Taurus: The Bull, The Cultivator, The Stabilizer, & The Vocalist
Zodiac Sign & Constellation: Taurus ♉
Element: 🜃 Earth 🌳
Ruling Planet: Venus ♀️
Symbol: The Bull 🐂
Phrase: “I have” 💰
Keywords: affectionate, appreciative, attentive, calm, caring, cautious, comforting, cultivating, dependable, demonstrative, determined, devoted, down-to-earth, driven, durable, dutiful, fixed, foodie, generous, gentle, greedy, grounded, habitual, hard-working, hoarder, honest, indulgent, inflexible, insatiable, jealous, kind, laid-back, lethargic, logical, loving, loyal, luxurious, materialistic, musical, patient, persistent, possessive, practical, pragmatic, prosperous, redundant, refined, relaxed, reliable, resilient, resistant, secure, self-isolating, self-sufficient, sensible, sensual, silent, sophisticated, stable, static, steadfast, steady, strong, stubborn, sturdy, tenacious, thrifty, thorough, trustworthy, unchanging, unforgiving, vocalist
Table of Contents:
The Bull’s Horns
When Paul Gleason’s Richard Vernon warns Bender in The Breakfast Club (1985), “Don’t mess with the bull, young man, you’ll get the horns,” there really was no better hardass to say it. After all, Paul Gleason is a Taurus Sun, so the man is the bull like his character asserts, at least figuratively.
Like those with prominent Taurus placements (such as their Big 3: Sun, Moon, and Ascendant/Rising), bulls are known for their physical/emotional strength and powerful builds. Taurus is the Latin word for “bull,” so the animal associated with the zodiac sign and constellation of Taurus is, naturally, the bull.
Across cultures, the bull has been considered a symbol of strength, perseverance, virility, prosperity, and the renewal of life. Several ancient cultures associate the bull with their primary sun gods, such as Ra in ancient Egypt and Shamash in ancient Mesopotamia. Hindus view cattle as sacred and are driven to vegetarianism through the practice of Ahimsa, or nonviolence to all living beings. The Taurus bull also has a connection to Chinese astrology with their second animal, the ox; those born within the year of the ox share many of the same traits as Taurus.
There is a little more duality to the Taurus bull compared to the Aries ram, their predecessor. While both creatures possess immaculate horns to charge at their competitors, symbolizing their power and confidence, there is a calm stability to the Taurus bull that the Aries ram lacks. When they aren’t trained in bullfighting, popular in countries like Spain and Portugal, they are grazing majestically with their herd, demonstrating their softer side through loving protection. I mean, just look at how sweet they are:
Their strength extends past physical stature, as Taurus’ true strength lies in their big hearts. Venus rules only two zodiac signs, Taurus and Libra, so the goddess of love and beauty finds herself at her most sturdy and tenacious in the fixed modality of Taurus.
Taurus’ other mythological influence comes from two Greek figures named Taurus: the prince of Pylos who was killed by Hercules and the general to Minos, King of Crete, who was conquered by Theseus. It is interesting that Taurus served under King Minos because of Minos’ connection to the Minotaur, who possess the head and tail of a bull and body of a man. Minos’ name comes from the prefix of Minotaur, and King Minos became infamous for sacrificing Athenian children to the Minotaur in Daedalus’ labyrinth, “feeding the beast” as vengeance for his son’s death.
Overall, most symbolic and mythological associations with Taurus the Bull have a cross-cultural overlap, perhaps because of the fixed modality of Taurus. This consistency also extends into the archetypal associations with second sign of the Zodiac, as most of the Tauruses I’m about to discuss could be considered as representation for more than one Taurus archetype. Still, I will pinpoint what archetype they most closely fall under to save time.
The Taurus Archetypes
Like with my zodiac piece on Aries, there are plenty of archetypes besides the three I will discuss, but for the sake of brevity, I will focus on how Tauruses tend to embody The Cultivator, The Stabilizer, and The Vocalist archetypes.
When analyzing the natal charts of Taurus-heavy people, I will mostly focus on those with Taurus placements in their Big 3, whether that’s their Sun, Moon, and/or Ascendant/Rising sign, because these placements are what many astrologers consider “the core self.” There will be brief discussions concerning those with outer planets (Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, & Pluto) in Taurus, but as always, most potent energy of a sign can be found within the inner planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, & Mars), so they have precedence.
**Please skip ahead to the next section on The Cultivator Archetype if you are already familiar with what the Big 3 represents**
To recap the importance of one’s astrological Big 3, the sun indicates the ego, the moon indicates emotions, and the ascendant indicates appearance and immediate impressions of personality.
The sun sign is determined by where the sun is located at the time of birth, moving from one zodiac constellation to the next every thirty days from our earthly perspective.
The moon sign is determined by where the moon is located at the time of birth, moving from one zodiac constellation to the next every 2 1/2 days.
Finally, the ascendant sign is determined by the what sign the eastern horizon is located at the time of birth, moving from one zodiac constellation to the next every 2 hours or so. The ascendant sign also determines the 12 houses of a chart, always starting with the 1st house corresponding with the sign of the ascendant.
There are multiple house systems, such as Porphyry, Placidus, and Whole House, that differ on how place of the the angles and size of the houses are determined, but for the sake of simplicity, I will use the Whole House system in my chart analyses, meaning all 12 houses are of equal size, 30 degrees, starting at 0 degrees each.
On to “The Cultivator” archetype in Taurus placements!
The Cultivator Archetype
“From a small seed, a mighty trunk may grow.” – Aeschylus
Like “The Leader” archetype of Aries, Tauruses take an initiative by sowing prosperous futures through foundational cultivation. Unlike Aries, however, Tauruses understand that patience and sensibility go a long way in establishing a more sustainable practice. Taurus learned from their kid brother Aries’ that foolish recklessness and act-first-think-later mentality can breed disaster, so they’ve come to appreciate the necessity of slowing down and rooting themselves in practicality and level-headedness.
As the second sign of the Zodiac, the primary energy of Taurus is still about beginnings. Now that the rapid-fire ideas and machinations have been expended through Aries’ bold creativity and daring leadership, Taurus turns those dreams into realistic plans that guarantee stability and wealth for the foreseeable future, occasionally seeing to long-lasting prosperity.
Let’s take a look at the 2nd house, ruled by Taurus, to see some of the domains Taurus cultivates within the most.
Money, resources, worth, and comforts — aka the finer things in life — are all Taurus-ruled; in other words, Tauruses get that bag.
All Earth signs — Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn — are fairly determined to do their damnedest to make their work, well, worth a damn. As a feminine element, they can appreciate a slower approach to their work than masculine fire or air signs, but they still cannot stand wasting time if they aren’t being useful or receiving something of use.
With Tauruses especially, their efforts are made with the expectation of agreeable pay, whether that be monetary or through careful, emotional reciprocation. Being the ruler of moveable possessions like cash, when Tauruses are given an opportunity complete a task, they take a slower, more methodical approach than their surrounding signs of Aries and Gemini, making sure the task is done right the first time to save them from having to revisit later.
They are still prone to making mistakes in the beginning, like everyone, but more often than not, their stubbornness demands that they get it right early so that the task doesn’t remain a source of frustration forever; keep in mind that this doesn’t mean they are perfectionists the way Virgo and Capricorn can be, as Tauruses still remain kiddish in a lot of ways and would rather relax after accomplishing something rather than pushing themselves towards absolute perfection. Like their fixed friend Leo, a solid appreciation for relaxation and reaping the fruits of their labor is far from a mark against their character. Of course, when one becomes too accepting once the basics are covered, Tauruses create the potential risk of falling into laziness or lethargic complacency, especially if they become to settled within their comforts. However, possessive greed, rather than laziness, is the worst vice a Taurus could fall into in my opinion, especially when it becomes so habitual that they hoard their wealth and possessions.
I’ve seen this play out several times with Taurus Suns, whether it be a hoard of nice clothes never to be worn, furniture passed down through generations never to be used, or even jobs that keep them from retiring so that they never have to sit with their scarce mentality. As lovely as their sense of devotion to all things can be, possessiveness and their lack of acceptance in having “just enough” is something every Taurus-heavy person has to face to some degree in life.
Take it from me, the daughter of a Taurus Sun and Mercury daddio, to understand the best and worst of The Cultivator archetype. Let’s do just that, starting with the parent-child dynamic and then working our way into specifics.
First, there are no accidents to the kind of child that parents must nourish and raise. There are certain karmic lessons that must be addressed through a child — biological or adopted — that either instills a generational cycle of karma or works off karmic debts over familial lineages and incarnational lifetimes (or a little bit of both here and there). Even though we may never understand the full depth of these life lessons, both the parents and child can become all too aware of the repeated lessons they endure if the learning is slow to integrate and absorb.
For me and my dad, we form a see-saw in our charts with my Leo Sun opposing his Aquarius Ascendant and my Scorpio Ascendant opposing his Taurus Sun, meaning it is a constant push-pull of ego and personality with us. In some ways, this dynamic is quite excellent: growing up, I was daddy’s little girl who learned everything from cooking & gardening, to fishing & gaming (watching him play Doom as a toddler was a favorite pastime) because of him, as well as gaining a well-rounded taste in music from him, such as Crowded House, Duran Duran, The Smiths, Simple Minds, Pink Floyd, The Police, and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. We are great at finding mutual interests because of how our suns fall into each other’s 7th houses, where interpersonal relationships and alliances form. On the flip side, the 7th house is also where conflicts form.
