Breakdowns and Breakthroughs (Ages 37–45)
In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods Where the straight way was lost.
It may start from the inside: a deep rumbling that seems to say, “Is that all there is?” Or it may come from the outside in the form of a crisis, such as a health challenge, a death in the family, or the loss of a job or a relationship. Either way, we end up feeling as if a hurricane has blasted through our lives and torn it wide open.
Although it may feel “sudden” and “appear” to come from the outside, if we're honest, we'll realize it's been brewing for a while; at some level, we've become stale and are playing small. Suddenly faced with our own mortality, we are forced to examine who we are and what we want. One thing is for sure: life as we know it will not remain the same, and if we handle it correctly, neither will we. Whether we call “it” a midlife crisis, an identity crisis, or a deadline decade, this is life's most dramatic turning point. It ushers in the second major life cycle.
Somewhere between 35 and 45 if we let ourselves, most of us will have a full-out authenticity crisis.
Midlife is a complex period orchestrated by several planets and spread over a ten-year period from our mid-thirties to mid-forties. The sheer length of time it takes is what makes this period such a game-changer. Unlike the Saturn Return (which isn't exactly a day at the beach), during midlife, Pluto, Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn are all involved, and there isn't a lightweight amongst these planets. The good news (yes, there's good news) is that this is probably the greatest opportunity to break out of our old conditioning and liberate our finest potential. You see, midlife isn't just an event, it's a journey; like any great voyage, it's also an inner process, certain to change us if we pay attention.
A trip becomes “a journey” when you have lost your luggage.
So many great stories share a common theme. The heroine (or the hero) is suddenly thrown out of her familiar, comfortable life and thrust into foreign territory, often with nothing but the clothes on her back. She meets strange and extraordinary characters; some befriend her, others pose real danger, and all of them play an essential part in the story. Along the way, she is given tests that challenge her and adventures that empower her, until eventually she comes back to where she began. Everything is the same, but it is also different, because she has been transformed.
This theme is found in Dorothy's story in The Wizard of Oz and also in Homer's Odyssey, legends such as Parsifal and the Holy Grail, or the myth of Pluto's abduction of Persephone. We find it in Dante's Divine Comedy, Star Wars, Avatar, Harry Potter, and Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir, Eat, Pray, Love.
This tale is the Hero's Journey, and, when told well, it never fails to excite and inspire. It is indeed our story: the eternal journey of coming home to ourselves. As Glinda, the good witch, tells Dorothy at the end of the film, “You've always had the power, my dear; you just had to learn it for yourself.” Yet to awaken that power, we must have the courage to leave what we know and enter the unknown, where nothing is certain, but everything is possible. That is the midlife process, and, just like the Hero's Journey, there are several phases.
I would rather be whole than good.
—Carl Jung
The first stage of midlife is governed by Pluto, the planet of birth, death, and transformation. When we are around the age of thirty-six or thirty-seven, Pluto makes a square (a quarter turn) to its natal (birth) position. It is now time to face whatever we haven't resolved: our core issues, our worst fears, our deepest wound.
It's not unusual to experience a failure, loss, or betrayal that brings us to our knees; or perhaps there is no event, just the slow dawning that the life we're living is not the one we want. Pluto's job is to bring to the surface whatever we have repressed and ignored—all those broken and abandoned parts of ourselves that are buried in our unconscious. We can't change something unless we're aware of it. Pluto makes us aware.
The period in history that coincides with when a planet is discovered tells us a great deal about that planet's character. Pluto was discovered in 1930 at the time of the Great Depression, organized crime, the rise of Hitler—but also the rise of psychoanalysis. In Roman mythology, Pluto (the Greek Hades) ruled the underworld. But let's not forget that all the riches of the world are hidden beneath the ground: gold, water, precious metals, oil, and fossil fuels. Pluto rules wealth and is the god of hidden treasures and hidden talents. On a personal level, our own riches and resources are buried in our unconscious. When Sigmund Freud was asked the definition of psychoanalysis, he replied, “Making the unconscious, conscious.” That's a perfect description of Pluto.
In mythology, Pluto was a dark and menacing figure who rarely ventured above ground; one of the rare times he did was when he kidnapped Persephone, brought her to the underworld, and made her his queen. Her mother, Demeter (the Roman Ceres), was bereft. As she was the powerful goddess of the harvest, she refused to allow anything to grow: no food, no flowers, no babies, no birds. The land remained frozen and barren. As a result, the other gods demanded that Pluto return Persephone.
Eventually, a deal was struck, and Persephone was allowed to return to the “day” world. When she came before Zeus (the Roman Jupiter and king of the gods), he asked her if she had eaten anything down below; as in the underworld, there are strict rules with dire consequences.
Persephone was a smart gal and knew the ropes. She told Zeus that she had not consumed any food during her captivity, but that just before she left, Pluto had shoved a pomegranate in her mouth, and she had swallowed some seeds. It's always the little details that get us in the end. Those seeds changed everything. She was allowed to stay above ground for only half the year; the rest of the time, she had to remain in the underworld with Pluto.
