On the missing animal in the zodiacal wheel
My take on the nature, and sometimes misunderstanding, of Libra
As we approach September Equinox, I’d like to share something I’ve been sitting with this Libran season (Sun is in Libra from roughly September 23 and October 23 each year).
One of the things that draws me to astrology is not only the opportunity to better connect with the cosmos beyond our sphere, but to also connect more deeply with the Earth experience. The zodiacal wheel of animals has become for me an indispensable resource for calling on wisdom so ancient it predates humanity.
There is a significant gap in this wheel, something I’ve heard many folks with a strong Libra presence in their natal chart bemoan. (Typically, the symbol used for Libra is scales, the symbol often used in legal contexts.)
I’ve been in a practice of attempting to not limit my astrological discoveries to the Northern Hemisphere which so often dominates the ideology and conversation (in astrology and otherwise). So this year I’ve been asking myself if perhaps this zodiacal omission is connected to this bias, if perhaps there is an animal from the Southern Hemisphere that could help me better understand Libra.
And now it seems almost too obvious: The elephant is the animal long overdue it’s place in this circle. (For those of you thinking, but the elephant is not in the Libran constellation, I hope I’m not the first to inform you that the constellations and the zodiac are two entirely different things.)
Here’s a few pieces of wisdom about elephants that I hope will aid you as we traverse this time post-Libra-eclipse, as the Sun in Libra connects with Mercury late Thursday before again squaring now-direct Pluto early Saturday. Every single planet in the Sky is still pointing to Venus, directly or indirectly, which is the guardian of Libra, so there’s still some juice to squeeze from Her beauteous fruits.
To be clear, this wisdom is for all of us, not only those with strong Libra placements like Sun in Libra. Each of our natal charts, after all, has Libra in it, so we are all learning Libra lessons in at least one area of our life.
Elephants and their ancestors have been on this gorgeous planet for 50 million years, while we humans and our ancestors have only been here for about 6 million. I think of our more-than-human ancestors as our teachers, and I’m excited to share what elephant wisdom has been teaching me of late.
Libra as Space Sculpting
Libra is one of the four cardinal signs, along with Aries, Cancer and Capricorn. These signs are the turning points of the cosmic wheel, initiating new seasons and chapters. While the other cardinal signs are pretty well known for their magnanimous presence, often Libra’s strong influence is less understood (the zodiacal omission may be a fitting example).
To me, this has everything to do with our (American) culture’s tendency towards narratives that prop up solitary heroes, rather than recognizing that everything is created through interconnections and interdependence.
The influence of Libra is undeniable. One of the best descriptions of Libra I’ve heard, from astrologer Christopher Renstrom, is an iron fist within a velvet glove. The appearance of gentility and humility does not negate the profundity of the spirit of this movement within the wheel.
The elephant is not only one of the largest land animals, it’s what’s known as a keystone species, one that has such an immense relationship to its environment that its sheer existence supports a multitude of other species. Elephants change physical environments by uprooting trees, trampling ground, and enlarging water holes, and they disperse the seeds of many plants.
Because their impact is largely invisible and harder to measure quantitatively, their contribution can be taken for granted. Worse still, they may not be as attention grabbing as lions or cheetahs or zebras, so it has taken some time for us to dedicate ourselves to learn more about them. Meanwhile, they are charismatic enough that myths (like that they are afraid of mice and like peanuts) have abounded.
Libra has had a similar lot, I believe, and understanding of this archetype has often has been superficial at best. I’ve been fortunate to have had many close friends and family members with strong Libra placements, so have been a student in Libra school for my whole life. I hope in this article to share some of what I’m learning, and, importantly, how I’m carrying this into my own life, rather than projecting ideas onto the aforementioned people or anyone else.
Libra as Ethical Relating
Libra is one of the Air signs, so it’s pursuits and concerns are largely intellectual. Being guarded by Venus, it’s intellect is different from that of Mercury’s wit and Uranus’ genius. Libra is concerned with order, beauty, and morality.