Just as much as parents provide karmic lessons for their children to take, children also push back with their own lessons, usually a mirrored version of their parents’ lessons in order to create balance. There came a point in my adolescence, when I was becoming more actualized in my person, that this push-back became increasingly obvious because a Leo has to express themselves to get their way, especially a Leo stellium that includes Mercury (communication).
Sometimes my expressions overly challenged his ego in a way no one, save for maybe my Leo Sun mom, had managed to before — at least not in a way that he was forced to face so directly; you can walk away from a friend or coworker without severe offense taken, but the same cannot be said for the nuclear family. Needless to say, there were many stubborn attempts to suppress my outspoken core self because of how unwilling he was to take on the more triggering lessons of loud, authentic, and creative expression that Leo children present to their subdued or overly practical parents. Sometimes when a Taurus cultivates without enough care, they can be too restricting in exactly how their product is cultivated, like girdling a tree tie too tight, strangling it in an attempt to straighten it.
While it hurt a lot at the time, having been removed from him over the years and analyzing his natal chart has helped me see with clarity how little control he has over most things, so I can never stay bitter at the man who wanted to find some sense of control through my upbringing. And when it was more about cultivating persistence and durability than about taming my fires, I learned a whole lot about the best sides of Taurus energy.
As I mentioned before, he taught me a ton of Taurus-specific activities like cooking and gardening. As earthly cultivators, anything food-related is within Taurus’ domain, whether that be growing their own fruits, vegetables, and herbs and then incorporating them into their favorite home-cooked meals. Most aspects of my series’ Taurus Sun character that were borrowed from my dad involve cultivating his own food on his family’s farm, developing a sort of “ritual” around making home-cooked meals from family recipes, and honoring the process of food consumption with great intent (they’re definitely both kitchen wizards).
While they absolutely deserve the foodie title for this reason, I do get peeved seeing how often Taurus is stereotyped as a food-obsessed glutton. Like a bull, they tend to be bulkier or full-figured folk, but much of this is their overall size, build, and muscle mass makeup. Tauruses do not tend to overdo it on eating junk food as they see food as a luxurious experience — something to be consumed with intention. So more often than not, they are food connoisseurs, critics, and home chefs with only a risk for gaining weight if a dependence on these comforts grows unmanageable, like with the hoarding I mentioned earlier, or if their eating habits become unintentional and medicinal, such as eating every time you’re bored or depressed. Frankly, issues involving weight usually is due to an unfortunate Jupiter placement/aspect, as it is the planet of constant expansion and abundance, rather than which sign your sun is placed.
Along with being cultivators of such earthly possessions as money and garden growth, Tauruses are also cultivators of beauty, representing an “earth angel” energy.
Taurus’ ruling planet is Venus, named after the Roman goddess of love, beauty, desire, prosperity, and fertility; her Greek equivalent is Aphrodite and share much of the same mythology and associations. Venus sets her roots in Taurus with prosperous, luxurious intent, giving mortal man material reason for the finer things that make life worth living. She gives us objects to strive for: more money, more success, more youthful beauty, more love, more children. Taurus Venuses especially do well in these departments, as it is difficult to find a forever alone, poor uggo Taurus Venus; in a way, Venus makes a “deal” with everyone of her domiciles (Libra Venus included) that she’ll continue to lend her greatest gifts as long as they honor her as the source of their greatness. Only a fool would believe themselves “above” her grace, so be careful with over-bragging as a Taurus Venus and be especially careful when crossing a Taurus Venus.
One of my favorite moments recognizing a Taurus Venus in action before reading their chart occurred when I watched Juzo Itami’s comedic ramen Western Tampopo (1985). The whole movie is so Taurus-coded it’s incredible: in order for Tampopo to turn her failing ramen restaurant around, she must arduously master her ramen-cooking technique and sneakily learn the secrets of her competitors through the help of two truck drivers who share a mutual affection of the “art of noodle soup making.” Interspersed with the main plot are scenes of two lovers who also have a mutual interest of food, but their gourmand affections are a little more erotic than what Tampopo is serving up. Still, the camera loves Tampopo, as it should, because the directer Juzo Itami, whose 17° Taurus Venus conjuncts his 14° Taurus Sun, often stars his wife Nobuko Miyamoto in his films; she is Tampopo and the audience falls in love with her much the same as Itami has. Overall, Tampopo is a very sweet, heartfelt film, hugging the viewer in much the same way ramen broth hugs the soul.
Tauruses love involving their loved ones in their work or daily routines, as they always want to be reminded who they are cultivating for. Even Taurus Mars lean into their loyal, sensual side in order to include loved ones in their endeavors. As a Venus-ruled Libra Mars myself, I love having a Taurus Mars partner because even though traditionally air and earth signs don’t collaborate well, having a shared rulership means both sides of Venus show up in the planet of action and drive. We prefer to do most activities together, and even apart we tend to wish the other was there to share the experience. There is a great amount of reciprocation in our sex lives, making sure both our needs are met. And we enjoy simple luxuries together, equally satisfied with staying home among our possessions and our family of cats most nights and weekends. Overall, when Mars is in Taurus or Libra, it is lightly tempered by Venus’ need for sensitivity and love, but the persistent drive is still there, especially in matters of securing comforts and relationships, just not as aggressively as Mars in its domicile of Aries or Scorpio.
When it comes to cultivation, Taurus accomplishes more than simply accruing money and attaining valuables. They quite literally plant seeds for a prosperous future that includes wealth of all kinds, whether that be money, security, esteem, comforts, beauty, and love. With such sensible goals, it is hard not to rely on a Taurus to see a startup project, new relationship, or business venture through to the end.
Psychology’s Finest
On first judgement, Taurus may not seem as cerebral as her earth friend Virgo or as enraptured by mystery as her sister sign Scorpio, but I found a striking pattern in the number of founding psychologists and Taurus placements, particularly Taurus Moon and Pluto. To give you a good idea of the incredible amount of Taurus-placed psychologists, let’s look over the list I gathered with the tremendous help of this article and then I will go into my thoughts on why there are so many Taurus cultivators in psychology:
Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) - Sun, Mercury, Uranus, Pluto, & Descendant
Psychoanalysis, Id/Ego/Superego, Conscious/Unconscious Mind, Oedipus Complex, Psychosexual Development, Life/Death Instincts, & Repression
Founding Father of Psychoanalysis
Leon Festinger (1919-1989) - Sun & Midheaven
Cognitive Dissonance & Social Comparison Theory
Carl Jung (1875-1961) - Moon, Neptune, & Pluto
Analytical Psychology, Archetypal Phenomena, Collective Unconscious, & Synchronicity
Alfred Adler (1870 - 1937) - Moon, Jupiter, & Pluto
Inferiority Complex, Belongingness, & Individual Psychology
Edward Thorndike (1874-1949) - Moon, Neptune, & Pluto
Law of Effect, Behavioral Modification, & Education Psychology
B.F. Skinner (1904 - 1990) - Moon & IC
Behaviorism & Operant Conditioning
Inspired by Pavlov
Anna Freud (1895-1982) - Ascendant
Defense Mechanisms & Child Psychoanalysis
Sigmund Freud’s youngest of six children
James McKeen Cattell (1860-1944) - Mercury & Pluto
Scientific Psychology
First Psychology professor in the United States
Mamie Phipps Clark (1917-1983) - Mercury & Jupiter
Research on Race & Effects of Segregation
Mary Whiton Calkins (1863-1930) - Venus & Pluto
Self-Psychology & Paired-Association Technique
First woman President of the American Psychological Association (APA)
Wilhelm Wundt (1832-1920) - Mars
Structuralism, Introspection, & Experimentalism
Jean Piaget (1896-1980) - Mars
Child Development & Genetic Epistemology
Erik Erikson (1902-1994) - Mars
Psychosocial Development
Coined the phrase “identity crisis”
Edward Titchener (1867-1927) - Pluto
Introspection, Structuralism, & Attention
First, there are quite a few astrological points that can reveal or heavily indicate someone’s psyche or typical psychological disposition, such as an 8th house stellium, a poorly placed Psyche, or even a hard aspect between Mercury and the Moon or Neptune. For instance, people with the asteroid Psyche (16) in the 3rd house or Gemini (like me :D) usually deal with some level of mental illness, such as anxiety or bipolar disorder, because of the 3rd house’ domain over the mind and thinking and Gemini’s social mutability as the twins of the zodiac. Gemini Psyches also tend to attract others with mental illness because they are mirrors, so they reflect back the psychological impressions that people don’t always notice or want to notice about themselves.
In my analysis of these psychologists, I am barred from going over most true house placements since the exact time of birth is still rarely documented, let alone in charts that are from the 19th century, so I cannot verify if there are some patterns within their 3rd or 8th houses. I additionally won’t go over Psyche any further, even though she is a great indicator of one’s psychology, purely for simplicity’s sake. If you are interested in Psychological Astrology, which makes great use of Carl Jung’s work for instance with archetypal phenomena and shadow work within one’s natal chart, then you would likely use asteroids like Psyche in understanding your own psychology. For the purpose of this analysis, I will focus on how Taurus Moon and Pluto placements are the key factors behind these psychologists’ passion for psychology.
Starting with the Moon, it is necessary to understand that one’s Moon placement is either as important or more important than one’s Sun placement. For highly feminine people or those who lack a large ego, their Moon placement leads them far more than their Sun placement because the Moon is a feminine energy that rules over the subconscious and intuition while the Sun is a masculine energy that rules over the conscious and ego. The Moon is softer and much more under the surface than the Sun, so in some ways it is vessel for which psychological security is established while the Sun is the outward expression of that security or lack thereof.
