Annual Predictive Techniques of The Greek, Arabic and Indian Astrologers
Annual Predictive Techniques of The Greek, Arabic and Indian Astrologers
Annual Predictive Techniques of The Greek, Arabic and Indian Astrologers
Martin Gansten
ISBN 9781910531419
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without the written
permission of the publisher.
A reviewer may quote brief passages.
Preface
HIS BOOK IS the fruit not only of study and practice, but also of
T stimulating and instructive discussions with a number of people over
the course of years and, in some cases, decades. Special thanks are
due to Konrad Klawikowski, Jeffrey Kotyk, Tommy Larsen and Ola
Wikander, both for extended conversations and for reading the present
work (wholly or partly) in manuscript. The chart illustrations were
produced with João Ventura’s Flatangle application, and I am most
grateful to João for going out of his way to accommodate my special
requirements. I likewise extend my heartfelt thanks to all who gave
permission for their nativities and life events to be shared as learning
exercises. Finally and most importantly, no words can express my
gratitude to my wonderful wife Anna, whose unfailing love and
encouragement sustain me in all things, including the writing of this book.
The cover shows a detail (the rete or rotating part) of an astrolabe. Few
objects so encapsulate the transmission of astronomy-astrology across
cultures as this device. Its Greek name, meaning ‘star-taker’, made its way
first into Arabic and from there into Sanskrit; but the Jain monk
Mahendrasūri – composing the first Indian work on the subject in the
fourteenth century, shortly before Chaucer wrote his Treatise on the
Astrolabe – called it simply yantra rāja: ‘the king of instruments’. The
astrolabe greatly facilitated the casting of accurate horoscopes and the
calculation of directions, two procedures fundamental to the topic of this
book. It thus stands as a reminder both of the interconnectedness of the
horoscopic astrology practised in different epochs and regions of the world
and of the vital significance of attentively applied techniques to the
astrologer’s art.
Symbols used in this book
Contents
Preface
1. An Introduction
PART I: BACKGROUND
Glossary
Bibliography
Index
1
An Introduction
HIS IS A book on practical astrology, a guide to concrete prediction
T written for astrologers by an astrologer. I state this at the outset
because I have also published extensively on the history of astrology
in my capacity as an academic. The present book, while informed by
academic scholarship (others’ as well as my own), is not a neutral
historical study: it affirms that accurate astrological prediction is possible –
indeed, is a learnable skill – and, by implication, that any world view that
does not allow for such a thing is necessarily flawed. But I state this on the
authority of my personal experience rather than that of academic degrees
or affiliations.
As the title says, the book deals particularly with astrological
predictions made for each year of life. It is intended for intermediate
students of astrology and presupposes a basic knowledge of the elements
that go into astrological interpretation: planets, signs, houses and aspects.
If you are already familiar with some form of what is loosely called
‘traditional’ (roughly, pre-nineteenth-century) astrology – Hellenistic,
medieval, Renaissance, or Indian – then so much the better; if not, an open
and curious mind will do.
Annual predictions are what David Pingree (1933–2005), the late
historian of astrology and related subjects, called ‘continuous astrology’,
distinguishing this from ‘the basic natal reading’ and quipping that it was
‘designed to guarantee the astrologer constant patronage’.1 Pingree and
other scholars later extended the concept of continuous astrology to serve
as a blanket designation for any sort of predictive technique. But although
a theoretical distinction can be made between static delineation and
dynamic prediction, in practice they are necessarily interdependent, as will
be clear from a moment’s consideration. Astrology has always been
concerned with the twin questions of what and when, and it is almost
inconceivable that astrological clients of any era would have been content
with wholly undated predictions such as ‘You will marry’ or ‘You will fall
ill’ (to say nothing of ‘You will die’). The continuous unfolding of the
potential inherent in a nativity is an integral part of astrological
interpretation, and as we shall see in the following chapters, year-by-year
predictions have been in use since the earliest times of horoscopic
astrology.
As also indicated by the title, I draw chiefly on source texts in Greek,
Arabic and Sanskrit, applying the methods taught in them to a number of
contemporary example charts. Contrary to what would-be purists might
think, this is not an exercise in modern syncretism or an untraditional
‘pick-and-mix’ approach. Rather, a secondary purpose of the book is to
draw attention to the close historical links that already exist between
regional variants of the single knowledge system that we know as
horoscopic astrology, some of which I have explored in my academic
work.2 Chapter 2 will address this topic in greater detail. I should also
point out that the book by no means covers all predictive techniques found
in ancient and medieval sources: an exhaustive account, if at all possible,
would also be exhausting to author and reader alike. Instead, I present a
conservative selection of core techniques that I have found to work
reliably and that form an organic whole: primary directions, profections,
revolutions and transits.
By what may look like design but is actually a happy coincidence (or
perhaps part of a greater causality), this book follows fairly closely in time
on Benjamin Dykes’s annotated translation of Abū Maʿshar’s (787–886)
Arabic work on annual predictions – a work that did attempt to be, for its
time, exhaustive.3 While I am grateful to have been able to refer in several
places to that translation, it should probably be mentioned that the present
work was well under way before the former came to my attention. In fact,
my personal interest in annual techniques and my academic work on the
history of the Indian Tājika school (which is particularly associated with
such techniques) have developed side by side over the better part of a
decade. Tājika astrology is a Sanskritized version of medieval Perso-
Arabic astrology, and the works of Abū Maʿshar appear to have been
among its major sources, along with those of Sahl ibn Bishr and some
others.
I have divided this book into two parts. The former, shorter part
introduces the basic concepts and techniques of annual prediction and
provides some historical background. The latter part is practical in nature
and consists largely of examples taken from real life, using contemporary
nativities to illustrate these techniques. Although the different layers of
prediction demonstrated in this part are ultimately meant to be integrated,
they have first been presented in separate chapters for pedagogical reasons,
each chapter building on the preceding ones. A particular event connected
with an example nativity may thus be discussed in several of the last four
chapters of the book, in order to demonstrate how to synthesize
increasingly complex information.
In selecting example charts, my ambition has been to provide accurately
timed nativities of ‘ordinary’ people whose lives are known to me or
whom I have been able to interview personally, rather than relying on the
second-hand event reports, and sometimes dubious or contested birth
times, of so-called celebrity charts. Although this policy has admittedly led
to a certain overrepresentation of academics, I do not believe the selection
to be more skewed than the usual fare of actors, politicians and rock stars
found in most astrology books. All nativities discussed have birth times
that are both well-documented and credible, meaning that I have avoided
charts with times that seem suspiciously neat, even if those times are found
in black on white in birth records and thus technically merit an AA rating
by Rodden criteria. Data for all charts are given in Appendix IV; the non-
celebrity charts have been anonymized and are used, for natives still alive,
with permission. Where possible, I have preferred to include multiple
events for a single nativity rather than increasing the number of nativities
used. This is because a single ‘hit’ in any one nativity is more likely to be
coincidental, and I wish to demonstrate that the techniques discussed in
this book do work consistently not just across horoscopes, but over a
lifetime within the same nativity.
When citing or quoting earlier authors, or when I want to refer the
reader to a more detailed discussion of some particular topic, I have given
references in the form of endnotes for each chapter. The endnotes also
state the source of any translations given from the Greek, Latin, Sanskrit,
Arabic or Hebrew; but they contain no additional facts or arguments, and
may be safely ignored unless you actually want to look up a reference (full
publication details of works cited are found in the bibliography).
Translations that are not my own have sometimes been modified in order
to assist the reader by keeping technical vocabulary – such as ‘direction’
for the Greek aphesis, or ‘division’ for the Arabic qisma – consistent
throughout the book (and to correct the occasional misprint). All such
modifications have been duly noted.
Endnotes
1. See Pingree 1973: 120 f.
2. See especially Gansten 2019; Gansten 2020 (both available online under Open Access).
3. Dykes 2019b.
PART I
BACKGROUND
2
The Myth of Western Astrology
In fact, what is wrong about Abū Maʿshar’s history is that it is too simple, representing the
transmission as being linear when in fact the celestial sciences were constantly being
transmitted in appropriate circles, revolving back and forth between the peoples whom he
mentions.
– David Pingree1
There is something wrong with this picture – in fact, several things. For
one, not all the cultures listed in the left-hand column are normally
designated as ‘western’ in other contexts; some of them are actually
routinely contrasted with western culture. To be sure, they are all west of
India; but the vantage point of the people making these lists is rarely
Indian. For another, as stated by David Pingree in the quotation above, the
transmission of astrology did not take place in the linear fashion suggested
by such a list, but rather moved ‘in appropriate circles’. And for a third,
that repeating spiral of transmission certainly included India.
It must be admitted that Indian astrologers, too, and even western
practitioners of Indian-style astrology (known in Sanskrit as jyotiṣa or
jyotiḥśāstra), often perpetuate a historically incorrect view of their system
as being essentially separate and different from ‘western’ astrology.
Several factors seem to contribute to this misconception. Prominent among
them are the choice of zodiacal framework (discussed in Chapter 3); the
cultural and religious contexts in which astrology has been practised in
South Asia; Indian nationalism, rooted in the colonial-era independence
movement; and a mysticizing of the Sanskrit language, with technical
vocabulary that is sometimes claimed to be untranslatable.
The truth of the last matter is that while translation is always an
approximation, particularly across great distances in time or space,
Sanskrit is no less (or more) translatable than Greek or Arabic or any other
language with a long and complex history. With regard to religious
context, astrology, like virtually all traditional knowledge systems in India,
is described in many texts as having been revealed by gods or semi-divine
sages and transmitted through a succession of venerable teachers (the
same, incidentally, is true of many works from the Hellenistic world). In
none of them, however, is jyotiṣa referred to as ‘Vedic’ astrology, a
misnomer that seems to have originated in North America in or around the
1980s. In fact, ‘Vedic’ in some circles has become a fuzzy term of
approval applied to almost any aspect of precolonial Indian culture, so that
we hear of ‘Vedic mathematics’, ‘Vedic music’, and even ‘Vedic cuisine’.
But in that same culture, Vedic (vaidika) was a well-understood technical
term applied only to things or people directly connected with the body of
ancient texts known as the Vedas. In that text corpus there is no horoscopic
astrology at all, although lunar phases and asterisms are used to determine
the proper times of some Vedic rituals.
Far from being the discovery of a single civilization, reverently passed
down through the ages, astrology has thrived most in times and areas of
cultural amalgamation. The Hellenistic era, in which people and ideas
travelled swiftly along routes opened up by the conquests of Alexander
and cultures connected through the Greek language, was one such period.
The spread of Islam resulted in several more, the first of which came about
through the conquest of Persia in the seventh century and subsequent close
contacts with Byzantine civilization. Continued Muslim expansion during
the medieval period, first westwards across northern Africa into southern
Europe and then eastwards into India, brought Latin and Sanskrit traditions
of learning, respectively, into contact with Arabic-language knowledge
systems; and the fall of Constantinople in the fifteenth century caused a
surge of Greek scholars and texts into the Latin west. In more recent times,
European colonialism and world wars, followed by modern information
technology, have led to massively increased globalization. It goes without
saying that all these historical periods and processes are problematic in
many respects; but without in any way condoning military, religious or
political expansionism, it must still be admitted that they have each
contributed to a flowering of astrology as cultures have clashed and
mingled.
While there has thus never been a culturally ‘pure’ tradition of
horoscopic astrology, it is certainly possible to distinguish regional
variants. ‘Western astrology’ might do as a general term for the youngest
of these, present in western Europe for the past millennium or so. We may
then speak of the Indian variants as eastern, and perhaps designate the
Byzantine, Persian and Arabic traditions as ‘central astrology’. Most
importantly, however, we need to acknowledge that these variant traditions
have influenced each other in multiple ways.
Endnotes
1. Pingree 1989: 227.
2. For the concept of karma in traditional Indian versus modern western astrology, see Gansten
2010.
3
Some Technical Basics
HE METHODS PRESENTED in the following chapters rest not only on
T textual sources from several interrelated astrological traditions, but
also on my own practical work with traditional astrology generally
over thirty years, and with primary directions and annual prognostication
for more than a decade. Below I present the technical parameters that I
have found to work best and that will be used throughout the book.
Readers will naturally not want to take my choices as the final word, nor
should they; but if these parameters differ from what you typically use, I
suggest that you at least make a few experiments of your own with them.
You may be surprised by what you find.
Zodiac
The greatest stumbling block for many readers (though not for those
already doing ‘Vedic’ or Indian-style astrology) will no doubt be my use
of a sidereal zodiac. Contrary to what some may think, however, there is
nothing inherently Indian or alien to ‘western’ tradition about a decision to
anchor the zodiac, when used for astrological purposes, to the fixed stars
rather than the changing seasons. The zodiac – complete with the planetary
terms that will play a major role in chapters to come – originated in
Mesopotamia, where it was defined with reference to the stars, that is,
sidereally.1 Babylonian astronomer-astrologers did employ a division of
the zodiac into twelve equal parts beginning with the vernal equinox,
which is useful for its constant relation to the seasonal rhythms and the
symmetrical rising times of its twelfth-parts; but they explicitly defined
that equinox as being offset from the beginning of Aries by a certain
number of degrees.
