow-white. The throat chakra is assigned blue, the analogous spectral class A is bluish-white. The third eye is indigo, spectral class B is light blue. The crown chakra vibrates violet, spectral class O shines in a rich blue, because we cannot see ultraviolet light.
As I pursued this idea further, I realised that the Book of Ecclesiastes was right once again: “There is nothing new under the sun.” In 2012, Mexican astrologer Carlos Duarte had ideas similar to mine in The Messier Catalog Revealed.
Through the analogy between the sophisticated chakra system and the spectral classes, we can now assign a human chakra to a star and thus approach its astrological meaning. For example, a star of spectral class G is related to the 3rd chakra. Our sun belongs to this spectral class. We can match it -- surprise! -- to the solar plexus: the vital drive and the creative shaping of life. The blue star Mintaka, in the belt of Orion with spectral class O, resonates with the themes of the 7th chakra: enlightenment and fusion with universal being.
But there is another level where we should use astronomical knowledge for astrological purposes. Like humans, most stars do not live alone, but in relationships of two, so-called binary star systems. Often they are also ternary or quadruple systems -- a ménage-à-trois or residential community. Around two-thirds of all stars live in this form of relationship. A double star consists of two stars orbiting a common mass centre. Sometimes a third star that passes close enough can interact with the couple and bind to them in a complex cosmic dance. From Earth we see only one star. Double and multiple stars symbolise experiences of personal, one-to-one relationships.
Open star clusters are loose star systems that rarely contain more than a thousand stars. They were all born from the same giant molecular cloud. They are still very young and do not live more than a billion years. In open star clusters, all the stars belong to the same spectral class and travel through the galaxy at the same speed. They are mainly found in the middle plane of the galaxy. For example, the Pleiades in the constellation Taurus are an open star cluster.
Open star clusters stand for the rules of the group and the influence of the group on the individual. The more densely populated they are, the less space the individual has. The social pressure is greater. Loose star clusters with sparse stars symbolise low social cohesion. In fact, open star clusters slowly dissolve as the individual stars gradually escape their gravity. The children leave their parents‘ house.
As the name suggests, globular clusters have a spherical shape. They have a thousand times more stars than open clusters and are also larger. Towards the centre, the stars condense greatly. Not even the strongest telescopes can distinguish individual bodies here. Globular clusters are extremely stable; hardly any star can break out of them. They are located in the galactic halo, a sphere that surrounds our galaxy. Today we know of about 150 globular clusters in the Milky Way. Their greatest peculiarity? They are the oldest objects in space. All these stars are the same age and were formed simultaneously in the galactic primeval soup. Some are 13 billion years old, barely older than the Big Bang. They contain almost no heavy elements because they were formed from extinct stars.
Astrologically, globular clusters stand for the influence of a larger collective on the individual. They represent old social structures and institutions: norms, laws, and traditions that are above the individual. The individual stars are chemically very different from each other. Therefore, they belong to different spectral classes. Astrologically this means more conflict and less unity. On the other hand, there is greater versatility and diversity.
While star clusters host many stars, galaxies do the same on the macrocosmic level. The word “galaxy” means “Milky Way” or “Milk Axis.” Galactic systems are cosmic islands inhabited by billions of stars. They are not visible without large telescopes, with the exception of our neighbour, the Andromeda Galaxy.
Astrologically, galactic systems symbolise collective, spiritual, universal vibrations older than our solar system.
Astronomy therefore provides us with three levels on which we can decipher the meaning of a star:
1. Number one: How old is the star? Was it born recently out of a cosmic gas cloud? The cardinal principle. Is it in its heyday, in which it radiates stably? The fixed principle. Or is it a giant star that will soon dissolve and provide new elements for the next generation of stars? The mutable principle.
2. Secondly: the exciting analogy between the seven spectral classes and the seven chakras.
3. And last, but not least: the form of relationship in which a star lives. Double and multiple star systems emphasise the personal level. Open star clusters stand for loose groups. Globular star clusters symbolise laws, norms, and rules. Galaxies represent universal and spiritual principles.