According to the Greeks, this is how the seasons originated. When Persephone was with her mother, the earth flourished, and we have spring and summer; when she was below and her mother grieved, it was fall and winter. But there is a deeper story.
When written in Chinese, the word “crisis” is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other represents opportunity.
Whenever the planet Pluto appears, the ground shifts, our world cracks open, and life as we know it collapses. The planet of “extreme home makeover,” Pluto destroys in order to rebuild. But it's not all doom and gloom. A very important part of the story is that Persephone found her true power and became a whole person in the underworld. She may have gone down an innocent girl, but she returned a queen.
There are other versions of the myth that suggest that Persephone ate some pomegranate seeds of her own volition so that she could remain connected to her new identity and power. Ultimately, this myth teaches us that buried within each crisis is an opportunity, and every death brings new life.
Nothing in life or in nature is meant to stay the same; at this stage of life, we are supposed to experience a situation that forces us to examine our life. This is why Saturn is so critical. If we've done the necessary work at our Saturn Return (taken on a challenge, worked hard, and matured in the process), then we have developed the ego strength and emotional muscle to navigate this part of the journey.
Not Everyone Will Experience a Major Crisis: A lot depends on the quality of our lives and the choices we've made thus far. If we're unhappy, frustrated, and living a lie, then the consequences and the crises will be greater. If we feel pretty good about ourselves and our lives, then what surfaces will be less dramatic. Remember, the planets don't cause the problems; they simply expose them. As the poet Rumi says, “The pot drips what's in it.”
The Pluto Process: Pluto is always an invitation to look deeply and sincerely at what scares us and to have the courage to confront it. Whatever has wounded us that we haven't dealt with tends to surface at this time. It may involve a death—not necessarily a literal death but the death of some part of us, the ending of an old life. It may look like a current situation (we get involved in another abusive relationship, get fired from another job), but generally it refers to an older, deeper issue (perhaps with a parent or authority figure) that the current situation triggers.
Pluto's arrival signals that we are ready to deal with something that we couldn't handle before. We must make our own journey into the underworld (the unconscious) to reclaim those buried parts of ourselves. It is a kind of soul retrieval, a dark night of the soul, or, in the words of poet T. S. Eliot, “A condition of complete simplicity (costing not less than everything).” To its credit, Pluto often brings a guide to help us, frequently in the form of a therapist, spiritual mentor, or teacher.
The Shadow: What psychologists call the “Shadow” describes the unwanted and undesirable parts of our personality that don't fit the idealized image we have of ourselves. Banished to our unconscious, these disowned qualities don't cease to exist; they form a secondary personality. Then we find others to “carry” those parts for us.
For example, the woman who was raised to put other people's needs first and never express her own desires might be highly critical of those women who make their own needs a priority. Pluto has often been associated with the Shadow. This phase of the Midlife Journey is a time to connect with our Shadow. Embracing our Shadow allows us to move toward wholeness. As Carl Jung wrote in Psychology and Alchemy, “There is no light without shadow and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.” We must make the best relationship we can with the worst parts of ourselves.
What Doesn't Work: Being arrogant, defensive, or in denial; blaming others instead of confronting our own issues and dark side. Jung said, “What is not brought to consciousness comes to us as fate.” When we don't take responsibility for what is going on in our lives, we tend to keep attracting the same kinds of events and repeating the same old behaviors.
What Works: Doing deep psychological work: therapy, a shamanic vision quest, breath work, body work, Shadow work, recovery groups, or keeping a journal—anything that puts us in touch with our core issues and supports us working through them. We are birthing ourselves, and it's important to remember that the process is both painful and joyful.
In AA, they talk about “hitting bottom”—sometimes you have to lose everything before the healing can begin. As J. K. Rowling has said, “Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.” You can usually tell when someone has confronted his or her demons and has done honest Pluto work. Like a warrior returning from battle, she or he radiates a certain gravitas and humanity; they are fully present and comfortable in their skin.
Pluto Types: People who have Pluto prominent in their charts (for example, their Sun is in Scorpio or in the 8th house, or Pluto is in aspect with a personal planet or angle of the chart) are intense, powerful, and often intimidating. They are the shamans, psychologists, and rescue workers—not afraid to face the dark side of life. They are also the politicians, power brokers, and drug lords.
How does someone become Plutonian? Not in a weekend workshop or graduate school. Often these people experienced an early loss or betrayal, had a near-death experience, or suffered some kind of trauma. Examples include Martin Luther King Jr., Oprah Winfrey, Hillary Clinton, the Dalai Lama, and Jack Nicholson.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross—a Swiss-American psychiatrist, pioneer in near-death studies, and author of two dozen books—was born with her Cancer Sun in conjunction with Pluto. Her groundbreaking book, On Death and Dying, in which she first introduced her theory of the five stages of grief, was published in 1969 at the peak of her midlife. She didn't learn about the subject of death and dying in medical school—she was the one who introduced it! Kübler-Ross faced the topic while coming of age during World War II, then again later when doing her psychiatric residency in the United States, where she was appalled by the treatment of patients who were dying.
