In my post The End of the Zodiac?, I stated:

What remains of astrology survives not because it describes a hidden cosmic causality, but because it fulfills an essential human function: signalling the moments when time ceases to be homogeneous.

No doubt, because I am living a significant Saturnian moment (Saturn at the MC, where Venus also resides) and because I am aging (I am 67), this compels me to reread my life through an astrological lens. I could do so without bothering anyone and without writing anything publicly about it, but that would mean missing an opportunity to recount and, in full transparency, to show how an astrologer can operate when faced with a natal chart.

Let us recall the primary hypothesis: everything that is born, whether a person, a company, or a country, possesses a time of arrival, a date of manifestation. From this birth date, a kaleidoscope of possibilities takes shape, like a spiral among the clouds, a whirlpool in a river. This creates protuberances, patterns that the astrologer manages more or less to interpret.

The astrologer is aided in this work by the portrait drawn in the sky by the various astronomical components, with observational knowledge dating back to when certain human beings began to examine the heavens.

Some speak of destinies traced in the celestial fabric, others of karmic cycles tinted with a psychoanalytic-evolutionary sauce. No matter. I believe we can rid ourselves of all atavism and return to the wisdom of the finest astrologers, namely that, even though what is above (the sky, the stars, the angels, and the asteroids) is like what is below (humans, empires, and insects), each person can choose to walk in whichever direction they please, insofar as they respect and recognize the place from which they move.

So, I was born in Arthabaska, on a Monday, March 2, 1959. My time of birth was certainly noted with care, because according to the birth bracelet I still have in my possession, it reads 1:38 PM.

An astrologer friend pointed out to me that the birth of a child corresponds to the mother's transits at that moment (and to a lesser extent, no doubt, to the father's transits). It is interesting to note, for example, that my mother gave birth to four daughters, three of whom have the Moon in Capricorn and the other in Virgo, Earth signs, which, from the outset, differ from her emotional nature. My mother has a Moon in Aries, the sign of my father (who, incidentally, has a Moon in the opposite sign, Libra, and a strong Venus/Saturn conjunction).

I am the only one to possess, like her, a Moon in a Fire sign in Sagittarius. The interrelationships between the charts of my parents and my sisters are complex, as always (see this analysis).

At the moment of my birth, the Ascendant in Arthabaska was exactly on my mother's natal Pluto. Mars was in semi-sextile with her Mars. Venus would be on her Moon. I say "would be" because, although we do not know my mother's birth time, I gave her long ago the same birth time as mine, likely through projection, but it suits her so well... Jupiter was forming a trine with the Venus/Pluto midpoint (and an almost exact trine with that Venus). Uranus was at the Mars/Neptune midpoint, Saturn at the Sun/Mars midpoint, Uranus in sesquiquadrate to the Sun and Mercury. The North Node was in square with the Sun-Mercury/Pluto midpoint. And I could go on.

The astrological activity was so abundant that day. One ends up losing one's astrological bearings. I know that I am, so to speak, a stroke of bad luck. At the time, new nursing mothers were told that breastfeeding would protect them against pregnancy. So my father did not hesitate to resume his duties. I am the perfect example that breastfeeding prevents nothing. I was born eleven months after my sister Diane.

My father's transits seemed simpler, but ambivalent. The Sun was opposing his Neptune; Mars was square that Neptune (incidentally, I have a Sun square Mars in my chart); Mercury was trine Pluto; Mars was trine the MC; Uranus was doing the same with Mars; and the North Node opposed his Mars.

The colouring of that day's transits seems to echo the sudden nature of this pregnancy as well as the enormous responsibility of this rapid addition of a second child.

These transits are officially the symbolic baggage of my life. Those experienced during the first years of my existence are, in theory, psychological anchors felt through the family climate. It would be difficult for me to give them greater importance, unless I were to plunge into the interpretive labyrinth of psychotherapy.

An intriguing fact, perhaps. The pregnancy with the third child, my sister France, as well as her birth, were experienced by me, according to my natal chart, in a climate of Pluto square Mars, Saturn at the Descendant... Jealousy of a small human noticing his mother's attention shifting toward the new being in the making? A difficult period for my mother?