Carl Jung (I’ll talk about him a lot outside of this section in general because he’s my guy) demonstrates this in his own chart and psychological musings. He was an astrologer as well as a psychologist, so he’s an explorer of personal-cosmic nature just the same, and often wondered about the soul, even having conversations with it. The Red Book contains excerpts of these conversations that were were drafts or published sections of his other journals like The Black Book, such as when he deems his soul a child or maiden because that is how his dreams have represented his soul to him. When he speaks to his soul in these journal entries, he asks such big questions as:
“...are you God? Is God a child, a maiden? ...I speak to you quietly, and you know that I am neither a drunkard nor someone deranged, and that my heart twists in pain from the wound, whose darkness delivers speeches full of mockery: ‘You are lying to yourself! You spoke so as to deceive others and make them believe in you. You want to be a prophet and chase after your ambition’” (131).
I interpret this as a common phenomenon known as imposter’s syndrome, where your subconscious feels as if it is lying to the world through conscious efforts of self-establishment such as starting a new job in a field you have trained in and are plenty qualified for. Doubt is a common thing that creeps into our subconscious even when we are convicted in our capabilities, often because it is the last thing that needs to be “done away with” before we can confidently determine our sense of self within larger society. He is grappling with this soul the nature of expression — establishing the “I am” to himself and others — in a way that makes his Leo Sun square aspect to his Taurus Moon all the more telling.
He sees his soul as a child or maiden much like the Moon is a nostalgic, feminine influence into our subconscious minds. He wants to be a leader within his field so that others, too, can understand their minds in a deeper, fuller way, which he would need a hefty sense of self (consciousness) to establish himself as a foundational influencer of psychoanalysis as a practice. The conflict is whether or not this desire is made out of selfish, inauthenticity — if he is deceiving himself, thus in turn deceiving everyone else. Authenticity and defining selfhood are extremely thematic for Leos, especially Leo Suns because the Sun (again, the consciousness) is within its domicile in Leo, so with his Leo Sun square (distant) his Taurus Moon, we can imagine just how common this clashing between his conscious desires and expression and his subconscious doubts and security was when Jung was attempting to understand his own personal psychology as well as psychology as a whole.
This clashing is only furthered by the exact degree square between his Leo Sun and Taurus Neptune, both at 3°. Neptune is also associated with consciousness but mostly collective consciousness since it is a generational planet; as an emerging field of medical practice, psychology and psychoanalysis existed in a limbo space when Jung entered the scene at the turn of the century, as it was the first study of human behavior that explicitly conflicted with prominent religious viewpoints at the time. To make matters more complicated for him, most other founding psychologists were not as interested in the Soul as Jung was, preferring to view the mind from a purely scientific lens.
Anytime a vast majority of the culture adheres to a particular spiritual or religious belief system, Neptune is largely at play residing over the collective consciousness of that particular generation; the fact that Jung’s generation had a Taurus Neptune is simply hilarious to me because it makes for stubborn mix of wanting stability but striving for practical cultivation. People of Jung’s time might have wanted to keep traditional religious values but also were beginning to understand that the complexities of the human mind could not be resolved through a purely religious viewpoint alone. With such a conflict as a square between his Leo Sun and Taurus Moon and Neptune within Jung’s own chart, you can understand how conflicted Jung became in wanting answers behind his and the collective’s conscious needs versus his subconscious suspicions of ineptitude and dishonesty.
Then we see other generational Taurus placements in founding psychologists, such as Taurus Uranus and Pluto in Sigmund Freud, who is often touted as the father of modern psychology and psychoanalysis. His entire study was on conscious and unconscious behaviors, as well as the id/ego/superego complex, so it is great that he has such a prominent Taurus stellium that also includes his Sun, Mercury, & Descendant placements.
Just as Neptune represents the collective consciousness, Pluto represents the collective subconsciousness. An easy way to view it is as internal and external influences: Sun is the personal internal consciousness and Neptune is the shared external consciousness, while Moon is the personal internal subconsciousness and Pluto is the shared external subconsciousness. Pluto is incredibly slow-moving, staying within one sign for 14-30 years (depending on retrogrades) but it is important to understand what sign Pluto is in to understand what subconscious fears and insecurities need to be worked out and metaphorically “destroyed” so that a rebirth can occur. For instance, America is currently in its first ever Pluto return in Aquarius, as the country’s founding was established during times where people sought freedom of choice and democratic representation, all of which are Aquarian in nature; the “old world” of monarchical rule and taxation without representation had to go, replaced by the growing trend of democratic thought. Now, freedom is once again largely under threat, so we will see major upheavals of imperialist powers falling to collective revolution within the next twenty years. We’ve only just begun there.
Anyway, in Freud’s time, the collective subconscious fears all had to do with Taurian themes: security, practicality, and stability. For the first time in recorded history, the world was moving at a break-neck speed. Technologies like cameras, telephones, typewriters, fast-loading handguns, and the electric lightbulb were being produced at a rapid pace and newer fields of study like economics, chemistry, and psychology were entering public awareness like never before, which created for a harsh adjustment period when the sign of stability was in the planet of death and transformation. While these inventions were great at propelling humanity into prosperity and convenience, which Taurus always appreciates, the rate at which these technologies were being cultivated were out of Taurus’ depth, which created growing pains for those born under Taurus Pluto. Those who experienced this were Sigmund Freud, Carl Jung, Alfred Adler, Edward Thorndike, James McKeen Cattell, Mary Whiton Calkins, and Edward Titchener, all of whom were fundamental pioneers of psychology as a scientific, medical practice.
However, it is through this pain that most growth can occur in areas of pragmatism and grounded understanding. Having Taurus in Pluto means that the collective subconscious transforms their fears of insecurity and instability through reasonable planning and long-term cultivation. Psychology wasn’t some new fad that people fancied for a decade and then grew out of — it became the quintessential practice of understanding the human mind and behavior that still stands tall today.
Taurus is the necessary sign to place foundations, period, but especially those with psychological intrigue; after all, Scorpio’s ruling planet is Pluto in modern astrology, so its mystical intensity — a place for the psyche to dive and thrive — must have something to anchor it into practical reality. While plenty of Scorpio-heavy or 8th house people love psychology, they are not fit for bringing the depths of the mind to the public in a meaningful way. Most of their work is done in private for their personal or domestic growth.
Taurus Pluto provides a foundation for the general public to begin their understanding of the mind in a simple yet tangible way, such as Freud’s and Jung’s compartmentalizing of the self through id/ego/superego and the shadow/the self/the persona/the anim(a/us), respectively. While each of part of the self are highly complex and nuanced on a case by case basis, the very nature of giving people the language to begin understanding their behavior is exactly what Taurus is about. They are a fixed plot of earth meant to build off of, like a garden’s freshly tilled soil, so even though Pluto is in detriment in Taurus (because the sister sign of the planet’s ruling sign is always in detriment), there are still Taurian benefits of practicality and durability found in cultivating something as deeply complicated as psychology in the collective subconscious.
Just as fundamental as practical cultivation is to Taurus, being a stabilizing force is also a must if Taurus wishes to create anything long-lasting or lucrative.
The Stabilizer Archetype
“The stability we cannot find in the world, we must create within our own persons.” — Nathaniel Branden
There is a beautiful balance to the way the elements present themselves within the zodiac pattern:
Fire 🜂 A bright spark of light ignites the story and spirit, but when fire grows too wild and rampant, earth’s body presses down to keep it under control.
Earth 🜃 The earth’s caves and gardens creates a hearth of security, but when the land becomes to rigid, air spreads its wings to fly.
Air 🜁 The wind and skies open the world to new possibilities, but when air runs too freely, water gathers to slow the mind down and give it purpose.
Water 🜄 Rain and oceans cleanse and purify the soul, but when one drowns in the waters’ depths, they must cleanse through the fires, born again like a phoenix rising from its ashes.
The transition from chaotic fire to stable earth is consistent throughout the three elemental cycles of the zodiac, but none is as crucial as the transition from Aries to Taurus. As I mentioned in the previous section, Taurus is still largely about beginnings, carrying forward the work Aries initiated, but there was no solid structure for Aries to work off to create long-term stability; think of Aries as the campfire that constantly requires wood to keep the flames going strong, while Taurus is the wood itself, cultivated patiently over many decades as a tree. What’s wonderful is that the short-lived fire does little to destroy the wood entirely, often repurposing it into charcoal for future use, as well as carbon-rich wood ash for garden fertilization. While still largely simplistic, Taurus grounds itself deeper and with more resilience than Aries ever could alone.
Yet, Taurus doesn’t go quite as deep as its sister sign of Scorpio nor any other water sign, but Taurus doesn’t exactly need an abundance of depth to be stable whatsoever.
Let’s go back to the tree analogy: most of us think of a tree’s root system as mirroring the appearance of the tree shape itself, such as in this illustration:
The problem is that treeroots don’t tend to grow downward past a certain depth save for a long tap root; they more often grow laterally to create more surface area, like in this illustration:
This root system’s widespread reach allows forest trees to support and communicate with one another. There are several tree-nerd explanations I could connect to Taurus here, but I’ll settle with just this: stability, at its very best, can be met through a large network of sufficient anchors, especially if woven with other strong networks.
Stability is rarely conquered alone just as a forest cannot be made up of one tree, no matter how magnificent it is in strength. The only candidate able to support itself time and time again, like the only old oak tree stationed in a field, is someone who possesses a significant portion of stabilizing placements, such as a Taurus or 2nd house stellium. Even then, obtaining a strong network of fellow stabilizers is key into creating long-term success without burnout.
