As the goddess prepares to disappear from our evening sky, I’m thinking about what we find in the dark
When I first learned Venus, on my astrology chart, was living “in the underworld,” I thought, well, that explains a lot.
When a planet disappeared below the horizon for an extended period, ancient people believed it had gone into the underworld. Like the setting sun, the horizon swallowed it up.
If you’ve been watching Venus lately, in the early evening, western sky, you’ve undoubtedly noticed that she’s getting lower and closer to the mountaintops each night. Soon, she’ll turn retrograde and rapidly move below the horizon — into the underworld once more.
The underworld journey, for any planet, is alchemical, dark and cauldron-like, as if witches are stirring the pot. It’s the moment in the heroine’s journey when she’s reduced to nothing and experiences the dark night of the soul. She relinquishes all control and faces her shadow, doubting she’ll survive.
I’ve confronted my shadow many times. A few times, I even thought I wouldn’t survive. Venus is about to do the same.
Tonight, the crescent moon meets Venus in the western sky for the last time until next September, so feast your eyes and wish her well on her underworld journey. Wish yourself well while you’re at it.
The Feminine, with a capital “F,” is taking a trip into her shadow, addressing what’s hidden and invisible to the eye. She’s going to the dark side to suffer a little death.
In fact, the oldest written story we have in the world tells a mythological tale of Venus and her cycle. It comes from the ancient Sumerians, in modern-day Iraq.
The story begins as Venus rises into the morning sky. The goddess makes the naive choice to go see her sister in the underworld…la-di-dah, no biggie, just a little family visit. Like all hero’s journeys, she has no idea what she’s getting herself into.
As she makes her descent, she passes through seven gates, relinquishing a symbol of her goddess power at each one. By the time she arrives in the underworld, she’s been stripped bare. Her mean, old sister kills her and hangs her body on a meat hook to rot. Olden myths are so gory, but this is how the dark night of the soul feels to us mere mortals, like death and rotting flesh.
With some supernatural help — and a bit of dirt under a god’s fingernails — she is revived and allowed to leave. As Venus crawls back out of the underworld, she reclaims her belongings, via those same seven gates, until she is fully reborn and re-empowered. And then the cycle begins again.
That’s where we are tonight. Venus and the moon meet for the final time in the evening sky. Soon, Venus will disappear, passing between the Earth and Sun, completing her current cycle before being reborn into the eastern morning sky at the end of October — or most likely early November for those of us with high mountains raising our horizon lines. Then she begins a brand-new 19-month cycle, just as she has, again and again, for thousands of years.
I think there’s something here for us, too. We all relinquish pieces of ourselves along the way, sometimes without even realizing we’re doing it. We give them up to belong, keep the peace, meet our obligations, or become who we think we’re supposed to be. Eventually, we can lose sight of who we are underneath all those “shoulds.”
What have you relinquished along the way that you’re ready to reclaim? You may have to face your shadow and why you’ve allowed a pattern to stay in place for so long. What’s been driving your self-abandonment? Hint: it’s probably below your conscious awareness, not something you can just “think” your way out of.
Metaphorical death and rebirth don’t always have to be dramatic or life-shattering. We can intentionally choose completion and renewal, even just a little bit at a time. What’s one small, totally doable thing you can do to begin reclaiming that piece of yourself?
I was born with Venus in the underworld, and given the abuse, trauma, and dark nights I’ve survived, that makes perfect sense to me. Apparently, I came by the whole underworld thing honestly. But Venus doesn’t stay down there forever, and neither did I. We crawl back out, reclaim what belongs to us, and begin again. Not a bad lesson from a goddess hanging on a meat hook.
Sheridan 💫
Moon Sisters Circle, Astrologer, and Astrology for Real Life Coaching