Your low self esteem can show up in your paycheck. You constantly feel that you have no (social, political, liquid) capital. It is hard for you to feel like you deserve anything in your life. Your pain comes from feelings of worthlessness. To hear your instincts again, you must go against common courtesy and find the means to validate your own anger, so that you are able to use your instincts in your every move. Because of this, you learned to prioritize being socially acceptable before your own instincts. You learned to repress your anger rather than express it. You were told that you were too angry, too selfish, and that you weren't allowed to be yourself. When you constantly play the role of adult that your teenaged self despised, you relive your teenaged pain over and over again. Only when you take your teenaged angst seriously can you become an adult. Then, take those reasons very, very seriously because, when you were growing up, none of the adults did. Look at your natal Chiron, and figure out where and why you are still angry, frustrated, and angsty. ![]() We're looking at a moment when we're most likely to be used, least likely understand the source of our use, and most likely to instinctively feel at odds with the ways we are used. When we look back on our teenaged selves, we're looking back on the defining moment of our indoctrination into what we call reality, and all the anger that comes with it. In Jon Savage's book Teenage: the Prehistory of Young Culture, he traces the history of the adolescent and finds that it's always been defined by crime and the military. Because we haven't taken on the burdens of what our world is, our teenaged selves are when we are most frustrated with what we are discovering it is not. It's important to take teenage angst very seriously, because it's at the moment of being a teenager that we clash most strongly with adult expectations. It's the pain we find ourselves “getting over” again and again. It's the reactions we learned, the strategies we created, and the healing work we found. The teenager sees the world and is completely disenchanted.Ĭhiron is the teenaged wound that we saw ourselves “getting over” when we were younger, but which had an incredible influence on how we see our own disobedience and disgruntlement as adults. There is incredible strength in Chiron, the same way there is incredible strength in the teenager, as someone who is unable to participate in or become understood by society. When we're teenagers, we aren't children anymore and aren't allowed to participate in adult affairs yet. ![]() It's an adolescent wound, because Chiron is an adolescent archetype. Also involuntarily, the fisted hand began to relax.Ĭhiron is a spot in the natal chart that represents pain, which takes the place of a perceived flaw. ![]() Then, she asked us to wrap our hand very gently around the fisted hand. ![]() Involuntarily, the fisted hand resisted the prying hand. According to Piper Anderson, in a training I participated in on the prison industrial complex, trauma takes the form of a knot.Īnderson told us to wrap a hand into a fist and to try to pry it open with the other hand. In Katie Sweetman's, of Empowering Astrology, talk on Chiron at the NYC Queer Astrology Conference, she compared Chiron to a knot, rather than a wound. In the world of mythology, Chiron isn't like anyone else. In some Greek art he is depicted with the front legs of a human. "The centaur Chiron was an outsider in both worlds: He was abandoned by his nymph mother because of his appearance, and yet, because he was the son of a god, he was different from the other centaurs: gentler and less wild. The most contemporary Chiron figure we have right now is the main character of the movie Moonlight. How is Chiron's pain different than Saturn's pain, or Mars's pain? How is it's methods of healing different than that of the Moon or Mercury? All planets have pain, and they all have healing potential. It's supposed to be our pain and the healer archetype all in one.
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