The tropical division of the zodiac, beginning with the equinox, was for
several centuries confined to calendric and astronomical procedures. This
was true even after Hellenistic astronomers began equating the equinox
point with 0° Aries. The first author of any surviving work to suggest that
the tropical definition be adopted for the purpose of astrological
interpretation was Claudius Ptolemy.2 By contrast, his contemporary
Vettius Valens, also writing in Alexandria in the second century CE, makes
it clear at the beginning of his work that he uses a zodiac offset from the
equinox by some degrees:
Aries is by nature watery, with thunder and hail. From its first degree to the equinox, it is
stormy, full of hail, windy, destructive. The middle degrees up to 15° are mild [and
fruitful; the following degrees are hot and cause plagues] of animals. This sign has 19
bright stars. On the belt are 14 bright stars, 27 dim, 28 somewhat bright, and 48 faint.3
Ptolemy’s opinion became widely popular only centuries after his death,
and the Persians and Indians, who had adopted horoscopic astrology from
the Hellenistic world at an earlier period, preserved the sidereal
framework. (The tropical definition of the zodiac was still used for
astronomical and calendric purposes, a point that has confused some
modern proponents of ‘tropical Vedic’ astrology.) Early Arabic-language
astrologers such as Māshāʾallāh and Sahl ibn Bishr, who relied largely on
Persian sources, likewise used sidereal parameters.4 This specifically
means that the lore of annual revolutions or solar returns, the subject
matter of this book, developed in a sidereal setting – a fact rarely
acknowledged by modern western practitioners of traditional astrology,
who tend simply to transpose the methods described by these authors to
the tropical zodiac which they consider to be the norm.
This is not a book on the history of the zodiac, so suffice it to say that
knowledge of precession was by no means universal among astrologers in
Hellenistic times and Late Antiquity, and that many blithely continued in
their writings to relate the zodiacal signs both to the fixed stars and to the
seasons. This was also a time when the difference between tropical and
sidereal positions amounted only to a few degrees and was often within the
error margin of the formulae used to calculate planetary positions in the
first place. (Some astrologers believed in the theory of trepidation, a back-
and-forth movement which meant that the difference would never be
greater than 8° either way.) Today, however, we must choose: the
difference between the two zodiacs is now some 24°–25° and increasing.
The exact precessional value (or ayanāṃśa, to use the Sanskrit term,
frequently employed even outside Indian contexts) is a matter of some
contention among astrologers, just like other variables such as house
division or aspect orbs; but the difference between the most commonly
used values is no more than a degree or two – a very modest figure
compared to the discrepancy between house systems! I have experimented
with several values over the years but keep returning for reasons of
predictive accuracy to the Krishnamurti ayanāṃśa, which has been used
for all charts in the book. (Readers who attempt to recreate charts with
their preferred software may still find a small difference in the longitude of
the Moon, which has been corrected for parallax throughout as discussed
in Chapter 6.)
Houses
All charts have also been calculated using the quadrant house system
known today as Alcabitius, which was the method most commonly used
by medieval Arabic and European astrologers; the earliest preserved
description of it, found in the work of Rhetorius, probably dates from the
fifth or sixth century.5 Alcabitius cusps are quite close to the so-called
Porphyry system which was used in Hellenistic times and is described by
Vettius Valens, who attributes it to an earlier author named Orion.6 (In
India, the Porphyry system is named after the eleventh-century author
Śrīpati, who used its cusps as midpoints of the houses – as did the third-
century Hellenistic astrologer Pancharius, though whether a historical link
exists between the two is not known.) Very occasionally I refer to equal
houses, which are simply thirty-degree segments of the zodiac counted off
from the ascendant degree. The cusps of the equal houses thus all
correspond to that of the first house and need not be separately marked.
Ptolemy, Valens and the fourth-century Roman astrologer Firmicus
Maternus all describe this system.7
Because they use the astronomical midheaven or meridian, quadrant
house systems relate to the daily rhythms of rising, culminating and setting
(the equatorial coordinate system). Equal houses, on the other hand, relate
to the aspectual relationships of the signs (the ecliptical coordinate
system). These are both valid astrological considerations, and both seem to
have contributed to the traditional significations of the houses. It is
therefore not surprising if both systems should be able to offer useful
insights in the practical work of chart interpretation. The challenge lies in
teasing out the symbolic logic of any particular signification: does the fifth
house relate to children because it follows the lower midheaven (imum
caeli, IC) or because it is configured with the ascendant by a trine aspect –
or perhaps both?
Whole-sign houses – which simply equate the rising sign with the first
house, the next sign with the second house, and so forth, irrespective of
degrees – have become increasingly popular among present-day
astrologers interested in traditional techniques. Although I do not doubt
that this approach was often used in antiquity (as it still is in India), it is
never, to my knowledge, actually prescribed by any ancient author. It is,
however, criticized by several, and I believe that it was always more in the
nature of a convenient approximation than a system. Furthermore, it may
not have been quite as common as its modern proponents like to think:
statements and example charts claimed as evidence of whole-sign houses
in fact often agree just as well with an equal-house system, so that it might
be best to keep an open mind on the intentions of the ancient authors. Even
the concept of ‘a sign’ is not always clear-cut: like ‘degree’, it was
sometimes used by ancient authors in a discrete sense (the signs being
Aries, Taurus, etc.) and sometimes as a unit of measurement – in this case,
consisting of thirty consecutive degrees. Astrologers still use the word
‘sign’ in this way today, as when we say that a planet at 7° Taurus is
exactly one sign ahead of a planet at 7° Aries. We see an example of the
same usage in Firmicus Maternus’ treatment of the houses:
The second place from the ascendant is located in the second sign and takes its beginning
from the 30th degree from the ascendant degree and extends its powers through 30
remaining degrees. […] The third place is that which is placed in the third sign from the
ascendant, which takes its beginning from the 60th degree from the ascendant degree and
leaves off at the 90th degree. […]8
Aspects
The classical aspects mentioned above – sextile, square, trine and
opposition, in addition to the conjunction – are the ones recognized by the
Greek, Arabic and Tājika traditions and used in all examples. The variant
aspect system found in pre-Islamic Indian astrology on the one hand, and
the so-called minor aspects that have existed in western astrology for the
past four centuries on the other, are not included. When an aspect is within
one degree (60 minutes of arc) of perfecting its ideal angle, such as 120°
for the trine, it is called partile; when it is in the process of perfecting but
not yet partile, applying; and when in the process of moving away from
that angle, separating. The orbs of light of the planets, that is, the margins
within which they are considered to form their aspects, are listed in
Appendix I.
A distinction is made between the two sextiles, squares or trines that
each planet casts forward and backward in the zodiac: they are known as
dexter and sinister, or right and left, respectively. This terminology can be
slightly confusing, as an aspect usually exists between two planets, both of
which ‘behold’ the other (the literal meaning of aspect). If the Moon in
Pisces is applying to Venus in Taurus, then the Moon is casting a left-hand
sextile to Venus while Venus is casting a right-hand sextile to the Moon –
meaning that the Moon is at the right-hand or dexter end of the aspect. The
planet at the dexter end – that is, the one sending its aspect forward in the
order of the signs, in this case from Pisces through Aries into Taurus – is
usually considered to have the upper hand in the aspect configuration and
is said to cast a superior aspect. The superior square has been regarded
since ancient times as a particularly powerful, dominating aspect.
Endnotes
1. For the Mesopotamian origins of the terms, see Jones and Steele 2011.
2. See Ptol. Tetr. I 10, transl. Robbins 1940: 59–61.
3. Vett. Val. I 2,3, transl. Riley 2010: 2. Emphasis added.
4. For Māshāʾallāh, see Chapter 5 below (note 8). For Sahl’s use of the Sassanian sidereal zodiac,
see Dykes 2019a: 7 (note 13).
5. See the translation and comment in Holden 2009: 211–214. For the dating of Rhetorius, see
Gramaglia and Dykes 2017: 25–29.
6. See Vett. Val. III 2, transl. Riley 2010: 59.
7. See Ptol. Tetr. III 11,3, transl. Robbins 1940: 273; Vett. Val. IX 3, 21–25, transl. Riley 2010:
154; Firm. Mat. II 19, transl. Holden 2011: 65–68. 8.
8. Firm. Mat. II 19,3–4, transl. Holden 2011: 65 (translation slightly modified).
9. See Anon. Quad. 1559: 109.
10. See Gansten 2018 for details.
4
Ptolemy’s Predictive Package
SUBSTANTIAL PART of the predictive techniques discussed by
A astrological authors of Late Antiquity, the Islamic Golden Age and
the European High Medieval period can be traced back to a single,
surprisingly short text. To an even greater extent, the same is true of the
techniques used from the Renaissance, when the Latin west began its
rediscovery of Greek language and literature, up to the nineteenth century.
(For reasons not yet fully known, but probably related at least in part to an
early break in transmission, the Indian Tājika tradition preserved only
parts of the Graeco-Arabic heritage.) The source text in question is the
final chapter of Ptolemy’s Apotelesmatics, better known as the Tetra
biblos.
In that brief chapter, Ptolemy outlines the techniques known today as
primary directions, profections and transits against the backdrop of a
division of life into seven ages assigned to the planets, and discusses how
they relate to each other. Partly similar descriptions of these techniques are
given by other authors – notably Dorotheus, who lived a century before
Ptolemy and was a major source for Perso-Arabic astrology generally,
although it is sometimes difficult to say with certainty whether a particular
doctrine derives from him: with the exception of a few fragments, the
Greek text of Dorotheus’ verse work has been lost, and only an
interpolated second-hand translation in Arabic (via Persian) survives.
Occasionally, later Greek authors paraphrase Dorotheus in prose, but in
doing so they often mix his teachings with those of others, including
Ptolemy.
Not because I regard Ptolemy as uniquely authoritative, but rather
because his concise account has been so influential, the present chapter
will be structured around it, adding technical and historical details as
needed. The next chapter will then introduce the annual revolution or solar
return chart, which is not mentioned by Ptolemy but was soon added as
another layer to his hierarchy of prediction. Finally, the second part of the
book will demonstrate the practical use of these techniques in order, each
chapter building on the preceding one and using numerous examples
drawn from real life.
The universal division of life into seven ages did not play as important a
part in later tradition as did the other techniques, and it will not be used in
the examples. Briefly stated, the rulerships of the ages are assigned to the
planets in order of apparent velocity so that the Moon rules the first four
years of life, Mercury the next ten up to age 14, Venus the eight up to 22,
the Sun the nineteen up to 41, Mars the fifteen up to 56, Jupiter the twelve
up to 68, and Saturn the remainder of life. In Persian tradition this system
appears at some point to have been replaced or at least complemented by
another arrangement of planetary periods and subperiods similar to the
daśā systems of Indian astrology and known as fardār or firdār (a word of
uncertain meaning, though some believe it to be of Greek origin and
related to period). Below, however, we shall restrict ourselves to the
combined use of directions, profections, revolutions and transits, which
form a well-integrated whole and a solid foundation for annual predictions.
Primary directions
The individualized part of Ptolemy’s predictive system begins with the
aphesis (‘sending out, releasing’) or direction of the most important
significators, which he takes to be the two chief angles (the ascendant and
midheaven), the two luminaries (the Sun and Moon), and the Lot of
Fortune (always calculated according to the formula which other authors
use chiefly for daytime nativities: measure the distance from the Sun to the
Moon in the order of the signs and add the same distance to the ascendant).
Ptolemy relates the ascendant especially to the body and journeys; the
midheaven to actions, friendship, and having children; the Sun to dignities
and glory; the Moon to mental states and marriage; and the Lot of Fortune
to property. While some of these assignations are open to debate,
Ptolemy’s main point is well taken: life is typically a mixture of good and
bad, and no single direction can be expected to reveal the quality of all
facets of life at any given point in time.
One may, for example, lose a relative and receive an inheritance, or at once be prostrated
by illness and gain some dignity and promotion, or in the midst of misfortune become the
father of children, or have other experiences of this sort which are apt to occur.1
On the rare occasions when all of life seems either glorious or gruelling,
says Ptolemy, all or most of the significators will be found to be
simultaneously under the influence of the benefics or the malefics,
respectively. We should note, however, that Arabic-language authors place
particular emphasis on the directions of the hīlāj or hyleg (the chief
significator of life, determined according to complex rules that differ
somewhat from author to author) and of the ascendant. ʿAlī ibn Abī r-Rijāl
wrote in the eleventh century:
Indeed, one should perform the athazir [at-tasyīr, direction] of the degree of the ascendant
whether it be the hylech [hīlāj] or not, because from it the condition of the native is known
with respect to his body, and to his health or infirmity: for it is the significator of life and
the soul.2
We can see from these examples how the combination of same two planets
is often interpreted quite similarly irrespective of which is the divisor and
which the promissor (participating by aspect or conjunction). In the
present case, the suggested interpretations either way have the themes of
love, marriage and children (Venus) commingling with those of discord,
death and grief (Saturn).
Profections
The promissors and divisors are what Ptolemy calls general or universal
chronocrators: they provide the most fundamental layer of interpretation,
and their influence can last for many years. The next layer in his predictive
hierarchy comprises the annual chronocrators, which are found by the
much simpler technique known since early modern times as annual
profections: a significator is simply moved forward in the zodiac by one
sign per year, thus completing a round of the zodiac every twelve years, at
ages 12, 24, 36 and so on. The ruler of the sign of the year in question is
the ruler of that significator in that year. The Persian and Arabic
astrologers especially emphasized the profections of the ascendant, just as
they did its directions, and called its domicile ruler ‘the ruler (or lord) of
the year’.
The word profection looks as if it had been derived from the Latin verb
proficio ‘to advance’ or proficiscor ‘to set out’, and modern-day
astrologers typically accept this etymology when they think about it at
all.13 The Greek phrase used by Ptolemy, however, is tou sunteleioumenou
zōdiou ‘of the sign being reached at the end’, which exactly matches the
meaning of the standard Arabic terms burj al-muntahā and burj al-intihāʾ
found in works that were later translated into Latin.14 (In the Tājika
tradition, the same Arabic designations were Sanskritized as munthahā or
munthā and inthihā or inthā, respectively.) Giuseppe Bezza’s hypothesis
that the original Latin translation from the Arabic was perfectio, in the
sense of a motion being concluded or completed, and that profectio is the
result of a misreading (the scribal abbreviation for per- being interpreted
as for pro-), is therefore almost certainly correct.15 Despite this, the
conventional term ‘profection’ will be used throughout this book to avoid
confusion.