Pluto Wisdom: “Honest misery is far more energizing than perky dishonesty born out of defending something that wants to die.” (Caroline Casey)
Robert Downey Jr.'s career really took off during his Saturn Return; he received glowing reviews for his work in movies such as Air America, Soapdish, and Natural Born Killers, and was nominated for an Academy Award as best actor for Chaplin. Unfortunately, his drug use took off as well.
Between 1999 and 2001, Downey was arrested dozens of times for drug-related charges. He bounced in and out of rehab. He even said to a judge at one point: “It's like I have a shotgun in my mouth, and I've got my finger on the trigger, and I like the taste of the gunmetal.”
Then, during Downey's Pluto period (in 2002), after years of drug abuse, arrests, rehab, and relapse, something finally took hold; he made a full recovery and returned to his career. During an interview with Oprah in 2004, Downey talked about his addictive behavior and failed attempts at rehab. He told her that after his last arrest in April 2001, he knew he would be sent back to prison.
I [finally] said, “You know what? I don't think I can continue doing this.” And I reached out for help, and I ran with it. . . . You can reach out for help in kind of a halfassed way, and you'll get it, and you won't take advantage of it. It's really not that difficult to overcome these seemingly ghastly problems. . . . What's hard is to decide [to actually do it].2
In 2008, at the peak of his Uranus opposition, Downey starred in two blockbusters, Iron Man and Tropic Thunder. Finally, he was able to shed his reputation as a problem and a liability and receive acclaim and acknowledgment as a brilliant and highly respected actor. As of 2016, Downey has remained drug free, and his career has continued to flourish.
Midlife marks the time to begin cultivating whatever was neglected during the first half of life.
—Carl Jung
The second phase or the peak of the Midlife Journey takes place between ages forty and forty-two, when change-at-all-costs Uranus, the planet of freedom, rebellion, and individuation, makes an opposition to its natal (birth) position.
In Greek mythology Uranus, father of the Titans, was different from all other gods. He was not worshiped nor did he have shrines dedicated to him; instead, he represented and personified the sky itself, vast and limitless. Uranus was the first of the outer planets to be recognized; it was discovered in 1781, just after the American Revolution, before the French Revolution, and around the time of the Industrial Revolution.
Called the Great Awakener, Uranus is associated with what's new, different, or outside the mainstream; anything that challenges the status quo and questions authority. It is the planet of breakthroughs and discoveries of all kinds: scientific, technical, artistic, political, and personal—what Abraham Maslow called “peak experiences.”
Uranus has been described as eccentric, electric, brilliant, a genius, an outlaw, and a troublemaker. This maverick takes roughly eighty-four years to return to its natal position, so between years forty and forty-two, Uranus reaches the halfway point. This signals that an old life is over and a new one is about to begin.
Around age forty, we begin to question everything we've been doing; we're restless, eager, and hungry for something we can't even name. Whatever we've put on the back burner during our Saturn years, while we're building a career or raising a family, begins to call out to us—sometimes quite loudly. The person who married early and never dated may suddenly crave freedom; meanwhile, the playboy or playgirl settles down.
At forty-one, Brad Pitt left his storybook marriage to Jennifer Aniston; he began a relationship with Angelina Jolie, started a family, and became increasingly involved in humanitarian work. Angelina filed for divorce from Brad Pitt in 2016 when she was forty-one. Carla Bruni, famous for her jet-setter life and rock star boyfriends (such as Mick Jagger), married French president Nicolas Sarkozy and became the first lady of France.
For many women, it is suddenly essential to get pregnant at this time. For instance, Salma Hayek, Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman, and Mariah Carey all gave birth for the first time between ages forty and forty-two. Other women decide to go back to school or return to the workplace. All of us experience a powerful desire to break free of some situation and find more meaning in our lives.
This can be a confusing time filled with self-doubt and uncertainty, but that comes with the territory; in fact, if we're not feeling like we're falling apart to some degree, then we may be out of touch with ourselves. This aspect has been called the Great Corrector; it is now time to question our choices, our direction, our dreams, and to make the necessary adjustments. If something isn't working in our lives or there's something we haven't explored or experienced, it can no longer be ignored. At midlife, we change our life, our “brand,” sometimes even our sexual orientation. Secrets are told, the truth comes out, and lives are altered for better or worse.
Gail Sheehy published Passages, her record-breaking book about the adult life cycles, during her own midlife. Tina Turner finally divorced Ike. In 1988, at the age of forty-one, Larry David met Jerry Seinfeld, and together they wrote The Seinfeld Chronicles, which became the basis for the hit television show Seinfeld. During her Uranus opposition, in 1994, Oprah took a big chance; she changed her television format and moved from just being another tabloid talk show to one that inspired and uplifted. Ellen DeGeneres came out publicly as a lesbian during her midlife. In 1996, Steve Jobs (at age forty-one) returned to Apple, took control of that company, and brought it back from near bankruptcy to profitability. Chaz Bono underwent female-to-male gender transition.