A oddly perfect example of a strong, stabilizing Taurian network can be found in the hands of a famous chaos junkie and fiery visionary: Quentin Tarantino.
Tarantino’s Tauruses
When the name Quentin Tarantino enters the average conversation about iconic film directors, I doubt the word “stable” frequently enters the conversation. And for good reason! Tarantino’s trailblazing style is positively Aries: aggressive action-packed plots & visuals, playful & experimental camera work & editing, crass dialogue, and wildly violent (sometimes goofy) fight scenes. Tarantino is, by all intents and purposes, the most blatantly Aries director in recent cinematic history due to his Aries Sun and Mercury (Ego and Communication) placements.
While his films predominately have an overarching Aries energy to them, his Taurus Moon seems to draw in the Taurian talent that bring these films to life. Sally Menke was Tarantino’s go-to film editor, taking on every one of his directorial projects from Reservoir Dogs to Inglourious Basterds before her sudden passing in 2010; like Tarantino, she was a fire sun (Sagittarius) and Taurus Moon. Additionally, plenty of Tarantino’s favorite actors to collaborate and co-write with usually have more Taurus placements than Aries, so let’s go over them and their stabilizing influence.
First, I’d like to note that a majority of these actors starred in the directorial films of Tarantino, but there are a few who exclusively starred in films that Tarantino only had screenwriting credit, such as True Romance, Natural Born Killers, & From Dusk Till Dawn. Regardless, the idea is that these characters are written by Tarantino with a certain Taurus ✨pizzazz✨ that stems from his emotionally steadfast moon placement, so hiring Taurus-heavy actors to play these roles is pivotal in capturing that energy effortlessly.
Tim Roth - Sun and Moon
Mr. Orange/Freddy in Reservoir Dogs, Pumpkin in Pulp Fiction, Oswaldo Mobray in The Hateful Eight, Jay Sebring’s butler in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (deleted scene), & Ted the Bellhop in Four Rooms.
Harvey Keitel - Sun and Uranus
Mr. White/Larry in Reservoir Dogs, Winston “The Wolf” Wolf in Pulp Fiction, & Jacob Fuller in From Dusk Till Dawn
Pam Grier - Moon & Mars
Jackie Brown in Jackie Brown
Uma Thurman - Sun, Mercury, Saturn, & Midheaven
Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction & Beatrix “The Bride” Kiddo in Kill Bill: Vol.1 & 2
Lucy Liu - Moon
O-Ren Ishii in Kill Bill: Vol. 1
Daryl Hannah - Ascendant
Elle Driver in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & 2
Tommy Lee Jones - Moon & Ascendant
Warden Dwight McClusky in Natural Born Killers
Al Pacino - Sun, Saturn, & Uranus
Marvin Schwarz in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
Dennis Hopper - Sun, Venus, & Uranus
Clifford Worley in True Romance
George Clooney - Sun & Mercury
Seth Gecko in From Dusk Till Dawn
Robert Downey Jr. - Moon & Jupiter
Wayne Gale in Natural Born Killers
Other honorable mentions:
Rosario Dawson - Sun
Abernathy in Death Proof
Jamie Foxx - Moon
Django in Django Unchained
Michael Myers - Mercury & Venus
General Ed Fenech in Inglourious Basterds
Michael Bowen - Venus
Detective Mark Dargus in Jackie Brown, Buck in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & 2, & Tracker in Django Unchained
Christopher Walken - Venus
Captain Koons in Pulp Fiction & Vincenzo Coccotti in True Romance
Bruce Willis - Mars
Butch Coolidge in Pulp Fiction
Robert De Niro - Mars
Louis Gara in Jackie Brown
Patricia Arquette - Mars
Alabama Whitman-Worley in True Romance
Of these actors and roles, Tim Roth and Harvey Keitel’s Mr. Orange and Mr. White in Reservoir Dogs, Pam Grier’s Jackie Brown in Jackie Brown, and Uma Thurman’s Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & 2 strike me as the most fitting for “The Stabilizer” archetype. In reviewing and sharing my astrological analyses of these actors and the characters they play, I will be spoiling every film, so you’ve been warned. Seriously, go watch these films before reading my analyses.
I’d like to preface that while an actor can certainly play roles that differ from themselves significantly, their performance is all the more natural and convincing when an actor intuitively connects to their character through the energies of their natal placements, and directors and casting directors pick up on this, consciously or not. Considering how some of his characters were written with the actors in mind, such as Pam Grier as Jackie Brown, or even directly co-created by the actor, like Uma Thurman as Beatrix Kiddo, there is an even larger emphasis of their placements naturally coming through in their characterization and performance. For Thurman especially, it goes very deep with how much she is Beatrix in many ways.
Reservoir Dogs (1992) - Tim Roth & Harvey Keitel
Now, as his directorial debut, Reservoir Dogs is Quentin Tarantino’s most intentionally juvenile film by far. The first line of the first scene in the movie is about how Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” is about big dicks, like you’re listening in on a group of kids talking shit at lunch in the middle school cafeteria. The film is a violent exploration of how the kids who traded rock-throwing for gun-shooting never quite left their playground mentality upon entering the adult world of crime. This is implied as much when Michael Madsen’s character Mr. Blonde responds to Harvey Keitel’s Mr. White and Steve Buscemi’s Mr. Pink with “You kids shouldn’t play so rough” over their argument on who ratted out their heist, creating this iconic shot before his interruption:
There were several points when I first watched this film back in June 2024 where I recognized just how much Aries and Taurus energy are at play (literally). We can’t be too surprised by this considering Tarantino’s sun and moon placements, as well as those signs’ nature as the most youthful, inexperienced signs of the Zodiac. Yet, just like how Taurus recognizes the downsides of the reckless, destructive power of Aries, their predecessor, Mr. White and Mr. Orange recognize in each other their mutual need to embrace tempered loyalty and reliability over aggressive hot-headedness and malice.
Both the actors who play Mr. White and Mr. Orange, Harvey Keitel and Tim Roth respectively, have Aries Venuses, so they intrinsically seek out or are offered more action-heavy roles due to Venus’ attraction and artistic values; however, they have Taurus Suns, aligning their egos with far more practical and cautious modes of being than Aries Suns.
Their bond in the film is superbly palpable, as both of them clearly respect the meaning of loyalty, devotion, and pragmatism, with Mr. White (Larry) finding a surrogate family in Mr. Orange (Freddy), working in a father-son dynamic, especially once Orange gets shot under White’s watch; in fact, much of Orange’s undercover position is muddied by how easily he connects with White over their shared sense of duty, dependability, and practicality, revealing how easily blurred the line between police and career criminal mindsets can be. Just as easily as White could have been a great police captain in another life, Orange could have been a great crook — only, anytime White could prove virtue to save him and Orange from becoming victims of the criminal enterprise, he only sinks deeper into his loyalty to the Cabot crime family (until the end where he chooses Orange out of ignorant protectiveness); anytime Orange could feign belonging to the criminal underworld through aggressive action, he hesitates or feels instant remorse, such as when he instinctively shoots the pregnant woman who shot him.
Considering Tim Roth’s Taurus Moon especially, we can understand just how tremendously the act of murdering in vain affects Orange’s guilty conscience and his emotional state as he panics in the back of the pregnant woman’s vehicle while sustaining a gunshot to the abdomen. The entire scene, White holds Orange’s hand and talks him through his pain like a father comforting his dying son. As they enter the next scene at the warehouse rendezvous, Orange repeats in agony, “She had a baby, man! She had a baby!” These two scenes are some of my favorites in the film simply by how Roth nails the desperate panic Orange is in while Keitel excellently reassures Orange that he’s “a tough guy” and has been “brave enough for one day,” almost like he’s coaching him in little league baseball.
Orange even asks White to hold him as the only reprieve to his dire situation. White complies to Orange’s request and continues to console and reassure him that he’ll be taken care of once Joe Cabot gets there. White even combs Orange’s hair back in a sweet gesture of comfort, giving the impression that these two have done several jobs together rather than just this one.
See, there is something so oddly beautiful about Orange and White’s dynamic as the only stabilizers of the heist group. White has the strongest command of this, as he is the only one to verbally stand up against Mr. Blonde’s psychopathy, sticking to his principles that he doesn’t work with maniacal psychopaths. Orange later shoots Mr. Blonde before he tries to burn the cop they abducted.
As Orange fades in and out of consciousness because of the gunshot wound, White continues to dissuade Pink’s suggestions that Orange, who he’s grown this strong bond with in such a short time, could be the rat. He simply does not want to believe it, although the idea is not completely ignored by the fact that White cannot bring himself to take Orange to the hospital. Still, he never verbally indicates any lack of trust in Orange; their loyalty is innate for White.
To better understand why their father-son dynamic is so poignant, let’s consider the way Keitel’s Taurus Sun at 21° and Uranus at 18° manifest in this role and interact with Roth’s Taurus Sun at 23° and Moon at 20° (Note that because a birthtime is not known, so the moon’s degree can be anywhere between 16° and 22°). White’s comforting of Orange is natural and father-like as it comes from an intuitive place of understanding and emotional resonance since their actors’ Taurus Suns jive well together in a conjunction, with only a 2° separation, and Roth’s Taurus Moon nearly overlaps Keitel’s sun with only 1° of separation. It’s cosmic poetry that these two would align so precisely. From how Roth talks about Keitel in interviews, their relationship outside of working together in film was quite lovely and supportive.