Whereas Ptolemy’s treatment of profections is limited to a few
sentences, his contemporary Vettius Valens describes his own approach to
the system (which he calls paradosis ‘transmission, handing over’) in great
detail over three of his nine books. Valens accepts many significators,
including the non-luminary planets, although the angles, luminaries and
chief lots are the most important. A major difference between his view and
Ptolemy’s is that Valens regards any planet in the sign of the profection –
natally or, if there is none, by transit at the revolution of the year – as more
significant than its ruler. This approach means that any planet can follow
any other as annual chronocrator of a given significator, without the
restrictions imposed by the scheme of domicile rulerships – where, for
instance, Mars can only be followed by Venus or Jupiter, because Aries is
followed by Taurus and Scorpio is followed by Sagittarius. Valens places
great importance on noting which planet ‘hands over’ to which, giving
interpretations for each such combination.16 If the two planets involved are
configured by aspect or conjunction in the nativity, that configuration will
be activated at the time of the transmission.
Valens also addresses the fact that the same profections to the nativity
repeat every twelve years, and suggests that similar events do tend to occur
as a result of this – similar, but not identical, because the higher-order
chronocrators, the transits, and the ‘recasting of the nativity’ (discussed in
our next chapter) will be different. The more the planets at the revolution
of the year mirror their configurations in the nativity, either by transits to
natal positions or by transiting planets repeating the same aspects between
themselves, the more certain the expected results. Similar points are made
in the extant Arabic version of Dorotheus and by medieval Arabic authors,
who emphasize the importance of repetition for a planet in the sign of the
profection to manifest its results in the year. If, for instance, the annual
profection reaches the sign where Mars was in the nativity, and Mars by
transit at that time had either returned to the same sign or was aspecting it,
the results expected from Mars would be more likely to occur, particularly
if the nature of the aspect agreed with the nature of the expected event. We
shall return to this principle below; for now, we may just note that the
transits of some planets at the revolution of the year will vary more than
others. The Sun by definition always returns to its natal sign and degree;
Mercury may move as far away from its original position as a sextile by
sign (though not by degree); and Venus may achieve a square at most.
Transits
The final layer of Ptolemy’s hierarchy is transits, sometimes called
ingresses, which he says ‘play no small part in the prediction of the times
of events’. Transits are, of course, the first (sometimes the only) predictive
technique encountered by students of modern astrology, but they were
used rather differently in earlier forms of the art, where they depended
largely on other methods of prediction.
Ptolemy particularly relates the transits of Saturn to the ‘general places
of the times’, that is, the places of directed significators; Jupiter to the
‘places of the years’ or annual profections; the Moon to the daily
profections; and the remaining planets to the monthly profections.
Ptolemy’s idea is clearly to connect the slowest-moving transits with the
slowest-changing chronocrators and so forth; but we may be justified in
asking whether the transit of malefic Saturn is really the best tool for
timing the result of a favourable direction, or that of benefic Jupiter for
timing an unfavourable profection. Moreover, as Jupiter transits the zodiac
in just under twelve years, it practically moves in tandem with the
profections: if Jupiter was in the third sign from the ascendant of your
nativity, its transit will be in or near the third sign from your profected
ascendant throughout your life.
Ptolemy also states that the natal configurations of a planet with a
significator will affect the results of its transit relative to the same place. If
they were in harmonious aspect in the nativity, a harmonious transiting
aspect will give favourable results, but a transiting opposition will be
unfavourable. If they were not harmoniously related in the nativity, and are
also of opposite sect, then a transiting square or opposition will be
unfavourable, but not the other aspects. This seems slightly slanted
towards the negative.
More useful advice on transits, in my opinion, is found in other ancient
and medieval authors, who give particular importance to two principles:
paying attention to the chronocrators – that is, the planets already activated
by direction and profection – and noting the transits at the revolution of the
year, when rulership of the profection is handed over from one planet to
another. In the context of summarizing Dorotheus’ teaching on transits, an
excerpt attributed to Stephanus the Philosopher (eighth century?) states:
It is not necessary to examine the transits of all the stars, but only those of the
chronocrators, or those of the encountering [star] and of the ruler of the terms. For
Ptolemy says that whenever the same [stars] should rule both the times and the transits, the
outcome is unmixed. And we, persevering in constant trials, find that the same transits
contribute greatly to the outcomes of the periods, not only when the stars arrive in the
places having authority over the fixing, but also in the place of the times found from the
circumambulation. For we also find the great Ptolemy assuring us of this in the 2nd and 3rd
and 4th book of the Apotelesmatics [that is, Tetrabiblos].17
In this context, ‘stars’ means the moving stars, that is, the planets;
circumambulation (peripatos, literally ‘going around’) is a synonym of
directions; and the encountering star is the promissor that a significator
encounters as it makes its way around the nativity. The ‘fixing’ (pēxis)
seems, from a comparison with other Greek sources, to mean the nativity
itself (corresponding broadly to the Latin term radix or ‘root’ chart).
Transits of the chronocrators and to the places of the directed significators
form a cornerstone of the method propounded in this book and will be
illustrated by detailed examples in its second part. The use of transits as a
timing technique within a single year of life is discussed in Chapter 9.
Endnotes
1. Ptol. Tetr. IV 10,15, transl. Robbins 1940: 449.
2. Abenragel 1551: 157. My translation via the Latin.
3. For the latter amendment, see al-Qabīṣī IV 12, transl. Burnett et al. 2004: 127.
4. Transl. Burnett and al-Hamdi 1991/92: 321–322.
5. Transl. Dykes 2019b: 318 (translation modified).
6. Transl. Burnett and al-Hamdi 1991/92: 331.
7. Transl. Dykes 2019b: 325 (translation modified).
8. See Dykes 2019b: 332 ff.
9. See Opusculum IV 10, transl. Hand 1994: 89 f.
10. See, for instance, Lilly 1647: 784 (where the terminology is used in a secondary sense, with
reference to profections rather than directions).
11. Karmaprakāśa 13.1–3. My translation from the Sanskrit.
12. See Albubather 14, transl. Dykes 2010: 136 f.
13. See, for instance, Dykes 2019b: 37.
14. Ptol. Tetr. IV 10,20, transl. Robbins 1940: 453.
15. See Bezza 1996.
16. See Vett. Val. IV 17–25, transl. Riley 2010: 84–90.
17. See CCAG 2: 198. My translation from the Greek.
5
The Annual Revolution (Solar
Return)
HE USE OF annual profections, in which the rulership of a significator
T such as the ascendant was handed over from one planet to the next
once a year, and the attention given to planetary positions by transit
at the time of this handover – the revolution of the year – eventually gave
rise to the practice of casting an entire new chart for each year of life. The
historical details of this development are still largely unknown. The extant
Arabic version of Dorotheus (the lost Greek original of which dates from
the first century CE) does not mention a separate revolution chart but states
that a new year of life begins ‘when the Sun enters the beginning of the
minute in which he was on the day the native was born’.1 Vettius Valens
in the second century CE speaks of a ‘recasting of the nativity’ (anti
genesis) which clearly is a separate chart, but one with a symbolic rather
than an astronomically true ascendant degree:
We consider the recasting of horoscopes to be essential because the recasting contributes
greatly to the temporal interchange of the chronocrators. Sometimes the recasting
increases the strength of the results, sometimes it is indicative of delays in the results.
After we calculate precisely the positions of the stars on the birth date in the current year,
we will find the Ascendant as follows: while the Sun is still in the natal sign, we examine
where the Moon was then and when the Moon will come to the exact same degree where it
was at the nativity, and we call that point the Ascendant.2
The Indian Tājika texts offer indirect evidence from the opposite side, as it
were: although the tradition as a whole is explicitly sidereal, some
practitioners were aware of the existence of tropical practices. One of the
more well-informed authors seems to have been Yādavasūri, who may
have lived in the early 1600s and who occasionally criticized his fellow
Brahmans for ‘not understanding Yavana [i.e., Muslim] tradition’.12 In his
Tājika yoga sudhānidhi or Nectar Ocean of Tājika Configurations he
wrote concerning the profection (inthihā):
When precession has been added to the ascendant of the nativity, the ruler [of the sign]
where the inthihā [falls] is the ruler of the year. If it is a benefic, one should declare the
result to be good; if a malefic planet, it is not auspicious. That [method] is approved by
Romaka.13
Endnotes
1. Carm. astr. IV 1,1, transl. Dykes 2017: 197.
2. Vett. Val. V 3,3–6, transl. Riley 2010: 97 (translation slightly modified).
3. See Burnett and Pingree 1997: 1–9; Dykes 2019a: 27–32.
4. For an example, see Lib. Arist. IV 15, transl. Dykes 2009: 210.
5. See Lib. Arist. IV 1,2, transl. Dykes 2009: 185; Burnett and Pingree 1997: 196 f.; Hāyanaratna
1.6, transl. Gansten 2020: 111–117.
6. See Hāyanaratna 1.6, transl. Gansten 2020: 119–123, discussing Tājikasāra 41 and
Tājikabhūṣaṇa 1.8–9.
7. Sefer ha-Moladot IV 1, transl. Sela 2014: 183 f.
8. Liber de rationibus tabularum; see Sela 2014: 341.
9. See Dykes 2019b: 5 f., 74 f., 157 f., 632.
10. See Dykes 2019b: 3 ff.
11. Junctinus 1581: 1012. My translation from the Latin.
12. For Yādavasūri, see Gansten 2017: 125–128 (correcting some mistakes of Pingree’s).
13. Tājikayogasudhānidhi 8.29. My translation from the Sanskrit (manuscript sources; no known
editions).
14. no known editions. I have seen only the incomplete manuscript Chandra Shum Shere d. 805 of
the Bodleian Library.
15. See Astr. Gall. XXIII 4, transl. Holden 2002: 7 ff.
16. See Dykes 2019b: 187 f.
17. See Dykes 2019a: 52–71. note that Dykes’s translations of several technical terms differ from
those employed here.
18. First discussed by Gansten and Wikander (2011); see also Gansten 2020: 23–26.
19. See Carm. astr. IV 1,22–34, transl. Dykes 2017: 200 f.
20. See Dykes 2019b: 424 f.
PART II
Practice
6
Primary Directions in Annual
Prediction
[Astrologers] know future events on the basis of their craft; this is so because they are
knowledgeable about how to cast natal horoscopes, about how to direct the degrees
along the terms and along the aspects of the planets and the two luminaries, and about
how to cast the horoscope at the revolution of the year, month, week, and day.
– Abraham ibn Ezra1
Figure 2: Nativity I.
After completing his secondary education at age 18, the native spent a year
living in a religious commune before enrolling at university, where he did
religious studies. At this time the ascendant was directed through the terms
of Mercury (0°–7°) in Capricorn. In addition to being a universal
significator of learning, Mercury rules the ninth house of religion and
knowledge; it also forms a separating but still close sextile aspect with
Jupiter, which has a natural affinity with the same topics. As the native
began his university studies, the midheaven – significator of occupation –
was exactly directed to this same sextile of Jupiter, at the end of Mercury’s
terms in Scorpio.
The same two planets continued to exert their influence over the next
period in the native’s life, with a slight shift in emphasis. As the ascendant
entered the terms of Jupiter (7°–14°) in Capricorn at age 22, and the
midheaven reached the conjunction of Mercury (which falls in the terms of
Jupiter at 19°–24° of Scorpio), the native relocated to a university in a
neighbouring country and changed his focus of study to ancient languages
for two years. Both planets rule houses related to travel (the third and
ninth); the seventh, ruled by Mercury, is also commonly associated with
foreign countries. And of course Mercury is a universal significator not
only of learning generally but especially of spoken and written language.
Soon after the native had returned home to complete his undergraduate
studies at the age of 25, the ascendant reached the conjunction of Venus
without latitude, followed immediately by the terms of Venus (14°–22°) in
Capricorn. Venus is the universal significator of love and marriage but also
rules the tenth house of profession. In this period, the native met and
married his first wife and embarked on his future career by entering the
doctoral programme at his university. Four years later, at age 29, the
successful completion of his doctorate brought a rise in status and
professional prospects. Although the ascendant at this time was directed
through the terms of Saturn (22°–26°) in Capricorn, it was also conjunct
both the benefics (Venus and Jupiter) – with latitude, or what I have called
‘co-rising’ directions – in the same period, largely overshadowing the
negative significations of Saturn.
This happy event was followed by a less prosperous period, with lack
of employment and strained finances, as the ascendant was directed
through the division of Mars (26°–30° Capricorn) at age 29–30. Mars, the
malefic contrary to sect, rules the fourth house of parents, and the same
period saw the native’s mother ill with cancer as the ascendant
encountered the opposition of the Moon, universal significator of the
mother. (Once more this was a direction with latitude, strikingly different
from what might be expected just from looking at the two-dimensional
chart because the Moon’s latitude was unusually great and the place of
birth far removed from the equator.) The Moon itself was directed through
the terms of Mars, first in Libra and then in Scorpio.
One of the most fortunate periods of the native’s life was age 34– 35,
when the ascendant was directed through the terms of Jupiter (13°– 20°) in
Aquarius while the Sun (luminary of the sect, and the presumed hyleg)
conjoined both the benefics with latitude within a year. Jupiter is a
universal significator of children and conjunct Venus, ruler of the fifth
house; the native’s only child (a daughter) was born in this period. Soon
afterwards, the midheaven was directed to the conjunction of the Sun: at
this time the native was awarded the academic rank of docent and a
prestigious, though not permanent, university position.