Similarly, the elephant, an animal with the largest brain in the world, is known for an intelligence that extends well beyond cleverness. Their excellent senses of smell, hearing, and touch are part of what make them expert communicators. They can recognize music and distinguish among elephant calls and even human voices. They employ a vast range of signals, calls, gestures, and cries and can even mimic human speech and use musical and artistic instruments.
They aren’t the only animals that can use tools, but they are among the very few that can recognize themselves in a mirror, understand nonverbal language, and problem solve and play games. Their expert memory serves them well too—they can recall as many as 17 different family member locations (by contrast, we humans can usually hold about seven items in our short-term memory).
What they do with all this prowess really demonstrates where their concern lies. They are known to be very affectionate towards one another, even comforting one another when they are distressed. They are not only one of a few animals that actively grieve the loss of family members, they have elaborate group rituals that include visiting the grave sites of their lost loved ones for years to come.
Thinking about Libra, it’s worth saying that emotional intelligence coupled with ethical concerns carries some risks. Their strengths can be manipulated and exploited (consider how elephants have been trained for wars and circuses). A need for order can create a lot of stress, especially in chaotic times, and this stress can bring out the worst in them (I’m sure you’ve heard stories of elephants, usually males in the midst of dramatic hormonal changes, killing their trainers). A concern for morality can complicate things further, which I will go into more later.
Libra as Measuring in Love
Venus is the planet associated with the collective feminine. (To be clear, this is an energy and experience that all people can connect with, not only those with uteruses.) Traditionally, female deities or archetypes represent all or or one of three figures which symbolize stages of the female life cycle: Maiden, Mother, and/or Crone. Alternatively, in the Orphic tradition specifically, the three Fates or Moirai were usually depicted as a Spinner (girl), Measurer (older woman), and Cutter (elderly woman).
Especially as the Patriarchy continues to be disrupted, I think it’s time we looked at and for additional images, and for now I think the Measurer is an interesting and more inclusive and liberating alternative to Mother. Especially because the female form of measurement is quite a bit different from the all-too-often-cold calculations of combative men, emphasizing subtleties and qualities. Reminds of the song “Seasons of Love.”
Interestingly, the relatively new phrase “elephant parents” is meant to describe those who give their children more flexibility and choices, as well as comfort and support. This type of parenting has been embraced by some, and criticized by others as being overly permissive and making children overly dependent on their parents. (I think Libra can teach us there is a balance to strike here, and that’s the extent of what I’ll say about parenting right now.)
Female elephants are certainly worthy of a mantle. They are pregnant for 22 months before giving birth, after which they produce milk for at least another two years. Males usually live separate from the herd, so they are always single moms who rely on their fellow females to take care of their calf (so they can have time to eat all they need to eat to be able to produce milk, for one).
Even though male calves will separate from their mothers during adolescence, female calves will typically stay with their mom until she dies. That’s right, elephants form matriarchal herds, typically led by the oldest female whose memory of places, dangers, and resources is unparalleled. When this elder dies, her place is taken by her oldest daughter.
Libra as (Ego)Self-Endangering
Libra’s counter-cultural approach to intangible being, empathic thinking, and matriarchal doing presents a real threat to the status quo. Unfortunately, the characteristic adaptability and altruism also makes for some real psychological quandaries and moral dilemmas.
In the wild, the only predators for elephants are lions, who typically only prey on the weakest member, and human poachers, who tellingly hunt elephants not for sustenance but because of their beauty (ivory tusks in particular).
Some would argue that elephants are also prey to people who hold them captive, which is an especially egregious offense for an animal whose need for social interaction can make loneliness and isolation particularly painful and unbearable.
These facts are even more tragic when you consider that elephants have been known to go out of their way to avoid hurting us humans and even willingly aid us. What is it about us that makes us struggle to reciprocate such generosity?