With a shared and conjunct Taurus sun, their egos are incredibly similar, so they approach life with steadfast resilience. Taurus Suns are logical and grounded, and both Orange and White are the only members who consistently think matters through. Whether it’s going over the plan to Orange before the heist or running back the mixed details of the failed heist with Mr. Pink, Mr. White is the only member who has his shit together enough to talk through high-stakes matters with a level-headed, steady disposition. And when Mr. Orange is later revealed to the audience to be an undercover cop, we get a glimpse into the level of commitment Freddy devotes to the role as Orange, spending several short scenes arduously crafting and practicing his criminal persona, which demonstrates a strong sense of determination and dutifulness in his work.
My absolute favorite scene of the film involves a fake scenario, the commode story sequence, where Orange is faced with the LAPD in a train station bathroom during a drug-smuggling operation, but he plays it cool and convinces White and Cabot that he can be trusted with the heist job. Excuse me while I geek out for a moment: the way the scene is framed with Orange telling White and Cabot the made-up story while in the bathroom, making it as real for him as much as for the audience, is so fun to watch and well-executed by Tarantino’s direction and Roth’s acting. Performing something like that is seriously the ultimate dream opportunity for an actor, and it’s so cool how it kinda happened by happenstance.
Back to it, we further get the impression of Orange’s dedication to the role when he’s in his apartment talking himself through his anxiety by ensuring himself that they don’t suspect him of being a cop, but not before grabbing a wedding ring from underneath a pile of coins. This moment always intrigued me because it is so ambiguous: Is he married? Is he divorced, now living in a shabby LA apartment with a bunch of comic book posters pinned to the walls? Is the ring just for the act? Is it a comfort item to quell his anxiety? Is it a reminder of his commitment to being a cop? And why is it hidden within a coin dish? We never get clarity on this, but the symbolism is incredibly Taurus-coded. Coins and wedding bands are Venus-ruled objects, so naturally they are appropriate here even if vague to their ultimate purpose behind Orange’s characterization.
White also has a possible Venusian connection from his past, once having a partner-in-crime named Alabama. When we get a glimpse into his personal life, the first thing Larry mentions to Cabot (with bull-like horns in Cabot’s office, no less) is how he and Alabama did four jobs together but had to part because “When you push that man-woman thing, it gets to you after awhile.” This short line is so pivotal to understanding Larry’s tendency of forming emotional connections to his partners, as it is heavily implied that they were more than just criminals together. Naturally, anything relating to romantic or loving affection is Venus-ruled, so we can understand why two Taurus Suns would immediately click in a familial way. They also display loyalty not just to each other but to who they’re working for.
Finally, we can see how White demonstrates a unique individuality and rebelliousness through Keitel’s Taurus Uranus. There is an unpredictability to Uranus, as it rules over revolutionary ideas and innovations, so when someone is suddenly acting out-of-turn or resisting the status quo, it likely comes from a need to fulfill Uranian energy. Because it is a generational outer planet, Uranus’ influence is not as pressing as the inner planets because it is slow and further away from Earth, but this energy does show up now and then when someone needs to push boundaries.
So when White pulls his gun against Joe Cabot for threatening to shoot Orange, inciting a Mexican stand-off, his sudden switch of loyalty is shocking not only to the Cabot family but also to the audience. While it was made clear that White took on the blame for Orange’s gunshot wound, we did not have a clear idea of just how convicted White was over Orange’s innocence. White insists that he “knows” Orange, that he’s “a good kid,” and that Joe is demonstrably mistaken that he sold them out. He would rather shoot his most trusted job supplier, someone he’s worked for on several jobs over the years, to protect the life of a stranger he’s known for a few weeks. I believe White saw his younger self in Orange and built a bond based on a perceived mutual experience, so White’s stubborn conviction could not be waved until he was told the absolute truth from Orange himself, which sends White into tears. He at last takes Orange’s life as the backup police officers finally arrive and take his in a brutal finale.
Being “The Stabilizers” of a criminal operation is always bound to be bittersweet, but Harvey Keitel and Tim Roth’s performances make their characters’ fatal ending horribly heartbreaking. They teach the darkside of Taurus energy, solidifying the following unforgiving lessons:
There is only so much that devotion can fix in a cutthroat business.
There is only so much that practicality can do to ground a chaotic group.
There is only so much that comfort can assuage before the violence of a lie ruins all.
Luckily for Keitel and Roth, their virtues of loyalty, pragmatism, and persistence have not gone wasted nor have they gone unnoticed in their careers. Both actors are staples in Tarantino’s work, consistently fulfilling “The Stabilizer” archetype through their work ethic and in his films, as well as other productions. For Harvey Keitel, his role as Winston “The Wolf” Wolf in Pulp Fiction exudes stability through his efficiency and problem-solving prowess in fixing the mess Jules and Vincent create. For Tim Roth, his other Tarantino roles hold some amount of toxic Taurus Sun/Moon behavior, such as Pumpkin’s greed and eccentric love for his Honey Bunny in Pulp Fiction or his kind, patient facade hiding cunning cruelty as Oswaldo Mobray in The Hateful Eight — ah, we still adore him, even when he’s an outright baddie (maybe especially so?).
Before I move onto Pam Grier in Jackie Brown, I wanted to share this beautiful BTS photo I found of the two terrific Tauruses:
Jackie Brown (1997) - Pam Grier
Pam Grier, who just so happens to be mentioned in one of Reservoir Dogs’ flashback scenes, makes her first and only appearance in a Tarantino film as the titular character of Jackie Brown. And, my, what an appearance she makes! It is an absolute crime how this gem of a film, as well as the dynamic Death Proof, goes relatively unnoticed in Tarantino’s directorial catalog.
C’est la vie...
Let’s take this time to appreciate this wonderful film and the equally wonderful Pam Grier as we dive into how her Taurus Moon and Mars placements make her characterization as Jackie Brown a perfect fit for “The Stabilizer” archetype.
The opening shot features a confident and gorgeous Pam Grier as she steadily rides the airport moving walkway while “Across 110th Street” by Bobby Womack plays in the background.
Her facial expression reads that she is a woman who stands on business. She is fortified and determined, wearing a striking blue flight attendant uniform which fits her perfectly. Everything about her is perfect — not in a “she can do no wrong” kind of perfect, but in a “it takes an abundance of time, discipline, and grace to look and be this good at nearly 50-years-old” kind of perfect.
See, Grier is no stranger to being a leading lady, as she starred in multiple 1970’s blaxploitation films as the titular protagonist, such as Foxy Brown, Coffy, and Sheba Baby — to name a few. This is her domain, and we are beyond privileged to see her own another leading role once again.
In the next section “The Vocalist” archetype, I go over how frequently Taurus musicians lean into funky, soulful sound. I find that music genres like Blues, R&B, Funk, Jazz, and Soul — all predominately pioneered by black artists — are heavily Taurus-coded, and I list many of the most famous musicians of these genres in turn. I go into depth as to why I think funk is Taurus-coded then, but I mention it here because of Grier’s film history and her contributions to funk music, such as her vocals for the song “Long Time Woman” from the women-in-prison film of the same name, which Tarantino uses here in Jackie Brown. There is pervasive funky vibe to her overall career, and this film is no exception.
Grier’s song appears as a fitting reference to the film when she finds herself in jail after two detectives, Ray Nicollete (Michael Keaton) and Mark Dargus (Michael Bowen), catch her smuggling 50k and a bag of cocaine (the latter of which she wasn’t privy to) from Mexico for Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson). Even as “Long Time Woman” plays non-diegetically in the background, Jackie Brown remains calm and cool, just as she did when the detectives first intercepts her. She quickly establishes herself as the type of stoic woman who is unamused by threats — coolly smoking a cigarette as the detectives comb through her purse — and does not play games.
Jackie Brown quickly deduces that Ordell’s bagman, Beaumont Livingston, played by Chris Tucker, confessed to the detectives who smuggled the money and the exact amount of cash when Ordell kills Beaumont, so Jackie prepares herself for a visit from Ordell the moment she is released from jail. But before this, she has to be bailed out, which brings us to sweetest thing about this film: Jackie’s relationship with a bail bondsman named Max Cherry (sweet like a cherry? yes.), played by Robert Forster.
When Max bails Jackie out, she walks toward him as the love song “Natural High” by Bloodstone plays and it’s so damn adorable. Remember men, the way into a Taurus Moon’s heart is to pay her bond in full (and in cash). More on these cuties later.
Jackie proceeds to sneakily steal Max’s gun from his car glovebox in order to protect herself when Ordell arrives, which is revealed the moment she pulls the gun on Ordell after he turns off the lamp in her apartment living room (you know, like a gutless snake). She proceeds to curse Ordell out, take his gun, and put him in his place without skipping a beat. Rather than shooting him, she levels with him, saying, “Now let’s be realistic,” positively owning that Taurus sense of pragmatism. She knows that he was planning this because taking a plea deal would expose Ordell, so she “forgives” him by keeping him on the hook: $100,000, plus another $100k if she has to do more than a year in jail to keep her mouth shut.
While it would have been wonderful to watch her follow through with shooting off Ordell’s dick then and there, she reveals to Max the next morning that she needs the money and gained Ordell’s trust by being the only sustainable smuggler to retrieve his money from in Cabo, Mexico, where his gunrunning ring operates. She explains, “I always feel like I’m starting over,” so simply offing her source of income outside of flight attending is not in her wheelhouse. After all,
“I’ve flown over seven million miles and I’ve been waiting on people for 20 years. Then after my bust, the best job I could get was with Cabo Air, which is the worst job you can get in this industry. You know I only get $16,000 a year plus retirement benefits that ain’t worth a damn? And with this arrest hanging over my head, Max, I’m scared. And if I lose this job, I gotta start all over again, and I ain’t got nothing to start over with. I’ll be stuck with whatever I can get and that shit is more scary than Ordell.”