By contrast, the direction of the ascendant through the terms of Mars
(20°–25°) in Aquarius, coinciding with age 36, was described by the native
as ‘hellish’. In addition to the natural maleficence of Mars, Mercury as
ruler of the seventh house of marriage casts a square aspect into these
terms. This was the year in which the native’s marriage finally broke down
despite his many attempts to save it, following a prolonged deterioration in
his wife’s mental health (the mind being another signification of Mercury).
As the ascendant moved into the terms of Saturn (25°–30° of Aquarius) at
age 37, a divorce petition was filed and eventually finalized, with the
native given sole custody of his daughter. Saturn, which has a little
southern latitude, is exactly on the western horizon, the cusp of the seventh
house, in the nativity.
A major improvement in the native’s situation occurred at the end of
the divisional period of Venus (0°–12°) in Pisces, once the ascendant had
passed the square of Saturn at age 40. At this time the native entered into a
new romantic relationship just as the Moon was directed to the sextile of
Venus. The Moon is a universal significator of women, and Ptolemy
particularly recommends directing it for predictions relating to marriage.
As the ascendant encountered the other sextile of Venus in the terms of
Jupiter (12°–16°) in Pisces, the native formally remarried at age 41.
At age 42, the ascendant entered the terms of Mars for the second time
in less than six years, now in Pisces (19°–28°) and with a trine rather than
a square from Mercury falling in them. At this time the native’s parents
transferred ownership of a rural property to him, a positive event that
agrees with Mercury occupying the eleventh house of acquisition and Mars
ruling the fourth house of both home and parents. However, as the
ascendant – still in the same terms – approached the conjunction of Mars
with latitude the following year, the native’s father was diagnosed with an
aggressive cancer and died not long afterwards. The Sun as universal
significator of the father was simultaneously directed to the opposition of
the Moon, ruler of the eighth house, with latitude.
At the native’s age of 45, recently concluded at the time of this writing,
the ascendant was directed through the terms of Jupiter (0°– 6°) in Aries,
where it encountered the trine aspect of the Sun. This direction coincided
with the attainment of academic tenure.
While it would be foolish to pretend that the above is anything like a
complete account of events over a quarter of a century, it should be clear
from this example how well the astrological symbolism of directions –
including directions through the sidereal terms – can match the objective
reality of a person’s life. However, it should be stressed that this example
is, in astronomical terms, somewhat extreme: in just 45 years of life, the
direction of the ascendant has covered some 113° of ecliptical longitude –
nearly one third of the zodiac, comprising twenty sets of terms – and
formed repeated aspects with each of the seven planets. By contrast, in
high-latitude nativities where signs of long ascension are rising, the native
may spend a decade or more under the influence of a single divisor. In
such cases, other techniques become crucial for making year-by-year
predictions.
Between the ages of 18 and 22, the ascendant was directed through the
terms of Venus (14°–22°) in Capricorn, where it encountered the trine
aspects first of Saturn and then of the Sun (perfecting at age 21 and 22,
respectively). This period marked the start of public recognition for the
native by the publication, at age 21, of a widely acclaimed translation of
religious texts in an ancient language – an apt expression of Saturn and the
Sun in a Mercury sign in the ninth house. But would we have had the
confidence to predict such a very positive outcome of the direction from
the nativity alone, especially to someone so young?
Looking for confirmation to the transits at the revolution of the year
(figure 3), we see that both benefics – Venus being the current divisor and
ruling the natal midheaven, Jupiter ruling the ascendant – cast aspects into
the terms of the directed ascendant (14°– 22° Capricorn). Moreover, they
are both in major dignities, Venus occupying its domicile and Jupiter its
exaltation, in addition to being in their own terms. These powerful benefic
influences clearly support a highly positive interpretation of the direction
in this year.
Even without a direction to a natal promissor, the presence or aspect of
a planet in the terms of a directed significator can be highly significant. At
age 23, the same native first received a prestigious prize for his first book
and, later the same year, published a second one. In that year (figure 4), the
midheaven was very appropriately directed to the sextile of the Sun, falling
in the terms of Jupiter (19°–24°) in Scorpio; but the ascendant had entered
the terms of Saturn (22°–26°) in Capricorn – incidentally signifying some
unhappiness in the native’s personal life – and was not directed to any
promissor. In the revolution of that year, however, Mercury in Virgo cast
both a trine aspect into the terms of the directed ascendant and a sextile
into the terms of the directed midheaven. Virgo is not only the domicile
and exaltation of Mercury but also a double-bodied sign, agreeing with
repeated success in the literary field.
Age 30 saw two important directions to the radix perfect, as the Sun
(luminary of the sect) conjoined Venus with latitude while the ascendant
was directed to the trine of Mercury in the terms of Venus (7°–13°) in
Aquarius. Similarly to age 21, when Venus was first divisor of the
ascendant, this coincided with a major advancement in the native’s career,
as he successfully defended his dissertation and obtained his doctoral
degree; but the universal significations of Venus manifested as well, in the
form of the native’s wedding. It is also worth noting that Mercury rules the
native’s seventh house of marriage (and, incidentally, marks the ascendant
in his wife’s nativity). At the time of the revolution (figure 5), Venus as
divisor and Mercury as promissor were both strong in their domiciles, with
Venus just a few degrees shy of Mercury’s natal position (and thus of a
trine to the directed ascendant).
At age 31 (figure 6), events from eight years before were very nearly
repeated as another royal academy awarded the native a prize for another
book. This is an instance of the principle that was mentioned in Chapter 5:
although the direction of the ascendant to the (natal) trine of Mercury had
already perfected the year before, Mercury returning partilely to its natal
position in Libra while the ascendant was still in the same terms in
Aquarius reactivated the direction, indicating another positive event
related to writing and scholarship. Mercury was also made more fortunate
by its applying sextile with Venus (divisor of the ascendant and ruler of
the midheaven), which likewise cast an aspect into the terms of the
directed ascendant.
A double accident
As seen from the foregoing examples, planets aspecting the terms of a
directed significator at the revolution of the year are important, but so are
the condition and aspect configurations, if any, of the ruler of those terms
(the divisor). If both these indications agree, the results are all the more
certain.
Figure 8 is the nativity of an elderly man who at age 77 had the
misfortune to break first one leg and then, some weeks later, the other. The
ascendant in that year was directed through the terms of Jupiter, ruler of
the sixth house of illness and injury, at 17°–21° Virgo. It did not meet with
any natal promissor, but Mars at the revolution of the year was both
transiting those terms partilely on the directed ascendant and forming a
close, mutually applying square with Jupiter. Moreover, the Moon (ruler of
the ascendant and universal significator of the body) was applying to Mars
by opposition – a configuration made worse by the facts that the Moon
was waxing and the revolution took place by day, both sect factors making
Mars more malefic. The divisor (Jupiter) being retrograde and all three
planets occupying double-bodied signs indicated a repeated event.
We thus see how transits at the time of the revolution can combine with
directions to indicate events during the year ahead with greater detail and
certainty. In the next chapter we go on to examine the interactions between
transits and another classical predictive technique: annual profections.
Endnotes
1. Commentary on Dan. 2.2, transl. Sela 2014: 6.
2. See Astr. Gall. XXII 3,6, transl. Holden 1994: 88 ff.
7
Annual Profections and the Ruler of
the Year
AVING LOOKED AT the interactions between the universal
H chronocrators – that is, the divisors and promissors of directions –
and the transits at the time of the revolution, we now turn our
attention to the annual chronocrators. Readers familiar with the daśās of
Indian astrology, or with similar systems such as the Hellenistic decennials
or the fardār periods (‘firdaria’) of medieval Arabic and European
astrology, may find it useful to think of a universal chronocrator as the
ruler of a major period (daśā or mahādaśā), within which each year of life
functions as a sub period (antardaśā or bhukti).
By Tājika rules, the final ruler of the year should be a planet aspecting the
rising sign of the revolution, if at all possible. If several candidates aspect
the rising sign, preference is given to the planet that is strongest and/or has
the greatest number of testimonies, that is, comes up the most times in the
list of critera. As this model makes use of triplicities and sect, concepts not
present in pre-Islamic Indian astrology, it seems likely to be derived from
some as yet unidentified Perso-Arabic source. However, I find the simpler
approach – considering the ruler of the profected ascendant as the overall
ruler of the year – to work reliably, and that is the approach that will be
used below.
And know that the lord of the division is like a tender [of sheep],
and the lord of the year like a hireling; so if the tender committed
himself to his sheep in a powerful way, the hireling would have
no power to harm the sheep.3
Having said that, the annual profection can be interpreted in much the
same way as the direction of a significator through the terms. The ruler of
the year is analogous to a divisor, and any planets occupying the sign of
the profection are analogous to promissors. Likewise, the placement of the
ruler of the year by transit at the time of the revolution, and its
configurations with other planets at that time, are of great importance for
determining the results of the coming year.
Naturally, the most striking effects are observed when all levels of the
predictive hierarchy – directions, profections and transits – agree. To
illustrate, let us make an exception to our general rule and look at a
‘celebrity’ nativity which may already be familiar to some readers in
connection with annual profections, as it has often been used by astrologer
Chris Brennan to demonstrate the technique: that of Lisa Marie Presley
(figure 9).4 Brennan particularly focuses on the fact that Presley came into
her inheritance of approximately one hundred million dollars on turning 25
years old. At that time she, like everybody else at age 25, moved into a
second-sign profection year; and the second sign from the ascendant in
Presley’s nativity (sidereally speaking, Leo) contains a well-placed,
diurnal Jupiter, signifying wealth. Indeed, by quadrant division, Jupiter is
partilely conjunct the second house cusp.
But why did this enormous increase in wealth occur at age 25 and not at
13, 37, or any of the other years in which the profection of the ascendant
reached Leo? From the perspective of Ptolemy’s predictive hierarchy, the
reason is clear: profections only reinforce or modify the effects of
directions. And the direction that perfected in Presley’s nativity on or
around her twenty-fifth birthday was a major one: the Sun – which, in
addition to ruling the second house, is both the luminary of the sect (a
major significator of the native’s fortunes) and the chief significator of the
father in a day birth – was directed to the opposition of Jupiter in that
house. Incidentally, this demonstrates what was said in Chapter 6: an
opposition with latitude fundamentally means that the significator and
promissor are on the same horizon, as it were, and is not necessarily bad.
The profection to Leo, ruled by the Sun and occupied by Jupiter, activated
the same two planets, thus reinforcing their indication of wealth (Jupiter in
the second house) from the father (the Sun). As a final touch, the directed
Sun-Jupiter contact was repeated by transit at the time of the revolution,
the two planets forming a close and mutually applying trine.
Figure 9: Lisa Marie Presley’s nativity with transits at revolution 25 (annual profection of the
ascendant marked with P).
In both these cases we also see the profection sign itself containing a
house with appropriate associations: in Presley’s nativity, the second house
of finances; in that of the elderly man, the sixth house of illness and injury.
Although this is quite a common pattern, from a conceptual point of view
such house connections belong, in my opinion, to a second tier of
interpretation. The profection to Leo in Presley’s chart primarily activates
the Sun (ruler of Leo) and Jupiter (occupying Leo). These planets in turn
give the results indicated by their natures, house rulerships and positions.
Making this distinction is not mere sophistry: a ruler of the year with two
domiciles (such as Jupiter, which rules both Sagittarius and Pisces) may –
depending on other factors, such as directions and the figure of the
revolution – act in accordance with the houses falling in either or both of
those signs. In other words, its action is not limited to the sign in which the
annual profection falls.
Having made the point that profections are always subordinate to
directions, let us nevertheless focus for the next few examples on the
annual profection of the ascendant and the ruler of the year, to see just how
much they can tell us about the salient events in a year without reference to
the directions. The next chapter will then discuss how to integrate both
directions and profections with the figure of the revolution, or solar return
chart.
The next year, age 35 (figure 12), the native’s career was again
furthered by the receipt of a major, three-year research grant. The
profection in this year was in Virgo, with the Moon – ruler of the tenth
house – in the profection sign in the revolution, closely trining the natal
position of Mercury as ruler of the year. Natal Mercury is also partilely
conjunct the Sun, ruler of the eleventh house of gain, which once more is
returning to and thus reactivating a natal configuration. Although the
profection signs differ, we thus see a repetition of the ruler of the tenth
being favourably configured with the ruler of the year: in the first case by
conjunction, in the second by trine from the sign of the profection itself.
Figure 12: Nativity G with transits at revolution 35.
Twelve years after the former revolution, at age 46, the profection again
reached Leo (figure 13). no planets were present in that sign. The Sun as
ruler of the year naturally returned to its original position opposite natal
Mars; even more importantly, Mars itself repeated the configuration by
closely conjoining the Sun and opposing its own natal position. In fact, the
Sun in the revolution was separating from an opposition to Saturn while
applying to the conjunction with Mars, a condition known as besiegement.
As the Sun is the chief universal significator of the father in a day birth
(and also, incidentally, rules the Lot of the Father), it is not surprising that
the native lost his father in this year, when his eighth-house Sun was
besieged by the malefics.
Figure 13: Nativity G with transits at revolution 46.
Comparing the two Leo profection years (figures 10 and 12), we can
see that both unfortunate events agree with the Sun-Mars opposition
(exacerbated in the second case by the positions of the malefics at the
revolution), using simple astrological reasoning: the seventh house relating
to marriage, the eighth house to death; the Sun signifying the father; Mars
being a malefic, more so in a diurnal nativity; the opposition aspect
relating to conflicts. Yet the two events in themselves are very dissimilar.
To determine with greater certainty which of the several possibilities will
manifest in a given year, we need to include both the higher-level
chronocrators – that is, the directions – and the figure of the revolution.