Between 1999 and 2005, cyclist Lance Armstrong won the Tour de France seven consecutive times. However, in 2012, at age forty-one, he was exposed for having used illicit performance-enhancing drugs and was subsequently banned from competition. The following year, at the last contact Uranus made, a documentary called The Armstrong Lie was released, putting his story back in the spotlight.
The Uranus Process: If we've done the Pluto work—digging deep, facing our demons, and coming to terms with our fears—then authentic impulses, rather than addictions and crazy schemes, will surface during the Uranus phase. The key is to separate our heartfelt desires from our phony impulses. And while the name of the game is change during this time, it's not about changing who we are; it's about discovering who we are.
A Clue: Between the ages of twenty and twenty-one, we experience our first Uranus square. It marks the end of adolescence and our entrance into young adulthood. It's a time to spread our wings and test the waters. This may be expressed in various ways. For some it means getting married and settling down; while for others it involves rebelling. For many, there's a strong desire to find something to believe in, especially if that cause or group clashes with our parents' beliefs. As Howard Sasportas wrote in The Gods of Change, “Finding a world view which differs from that of our family is part and parcel of finding our own identity.”
Often, whatever we've ignored at our first Uranus square at age twenty-one is what calls to us at our Uranus opposition at forty-two. The person who married early and never really dated may feel the burning need to experiment. Someone who has been on an ambitious career path may suddenly discover a desire to get married, start a family, or travel the world. Take a look at what you were doing and feeling at age twenty-one; it can help you understand what's calling you in your early forties.
What Doesn't Work: Freedom-loving Uranus doesn't do well with taking orders, so there's a tendency to rebel and act out. But looking outside provides only temporary change and excitement; going within is the inescapable necessity.
The cartoon version of a midlife crisis is the man divorcing his wife of twenty years, buying a motorcycle, dying his hair, and taking up with a young exotic dancer to regain his lost youth. There are plenty of examples from real life, in the tabloids or on TV. Jesse James, who was married to Sandra Bullock, didn't begin acquiring motorcycles and tattoos at forty-two; he already had plenty of both. His Uranus opposition simply exposed his relationship with a porn star, and that quickly put an end to his marriage.
What Works: Several years ago, Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love and The Signature of All Things) was on Oprah, and she said something I have never forgotten: “Ask yourself every day, what do I really, really, really want?” She stressed “three reallys.” That's a great question at any time in our lives, but especially during this phase.
At its best, Uranus is associated with clear-sighted experimentation and independence. You find something you really want, and you take the risks to make it happen. You may look crazy to others, you may get a lot of negative feedback, but it's essential to be true to yourself. During this time, we may feel as if we're living in Starbucks, overcaffeinated and overstimulated; it's important to channel that energy in a positive way. Some action is necessary; even small changes and baby steps are helpful.
Uranus Types: These are people who have their Sun in Aquarius or in the 11th house or who have Uranus making an aspect to a personal planet or angle of the chart. They are the rebels, the outsiders, the outlaws, and the geniuses who aren't afraid to think—and live—outside the box, to challenge authority and say “no” to power. They are the ones who bring something unique and original to the world. Examples include Sigmund Freud, Walt Disney, Steve Jobs, Steven Spielberg, Bono, and Oprah Winfrey; all of them have Uranus making a close aspect to their Sun.
Uranus Wisdom: “Before the beginning of great brilliance, there must be chaos. Before a brilliant person begins something great, they must look foolish to the crowd.” (I Ching)
Water wears down rock.
—truism
Around this same time, between ages forty-three and forty-four, Neptune enters the picture and makes a square to its birth position. Neptune was discovered in 1846. During that time, ether was introduced as an anesthetic, photography was developed, and the world saw the rise of Spiritualism and séances. Neptune is pure consciousness and is associated with spirituality, dreams, visions, and music, as well as illusion, deception, and addiction.
Pluto is deep and intense; it can shake us at our core. Uranus strikes like lightning; it's sudden and unexpected and can turn our life upside down. Neptune is subtle and silent, yet deceptively powerful; it erodes slowly, washing things away. During a Neptune period, we often feel a deep longing to connect with something greater than ourselves. It is a time for getting in touch with our inner life, exploring a spiritual path, or becoming involved with a cause. It can also be a time of sacrifice, for we must relinquish certain dreams while trying to find a new vision for our future. It's not unusual to feel lost, confused, and adrift; that's Neptune's way of slowing us down.
The Neptune Process: One of my favorite words is sabbatical. It's longer than a vacation, and it's paid for! I think we should all be able to take a long and leisurely sabbatical during midlife, similar to a maternity leave. Unfortunately, for most of us that isn't possible, but we do need to carve out time—down time, soul time, dream time, time to empty out, recalibrate, and evaluate.
