“I’m an Astrologer”: The Complexity of Naming What We Do

Today while notarizing some papers--there with my husband and father-in-law-- the chatty and sweet notary asked what I did for a living. “I’m an astrologer,” I answered with a bit too much emphasis, knowing how such occupations are received at small, boutique banks in the heart of academia. My father-in-law, an otherwise intelligent and generous man, promptly laughed apologetically — a laugh which I read as “ridiculous, isn’t it?” This once again sent me into a tailspin of silent frustration and the lifelong desire to be able to answer “accountant”- or something similarly innocuous-- whenever asked for my occupation.

I wish it was as simple as saying that I have a father-in-law who doesn’t get what I do. That’s certainly unfortunate, but definitely not the whole picture. If I’m honest, I am uncomfortable owning the title myself and so I project my own discomfort onto anyone who resists it in the world outside.

So, why would I quietly reject what I say I do?

Early in my career, I had doubts about my work. I prepared for hours before I did a chart. Was I good enough? Did my readings have impact? Today, I’m excited and curious before a reading. I know I’m good at what I do. And I know I make a difference in people’s lives. And I actually LOVE being in the room with a client and finding the keys that unlock the magic of the chart.

So, it’s not doubt in my ability that makes me uncomfortable saying I’m an astrologer. There are two reasons that make sense to me.   The first is more obvious: I’m embarrassed that I’m part of a profession that so many people look at with derision. Simply put, there’s a part of me that wants to belong, that wants it simple, that wants to climb a traditional ladder. Obviously, this is not the path I’m carving out in this lifetime, but I have to admit that in the quiet corners of my being, I feel the part that wants it simpler, less complicated--the part that doesn’t want to be speaking a different language in a place where few know the words.

The second reason is more subtle. It has to do with the frustration of the title ‘astrologer’ not really fitting the WHOLE of what I do. (Do we all feel this way?) That is, I’m charting territory that is new (or so it feels) and I’m using many different tools. One of the tools is astrology. But I am also profoundly interested in how we all can learn to love another or see one another as love. I’m interested in embodiment and the power of living something fully in the body. I’m interested in writing and reading poetry and offering it as a gift of self-revelation.

In the last few years, I have named what I do “Liberating love through Astrology and the Expressive Arts.” Of course that isn’t a job title but it comes closer to capturing my quest. Whenever we talk about unfolding our capacity to love more deeply, it’s not something easily named.

But I want a name! I want a name that allows me to breathe deeply as I say it. I want to offer what I do as a blessing and perhaps a curiosity but with full commitment. I want my whole body to radiantly say “YES! I get to answer this question! I get to tell you what I do.”

Oh friends, it’s strange. My work requires that I’m comfortable off the beaten track, and yet, to be honest, I’m not a totally road-less-traveled person.  My work requires that I have a deep inner silence unruffled by the expectation or reaction of others.  And in truth I have worked many years to learn to uncover and maintain that silence.  Doesn’t all our deepest work require that?

One of my mother-in-law’s favorite stories about my husband is that when he was a little boy, he was building a sandcastle at the beach with great joy and intensity. At some point, his sister came over and surprised him by dumping a huge bucket of water on his head. His only reaction was to wipe the water from his eyes, shake his head and continue his project.

May we all be so unruffled as we pursue what we most love.

And may the ongoing search for our true work identity be a seamless part of gracefully unfolding who we truly are.

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**Friend Friday will return next week.