Two deaths
Another double illustration involving death is found in the nativity of
figure 14 (discussed in a different context in Chapter 6), where Mars – the
malefic contrary to sect – rules the fourth and eleventh quadrant houses
and occupies its fall, right on the cusp of the eighth house of death. At age
28, the annual profection of the ascendant had reached Aries, housing the
natal IC or lower midheaven (the cusp of the quadrant fourth house,
signifying parents). There were no planets in Aries either in the nativity or
in the revolution, but Mars as ruler of the year had returned to its sign of
fall. In this year the native lost his mother.
The next time Mars ruled the year was at age 35, when the profection
reached Scorpio. In that revolution (figure 15), Saturn was present in
Scorpio, partilely conjunct the degree of the profection (which of course is
the same degree as that of the natal ascendant), so that both malefics were
activated by profection. In this year the native lost a close friend, signified
by the eleventh house.
Figure 15: Nativity J with transits at revolution 35.
The predominant theme of the year was in fact one that is traditionally
very much associated with Mars although it has been largely forgotten in
modern astrology – namely, journeys or wandering. The native, whose
home was in northern Europe, spent nearly eight months continuously
travelling first in America and then in Australia. This universal
signification of Mars is emphasized firstly by its applying conjunction with
the Sun, ruler of the ninth house of the nativity (likewise associated with
travel) and secondly by the fact that Mars is just about to change signs, a
not uncommon indication of change – including changes of residence. But
the well-known propensity of Mars for violence and accidents also
manifested: some five months into the year, while travelling, the native
was attacked and injured. The potential for such events is indicated in the
nativity by the applying square between Mars and the waxing Moon
(universal significator of the body) in a diurnal figure, and the same
configuration is repeated in the revolution.
How, then, did the presence of Venus in the sign of the profection make
itself felt? For one thing, like the building work of the preceding year, the
travelling was done partly in the company of a friend; but more
importantly, during his peregrinations the native began what was to
become a six-year romantic relationship with a woman from a different
country. Although the circumstances of their meeting – a foreign journey –
were dictated by Mars as ruler of the year, the most lasting outcome of the
year was therefore signified by Venus, which was activated in three ways:
as a universal chronocrator (divisor), as occupying the profection sign in
the nativity, and by returning to that natal place by transit at the time of the
revolution.
We thus end this chapter as we began, by noting the necessity of
combining profections with directions to gain a fuller understanding of
their meaning and impact. The next and final step is to integrate both
techniques with the figure of the annual revolution, or solar return chart.
Endnotes
1. See Dykes 2019b: 340.
2. For a full discussion of Tājika parameters for selecting the ruler of the year, see Hāyanaratna
5.8, transl. Gansten 2020: 457–465. For hyleg procedures, cf. Gansten 2009: 106–128.
3. Transl. Dykes 2019a: 314 (translation modified).
4. See, for instance, Brennan 2017: 539, 544, 550.
5. See Astr. Gall. XXI 2,2, transl. Baldwin 1974: 42 ff.
8
Judging the Revolution Figure (Solar
Return Chart)
N THE LAST two chapters we have looked at predictions made from the
I natal chart with its directions and profections. We have included the
positions of the planets at the time of the annual revolution and seen
how important they can be for accurately gauging the effects of these
techniques; but until now we have considered them only as transits relative
to the nativity. Now the time has come to include the complete revolution
figure – in modern terminology, the solar return chart – in our judgements,
employing the principles laid out in Chapter 5.
We begin by re-examining some of the examples discussed in Chapters
6 and 7 to see what additional or confirmatory information the revolution
figures have to offer, before moving on to entirely new examples. As a
result, this chapter will be the longest in the book. It is also arguably the
most important, as it attempts to set out an integrated method of judging
the overall results of any year of life. It concludes with an in-depth look at
an extended period in the life of a single native, similar to the first example
of Chapter 6, but this time employing the full range of techniques
discussed rather than directions alone.
In the chart of the revolution (figure 20), we now see that Jupiter and
Venus are not only highly dignified by exaltation and domicile,
respectively, in addition to occupying their own terms, but are also
angular: Jupiter in the first house, Venus in the fourth. This confirms their
ability to act, that is, to manifest the fortunate potential indicated by their
natures and dignities. The Sun as promissor had by definition returned to
its natal position – thus repeating its trine aspect to the directed ascendant
– and was similarly angular in the fourth house.
Figure 20: Native J, revolution 21.
We next noted that the native received a royal academy award for his
book at age 23, when the midheaven was directed to the sextile of the Sun
in the terms of Jupiter (19°–24°) in Scorpio. In the revolution for that year
(figure 21), the Sun as promissor is partilely conjunct the midheaven – as
classical a configuration for ‘honours from the king’ as it is possible to get
– and closely conjunct Mercury in its domicile/exaltation. This dignified
and highly angular Mercury casts a trine aspect into the terms of the
directed ascendant as well as a sextile into those of the midheaven.
Figure 21: Native J, revolution 23.
The last year of this native’s life that we examined in the context of
honours and awards was age 35, when he was selected for a very
competitive research fellowship. In the revolution for that year (figure 24)
it is Venus, ruler of the natal tenth house, that is closely conjunct the
midheaven in its own dignities of domicile and terms while casting a trine
aspect into the terms of the directed ascendant, which where those of Mars
at 20°–25° Aquarius. We thus see once again the pattern of a planet with
the relevant significations, influencing the areas of the nativity activated
by higher-level techniques, and enabled to do so in an effective way by
being powerfully placed in the figure of the revolution. Having said that,
however, there is a darker side to this particular revolution. We already
touched on this in Chapter 7 and shall explore it further under our next
heading.
Figure 24: Native J, revolution 35.
To these considerations we can now add that the ascendant was directed
through the terms of Mars (0°–7°) in Scorpio, making Mars a joint
chronocrator with the Sun and powerfully activating their configuration.
Moreover, Saturn – ruling the natal fourth house of parents and conjunct
the fourth house cusp of the revolution – was just about to enter those
terms by retrograde motion, in addition to aspecting the Sun/Mars
conjunction in the tenth house. As will be discussed in Chapter 9, Saturn
would play a crucial role in timing the event signified by these placements.
Conflicting indications
Our last re-examined example from Chapter 7 (p. 90) concerns the same
nativity (figure 26) and illustrates Ptolemy’s principle of fortunate events
occurring in one area of life while another area is beset with misfortune. At
age 34 the native made a major career advancement by completing his
doctorate, but at the same time his marriage of ten years broke down. This,
too, was a Leo profection year, making the Sun ruler of the year and
reactivating its natal opposition to Mars, ruler of the seventh house. The
ascendant at this time was directed through the terms of Venus (21°–28°)
in Libra, and the midheaven was in the terms of Mercury (18°–24°) in Leo,
having recently perfected a sextile with the Moon, ruler of the tenth house
in the first. In addition, the Moon itself was directed through the terms of
Mercury (11°–19°) in Scorpio and was just about to perfect a conjunction
with Mars without latitude (what I have called an ‘aspect-point
conjunction’).
Figure 27: Native G, revolution 46.
Fortunate Unfortunate
• Ascendant directed to the trine • Ascendant directed through the
of Jupiter terms of Mars
• Revolution Jupiter aspecting the • Natal and revolution Mars
terms of the directed ascendant aspecting the terms of the directed
• Revolution Jupiter present in the ascendant
terms of the directed Sun • Revolution Saturn aspecting the
• Midheaven directed through the terms of the directed ascendant
terms of Jupiter • Saturn ruling the year
The direction of the ascendant to the body of the Moon is more difficult
to classify. In itself, the Moon is neither benefic nor malefic; it rules the
eighth house of the nativity, suggesting some suffering, but in the
revolution it occupies the tenth and applies next to Jupiter.
There is no denying the challenge inherent in judging cases of strongly
mixed indications, but some definite statements can still be made. One
such is that the sheer number of directions perfecting, and of the planets
interacting with the directions in the revolution figure, signifies an eventful
year. Secondly, powerful malefic and benefic indications being present
simultaneously typically do not cancel each other out but rather result,
where possible, in events of both types manifesting: success and failure,
gain and loss, union and separation, and so on.
Various factors may contribute towards one or the other type of event
predominating; but perhaps an even more important principle to note is
that when an unfortunate event is indicated by the malefics, and the
benefics involved are not numerous or powerful enough to prevent it, their
significations will often show up as circumstances surrounding the event.
Thus, Abū Maʿshar says that Jupiter participating by aspect when Mars is
divisor, and being of poor condition (although this is not exactly the case
here, Jupiter is outnumbered by the malefics), signifies problems caused
by people of a Jupiter type: ‘something detestable will affect him from
administrators and the authorities, and it will impel him towards powerful
people but they will be hostile towards him’.1
Abū Maʿshar’s statement in fact accurately reflects some of the native’s
experiences in this year. In chronological order, the four main career-
related events were: (1) A book the native had written was shortlisted for a
prestigious award but did not win. (2) The native applied for a junior
research fellowship, but his application was disqualified on what later
proved to be incorrect grounds, as part of an intra-departmental power
struggle. (3) The native was offered and accepted a seat in a government
agency responsible for the development of science and scholarship. (4)
The native made a second application for a fellowship equivalent to the
first one and was successful. The year was thus ultimately one of success
and honours, but with some initial disappointments and in the face of
opposition ‘from administrators and the authorities’.
With the clarity of hindsight, we may note that Saturn as ruler of the
year forms a mutual reception with Jupiter (ruler of the natal ascendant and
chronocrator of both angles as well as of the luminary of the sect), as they
occupy each other’s signs of exaltation while forming an applying aspect.
While this factor may have been decisive, the mere prediction of both
notable success (Jupiter) and much conflict (Mars) in this year, without
stating definitely which would predominate, would still have constituted a
perfectly valid and reasonably specific prediction.
The next time a benefic took up office as a chronocrator was at age 41,
when the annual profection reached Pisces. In the revolution for that year
(figure 32), the malefics still predominate, with Mars as divisor of both the
primary angles casting a square aspect into the terms of the directed
ascendant, which were now those of Mars (0°–7°) in Scorpio. Saturn is
also closely conjunct the natal position of Jupiter, the ruler of the year, and
aspects revolution Jupiter with a separating but still tight opposition.
Jupiter itself is, however, particularly well placed: of the sect, direct,
oriental of the Sun, in the eleventh house (where it rejoices), and in dignity
of domicile. The Moon in the seventh house also connects Jupiter with
Venus by a translation of light, and Jupiter casts a trine aspect into the
terms of the directed ascendant. Although the native’s external
circumstances did not change substantially in this year, it was marked by
two fortunate events: first, his wedding (Venus, seventh house) to his
partner of the past three years, and second, his reconciliation (Jupiter) with
his estranged friend (eleventh house).
Figure 32: Native G, revolution at age 41 with natal placements outside the chart.
Although the direction of the ascendant through the terms of Mars (in
Libra and Scorpio) lasted a full thirteen years, the first chink of light
appeared about halfway through that period, as the directed midheaven left
the terms of Mars in Leo and entered those of Mercury (0°–7°) in Virgo,
applying to the conjunction of Jupiter. It was another year and a half,
however, before these chronocrators were sufficiently well-placed in a
revolution to support a major change in the native’s fortunes.
At the age of 45, the annual profection had reached Cancer, making the
Moon – natal ruler of the tenth house placed in the first – ruler of the year.
In the revolution (figure 33), the Moon (which has a good deal of southern
latitude) is just below the horizon, about to rise, and applying to a
conjunction with Mercury, divisor of the midheaven, which is dignified by
domicile, highly angular in the first house (where it rejoices), co-rising
with the benefic fixed star Castor (also of a Mercury nature), and
configured by a close and applying sextile to Venus in the eleventh house
of gain. Both Mercury and the Moon cast aspects into the terms of the
directed midheaven; Jupiter, natally present in those terms, occupies the
rising sign of the revolution but in the second quadrant house of wealth –
and, incidentally, conjunct the Lot of Fortune.
In that year, the native was awarded a three-year research grant that
meant a return to academic employment. In fact, his project proposal was
approved by both the major funding bodies to which he had applied,
giving him a choice between them – another instance of powerful
significators in double-bodied signs indicating a repeated event. This also
illustrates what was said in Chapter 4 about the duration of effects being
contingent on both astrological and non-astrological factors: once the
three-year project had been approved, it was not necessary for the next two
revolutions to be equally favourable in order for the native to keep his
employment. In the absence of malefic configurations threatening a
premature end to the project, it could be expected to run its course, and so
it did. It was, however, followed by another two years without gainful
employment, corresponding to the ascendant being directed through the
last few degrees of Mars’ terms.
The directed ascendant in that year had just entered the terms of Venus
(12°–17°) in Sagittarius, where it would encounter the trine aspect of
Venus itself as well as those of Mercury and Saturn. Venus is not only a
universal significator of love and romance, but also rules the seventh house
of marriage and partnership; its natal conjunction with Mercury and Saturn
agrees well with a late marriage to a man whose acquaintance she had
made in an academic context.
In the figure of the revolution (figure 35), Venus as divisor is angular in
the tenth house in addition to being dignified by domicile in Taurus and in
its own terms. While it should thus be fully able to bring forth its
significations in this year, Venus also applies by square to Mars in the
seventh house, suggesting some sort of obstruction affecting marriage or
relationships – possibly an obstruction originating with the native herself,
as Mars rules the natal ascendant. The annual profection had reached
Sagittarius, making Jupiter ruler of the year. Being a benefic, unafflicted
and reasonably well-placed both in the nativity and in the revolution,
Jupiter generally bodes well for the year; but being retrograde at both
times, it also indicates the possibility of delays, instability and repetition.