The strong need for stability, both financially and intrinsically, is, of course, simply a must for Taurus placements, and that can hardly be done flying about with the worst airline and for the worst kind of man.
Additionally, she only ever admits doubt or fear with Max, which is very typical of Taurus placements. They are not quite as secretive as their sister sign of Scorpio, but they certainly prefer to keep personal matters in their closest relationships, and with Jackie and Max, their love is pretty obvious from the get-go. But first, they are both dedicated to the task at hand, which is to keep Jackie out of jail, although plenty of other fun Taurian details slip through in this scene.
Take for instance how Max brings up her beauty. And, of course, Pam Grier is incredibly gorgeous. As someone who was prolific in 70s blaxploitation films, she looks as if she’s barely aged in twenty years. Venus, the Goddess of Beauty, loves her and it shows; even today, Grier is amazingly beautiful.
Or take for instance how Jackie puts on a record by the Delfonics, championing the classics on vinyl over updating her collection to CDs, the then-latest technology in music. This moment is full of both Grier and Tarantino’s Taurus Moon art-loving energy. Taurus Moons love their comforts, especially concerning art, so they often become collectors (and sometimes hoarders) of music, film, print media, paintings, clothing, jewelry, makeup, etc. Most Taurus placements are like this, but Taurus Moons tend to create a potent emotional attachment to their possessions, which can mean they’re prone to materialism or snobbery over their favorite things. Tarantino references a plethora of favorite films and movie genres throughout his work because before he was an actor, writer, and director, he was a film-lover. On multiple occasions, he has expressed a disinterest in creating movies for the digital age, exclusively shooting with film stock for all his film projects. By all means, Jackie’s love for the classics is straight from Tarantino’s heart.
Before I resume the plot, I’d like to add one more Taurus-y detail. Throughout the film, there are multiple scenes of drug consumption by Ordell’s mistress Melanie (Bridget Fonda) and former cellmate and criminal buddy Louis Gara (Robert De Niro). Casual substance-use is not a dime-a-dozen in Tarantino films — nearly every one of his films has it — but this is the only film besides Death Proof that specifically features marijuana consumption as part of these two’s characterization. And I gotta say, watching Robert De Niro smoke from a bong is the funniest thing he’s maybe ever done on-screen besides maybe talking to himself in the mirror like an OG edgelord in Taxi Driver.
I consider frequent marijuana consumption a typical Taurus habit for many reasons: 1) Tauruses love their creature comforts and often build habits and rituals around enjoying them; 2) Taurus is an Earth sign, so as a cultivating element, they love their plants, especially those with plenty of benefits; and 3) 4/20 begins Taurus season, setting the mood right. Like Grier, De Niro is a Taurus Mars, so it’s great how both Jackie and Louis demonstrate their own kind of creature comforts.
In order to secure her future, Jackie spends a good chunk of the movie’s midpoint avidly planning to get herself off the hook with the detectives and Ordell as a Taurus Mars is wont to do. During the awesome scene-splitting sequence, Jackie seems almost too honest to everyone when she discusses her plans, but she reveals just enough to the right person, whether it’s Ray, Max, or Ordell. After a trial money exchange (which contains a subtle Reservoir Dogs reference), the main plan is that Jackie will smuggle in $550k and keep $500k for herself by coordinating with the two detectives that the transfer to incriminate and catch Ordell will only contain $50k. Both exchanges occur in a mall, an incredibly Venus-coded location (money? check. fashion? check. nummy snacks from the food court? check.). There are a series of complex sequences between both these exchanges, and I won’t spoil the climactic point of this one, but I will say that they are excellent and so satisfying.
There are some mostly spoiler-free moments I’d like to share before wrapping up. When Ray is flipping through the marked cash before the exchange, I could have sworn the money was real. Well, I was right. The prop master for the film, Steve Joyner, somehow managed to get real cash for the movie. I wonder whose job it was to keep an eye on those babies. Anyway, an extremely Taurian movie would have real cash as props, wouldn’t it?
Additionally, when Jackie is waiting in the dressing room, we see her face fall into doubt for the first time in the entire film when she looks at herself in the mirror. I could say something about Grier’s Gemini Sun, the ruler of mirrors and double identities, but I think the moment speaks for itself. Not too long after this moment, Melanie arrives to retrieve the money, and I love the detail of giving her a stack from her $500k as a “cherry on top” (Max Cherry? 😉), like a little act of generous solidarity as a “fuck you” to Ordell.
And lastly, the farewell kiss between Jackie and Max at the end of the film: so lovely. The absolute sweetest. There are many moments that culminate up to this final loving gesture where I couldn’t help but kick my feet around, like how Max listens to the Delfonics because of Jackie — but obviously, the kiss takes the cake. It proves that their love is not fiery-hot, not jealous, not melodramatic — it is Venus at her calmest, longing for a true partner who loves her no matter where she wanders off to.
The kiss and Jackie mouthing the lyrics to “Across 110th Street” as she smoothly drives into a prosperous future makes for the absolute best ending of a Tarantino movie, save for maybe Kill Bill: Vol. 2, which we’ll get into in the next section. Before that, a little more on Pam Grier’s stabilizing power in Jackie Brown:
Through her grounded, self-sufficient, and sensible approach to the role of Jackie Brown, Pam Grier demonstrates some amazing traits of Taurus placements. She exhibits both the unstoppable force and immovable object of the bull in a refined and sophisticated package. Jackie Brown is the only protagonist of a Tarantino film who does not kill anyone — and the film also has the least death count of his with only a total of four deaths — but she easily could have done the deed if necessary. Luckily, she never has to resort to it. Jackie Brown is not the graphically violent amusement ride casual viewers are used to with Tarantino’s films; it is a movie about a black woman who, like so many black women, finds herself at the mercy of an unbelievably unfair, apathetic, and cruel world, yet she stoically refuses to become a victim or murderous participant of it. Jackie Brown’s wit, tenacity, patience, and even love — although never overbearingly saccharine — are what drives her to the life of her choosing, of her freedom.
By the end, this former flight attendant flies first class and grounds herself when and where she pleases, earning every bit of that luxury without shedding a single drop of blood. While the world continues to ignite in chaos around her, Jackie Brown — and by extension Pam Grier — sits atop the proverbial mountain as the steady rock who moves for no man, no matter what, proving her rightful place as “The Stabilizer” of yet another Tarantino classic.
Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & 2 - Uma Thurman
Of all the Taurus actors and Tarantino films covered so far, none of them quite compare to Uma Thurman’s portrayal of Beatrix “The Bride” Kiddo in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 & 2. When I first came up with the section on Tarantino’s Tauruses, the deciding factor was her. She is simply my favorite character within any of Tarantino’s films — maybe one of my favorite characters ever — and I nearly led the section with Thurman as the sole focal point because I have been such a long-time fan of her and this role in particular.
In fact, one of my first exposures to a Tarantino film was witnessing a beautifully striking, beautifully yellow billboard advertising Kill Bill Vol. 1 with Uma Thurman standing fiercely in her yellow jumpsuit.
The advertising campaign for the two films were incredible and made an 8-year-old Kallie fantastically curious. What do you mean Vol. 1??? There are multiple films starring a sword-wielding Poison Ivy??? Color me intrigued.
It wouldn’t be until I became a teenager that I’d catch Vol. 1 and fell in love, but I didn’t watch Vol. 2 until right after college. This delay was honestly for the best because I would not have appreciated it nearly as much had I watched it younger. I also, rather unfortunately, would not have connected or related to Kiddo’s pain until then, so I watched Vol. 2 when I needed it most. I won’t go into why it is so cathartic to me, but it is the only film of Tarantino’s that makes me cry with every viewing.
Before we get into the Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003) and Vol. 2 (2004), let’s start with a brief covering of Thurman’s role as Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction (1994).
Mia Wallace is not quite the stabilizing powerhouse as Beatrix Kiddo is, very famously needing literal stabilization after a cocaine overdose. There are, however, are few Taurus-related aspects to Mia that Thurman nails perfectly with her Taurus stellium (Taurus Sun, Mercury, Saturn, and Midheaven). Take for instance her exchange with Vincent Vega (John Travolta) about uncomfortable silences during the 50’s diner scene:
Mia: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.
Not only do I find this sentiment so true, but I also find it so damn Taurian. Sometimes Tauruses can be quiet out of stubbornness — such as when they are giving you the “silent treatment” — sometimes they are quiet when they are in observation mode — calmly getting a read on your true intentions — and sometimes they are quiet because silent affection establishes a natural chemistry that words or actions could never prove; here, Mia is, of course, referring to the last mode of silence.
Unless you have Taurus placements — namely a Taurus Mercury — in your 3rd house of communication, you likely prefer a subdued, only-speak-when-necessary kind of communication. As the ruler of the throat, Taurus knows not to overstrain their voice or bring out the bull’s vocal authority until they absolutely must.
Additionally, being Venus-ruled, Taurus are such sweethearts and lovebugs when you’ve earned their affections. They love so fully, so truly, so unapologetically, so finding comfort in those silences is quintessential in requiting a Taurus’ love.