Be that as it may, this period from 1961 to 1964 was mainly marked by a Pluto opposition to my Sun as well as a Mars square. Uranus was not far off either (people born in 1965–1966 were born under a Uranus-Pluto conjunction). The years 1965–1966 marked the beginning of my schooling. All I remember from that period in Victoriaville is that I was already singled out by my classmates and often insulted, ridiculed, and harassed. 1964 was also marked by the birth of my sister Dominique.

A little less than sixty years ago, I was nine years old. My father accepted a position in a factory in the countryside. The period that followed was relatively calm despite a certain isolation due to the brutality of my classmates. I hated outdoor recesses... I don't think I had many friends, preferring to remain alone, romping about in the large backyard of the house where enough apple trees grew to serve as docile and silent friends, a yard that looked out onto the vast lawn of the factory where my father worked.

It is rather amusing to look back on that period, with transits similar to what I have been experiencing for several years now, namely, the slow passage of Saturn over my Sun and Mercury, and then what occurred in 1967: the conjunction with the MC and Venus. Sixty years later, I am, so to speak, at the peak of my career; I have managed, in a way, to carve out a relatively stable place for myself.

The later entry into high school went smoothly. One can even consider this period exultant, more coloured by trines and sextiles until age 15.

But then, a change of tempo, so to speak. Can a shy teenager resist the opposition of Neptune to his Mars while Pluto opposes his Venus (and his MC)? These were the first homosexual experiences, secret ones, with a boy my age. It was also the occasion to meet an older couple of friends — the first unmarried couple in the village, a somewhat revolutionary phenomenon at the time. Strangely, though we were close, I never revealed my "secret" to them. They must certainly have suspected it.

I was a quiet teenager who nevertheless had unconventional friends and who secretly tasted carnal pleasures with a sporty, muscular boy—the complete opposite of me—who resented me for it. I will always remember his angry look every time we moved away from each other.

This little game lasted three years until the first year of CEGEP. He called me a few times in 1977. I would drop everything, go meet him, then there would be complete silence for weeks. He eventually faded from my life and went on to have children.

Pluto is conjunct the North Node. Make of that what you will.

My university life, though happy (Jupiter at the Ascendant), was fairly quiet until the belated arrival of my first true love in 1979–1980. This was the great passage of Neptune over my Moon, of Saturn at the IC, opposing my Venus. It was, so to speak, especially in 1981 when Neptune squared Mercury, extending into 1982, a descent into disillusionment, a hell of emotions, of heartbreak.

I was, in fact, becoming both a poet and a writer. A classic of the genre. A heartbreak that made me sit in cafés and bars, writing feverishly, getting drunk, judging everyone, and cloistering myself in my breathless imagination. Uranus was conjunct Jupiter in the fifth house and square Pluto, while Pluto was square my Ascendant.

What followed was a haphazard return to university, with a failed attempt to reconnect with that first love, until I met the second "love" of my life, a choice that would prove, once again, unconventional and traumatic. An unstable time, notably colored by the passage of Uranus over my Moon in 1986. Saturn conjunct the Moon in 1987, Pluto square Venus and MC in 1988, Saturn taking over in 1989 on these same positions, ending with a "liberation" from this union in 1990 (Uranus square Venus and MC, conjunct Saturn!).

One had to wait until 1992 to reach a semblance of normalcy. I now had a stable job, and it was at that point that I met the third most important person in my romantic life. It lasted sixteen years, with its share of enrichments and complications. It was during this period that I published my first texts. 1991 (Le Putain. Jupiter trine Venus/MC, Uranus sextile Sun), 1994 (Crever mon fils, Uranus sextile Mercury, Pluto trine Mercury), 1997 (La Vie dure. Uranus sextile Venus/MC). Critical acclaim and nothing more, but acclaim nonetheless.

My literary life was thus marked by the certain passage of Uranus, a planet residing in the first house of my natal chart, representing the primary manifestation of my personality.

Meanwhile, at the end of the 1990s, new transformations were surging within me, and Pluto was taking the lead, with an opposition to Mars and a square to the Sun. years of a definite reawakening of my deepest sexual impulses (aided by the arrival of the virtual proximity of the newly "democratized and visual" Internet), but also resulting in a transformation of my eating habits due to the discovery of an emerging diabetes.