Annus horribilis
The delayed move was not the first problem that Mars had caused in the
life of this native. Only the year before, when the ascendant was still
directed through the terms of Jupiter (0°–12°) in Sagittarius, Mars was
casting an opposition aspect into those terms while Jupiter itself was
retrograde in the sixth house of illness and injury in the revolution (figure
36). As the native was 36 years old, the annual profection had returned to
the natal ascendant in Scorpio, making Mars ruler of the year; and in
addition to ruling the first house of the nativity, Mars was closely conjunct
the revolution ascendant, having just risen above the horizon in the
daytime – both factors contrary to its sect, and therefore increasing its
harmful tendencies.
In the revolution, Mercury was just about to enter Pisces, its sign of fall,
where it would form an applying square with this Mars – a con figuration
that proved highly relevant to events during the year. The first thing to go
seriously wrong was a dental procedure: for reasons that were never made
clear, the effects of the local anaesthetic applied did not wear off as they
should, and the native spent nearly a month with no sensation in her lower
jaw. (Surgeons and surgery are traditional significations of Mars
combining with Mercury.)3 next, the native was a mature student, having
returned to university for her master’s degree, and generally did very well
in her studies; but in the final term, she was greatly distressed when her
crucial thesis did not receive the high marks that she had been led by her
supervisor to expect. Finally, just hours before the thesis defence, during
which the native came under attack from an over-zealous opponent, she
also by mistake received an email with highly unwelcome information that
would affect her negatively for a long time to come. We thus see
afflictions with both first-house themes (body and health) and Mercury
themes (education and communication) in this year.
Figure 36: Native H, revolution at age 36.
A fated wedding
Our next example is the nativity of a woman who requested a birth time
rectification after being told by another astrologer that her ascendant ought
to be sidereal Libra rather than Virgo, which would imply a later birth time
than that stated in her records. Having examined the indications of the
radix as well as of her primary directions and revolutions, I was satisfied
that the ascendant was indeed Virgo, and that the recorded birth time was
reasonably correct – the true time possibly being two or three minutes
earlier, but no more. I give the unaltered chart (figure 37).
Figure 37: Nativity C.
Among the first questions I asked the native was whether she was
happily married to a particularly successful, wealthy man. The reason was
the extraordinarily well-placed Jupiter on the midheaven as ruler of the
seventh house: of the sect, oriental of the Sun, angular, exalted, and with
Venus on the cusp of the second house applying to it by trine. This
conjecture was confirmed. If Libra had been rising, the seventh house
would have been ruled by malefic Mars, which is contrary to the sect,
occidental, cadent, without major dignity (though in its own terms) and
unaspected by the benefics. The contrast could hardly have been greater.
The timing of this wedding, just two days before the native’s twenty-
second birthday, is what particularly interests us here, and further confirms
the correctness of the birth time. The happy event had in fact been planned
for a later date but was brought forward to ensure the presence of the
native’s prospective mother-in-law, who was seriously ill.
The ascendant at age 21 was directed through the terms of Mercury
(6°–14°) in Libra, and Mercury was also ruling the year, making it the
most important chronocrator. In the revolution (figure 38), this Mercury is
in its dignity of domicile and exaltation, but retrograde and therefore
seemingly separating from the opposition of Jupiter. Shortly afterwards,
however, Mercury stationed (without ever leaving the orb of Jupiter’s
aspect), resumed application and perfected the aspect. Jupiter not only
rules the natal seventh house, but is actually conjunct the natal seventh-
house cusp by transit, in its own domicile. The opposition aspect, though
frequently seen in conflicts and unfortunate events, is not necessarily evil,
particularly when formed by benefics in dignity or with mutual reception:
it signifies coming ‘face to face’ with something for better or worse, and I
have often seen it in connection with marriage or romantic relationships.
Figure 40: Native E, revolution at age 37 with natal placements outside the chart.
We now turn our attention to the nativity of the mother (figure 41), where
the Moon as ruler of the ascendant is in its fall in the fifth house of
children, while Mars as ruler of the fifth house closely opposes the
ascendant itself (and forms an applying square with Mercury, ruler of the
Lot of Children). At age 56, the Moon had recently entered the terms of
Venus (14°–22°) in Capricorn, where Mars is located, and was
approaching the body of Mars with latitude (perfecting at age 58), while
the ascendant was directed through the terms of Mars in Leo. Mars was
thus doubly activated as chronocrator. The annual profection was in
Pisces, making Jupiter ruler of the year.
Escaping by the skin of his teeth and severely shaken, the native
considered reporting the incident to the police but decided against it for
compassionate reasons. Not long afterwards, he was therefore shocked to
find himself charged instead with assault on the woman in question.
Instructed by his defence counsel not to bring up details of the relationship
in court, he could only stand by incredulous as a female judge declared
him guilty on no other evidence than the statement of his axe-wielding ex-
girlfriend (although suspending his sentence). On that day, in the native’s
words, ‘something died inside him’, and he lost all faith in the judicial
system.
Not only were these events horrible to live through as they occurred,
but the trauma they set off remained with the native for many years,
shaping his life to no small extent. In Chapter 4 I mentioned the views of
the Renaissance astrologer Johann Schöner on the duration of the effects
of directions, and it seems relevant here to quote him verbatim:
Reversals of fortune
As our closing example for this chapter, let us contrast the preceding
nativity (and our directions-only example in Chapter 6) with one where
signs of long ascension are rising, resulting in directions through the terms
that last for many years. Here we clearly need to correlate the native’s life
history not only with the directions, but also with profections and
revolutions, to form a nuanced understanding of the astrological
indications for each year.
Figure 49 is the chart of a native whose life has taken some unusual
turns. The nativity has definite indications of misfortune, the most
important perhaps being that both the luminaries (the Sun and Moon) are
placed in the cadent sixth and twelfth houses without the aspect of either
benefic. The Sun – which, as the birth was diurnal, is both the luminary of
the sect and the chief significator of the father – also has Mars, the malefic
contrary to the sect, rising just before it.
But there are positive indications as well. Saturn in the second house,
although a natural malefic, is of the sect and exalted, indicating good
fortune – particularly regarding finances – with time and effort. It is also
the participating triplicity ruler of the sect light, which relates to the
native’s overall standing in life, and becomes all the more important as the
other two rulers (the Sun itself and Jupiter) lack the impact and stability
needed to provide much support. Further, Mercury and the Moon –
universal significators of the mind or soul – are in Saturn’s terms and
apply to Saturn (in the case of the Moon, by trine and with reception),
giving it great influence over the native’s character. Saturn also
incidentally rules the Lot of the Daimon, sometimes translated as Spirit,
which is conjunct the Moon. Such placements foster the constructive
qualities of Saturn, such as introspection, profound thinking, reserve,
solitariness, steadfastness, austerity, self-discipline and hard work. With a
superior square from Mercury, intellectual and academic endeavours
would be particularly favoured. Another fortunate indication is that of
Venus, ruler of the second and ninth houses – the latter associated with
travel, learning and religion – which is well-placed in the eleventh, in the
minor dignities of terms and triplicity. Venus is also received by its
exaltation ruler Jupiter, although Jupiter itself, being retrograde and in its
fall, may be considered ultimately too weak to assist in the affairs of
Venus (a condition known as ‘return of light’).
Figure 49: Nativity L.
When the native was seven years old, with Mars ruling the year, his
father died suddenly and unexpectedly of a brain aneurysm. Over the
following ten years, the native grew up in poverty and in a socially
disadvantaged environment, seeing his peers take to drug-dealing and
other crime. He had no contact with his extended family; his mother was
neglectful and misappropriated his inheritance; his elder siblings, who
were in and out of institutional care, physically abused him. The native
suffered much with ill health (as might be expected from Mercury, ruler of
the ascendant, applying first by square to Saturn as ruler of the sixth house
and then by conjunction to Mars as ruler of the eighth), especially from
severe asthma exacerbated by his mother’s chain-smoking. His own life
was in danger more than once, and one of the mother’s boyfriends died
before his eyes as a result of diabetic shock.
After he was forced to leave home at age 17, the native’s life gradually
improved. He eventually secured a university degree, left North America
to travel extensively in Asia, and found himself, a decade later, ordained as
a Buddhist monk. Perhaps owing to the debility of Jupiter, the religious
life proved a disappointment, particularly with regard to the native’s
preceptor and the local monastic community, and lack of spiritual and
material support made him leave the monkhood after less than two years.
Returning to the west and to academia, he was accepted into a doctoral
programme at a respected university, successfully completed a doctorate
within three years, and is now fashioning a career for himself as a scholar.
Let us examine a few revolutions that have marked important turning
points along this eventful journey.
The summer when he was 17 was described by the native as the most
dreadful time of his life. He had taken a job at a fast-food restaurant but
was forced to give it up after suffering a severe asthma attack due to the
smoke from the kitchen. He was then told by his mother to move out,
leaving him without either home or income. At this low point the native
was saved by the charity of a female friend and her parents, who for some
months put him up rent-free in their basement.
In the revolution figure for this year (figure 50), five out of seven
planets are in their major dignities of domicile or exaltation. Unfortunately
for the native, the chief chronocrators for the year are the remaining two
planets: Mars (divisor of both the ascendant and the Sun) and Saturn (ruler
of the year and divisor of the midheaven). This demonstrates the
importance of knowing which parts of the revolution figure are in fact
activated at a higher level in the predictive hierarchy. In addition to being
malefics and lacking major dignity, both chronocrators also occupy
unfortunate houses, reinforcing their natal ruler-ships: Mars, ruler of the
eighth house in the nativity, is in the eighth of the revolution, while Saturn,
ruler of the sixth house, now occupies the sixth.
The native’s second year at university, at age 19, was much better. The
directed midheaven in the terms of Saturn (24°–30°) in Gemini had
recently perfected a trine with exalted Saturn, and in the revolution (figure
52), Saturn itself was now partilely conjunct Venus in those terms in the
eleventh house. Mars, which ruled the year in addition to continuing as
divisor of the ascendant, was also strongly placed in the first house of the
revolution – under the Sun’s rays but in Leo, where the Sun received Mars
by applying to it – and Mercury in the revolution was conjunct the natal
position of Mars. As Mars is both a universal significator of travel and
ruler of the natal third house, it is not surprising that the native travelled to
Japan for a few weeks towards the end of this year, having already taught
himself some Japanese. By this time the midheaven, too, had entered the
terms of Mars.
Over the next few years the native continued his education, graduating
when the ascendant was directed to the sextile of Mercury at age 23.
Internally this period was still stressful, as he was dealing with the traumas
of his childhood and experiencing feelings of ‘extreme rage and hatred’
(signified by Mars) towards his family; but he found solace in Stoic and
Buddhist writings. At age 21, with Mercury ruling the year, the native had
returned to Japan for a year of study abroad; three years later, as Mercury
again took up the rulership of the year, he once more relocated to Japan
after graduating, to pursue an MA degree in Buddhist Studies.
In the revolution for age 24 (figure 53) we find Jupiter casting a trine
aspect into the division of the ascendant. Although Jupiter itself – cadent,
retrograde and in its fall – is not able to give much in the way of external
support, it agrees with an inclination towards wisdom and religion.
Mercury as ruler of the year and promissor of the ascendant is exalted in
the eleventh house, in the degree of the natal ascendant, and receiving
Mars (still divisor of the ascendant and the midheaven) by an applying
aspect, all of which contributes to the native’s academic success. The
aspect in question being a square, and the position of Mars in the eighth,
probably reflect his inner turmoil at this time. Mercury applies to Mars in
the nativity as well, and one might speculate that this original application
of the ruler of the ascendant across a sign boundary is what particularly
indicates going abroad when Mercury and Mars become joint
chronocrators.
In the revolution for that year (figure 57), we find benefic Venus
partilely on natal Mars, thus casting a sextile into the same terms. Saturn is
still in Libra, within a few degrees of its natal position, but in the ninth
quadrant house (tenth equal house). The Moon and Mars partilely conjunct
near natal Saturn presumably reflect the issues with the mother; more
importantly, Mars separating from Saturn in the revolution suggests recent
hardships coming to an end. Where Mars had been in the previous
revolution, we now have exalted Jupiter applying to the likewise exalted
Saturn with a superior square. Saturn’s other sect-mate, the Sun, similarly
applies to it by sextile from its domicile, so that both planets commit their
strength to Saturn. This demonstrates how even the malefics, when
dignified and well-configured, can signify positive and constructive
events.
The last three chapters have tried to show how to identify major events and
overall trends in a given year of life by integrating universal chronocrators
(primary directions), annual chronocrators (profections) and the figure of
the revolution. In the next and final chapter we address the question of
how to identify particular times within a single year.
Endnotes
1. Transl. Dykes 2019b: 323 f.
2. Ptol. Tetr. IV 10, transl. Robbins 1940: 457 (translation modified).
3. See, for instance, Ptol. Tetr. IV 4,7, transl. Robbins 1940: 387.
4. Transl. Dykes 2019b: 344 (translation modified).
5. Robson 1923: 206 seems to be the source of most or all popular references to this association.
6. See Vett. Val. II 37, transl. Riley 2010: 48.
7. Opusculum IV 10, transl. Hand 1994: 90.
9
Critical Times and Periods Within a
Year
INPOINTING THE TIME of an expected event, or even just predicting
P general ups and downs over the course of a year, is perhaps the most
difficult part of annual prediction. It is not unlike having landed in a
vast city and trying to pick your way through the maze of streets that
looked so neatly laid out from the air. nevertheless, it is often possible to
identify in advance, at least broadly and conjecturally, the times at which
themes and events signified by the chronocrators in a year will manifest.
The most important factor in subdividing a year of life would be the
ascendant or another major significator changing terms by direction, which
may happen at any time during a year; but in most nativities, most years
will lack such a shift, and in any case we often want a way of breaking the
year up into more than just two parts. Abū Maʿshar presents a bewildering
array of methods for this purpose – many of which seem quite
impracticable, and bring to mind ar-Rijāl’s colourful description of Abū
Maʿshar as ‘a man gathering firewood in the dark’1 – but in my
experience, the most consistently reliable tool is real-time transits. In fact,
other techniques used for subdividing a year may function less reliably not
because they are in themselves invalid, but because they are so far down
the predictive hierarchy that they can be trumped by a powerful transit.