What Doesn't Work: Using drugs, alcohol, food, TV, or the Internet to escape, as well as being too busy, constantly overscheduled and over extended, which is another form of distraction. AA suggests that during the first year or two of sobriety, one should not jump into a new relationship, change careers, or make major changes. The same goes for midlife. A time of confusion is not a good time for action. Of course, this isn't the only thing that is going on, but it's necessary to make space for Neptune's energy.
What Works: Three things: surrender, surrender, surrender. Neptune asks us to feel, dream, and listen loudly. Slow down, meditate, and spend time in nature. Keep a dream journal, explore Jungian therapy, paint, or listen to music.
This is not a time to overthink or analyze. Any process or activity that takes you out of your “monkey mind” and into the numinous can be helpful; especially anything that uses symbols such as Tarot cards, Nordic runes, the I Ching, or astrology.
There was a time not too long ago when stores weren't open on Sundays; there were no computers, cell phones, or iPads. Today information is coming at us 24/7; we watch war on TV, shop around the clock, and, thanks to social media sites, we are connected to thousands of people we don't even know. Our culture values action, speed, and results. There is not a lot of support for slowing down, tuning out, and turning inward.
That's Neptune's realm, and sometimes it is really necessary to go there. If we don't do it, we often find less conscious ways to slow down—for instance, getting sick, fired, or addicted. All of these are low-level responses to the need for more solitude and stillness in our life.
In his delightful book, The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere, author Pico Iyer writes about the beauty of slowing down. He notes that many people in Silicon Valley observe an “Internet Sabbath,” turning off their devices from Friday night until Monday morning.
My friend Karol, who entered the convent when she was eighteen, taught me about the “Grand Silence.” It begins at dinner and continues through breakfast the next morning. “We [she and the other young nuns] all knew how to talk, but we didn't know how to listen,” said Karol. “You only find your own voice when you listen. Until you know your own voice, you don't know God's voice or even your own intuition.”
Could you create your own form of Sabbath or Grand Silence? Could you live for a day or even an hour or two without checking your email? It doesn't necessarily have to be a weekend; start with a day or an evening. If you find you can't, then perhaps this is something you need to do.
Neptune Types: People with a strong Neptune have the Sun in Pisces, in the 12th house, or with Neptune in aspect to a personal planet or angle in the chart. They are artistic, dreamy, intuitive, and compassionate; they are the visionaries, musicians, poets, healers, artists, addicts, and fanatics. Michelangelo, Chopin, Edgar Cayce (the Sleeping Prophet), Frida Kahlo, Johnny Cash, and Kurt Cobain are a few examples.
Neptune Wisdom: “We need to return to the solitude within, to find again the dream that lies at the hearth of the soul.” (John O'Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)
I've heard people say that astrology doesn't work; it contradicts itself. Well, guess what? So do we. We're all a mixed bag: brave in some areas and panicked in others; capable of being both generous and mean-spirited. Life isn't tidy; it's complex, messy, and marvelous all at the same time. So is midlife. These different planetary transits overlap; that's part of the reason it is such a dynamic period.
Pluto has the power to expose our deepest fears. Thanks to Uranus, we can feel as if we're mainlining double espressos. Simultaneously, Neptune's influence feels as if we're under a spell and can't move off the couch or let go of the remote! Pluto, Uranus, and Neptune operate differently, but all three are trying to peel away whatever isn't authentic and wake us up to who we really are.
Even cowards can endure hardship; only the brave can endure suspense.
The key is to create space for all the various energies. During midlife, we need to learn to live with paradox, and part of that is being able to tolerate the unknown. In her wonderful book When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chodron wrote about the importance of becoming comfortable in that unsteady place: “The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” If you are not familiar with Chodron and are going through midlife, then this is an ideal time to become acquainted with her work.
At age twenty-nine, we experience our first Saturn Return; twenty-nine years later, at fifty-eight, we have our Second Saturn Return. Around age forty-four, we've reached the middle point between the two returns: Saturn is opposite its natal (birth) position.
Remember, Saturn is a “do something” planet and works best when it is manifesting a project or a plan. There is a strong desire at this time to create something real in the world, or if we're already doing it, then to bring it to the next level. A couple things can happen. If we have made good choices during our Uranus opposition and had the courage to go for something we truly want, then Saturn helps us to anchor those choices in the world and integrate them into our life. In a way, Saturn “locks them in.” Our mid- to late forties is a power time, and this is often a period when we receive recognition for what we've been creating.
Here are some examples: John F. Kennedy became president; Bill Clinton declared his candidacy for president. In 2000, at the peak of his midlife, Bono announced the formation of an organization to advocate debt relief for the Third World. In 2005, during his Saturn opposition, Bono scored a major victory at the G8 Summit (where the eight richest countries met); an agreement was forged to cancel forty billion dollars' worth of African debt.
It's no surprise that Barack Obama's Saturn is in ambitious and demanding Capricorn. He graduated from Harvard (magna cum laude) at his Saturn Return, published his memoir, Dreams from My Father (at thirty-four) and at thirty-five (at his opening Saturn square), he was elected to the Illinois Senate. In 2002 (at the peak of his midlife), he commissioned a poll to evaluate his prospects in a 2004 U.S. Senate race. In March of 2004, Saturn made an opposition to its natal position; he won by a landslide. In July 2004, he gave the keynote address at the Democratic Convention which made him a rising star, but the truth is he had done the necessary Saturn work.