There is a fourth level that is at least as important for the astrological interpretation and meaning of the stars: the mythological level. Science evaluates facts and makes them usable. These are the first three levels. Mythology prepares these facts for the human psyche and helps us process them. It embeds us into the greater whole of the cosmos. Cross-generational knowledge is created. And of course we should also use these insights for the exploration of the stars. There are countless myths connected with the stars because humankind has projected its longings onto the sky for thousands of years.
Let’s get practical. If we want to know, for example, what the star Antares, the “heart of the Scorpion,” means astrologically, we first collect the astronomical data:
1. Antares is a red supergiant that is currently forming a planetary nebula. So it is in its last third of life. The mutable principle.
2. It belongs to the spectral class M. Topics of the 1st chakra play a role.
3. Antares has a companion. A dance of the two stars lasts 878 years. So it’s a double star system, a couple.
What does that mean, now, if we summarise it to an overall interpretation?
As a binary system, Antares is at home on the personal level, where it introduces the themes of the red and vital root chakra: basic trust and basic instincts that fulfil essential human needs. Because Antares has found security and trust in itself, it is able to feel deeply connected to its counterpart: it is a double star system. On the other hand, the other can also be experienced as dangerous. Everything is done to protect oneself. The lack of inner security is then compensated for via a compulsive obsession with the relationship. As an old star associated with the mutable principle, Antares has much of the famous passage from Goethe’s poem “The Soul’s Yearning”: “And so long as this you lack, this dying and becoming, you will be but a dull guest on the darkling earth.”
Anyone who knows a bit about fixed stars will notice that this interpretation is one-to-one with what can be read in the astrological literature about Antares, but not as fatalistic.
Another example: what could Alcyone, the brightest star of the Pleiades, mean? First the three astronomical data:
1. Alcyone is a young star. So there is a correspondence to the cardinal principle.
2. The spectral class is B. It has an analogy to the 6th chakra, the Third Eye.
3. Alcyone is in the open star cluster of the Pleiades. Therefore it manifests on the social level.
With its association to the Third Eye, Alcyone enables visionary experiences and higher intuition. As a young star, it is connected to the cardinal principle and actively uses its visionary power. It is not worried about the consequences. All this takes place on the social level; it is an open star cluster. It is the mystic who sees a lot and is more interested in the larger dimension than the concrete day-to-day, so it may not be that empathetic in personal contact.
You see what I’m doing here? I’m collecting the astronomical data of a star and transferring it to astrological concepts. “As above, so below” in its purest form! With this principle I can find out the astrological meaning of nearly all the objects of the universe. Then I include them in the overall astrological interpretation via the method of parans or via the projection onto the ecliptic.
This is a good place to stop, but not without looking back. I see stars releasing themselves into space and, because of that, we are possible. But does this huge universe need us at all? From a scientific perspective, we seem to be completely unimportant. But we also should ask our own hearts. The heart will say, “It is good that you are here. This world needs you.” Maybe that’s all. But that’s enough. And if you don’t trust your own heart, then you will surely think of someone who thinks exactly that: “It’s good that you are here.”
We are both meaningless and important. An old rabbi advised his students to always carry two pieces of paper with them. One of them says: “I am dust and ash.” And on the other: “For my sake the world was created.” These two sentences are sufficient.
The fourth Yoga Sutra says that nothing in the universe is unrelated to something else. The world is a family. Nothing is separated. We’re connected to the stars; our heartbeats are connected with the universe. We are all heaven. Everything else is just weather. So we are far more than just the planets, also astrologically. We are recycled stars, children of the universe. We are the part of the cosmos that asks for itself. We all belong together. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if we integrated that into astrology?
I think that’s a nice final point, so I’m stopping here, although, if you get involved with the universe, you’d better give up on trying to find an endpoint. Because thinking about it will never come to an end.
So, a point doesn’t fit after all. That’s why I simply make many points that invite you to think ahead .. …. ... …... – and now I’ll let you go, into our mysterious and magical universe.