I became, so to speak, a different man.

Jupiter made its presence felt in 2002, notably through the purchase of the first (and last) condo with the partner of that era. A relatively happy, exploratory, and emotionally intense time starting in 2003, since Pluto, that volcano of my heart, hovered over my Moon for two years...

One can presume that 2004 marked the beginning of the end of my relationship, an emotional fraying that lasted another four years, whose last threads binding us were courageously severed by that important man in my life.

2005 also marks the publication of L'Effet Casimir, a novel that I wanted to be different from my other writings. Jupiter was indeed well-placed, but also Uranus conjunct the Sun (and therefore square Mars) and Pluto square Mercury. The book nevertheless went almost unnoticed, despite good reviews here and there.

The great break came in 2008, almost without a hitch, in fact (Saturn and Uranus square the Moon, Jupiter sextile the Sun, Saturn opposite the Sun). One could do a more thorough analysis by integrating midpoints. Suffice it to name Uranus = Moon/Mars, Saturn-Uranus square Venus/Asc, Uranus = Sun/Mercury... This man remains a very close friend.

Something began brewing from 2012 onward. Writing the last novel, Falaise, a career change taking shape in 2013. We are in the thick of a Uranus conjunct Venus and MC transit. I left seventeen years of self-employment to be hired by an IT firm.

In February 2015, Falaise was published (Jupiter trine Moon). Still, critical acclaim. I had to wait until August for a very fine review in the newspaper La Presse (Uranus trine Moon), but this did not account for Neptune square Mars. A sword stroke in water?

Things were going fairly well despite a growing debt I could not stem, as I am hardly inclined to discipline in this area (Neptune square Mars in 2015–2016). This resulted in a consumer proposal (Neptune conjunct Sun, North Node conjunct Pluto, Jupiter conjunct North Node, Saturn conjunct Moon) in May 2017. From that moment on, I was able to slowly right the situation, paying my negotiated debt religiously. I obtained a managerial position within the company, then became a director (of not much).

In 2022, I freed myself of my debt (Jupiter conjunct Venus/MC). Pluto was extracting itself from the horizon (conjunct the Descendant). Neptune was conjunct Mercury. A philosophical surge led me to reconnect seriously with astrology and everything pertaining to religion.

Still influenced by these energies, I witnessed my father's death in February 2023; I fell seriously ill in August 2023 (still under Neptune's grip). A severe E. coli infection.

As Saturn was conjunct the Sun, I lost my job in April 2024 at the age of 65. Taking advantage of the optimism of a Jupiter conjunction on Mars, I landed a job at another firm, a position I still hold. At the time of my hiring, the North Node was crossing the MC and Venus. At that same moment, my mother fell gravely ill. She pulled through, fortunately.

The end of 2025 and the beginning of 2026 are marked by the continuing conjunction of Saturn with Mercury. It is clear to me that this is a sober, stable, and rich period. Financial stability is here; I am catching up somewhat on lost time in this regard, so much so that I have been able to accumulate enough to soften my old age.

At 67, I feel retirement is not quite here yet. The transits of 2027–2028 promise to be decisive on this matter, by the mere presence of the conjunctions of Uranus on Mars (ruler of the MC) and Neptune at the MC (and Venus). Will it be time, on the cusp of my 70th birthday, to take my bow and perform my little existential dance differently?

Conclusion

I would have thought the exercise more perilous. I do not know whether it is a matter of blindness or selective bias, but the whole thing "speaks to me," as they say. I remain both grateful and surprised by this astrological knowledge, by this mechanism that seems capable of colouring our lives.

Not everything is in everything, of course. The countless wars, the atrocities leading to interrupted destinies, do not add up so easily within this knowledge. At some point, one must enter the probabilistic universe of mundane astrology.

Nevertheless, I would like to become the one who listens to others, the one who tells them a story inspired by the course of the stars.

The wind of the planets creates waves of varying heights on the surface of our minuscule oceans. Modern software allows us to better perceive their shapes. I program a few things on this site, free to use.

The sky belongs to us. One need only open the book and lose oneself — or surrender — to its shifting sentences.