If we haven't done the work or made any positive changes, then this can be a time of frustration. In fact, at this stage, we often become aware of how we have failed. That's not such a bad thing, since becoming conscious of something is the first step toward changing it.
No-nonsense Saturn demands accountability, so it's back to square one. It may be hard, and it may feel lonely, but if we are honest, humble, and willing to do what's necessary, Saturn will support us. Remember, we all have our own individual timing; as they say in AA, “It takes as long as it takes.” You make peace with where you are; you begin again and again, if necessary, and continue moving in the direction of your dreams.
Midlife is not for sissies. It takes tremendous stamina and courage, not to mention compassion for yourself and for the entire scary, sacred, and miraculous process. Ultimately, it's worth it, for it is the deepest work we can do; it is soul work. As Jungian analyst and author James Hollis wrote in his book Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, “Your Self is seeking itself.”
This special Jupiter Return comes during our forties, at a time when we are typically at the height of our powers. This is often a time when we buy a home, make an important investment, or find ways to reward ourselves. If we are still struggling, the wisdom planet can bring mentors and teachers, who can be influential, and ideas that can motivate us.
What did you do as a child that made the hours pass like minutes? Herein lies the key to your earthly pursuits.
—Carl Jung
Carl Jung's story is a great example of the Midlife Journey. In fact, Jung was the first psychiatrist to recognize this phase and write about it. In his late thirties, Jung experienced a major breakthough in midlife. Jung had been Sigmund Freud's protégé and the heir to the psychoanalytical movement; however, Jung was a rebel and a mystic, who used astrology in his practice, studied alchemy and mythology, and believed in the power of dreams. He could not go along with all of Freud's theories; Jung had to be true to himself, even though severing ties with Freud was considered career suicide at the time.
Jung's actions had repercussions, both personally and professionally, and he was shunned by most of his colleagues. In his book Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Jung wrote: “After the parting with Freud, a period of inner uncertainty began for me. It would be no exaggeration to call it a state of disorientation.”
Jung fell into a depression. Rather than go into therapy, he created his own method of treatment; he cut back on seeing patients, and every day after lunch he would spend time in his garden playing with his childhood toy soldiers. Jung remembered that as a young boy, this had given him enormous pleasure, and he used it as a way of reconnecting with something that he had lost. In the evenings, he painted and wrote in a large journal that he called The Red Book. He did not turn away from his inner turmoil; rather, he dug deep, he wrestled with his demons, and over time he healed.
Jung's Uranus opposition (at age forty-one) gave birth to his most important contributions: the discovery of the archetypes and his theory of individuation. As he wrote in Memories, Dreams, Reflections:
The years when I was pursuing my inner images were the most important in my life—in them everything essential was decided. It all began then; the later details are only supplements and clarifications of the material that burst forth from the unconscious, and at first swamped me. It was the prima materia for a lifetime's work.3
Under this same transit, artist Georgia O'Keeffe discovered New Mexico and began spending a part of every year there, finding inspiration under the hard, blue southwestern sky and the whispering ponderosa pines. Laurie Lisle wrote in her biography of O'Keefe: “‘The world is wide here,’ she said about New Mexico in her old age, ‘and it's very hard to feel it's wide in the East.’”4
During O'Keefe's Saturn Return at age twenty-nine, she had her first exhibit in New York City, gained a reputation as an artist, and met and married the photographer and modern art promoter Alfred Stieglitz. Although her career was thriving, something was still calling her. New Mexico became her spiritual home, her creative muse, and the place with which she would ultimately become so deeply identified.
In 1919, at his Uranus opposition, Albert Einstein (then age forty) received validation for his theory of relativity, bringing him worldwide fame. Two years later, he was awarded the Noble Prize for physics. Other examples include Bill Wilson, who, after years of debilitating alcohol addiction, finally achieved sobriety and cofounded Alcoholics Anonymous. Rosa Parks refused to leave her seat on the bus in Montgomery, Alabama, and became the face of the Civil Rights movement. Betty Friedan published The Feminine Mystique and launched the modern feminist movement.
Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.
Since how we navigate this period will determine the second half of life, the stakes at midlife are high. Get it wrong, and either we act out some adolescent fantasy and run the risk of throwing away a marriage or a career, or we do nothing and resign ourselves to a life that's no longer relevant. Get it right, and we're not so much running away from something as going toward it; we break out of a rut, go for something we really want, and we're rejuvenated in the process. If we've made the right choices, then ultimately we're not different from who we once were; we're more authentic and real. Or, as they said in Erhard Seminars Training (est), “I used to be different; now I'm the same.”
The 1991 film City Slickers, starring Billy Crystal and Jack Palance, is the ultimate midlife story. A group of male buddies, all of whom are having midlife crises, go on a cattle drive in the Southwest. They face their worst fears, are pushed to their limits, humiliated, and ultimately transformed. You don't necessarily have to go on a cattle drive, but breaking out of your routine, experiencing something new, different, and difficult is the goal.