During the filming of Pulp Fiction, Tarantino expressed to Thurman, whom he has openly stated is his “muse” in the past, his interest in working on a 70s-style kung fu flick. Thurman came up with the idea of a betrayed and bloody bride, which became the opening shot of Kill Bill nearly a decade after their initial conceptualization of “The Bride” character. It wasn’t until Thurman became a mother herself that Tarantino finished writing both volumes, originally intended as one film (release The Whole Bloody Affair already, QT!). After Thurman became pregnancy before filming, there was no question that she would be The Bride as intended, so filming was delayed until 2002; honestly, her martial arts and swordfighting training are all the more impressive and badass considering how recent she’d given birth. Truly, no one else could have played this role but Thurman.
To bar myself from overzealously championing this two-part masterpiece, I’m going to approach my analysis a little differently than the previous two films. Although there will be spoilers, I won’t go over the plot as heavily, focusing mainly on how each of Thurman’s Taurus placements, as well as her 2nd House Uranus placement, are deeply embedded in Beatrix Kiddo, qualify her as the most stabilizing force within all of Tarantino’s filmography. Let’s start with the most influential inner planets, her Taurus Sun and Mercury:
Taurus Sun 8° in 9th House - Ego & Core Self (Scorpio degree) regarding philosophy and law
Taurus Mercury 22° in 9th House - Communication & Thinking (Aquarius degree) regarding wisdom and ethics
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth — this is the quintessential axiom when enacting vengeance. There is an innate understanding that balancing the scales and equalizing the playing field is necessary to dole out justice with karmic righteousness, and while Beatrix “The Bride” Kiddo knows this well, having lost four years, her groom, and her baby girl to Bill and his deadly viper assassination squad, she manages to seek revenge in more of stabilizing fashion than an equalizing one.
Equalizers are subject to the law of society, as well as nature, most often under Venus’ other rulership of Libra the Scales. Denzel Washington, who plays the lead role in the 2014 film The Equalizer, is a Libra Ascendant and Neptune — no Taurus placements. Michael Madsen, who plays Budd, Bill’s brother, in Kill Bill has a Libra Stellium — Sun, Moon, Mars, Jupiter — also no Taurus placements; Budd accepts the inevitability of Kiddo’s revenge — their karma — saying “That woman...deserves her revenge. And we deserve to die. But then again, so does she.” Ultimately, both equalizers and stabilizers want justice served, just as both Libra and Taurus want justice to appease Venus the Victorious; the difference lies in where the line of victory is drawn.
For equalizers, there is no victory until equality is acquired — an endless, even impossible pursuit. For stablizers, there is no victory until stability is acquired — a much more manageable pursuit. Equalizers are warriors of the world, while stablizers are warriors of the home. This much is clear considering Taurus’s place within the first 6 signs of the zodiac, whereas Libra begins the last 6, turning the focus from the self to society.
Kiddo has no need to bring justice to the world outside of her own, as those who took her world away from her are her sole targets. Running down her hit list of assassins, she does everything in her power not to get even eye-for-an-eye-style, which she explains as much to Vernita (Vivica Fox) before she kills her:
“To get even — even Stephen — I would have to kill you, go up to Nikki’s room, kill her, then wait for your husband, the good Dr. Bell, to come home and kill him. That would be even, Vernita. That would be about square.”
Nice Pulp Fiction reference there, QT.
Kiddo wants to spare Nikki from the trauma of witnessing her mother’s death — not out of mercy or compassion — but to adhere to the natural law of karma. Even when she does kill Vernita, unaware of Nikki’s presence, she promises her, “When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it...I’ll be waiting.” With that, Kiddo leaves, staying true to her word and suppressing her human compassion without veering into outright cruelty by getting truly “even.” True destablization would be completely shattering Nikki’s world, leaving her orphaned like O-Ren.
Speaking...while she cuts down many of O-Ren’s posse, the Crazy 88, in order to get to O-Ren (Lucy Liu), who became the queen of the Japanese underworld a year after the El Paso Massacre, even then Kiddo spares most of them, iconically severing limbs...
...plucking out eyeballs...
...spanking foolish delinquents...
...and using their weapons against each other...
...rather than obliterating them all completely.
Again, her sole targets are the assassins, so the bloodshed here is a necessary means to an end, not out of a personal desire or bloodlust. While she must face plenty of gauntlets throughout both volumes that necessitates harming or killing other wrongdoers and criminals, she only finds inklings of justice through killing her five great snake nemeses.
Overall, her ego and core self (Taurus Sun) are not satisfied until she obsessively pursues (8° - Scorpio degree) personal justice through her law of stability (Taurus 9th House). She successfully communicates (Taurus Mercury) her personal philosophy and karmic wisdom (Taurus 9th house) through egalitarian and rational ideals (22° - Aquarius degree).
Taurus Saturn 11° in 9th House - Restrictions & Obstacles (Aquarius degree) regarding cross-cultural relationships and higher learning
She starts the saga on the ground.
The Bride bleeds into the floorboards of the chapel as Bill and his four assassins callously stand over her, ready to strike the killing blow.
She continues the saga on (and under) the ground.
Budd shoots her with shotgun shells fit with rock-salt, knocking her to the desert floor. He buries her alive in a coffin under the gravesite of another woman. She climbs through the loose earth back to life.
She ends the saga on the ground.
Beatrix Kiddo cries on the tile of the motel room’s bathroom floor having done it. She has killed them all. She is sorrowful, overwhelmed, ecstatic, and grateful. Who she thanks exactly? That’s for you to decide.
I considered counting all the times this woman was forcibly grounded, but I don’t enjoy analyzing film that way, so take my word for it that it was dozens of times. Needless to say, she was knocked down more times than any other Tarantino character (Reservoir Dog’s Mr. Orange still takes the cake for longest overall floor-time — what a champ). But despite this, she got back up every time, literally clawing her way out of death on more than one occasion.
Her sheer strength does not come from having a true warrior spirit alone, as it is the obstacles that she faced that built the kind of durability necessary to eliminate an entire team of deadly assassins. While her love for Bill propelled her further into the world of assassins, it was her training under the cruel tutelage of Pai Mei, Bill’s mentor, that taught her how to overcome such obstacles.
Pai Mei might as well be called Saturn: he is over a thousand years old, has a luscious white beard, and is infamous for humbling his protégés through rigorous training that dually serves as physical and emotional punishment. Like Saturn, Pai Mei keeps his subjects in line through harsh limitations and restrictions, keeping to the tradition that pain and failure are our greatest teachers. Had he not forced her to complete the Three Inch Punch — bloody knuckles galore — then she would have never escaped the coffin. Had he not forced her to eat with dignity rather than like a dog, she might have turned out as merciless and animal-like as the other assassins. Had he not taught her the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique...well, we will get to that soon.
Sometimes the only thing that can crack open true understanding of one’s capabilities is someone vastly different from yourself. With Thurman’s Taurus Sun conjunct her Saturn in the 9th house, there is no mistake that she knows what it means to have her ego humbled time and time again, often in foreign settings. There are quite a number of severe obstacles she faced during the making of this movie that distanced her from working with Tarantino, and while they have since made amends, I cannot blame her. What she went through outside of the already limit-pushing training for this film was some of the worst things a person can endure, so it is unfortunate how synchronous Saturn’s restrictions were for Thurman and Kiddo alike.
With Saturn at an Aquarius degree (11°), the surprising volatility of Thurman’s greatest obstacles matches Kiddo’s harshest lessons from Pai Mei and the other assassins. Gentle compassion and care when it was needed most were the last things either she or her character were afforded, but of course that’s not Saturn’s game. He is binding, restrictive, cruel, and unforgiving in the matters associated to whatever sign and house he’s placed, so the affectionate, sensual side of Taurus is harshly confined until she overcomes the limitations placed upon her. And, by all means, she perseveres and gets what she is due in the end, so Saturn once again acts as a reminder that one does not get receive great rewards without countering suffering through strict discipline and hard work. In some ways, mastering Saturn’s (and her sensei’s) game in Taurus was the key factor behind Kiddo’s unstoppable power as a stabilizer.
Taurus Midheaven 26° in 9th House/10 House cusp - Fame & Public Image (Gemini degree) regarding travel and expansion
Beyond her extreme education from Pai Mei, other foreign influences formed Kiddo’s drive to right the wrongs committed against her. While I already discussed O-Ren and her Crazy 88, there was something I failed to cover: the Japanese gardens.
I say “gardens” because there are actually two within the House of Blue Leaves where the climactic battle between “The Bride and O-Ren & co. takes place: the first is the zen garden dance floor...
...and the second is the snowy Japanese garden outside the venue.
These gardens are frankly perfect settings — not only because they capture the Japanese cultural influence but also because they are excellent containers for grounding.
And boy howdy do a bunch of fighters get grounded by Kiddo there.
As a symbol of earthly beauty and growth, gardens are ruled by the Earth signs of Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn. Personally, I view Taurus as the ultimate proprietor of gardens, namely private sanctuaries and kitchen gardens, while Virgo rules the fields and Capricorn rules the mountains, but they all tend to have interests in horticulture nonetheless. Just the fact that a Taurus Sun defeats a Taurus Moon within a moonlit garden is simply great and note-worthy.
However, Kiddo wouldn’t have had a chance to defeat such an excellent swordfighter as O-Ren without a little help from Hattori Hanzo. The retired sword craftsman was hesitant at supplying Kiddo with one of his “instruments of death,” as the price of making the world’s finest katanas that would be used to commit atrocities became all too horrible for Hanzo to bear. However, with the mention of Bill, Hanzo knew he could seek his own redemption by entrusting Kiddo with his finest sword; while she, too, would use it as an instrument of death, she would only bring death to death himself and his four horseman, ending the chaos once and for all.