This latter transit also meant that natal Venus as both promissor and
divisor was doubly activated by trine aspect, which merits a separate
mention: if Venus and Jupiter had transited the same degrees in Pisces, for
instance, they would still have activated the division in Sagittarius by
casting their aspects into it, but would not have been in any aspect
relationship with natal Venus in Aries, which would have lessened their
impact somewhat. The very fact of the two benefic chronocrators
conjoining in transit also indicates a positive event; furthermore, both
planets were in their own dignities by sign and terms, respectively. Finally,
the date on which the move was finalized also coincided with the second
(direct) station of transiting Mars.
Twenty years later, this native passed away herself (an event not
discussed above). Without going into the vexed question of the hyleg and
longevity procedures, we may note that the profection in that year had
reached Scorpio, making Mars ruler of the year. In the revolution (figure
62), the profection degree (not shown) was partilely conjunct the fallen
Moon, universal significator of the body and ruler of the first house of the
nativity; they were also within a few degrees of the fallen natal Moon. The
Moon in the revolution is further separating from Saturn (ruler of the
eighth house in the nativity) and configured with Mars by a partile square;
but Mars itself is partilely conjunct Jupiter, a mitigating factor. What
actually happened was that the native, whose general health was quite
debilitated, began to suffer from a severe and protracted illness within
weeks of her seventy-sixth birthday but partially recovered and stabilized,
contrary to her doctors’ expectations. About halfway through the year,
Saturn and Mars both stationed in Scorpio; a few months later, the native
died suddenly in her sleep within 24 hours of Mars’ second station, on 1
July, 2016.
Figure 62: Native B, revolution at age 76 with night transits for 1 July, 2016.
Figure 63: Native G, revolution 46 with noon transits for 4 August, 2015.
In the revolution for age 53 (figure 65), the Sun as promissor of the
ascendant occupies the sixth house of illness. An argument could be made
for Jupiter recently having become divisor, as it is poorly placed in the
revolution – retrograde in the twelfth house, in a mutually applying square
with Saturn – but as Jupiter was not clearly involved by transit at the time
of the event, I rather incline to the view that the birth time should be
adjusted slightly, tightening the time frame of the malefic direction and
making Mercury divisor as well as ruler of the year. In either case, it seems
clear that transiting Mars played a part not only in timing but in
intensifying the evil results indicated by direction.
Figure 65: Native F, revolution at age 53 with evening transits on 28 April, 2016.
In a sequel to this event, the next time that Mercury ruled the year,
which was at age 56, the native suffered once more from a potentially life-
threatening condition caused by a blood clot – this time in the form of an
ischemic stroke – but survived again. In the revolution for that year (figure
66), Mercury is in its fall in Pisces and within a degree of a sextile to
Venus; but that aspect never perfects to the minute. Instead, Mercury
stations and begins applying to a conjunction with the Sun, ruler of the
natal eighth house occupying the eighth of the revolution. Although distant
and outside the orb of either planet, this is the first application that
Mercury actually perfects – which again agrees with the principle of wide
aspects, particularly those involving changes of sign and/or motion,
signifying events late in the year.
By this time, the directed ascendant had definitely moved into the terms
of Jupiter in Taurus, where it encountered the sextile aspect of the fallen
Mars. In the revolution, the Moon (universal significator of the body
generally) cast an opposition aspect into those same terms from its sign of
fall. Mars itself, powerfully angular, formed a partile square to its own
natal position and a close square to natal Mercury, ruler of the year,
thereby reactivating their configuration by opposition in the nativity.
Given their sudden nature and relation to blood, strokes are typically
associated with Mars, particularly in Aries, which signifies the head. On
17 February, 2020, Mercury again stationed in transit and began to apply
to the radical Sun by retrograde motion while casting a square into the
terms of the directed ascendant; four days later, the native suffered his
stroke. It is interesting to note that at the times of both these dangerous
events, Mercury as ruler of the year had recently stationed in the eighth
house of the revolution.
Figure 66: Native F, revolution at age 56 with noon transits on 21 February, 2020.
The lesser condition is calculated in the same way, except that the
starting point is the ascendant of the revolution figure (which was 29°44′
in Cancer) and the total distance travelled 360°. A complete table of these
profections would run to several pages, but we can calculate the exact
positions for the two dates in question by multiplying the number of days
by the daily rate of 0°59′08″ and adding the result to the starting point. For
the failed attempt, this will give 5°34′ Pisces, partilely conjunct the fallen
Mercury in the eighth house of the revolution; for the successful attempt, it
will give 4°42′ Taurus, partilely conjunct the dignified Venus in the tenth
house. Alternatively, we may note that the ascendant of the revolution was
exactly 123°24′ ahead of the Sun and add that distance to the daily transit
positions of the Sun, which will give figures within a few degrees of those
just mentioned.
Although my confidence in these methods is, for the reasons stated
above, not absolute, in principle there is another useful side to fine-grained
timing techniques. Sometimes we know the time of a planned event – such
as a test, an interview, a competition or the announcement of a decision –
in advance, but are less sure of the outcome. In such cases the techniques
can be used in reverse, as it were, to determine whether a fortunate or
unfortunate event is more likely to take place on the date in question.
And you make the degrees of direction in the root of the nativity
be years, but in the revolution of years months and days, and in
the revolutions of months [you make them be] days and hours.4
The context of this sentence makes it clear that Abū Maʿshar is speaking of
actual (primary) directions calculated by oblique, direct or mixed
ascensions; but the mention appears only in the third book, dealing with
directions in general, and does not recur in the ninth book on timing
techniques within a year, which is where the greater and lesser conditions
(or, in Dykes’s translation of Abū Maʿshar’s terminology, ‘mighty days’
and ‘small days’, respectively) are discussed.
I am not aware of any preserved early examples of directions applied to
revolution figures. In the Renaissance period, however, some astrologers
wanted to do away with the purely symbolic motion of profections and
replace them with the more naturalistic method of directions adapted for
use within a single year. The best-known proponent of this approach was
Morin, who devoted two chapters of his Astrologia Gallica to it.5 For
those who wish to experiment with them, some astrology software, such as
the freeware Morinus, calculates primary directions from the revolution
using the rate of 0°59′08″ per day to cover a full 360° in a year. Should
you prefer to try out Abū Maʿshar’s suggestion of a degree for a month,
you can use the same function but ignore all directions with an arc above
12°. My own experiments with directions in the revolution (examining
both tropical and sidereal figures in a spirit of open-minded investigation)
have, however, not been encouraging.
The most common time to use for casting a monthly revolution figure is
the moment at which the Sun enters the same degree, minute and second of
arc that it occupied in the nativity, but in each of the twelve zodiacal signs.
In other words, these are true solar months, as distinct from synodic
months (calculated from one New or Full Moon to the next), Ptolemy’s
28-day months, etc. This is the method prescribed by Abū Maʿshar and
followed by the Indian Tājika astrologers. Similarly, ‘daily’ revolutions
are cast for the moment at which the Sun enters its natal minute and
second in each degree of the zodiac – which means that there are only 360
such revolutions in a solar year, not 365.
I have not personally found these monthly or daily revolutions to be
astrologically useful. I do see some value in the monthly profections of
Ptolemy, which I regard as a continuous motion where rulership is handed
over from one planet to the next at thirty-degree intervals, on the same
principle as annual profections; but I would echo Ptolemy’s remark that
real-time transits ‘to the places of the times […] play no small part in the
prediction of the times of events’. When a new sign becomes activated by
monthly profection, planets occupying it in the nativity and/or the annual
revolution come into focus (more so if they are already activated as
chronocrators at a higher level), as do the ruler of the sign and transits
through the sign. There may even be some validity to casting a chart for
the beginning of each monthly profection, though that is not a practice
mentioned by Ptolemy and such a figure would, in any case, be far down
the predictive hierarchy.
At the time of the accident, transiting Mars had returned partilely to its
natal position in Cancer (the sign of the annual profection), where the
Moon as ruler of the year was applying to conjoin it within a few degrees.
It may also be relevant to note that the directed ascendant had by this time
shifted from the terms of Venus in Aquarius to those of Jupiter, and that in
the revolution, Jupiter – the new divisor of the ascendant and ruler of the
first house in the nativity – was in its first (retrograde) station in the sixth
house of illness and injury.
Coming now to the monthly profections, in Ptolemy’s thirteen-month
scheme the first and the last month of the year both belong to the sign of
the annual profection – in this case, Cancer – but the transits during the
two months will naturally differ. In the annual revolution itself, which was
the start of the first Cancer month, there were no transits through that sign;
nor was its ruler, the Moon, applying to any other planet. By contrast, at
the commencement of the second Cancer month, Mars was transiting
Cancer (its fall) in the eighth house of the revolution and was further
afflicted by a partile square from Saturn (figure 69). The Moon, ruler of
the month as well as the year, was in a partile square with natal Mars in
Cancer (cf. figure 68). We may regard these placements as setting the
scene for the accident which was then triggered by the transiting
conjunction of the Moon and Mars.
For readers not familiar with Indian daśās, table 3 lists the extensions of
the standardized nakṣatras or asterisms and their rulers in the viṃśottarī
system (repeating three times in the zodiac), along with the durations of
the periods assigned to each planet (including the lunar nodes, Rāhu and
Ketu) in the context of annual revolutions. Tājika texts give some
counterintuitive rules for calculating the muddas, such as using the
position of the Moon in the nativity (not the revolution) and a non-
proportional method for calculating subperiods. To illustrate the method
briefly, focusing on major periods, our concussed academic’s Moon was at
17°31′ Capricorn in the nativity, in an asterism ruled by the Moon itself.
The Moon would therefore rule the first daśā of the first year of life. In his
second year of life (beginning when he turned one year old), the first
period would be ruled by Mars; the year after that, the first period would
belong to Rāhu, and so forth. As the native turned 31, the first daśā ruler
would be Saturn, and the remainder of that period on the day of the
revolution would correspond to the distance yet to be covered by the natal
Moon in its asterism (the extension of the asterism as a whole being
13°20′). As there were 5°49′ left of the natal asterism, which ends at
23°20′ Capricorn, we thus get 5°49′ / 13°20′ × 57 ≈ 25 ‘solar days’
remaining of Saturn’s daśā, followed by the daśās of Mercury, Ketu, and
so on, until Saturn’s daśā begins for the second time around 32 days
before the next birthday. The accident therefore took place in the (second)
mudda-daśā of Saturn.
Again, details of subperiods and so forth are found in my translation of
the Hāyanaratna. I do not use these Tājika techniques myself, but for
those who wish to experiment with them, Indian astrology software
designed to calculate annual revolutions (known in Sanskrit as varṣaphala)
typically includes one or more daśā systems.
Summing up
To summarize what has been said in this chapter, the most useful and
important ways of dividing a year of life into smaller parts are, in my
experience and in descending order:
Directions changing terms. If the ascendant or another important
significator in the nativity moves into a new set of terms during the year,
making a new planet its divisor, that shift can signal a major change. The
state of the divisor both in the nativity and in the revolution should be
considered.
Indications of late or early events. Events that are indicated by an
applying configuration between two (or more) planets in the revolution
often take place early in the year if the aspect/conjunction is partile or very
close to perfecting. Conversely, an aspect that is applying but not yet
within orb, or that will only perfect after one or both planets change sign
or motion (turning direct or retrograde), often signify an event towards the
end of the year. A close but separating aspect may signify an ongoing
situation that began prior to the revolution.
Real-time transits. Transits of the chronocrators and to the directed
terms of the significators, to the natal places of the chronocrators, and
through the sign of the annual profection are the most consistently reliable
tools for timing events closely. Look out for repeating configurations
between planets already configured in the revolution, and for the transits of
planets repeatedly activated by direction and profection. Even planets that
are not activated as chronocrators may be important by either intensifying
or obstructing/mitigating an event if they transit points that are activated
by other techniques. The real-time dignity or debility of transiting planets
should be considered, and above all their stations: a major chronocrator
stationing in transit often indicates a turn for better or worse. Tracking
transits through the houses of the revolution, and over the positions of the
planets in it, may provide additional insights.
The greater and lesser conditions. The continuous annual profection of
the ascendant of the nativity at a rate of 30° per year (that is, 12.175 days
per degree) can be tracked to see which terms it is passing through and
which planets it is making contact with, in the nativity or revolution and/or
by transit. The ascendant of the revolution can be similarly profected at a
rate of 360° per year (0°59′08″ per day or, alternatively, in tandem with
the real-time transit of the Sun). Both these conditions are, however,
subordinate to and therefore less consistently reliable than major transits,
particularly transit stations.
Monthly profections. At the bottom of my personal list of trusted
techniques are the monthly profections of Ptolemy, dividing the year into
thirteen equal months of just over 28 days assigned to the zodiacal signs
(beginning and ending with the sign of the annual profection). These may
add emphasis to placements in and transits through the sign being
activated and to the planet ruling it. I do not use either the continuous
monthly profection (1°04′04″ per day) or the so-called daily profection.
Endnotes
1. quoted in Burnett and Yamamoto 2019: I 4, n. 21.
2. For ʿUmar’s treatment of the techniques, see Dykes 2010: 32–35. For Abū Maʿshar’s treatment,
see Dykes 2019b: 634–637 (omitting the content in pointy brackets and in the footnotes, which
is based on a misunderstanding).