For instance, take a bicycle trip through France, hike the Appalachian Trail, volunteer at an animal shelter, do a mediation retreat, or sign up for a writing seminar to jump start that novel you've been dreaming about—anything that shakes you up, wakes you up, and gets the juices flowing.
Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto are referred to as “outer planets.” These distant spheres are too far away to be seen with the naked eye and therefore weren't discovered until we had telescopes. They govern our fate, destiny, and search for meaning.
They also move very slowly, so they occupy the same sign for years and have a lot to do with the generation to which we belong. Because of their slow pace, when they connect to a sensitive point in our charts, they hang around for a while—just to make sure we get the message and do the work.
In his book Cosmos and Psyche, cultural historian and philosopher Richard Tarnas makes an excellent case for Prometheus being a more suitable name for this unpredictable planet. In his opinion, and many astrologers agree, numerous talents and gifts associated with Uranus (sudden changes, spiritual awakening, inspiration, and brilliance) describe Prometheus perfectly. A true rebel and trickster, Prometheus was the Titan who sided with Zeus against Cronos/Saturn and the other Titans. It was Prometheus who stole fire from the gods to give mankind; a brave move that cost him dearly.
Location, location, location! Up until Uranus was discovered, Saturn was the outermost planet; naming the new planet after Saturn's father makes sense in terms of locality and linage but not in terms of temperament. In mythology, Uranus (Ouranos) was not known for qualities such as rebellion and liberation, but having been universally accepted, he is now associated with those traits.
Pluto, the slowest of the outer planets, has an erratic orbit, moving sometimes slowly and then quickly through the signs. In fact, midlife used to begin in our early forties, when Uranus made an opposition to itself, and Neptune squared itself, followed by Saturn's opposition to itself. But then Pluto sped up and joined the party; in fact, it has been throwing the party!
My generation (the Pluto in Leo gang, born 1937–1956) experienced the Pluto square at ages thirty-nine to forty. The Pluto in Virgo cohort (born 1958–1972) experienced it at thirty-six or thirty-seven, which means many of you had to deal with heavy issues at a younger age! Pluto is currently moving more slowly again as it travels through Capricorn; those of you born after 1972 will get the Pluto square at around age forty.
In his inspiring and deeply moving book, The Way of Transitions: Embracing Life's Most Difficult Moments, author William Bridges wrote about the difference between change and transition.
Change is the action that takes place; we change careers, move cross-country, get divorced or married, or have a child.
Transition is the process of coming to terms with change, releasing the way things used to be and adapting to the new way they become. If we don't take the time for transition or if transition is interrupted, then change is not complete, and nothing is really different. According to Bridges, transition is a three-phase process: there is an ending, then what he calls the neutral zone, followed by a new beginning.
Midlife is about transition, and navigating the neutral zone is the key to getting it right. It feels like we are in limbo or what the Jungians call “liminality.” I call it the “hallway,” as in, “One door closes and another one opens, but it's hell in the hallway.”
However, I have found that it's also “holy in the hallway.” Magic happens. You're sitting in Starbucks and discover a magazine with an article that is life changing. Or you have a conversation with someone on a train that sends you in a totally different direction. The neutral zone is a very fertile place, filled with pure potential for those willing to hang out there.
When I was growing up, my mother was fragile and childlike but able to function. Over the years, she began to withdraw more and more; then in her early fifties, she had a serious breakdown. The diagnosis was schizophrenia. Thanks to medication and my father's care, she was able to remain at home. Occasionally, and always in the middle of the night, I'd wonder: What if something happened to my father, who was thirteen years older than my mother, and I had to take care of her? What would I do? How would I manage? My mother was only sixty-seven and not physically ill, but she required supervision.
I didn't think about it all the time, but the possibility lurked in the background. It was my own worst fear. Then it happened. My father suffered a stroke in the summer of 1981. Upon release from the hospital, he went into a nursing home. From the time I was in my twenties, I had supported both of my parents financially and otherwise, but now I had full responsibility for my mother. This was different; this was daunting.
Simultaneously, I was breaking up with my boyfriend, who also happened to be managing my restaurant. Oy vey! Rob had a background in restaurant management and had brought a level of professionalism to my business—or so I believed. Not only was I devastated at being dumped, I was panicked that my staff would walk out with him when he left. Every area of my life was collapsing at the same time. I was living on coffee, running on empty, scattered, and scared as hell.
My parents lived in Great Neck, Long Island, about twenty-five minutes from New York City. Every day I would drive out to check on my mother, to make sure she took her medications and had her meals. Eventually, I hired someone to stay with her during the day, then someone else to be with her at night, but it was still a lot to handle.
On many days, I would drive further out on Long Island to the nursing home to visit my father. This was before the Internet, and there was very little helpful information about elder care; I was really out of my depth. I remember crying in the car while driving to Long Island, crying in the office at my restaurant, crying myself to sleep at night while I prayed what Anne Lamott calls “beggy” prayers: making deals with saints and gods I had only a passing acquaintance with.