The same that makes us go against our instincts and hurt each other and ourselves, I’d imagine: Our social conditioning, specifically towards violence. In a characteristically Libran way, the communal bond that ensured our human survival across the eons can also threaten it. As humans, we not only endanger animals like exquisite elephants, we endanger ourselves.
Libra is often associated with the phrase “people pleasing” which, like the phrase “imposter syndrome”, I’ve long felt is just part of a cultural lexicon that gaslights those that might undermine or otherwise threaten it. The reality is that people share with elephants our incredible skills in adaptation, and, like too many elephants who’ve been stripped of their dignity, we’ve adapted to some all-too-often depraved circumstances because of our human need for belonging. As countless psychological studies have shown, when this need is threatened, we’ll do anything, even endanger our inherently moral selves.
As Libras know all too well, avoidance of conflict doesn’t eliminate it, in fact it can actually create even greater conflict. So our moral injury crescendos, leading to disorientation and eventually the very social alienation we were attempting to avert in the first place.
When we see not only animals in pain and suffering, but one another and ourselves in that same distress, can we take a note from our animal teachers and learn to lean in, to comfort one another, to not just take up space but make space, to ritualistically grieve, to follow our matriarchal elders, and to measure our lives by our care for not just our own but each others’ children?
I’ve been told that elephants in the circus, once trained, don’t try to escape even though they have more than enough strength to. Libra carries its own medicine, if only it can learn to, on occasion, look to itself rather than to its companions. We can use our (elephant) ears to listen to our inner voice, however meek it may be.
We can learn to metaphorically lose ourselves in ways that actually help us create even more order, beauty, and morality. We can let go of patterns, even ones that may have defined us before, our egoic selves, our inner “people pleasers.” This makes space for the composting that happens in the season of Scorpio, the place that follows on the turning wheel.
The Partner We Can Be for Ourselves
Because Libra is about partnership and interdependence and balance, I want to lastly talk about the sign and it’s planet that forms the polarity mobius with Libra: Aries and Mars.
Mars is named after the Roman god of war, one who was appealed to by the army that led Rome to construct its massive empire. Thankfully this deity is not the only one we can look to for guidance about showing up with generative masculinity (again, regardless of gender identity), and it’s incredibly important that we actively challenge paradigms and beliefs that perpetuate violence and oppression.
While I am humble enough to know that he is an expression of a culture that is not my own, I take some inspiration from the Hindu deity Ganesha, who is considered to be the lord of both material and spiritual obstacles, with the power to both place and remove them. He not only has an elephant shaped head, he is usually portrayed as a figure that is dancing, a gesture I appreciate as being very different from what’s typical for the warrior.
Part of challenging the patriarchal paradigm that lives in and through each of us is tending to how we've distorted masculine energies internally, interpersonally, and institutionally. I believe Mars too can serve our collective liberation, when we position him not as violent destroyer but as courageous protector, motivator, and champion for sharing power collectively.
Too often, we look to others to do this work for us, and if we really yearn for Libran balance and harmony, we need to become the kind of partner we long for, one that has probably been wounded but has worked to heal and integrate those wounds, one we can trust to draw lines for us when necessary.
If you’re looking for inspiration, start with people who protect elephants from poachers and care for ones that have been orphaned. I imagine these people (usually people who identify as men, from what I know) are passionately feeling people, unafraid to openly cry and show affection. And then ask yourself: how can I fiercely care for and best protect the precious, deep feeling elephant baby that is living within me?
The movements this week that continue to keep us collectively working through Libran lessons emphasize there’s a shift that’s slowly but surely taking place in our collective humanity (I’ve spoken to this in all of my most recent posts and conversations about Venus). It’s characteristically veiled from the sight of eyes shaped by the status quo, but it’s still very real.
I hope you will keep looking for the paths being carved, the pools being formed, and the seeds being spread which are evidence that there is a gentle trampling taking place. And I hope that you will find your own way to join in the playing, the grieving, and the intelligent relating which is the new order being created.