3. See Kūshyār III 20,11–12, transl. Yano 1997: 221.
4. Transl. Dykes 2019b: 287.
5. See Astr. Gall. XXIII 15–16, transl. Holden 2002: 99–117.
6. For Ptolemy’s views, see Ptol. Tetr. IV 10,20, transl. Robbins 1940: 453; for those of Abū
Maʿshar, see Dykes 2019b: 563.
7. See Paul. Al. 31, transl. Holden 2012: 69 f.
8. See Dykes 2019b: 563.
9. Kūshyār III 20,13, transl. Yano 1997: 223.
10. See Bṛhajjātaka 8.9, transl. Vijnanananda 1979: 161.
Appendix I
Zodiacal dignities and aspect orbs
Terms
Indian Tājika sources reverse the order of the terms of Venus and Jupiter
in Gemini, and of those of Mars and Saturn in Sagittarius, possibly as a
result of textual corruptions.
Triplicities
Table 5: Joint rulers for each sign triplicity.
Orbs of aspect
Table 7: Orbs of aspect or conjunction (to either side) for the seven planets.
Appendix II
Primary directions formulae
These formulae are meant for readers who do not have access to software
calculating primary directions, or who prefer to make their own
calculations. Please note that the algorithms for directing a non-angular
point are based on the proportional semi-arc method of Ptolemy used
throughout this book (and by most ancient and medieval astrologers). The
position-circle methods that became popular in early modern Europe are
not described here. For fuller instructions and explanations I refer the
reader to my earlier book Primary Directions: Astrology’s Old Master
Technique.
The following descriptions assume directions by direct motion, where
the symbolic progress of the significator forward through the zodiac is
accomplished by rotating the rest of the chart across it with the primary
motion. For directions by converse motion, simply read ‘significator’ for
‘promissor’ and vice versa. All traditional directions, whether direct or
converse, are performed with the primary motion and thus perfect after
birth. The concept of prenatal directions did not exist prior to the
nineteenth century.
Required data
To calculate any direction, you need to know:
– the terrestrial latitude (Φ) of the place of birth;
– the right ascension of the midheaven (RAMC) or local sidereal
time (LST);
– the obliquity of the ecliptic (ε);
– the tropical longitudes (λ) and, optionally, latitudes (β) of the
heavenly bodies involved (the Sun never has latitude).
RA = ED if λ < 90°
RA = ED +180° if 90° < λ < 270°
RA = ED + 360° if λ > 270°
RA = ED if λ < 180°
RA = 360° - ED if λ > 180°
If the two values do not match, subtracting the presumptive RA from 360°
will give the correct RA.
MD = RA promissor - RAMC
DSA = 90° + AD
NSA = 90° - AD
or, alternatively:
Next, determine the SA for the promissor in the same quadrant and its
projected position (PP) within that quadrant when the direction perfects:
PP = SA promissor × PD
Next, find the difference between the two, subtracting the lesser from the
greater, and use it to determine what is known as the equation:
equation = difference × PD
Please note that the modern method described above assumes that the
promissor already occupies the same quadrant as the significator. If they
should be located in adjacent quadrants, that procedure must be modified.
If, for instance, the significator in Presley’s nativity were located above the
horizon rather than below it, we should first have to calculate Jupiter’s
remaining distance below the horizon (its HD). This HD would then be
added to Jupiter’s arc from the horizon up to the proportional distance
(PD) corresponding to the location of the significator.
General settings
A number of settings typically available in astrological software, while not
specific to the technique of primary directions, will still affect the
directions produced. Not all applications include all the variables listed
here, and those that do may differ somewhat in their layout, but the
available options should be easy to find. Relevant settings may include:
Choice of zodiac
Choose sidereal or tropical zodiac and, if sidereal, your desired
precessional value (ayanāṃśa). This will affect the directions through the
terms (in addition to the sign placements of planets and houses, and the
length of year used for revolutions). Early Hellenistic astrologers such as
Dorotheus and Vettius Valens, Persian astrologers such as al-Andarzaghar
and some of the early Arabic-language astrologers such as Sahl ibn Bishr
all used sidereal values, as did the Tājikas and other Indian astrologers;
Ptolemy, later Byzantine and Arabic astrologers and the medieval
European tradition used tropical values.
Parallax
Correction for lunar parallax will affect all directions involving the Moon,
more so the closer it is to the horizon (ascendant or descendant) in the
chart. Choose parallax correction, or topocentric position, to calculate the
Moon’s longitude as seen from the actual place of birth; geocentric
position for an imaginary point in the centre of the earth.
Direction-specific settings
The settings particularly related to primary directions also vary from one
application to another. Figure 70 shows the main dialogue box from the
traditional version of the freeware Morinus with my basic choice of
settings for directions in direct motion.
Starting from the top left-hand corner, the method of direction called
Placidus (semiarc) is the traditional Ptolemaic one used throughout Late
Antiquity and the Middle Ages. The method of position circles developed
by some Arabic astrologers and popularized in Europe in the fifteenth
century is called Regiomontanus, while Placidus (under the pole) is a
position-circle variant closer to the Ptolemaic system. Although Campanus
is given as a separate method of direction, no such system really exists:
other than so-called mundane aspects, which were never mentioned by
either author, there is no difference between Regiomontanus directions and
those attributed to Campanus.
The set of options directly below relate to the type of aspects used.
Only zodiacal aspects were used prior to the seventeenth century. I have
still ticked Both in order to include conjunctions and oppositions with
latitude (identical to ‘mundane’ conjunctions and oppositions), which I
find very effective. This will produce a list of directions that also include
other mundane aspects (sextiles, squares and trines marked with an M),
which I simply ignore – not an ideal solution, but workable. For zodiacal
aspects, I have selected Use latitude of significator, ensuring that the
actual body of the Moon (or of any non-luminary planet chosen as
significator) is used, but no latitude assigned to aspect angles.
Most software will display calculated directions in tables like the one
from Morinus in figure 71. The columns M/Z and D/C show the type of
aspect involved (mundane or zodiacal) and the type of motion (only
‘direct’ directions in the modern sense, that is, with the diurnal motion,
have been selected). The columns Prom and Sig show the moving and
fixed elements of the direction, respectively (‘promissor’ and ‘significator’
in the modern sense).
To get the traditional designations for directions in direct motion, we
need to read from right to left: for instance, the direction with an arc of
4.573 degrees (perfecting at the age of 4.573 years by the key of Ptolemy)
would be called MC to the trine of Jupiter [by direct motion]. The last but
one direction shown is a mundane (Placidean) sextile, and thus an example
of the sort of aspect that I would mentally discard while going through the
list. A significator entering a given set of terms is marked by the glyphs for
the ruler of the terms and the sign in which they fall: thus, the ascendant
entering the terms of Jupiter in Cancer has an arc of 5.84 degrees/years.
For converse directions in the traditional sense, we need to make the
significators and promissors swap places. (This is because Morinus, like
most software, uses these designations in the modern sense of ‘fixed point’
and ‘moving point’, respectively.) I thus select the luminaries and angles
as ‘promissors’ and the seven planets as ‘significators’. I also make sure to
use the latitude of the ‘promissors’ and to direct them to the aspects of the
‘significators’, as shown in figure 72.
Figure 72. Settings for directions in converse motion.
This gives a list of directions like that in figure 73. Because the
significators in the traditional sense are now the points being moved with
the primary motion (‘promissors’ in the modern sense), we derive their
traditional designations by reading left to right: Moon to the body of Mars
with latitude by converse motion has an arc of 3.306 degrees; Sun to the
sextile of Saturn by converse motion has one of 4.842 degrees; etc. There
are fewer directions in this list because the terms are not included. As
before, I would consider mundane (M) conjunctions and oppositions,
which are identical with the corresponding zodiacal directions with
latitude, but ignore mundane sextiles, squares and trines.
Figure 73. Partial list of directions in traditional converse motion (but still marked D for ‘direct’ by
the software)
Appendix IV
Example chart data
All times are given in 24-hour format.
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Index
For frequently occurring terms, only references of general importance have
been included; some very frequent terms have been entirely excluded.
India, Indian astrology v, 1, 3, 7–11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19–20, 23, 24,
37–38, 48–51, 55, 84, 85, 139, 186, 189–192, 195, 196, 205
inthihā, inthā 39, 50
see also burj al-intihāʾ; munthahā
Islam 9, 23
jārbakhtār, jānbakhtār 32
see also divisor
al-Jayyānī, Muḥammad ibn
Muʿādh 34
Jews 10, 48
Junctinus, see Giuntini
jyotiṣa, jyotiḥśāstra 8
karma 10
Karmaprakāśā, quoted 37
key, see equation of time
kisimā 38
see also qisma; division
Kotyk, Jeffrey 12
Kūshyār ibn Labbān 180, 185
quoted 185
Mahendrasūri v
maiora esse, see greater condition Mak, Bill 12
Manuṣyajātaka, see Karmaprakāśā
Māshāʾallāh ibn Atharī 14, 47, 49 cited 86–87
Mayan astrology 11
medieval period 2, 3, 9, 10, 12, 16, 23, 27, 28, 31, 40, 41, 49, 51, 52, 70,
84, 96, 178, 185, 189, 197, 200, 202, 205, 206
meridian 16, 34, 201–202
Mesopotamia (Babylonia) 7, 13, 185
Middle Ages, see medieval period ‘mighty days’ 183
see also greater condition
minora esse, see lesser condition mixed ascension 34, 38, 183, 202–204
see also semi-arc
moirai 20
see also terms month, different varieties 184–185
Morin de Villefranche, Jean-Baptiste 52, 70, 98, 115, 183
mudda-daśā 190–192
Mughals 11 Müller, Johann 34
see also Regiomontanus
munthahā, munthā 39, 85
see also burj al-intihāʾ
Muslims 9, 10, 50
Pancharius 16
paradosis 39
see also profection
parallax 15, 71, 206
paranatellonta, see co-rising
pātyāyinī daśā 190
Paul of Alexandria 184
peripatos, see circumambulation
perturbation 47–48
pēxis, see fixing
Pingree, David 1, 7, 8, 47
pivot 20
see also angle
Placido de Titi (Placidus) 35, 67, 68, 69
Placidus houses and directions 35, 37, 68, 69, 138, 206–207, 209
Porphyry houses 16
position circle 34–35, 37, 69, 138, 197, 206–207
precession 15, 48–51, 204, 205
Presley, Lisa Marie 87–88, 90, 201–204
primary directions, see directions
primary motion 35–36, 68, 70, 197, 202, 209–210
profections 2, 23, 24, 31, 43
annual 38–40, 44, 46, 50, 53, 58, 60, 70, 84–88, 90
continuous or discrete 86, 178–180
daily 41
directions, relation to 31, 43, 86–88, 95, 100
etymology 39
houses from 54, 163
monthly 41, 44
planets ruling and occupying 84–85, 96
transits, relation to 41–42
see also greater condition; lesser condition
progressed horoscope 35
promissor (promittor) 29–31, 34, 36, 38, 42, 43, 53, 60, 67, 68–70, 72, 78,
84, 86, 87, 88, 118, 139, 197–204
Ptolemy, Claudius 14, 16, 18, 23–28, 30, 31, 33–35, 37, 38–39, 41–44, 48,
49, 51, 70, 75, 84, 87, 96, 112, 133, 184–186, 189, 193, 197, 200, 205,
206–207, 209
quoted 25, 39, 118, 186
radix 42
Rāhu and Ketu, see nodes Raṅganātha 51
recasting of the nativity 40, 46
reception/non-reception 56–57
Regiomontanus houses and directions 34–35, 37, 207
Renaissance 1, 23, 30, 146, 183, 185
repetition, as interpretative principle 40, 58–61, 163, 193
return of light 57
revolution
annual, definition and origin of 46–48
ascendant of 54–56, 139
daily and monthly 41, 44, 183–186
interpreting 52–54, see also repetition
location used for 52
precessed 51–52
primary directions in, see directions
sidereal versus tropical 48– 51
Rhetorius 16
right ascension 33, 197–199
ar-Rijāl, ʿAli ibn Abī, quoted 25–26, 161
rising times 14, 33, 71, 200
see also oblique ascension
Romaka 51
ruler of the year 39, 50–51, 53, 56, 60, 84–85, 86–87, 90, 95, 96, 104
Tājika astrology 3, 10–11, 19– 20, 23, 37–39, 47, 48, 50, 54, 55, 56–57,
84–85, 139, 186, 189–192, 195, 196, 205, 206
Tājikabhūṣaṇa, referenced 62
Tājikasāra, referenced 62
Tājikayogasudhānidhi, quoted 50
tasyīr, tāsīra 25, 38, 190
terms of the planets
alternative designations 20
different versions of 19–20
directions through 26–31, 37–38, 42, 43, 53, 55, 60, 61, 67, 76, 115–
116, 161, 192–193, 204, 205, 206, 208, 209
in Indian astrology 20, 37– 38, 195
in profections 179–180
origin 13 see also division
Tetrabiblos 23, 42, 185
quoted 25, 39, 118, 186
Theosophists 11, 12
time lord, see chronocrator
topocentric position, see parallax
transits 2, 23, 24, 33, 35, 40, 41–42, 43, 44, 96
of chronocrators 41–42, 87
stationing 163, 166–172
through the divisions 42, 77
through the sign of profection 39, 40, 84–85
to natal positions 40, 45, 172
within a year of life 161, 162–164, 172, 179, 186, 193
translation of light 56
trepidation 15
triṃśāṃśa 20
see also terms
triplicity 19–20, 85, 196
trirāśi, see triplicity
tropical solar year 48–52, 55, 183
tropical zodiac 14–15, 18, 27, 49–52, 198, 204, 205
twelfth-part, see dodecatemory
Yādavasūri 50
Yaḥyā ibn Abī Manṣūr 48–49
yantrarāja, see astrolabe
year, see sidereal solar year; tropical solar year
yoga, in Tājika astrology 56–57