The summer passed, then fall. I found someone I trusted to live with my mother full time. My father was still in the nursing home but not doing well. It seemed as if he might die at any moment, so naturally I never took any time off from visiting him. Then one weekend, Stewart Emery was in town doing a seminar; he was the creator of Actualizations, a group whose work I'd been very involved with during the seventies. Initially, I thought that the seminar could be an opportunity for Rob and me to heal our relationship. Yes, I was still hanging on to that relationship, and Rob was still running the restaurant. I'm a double Taurus, and change is not my specialty. It takes the “jaws of life” for me to let go of anything.
I convinced Rob to attend the workshop with me. I was concerned about taking the time to go, but at that point it had been several months since my father's stroke. What were the chances there would be any changes that weekend?
On Friday night, I arrived at the workshop, which was held in a midtown hotel. The lights dimmed for a meditation as Pachelbel's Canon began playing softly in the background. This music has always brought me to tears, and I immediately started to weep. I found myself saying, “I love you” to my father.
When I was a teenager, he'd been extremely abusive and violent toward me, but I had long ago forgiven him. At the hospital, I often told him I loved him, but it wasn't really real, if you know what I mean; I didn't feel it. That night was the first time I meant it. The workshop was powerful for me, but it didn't help my relationship with Rob. He and I broke up for real.
I came home with a splitting headache. I remember getting into a hot bubble bath and sitting in the tub for a long time, ice pack on my head and a glass of vodka nearby, as the tears poured out of me. I went over everything: my relationship, the restaurant, my parents—the entire trauma and drama. Then I started thinking: I know I'm no saint; I'm not easy, I'm insecure, I'm nuts, but I'm not a bad person. I've worked on my issues; I've tried to do the right thing. This went on for quite a while with many refills of hot water and bubbles. I finally said to myself, “You know what, I really like myself. In fact, I love myself.” Wow! That was the first time I was able to say that—ever.
The next day, Monday, I arrived at the restaurant early to do payroll. The first thing I saw was a message on my desk from the hospital (this was before cell phones and texting) to call immediately. It turned out that my father had died on Sunday. It felt as if he'd been waiting—not only for me to say I loved him, but also for me to say it to myself. My first Uranus square (which took place between ages nineteen and twenty) was when I ran off to Europe. I had tremendous anger toward my father, toward men in general, and most of all toward myself. This Uranus period had healed that.
I was desperate to find a new manager, and a friend in the restaurant business gave me some valuable advice. “Look around your restaurant and find the most competent person, preferably a woman. It doesn't matter who; it could be the hat-check girl, a waiter, dishwasher, whoever. Hire her and train her.”
That's exactly what I did. Susan was an assistant chef, a good worker, responsible, and had leadership skills. She became my manager, and she stayed with me until I sold the restaurant thirteen years later. As for my fear that the staff would all follow the boyfriend out the door? It was a nonissue. I got my restaurant back and found my power. Most important of all, I faced my worst fear and survived.
By the time of my Saturn opposition, the restaurant was doing really well, and for the first time I started to make money. I bought a house out on the East End of Long Island, a dream come true. It really was the beginning of a whole new chapter of my life.
Janice worked as a court reporter for twenty years; seven in family court and thirteen in the Supreme Court. Sure, it's nerve-wracking; in fact, a court reporter is the second most stressful job in America; the first is air traffic controller. But the pay is excellent, there's a great pension, and you have a chance to make a ton of extra money selling transcripts to lawyers.
“Nobody ever leaves that kind of job security,” Janice told me. She actually enjoyed the work and loved the security, but eventually the stress got to her. “Going to work on the subway every morning, I would sweat so much I had to stand between the cars to get some air.” She gave her boss notice and left on her birthday. She was forty years old and having her Uranus opposition. She went on to become a successful health professional and eventually a shaman and healer.
My manager, Susan, was really smart, capable, and very loyal. But with her Leo Sun in the public 10th house, she really needed to be working for herself. I sometimes felt as if she were my boss! At the peak of her midlife, she met her future husband, married, and got pregnant immediately. I was just beginning to study astrology, but I remember telling her, “This isn't just about having a baby; with Uranus also hitting all the angles of your chart, I think this is going to influence your career.”
Susan had a terrific voice and loved to sing but didn't want to pursue it professionally. Once her daughter was born, she learned about a program to teach singing to children. She started as a teacher, then bought her own franchise and ended up being successful at it. It brought all of her skills together in work that gave her a lot of joy.
2“The Comeback Kid,” an interview with Robert Downey Jr., www.oprah.com/oprahshow
3C. G. Jung (ed. Aniela Jaffé), Memories, Dreams, Reflections (New York: Vintage Books, 1989), p. 199.
4Laurie Lisle, Portrait of an Artist: A Biography of Georgia O'Keeffe (New York: Seaview Books, 1980), p. 220.