As a fine possession made with the utmost craft and care, Hanzo’s gift to Kiddo is the perfect mixture of the Aries warrior steel and Taurus refined luxury. Like how cash functions in Jackie Brown, Hattori Hanzo’s katanas are the moveable possessions that only Taurus placements can wield so beautifully and intuitively.
So, when Budd is revealed to still possess his Hanzo sword in Vol. 2, it is absolutely wonderful how Elle Driver (played by Daryl Hannah, a Taurus Ascendant) uses his blade against Kiddo when she returns to personally thank Budd for his Texas funeral. Luckily, Elle beat her to it, killing him with a Black Mamba snake out of respect for Beatrix Kiddo, codename the Black Mamba, aka “the greatest warrior [she’s] ever met.” I love this scene purely because it gives context to why Kiddo was given the most venomous snake of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad — she truly deserves the reputation.
And guess what? Midheaven is all about famous (or infamous) reputation. The Midheaven is the angle at the top of the natal chart, separating the 9th and 10 houses within the Whole House system. While the most obvious angle is the Ascendant because of its power of molding one’s appearance and personality, Midheaven is often what you are most known for in the public eye.
And with the Black Mamba herself, Beatrix Kiddo, her reputation reaches the heights of legendary status. After all, she survived the El Paso Massacre at Two Pines, conquered every member of the Crazy 88 at the House of Blue Leaves, and defeated each one of Bill’s assassins without mercy. In her odyssey of revenge, she utilized the stoic power of her Taurus Midheaven by tracking down every assassin (9th house - world travel) and establishing herself as the ultimate champion of the Deadly Vipers (10th house - career reputation) through her quick-witted versatility (26° — Gemini degree), leaving behind an unforgettable trail of blood, limbs, and eyeballs to remember her by.
Libra Uranus 5° in 2nd House - Rebellion & Unpredictability (Leo degree) regarding values and work ethic
We saved the best for last (as is tradition).
While Thurman’s 2nd house is placed in Libra, the traditional ruler of the 2nd House is Taurus as discussed before, so there is still plenty of Taurian relevance in her Uranus placement. The fact that Libra is also a Venus-ruled sign compliments Thurman’s Taurus stellium, especially here as the sign of interpersonal relationships. At last, with the help of her Libra Uranus, Kiddo makes her way to go kill Bill.
Only, when she arrives at his home, she discovers the only thing she could have never expected: her daughter BB is alive.
Can you believe that QT didn’t think of this reveal until late into the film’s writing process? It’s fucking brilliant, man, and it hits you square in the heart.
It’s these final scenes (and anytime “The Lonely Shepherd” played in Vol. 1) that make me absolutely bawl. Like, fuck Bill! Kill this mf! He calls Kiddo cruel for making him believe she was dead, yet he does the same thing and way worse; she left in silence out of protection for her and BB while he attempts to kill her, pregnant with his baby, massacres everyone in the chapel, and ensnares her into a snake trap with this twisted game of house with BB — all because she slighted him. Okay, buddy.
This guy is the definition of okay, buddy. Every. opinion. of. his. is. skewed. af. The man doesn’t understand one can be sadistic and masochistic at the same time, his analogy of BB stomping her goldfish is messed up, he misses the entire point of Clark Kent’s persona as Superman, and — most pivotally — he misunderstands and disregards choice.
After a career of choosing Bill, killing for Bill, she became fearful of the hardest choice an assassin could make: motherhood. When Kiddo says that her daughter “deserved to be born with a clean slate,” it meant that she “had to choose” between the life of a expert assassin or the life of a protective mother, so she chose the latter — she chose BB.
It wasn’t enough for Bill to take her love, her life, and her baby girl from Beatrix — he had to take away her choice as well. Any man who takes away choice from a woman signs themselves up for the ugliest karma one could receive, and thanks to the father of karma, Saturn, she learned exactly how to deliver karmic justice swiftly — and right to Bill’s heart.
Pure catharsis.
See, Pai Mei only ever taught the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique to one person, the person he would make his successor, and he bestowed that honor onto Beatrix Kiddo beyond Bill’s expectation. A living legend.
Even with Bill at death’s door, anyone can see how clearly Kiddo still loved him through Thurman’s amazing performance. Being his “favorite person” is certainly not an honor anyone deserves, but Kiddo isn’t just anyone. She is a killer, like he said, but she was not born to be a killer — she chose so. The only choice she doesn’t have throughout this whole saga is the man she loves, which is all too real and easy to understand why she loved him yet killed him.
She was bound to put love at the forefront of her working relationship with Bill. The unpredictable erraticism of Uranus is only complicated being in Libra, the sign of romantic relationships and karmic bonding, and within the 2nd house of values and work ethics. Uranus really does not like to be housed within the 2nd house because it wants the unexpected while the 2nd House demands routine and predictability. Libra largely wants to stay balanced but this is hard to accomplish when Uranus is constantly reinventing itself and abruptly changing the status quo. While the placement can work for a lifetime assassin who forms no bonds, Kiddo mastered the art of assassination because of her bonds. And what more, with Uranus at 5° (Leo Degree), the loyal lioness cannot help but put her everything at being the greatest for her love. When those loyalties switched from Bill to BB, it is only right that she would do so with such a dramatic but unpredictable way.
When all is said and done, “The lioness rejoins her cub and all is right in the jungle.” Uma Thurman is the champion, Beatrix Kiddo, the Bride, the Black Mamba, Mommy, and the penultimate Taurus Stabilizer.
The Vocalist Archetype
“If music be the food of love, play on.” - Shakespeare
It is only fitting that the zodiac sign that rules the throat would be full of beautifully-voiced singers, but Taurus doesn’t stop there. I give Taurus “The Vocalist” archetype specifically because their vocalizing power extends to public speakers and actors as well as singers.
For instance, other than Leo, Taurus is the most common sign of singers who double as actors and/or participate in musical theatre. Some prominent examples are:
Sun: Cher, Sabrina Carpenter, Janet Jackson, Grace Jones, Barbra Streisand, Patti Lupone, Jordan Fisher, Rachel Zegler, Miranda Cosgrave, Debbie Ryan, Dianna Agron, Jake Zyrus, Iggy Pop (Taurus Moon too), Robert Pattinson (probably a Taurus Ascendant too), Glen Hansard, Jim Sturgess, Djo (Joe Keery), Tim McGraw, Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire
Moon: Zendaya, Jamie Foxx, Nick Jonas, Demi Lovato, Christina Aguilera, Donald Glover, Cynthia Erivo, Andrew Rannells, Darren Criss, Anna Kendrick, River Phoenix, Troy Baker, Meryl Streep, Billy Crystal, Diana Ross, Mandy Patinkin, Christopher Plummer (it’s wild that they overdubbed him in Sound of Music — he is an amazing singer)
Ascendant: Miley Cyrus, Ashley Tisdale, Jared Leto, Austin Butler, Liza Minnelli, Danny Kaye
By the way, if you ever get the opportunity to see the touring stageshow The Cher Show, do it! Not only does one of three Chers announce themselves as a Taurus, another Cher (there are different Cher “eras” that talk to each other throughout) repeats it because, well, she is such a fucking Taurus and everyone ought to know. Cher is that brilliantly stubborn, wonderfully committed Taurus beauty who loves unapologetically and remains down-to-earth even in many, many extravagantly glamorous rockstar frocks.
Yes, Bob Mackie did the costumes for the jukebox musical, and it’s wonderful. Cher was also somewhat involved with the writing process, at least once the previews went out and she gave her unfiltered review of the show based on her life. She strives for that undeniable Taurian honesty, so by the time I saw it on tour in 2024, I’m fairly certain it was true to life to her liking — by all means, an absolutely lovely evening all about Cher.
While I could go on about Cher and other singer/actor Taurus types from this list, I started this archetype with a quote from The Bard for a reason: nobody is a greater vocalist than The Bard. I mean, he’s The Bard of all bards. Imagine any other icon who is given their own DND class as a nickname; you can’t because there are none besides Conan the Barbarian and that fucker isn’t even real (although, now I’ve come up with a great thought experiment: who would be The Rogue? The Sorcerer? The Wizard? Comment below.). So, without any further ado (about nothing), let’s talk about ole Billy Shakes.
The Bard
Now, it wouldn’t be a deep dive into William Shakespeare without a little confusion to get us started. The master of the English language, Will of the Quill, was definitely born sometime in the early Taurus season of 1564 but when exactly...it’s up for debate. What we do know definitively that he was baptized on April 26, 1564, so it is believed by historians that he was likely born a few days beforehand, placing his date of birth on April 23. While we will likely never know the exact date of birth, most people settle on this date because it subsequently was same day as his death, April 23, 1616, so for a Shakespearean level of dramatic book-endings, we will say he was born on April 23 and died the same day. Now, these dates are all under the Julian calendar (and we all know how I feel about that guy), so to adjust for the Gregorian calendar, we will use the birthdate of May 3, 1564 as shown in this birth chart.
I could not place why so many astrologers have determined him as Cancer Ascendant (maybe because then his fame angle Midheaven is conjunct his Pluto, which can indicate a greater, long-lasting fame after death than in life), so because I don’t like to go off conjencture, even if it is a strong academic guess, I will refrain from going into any house and angle placements. In fact, we won’t even go over placements much at all beyond his Taurus Sun. Instead, because he had an interest in astrology and fate set by the stars, we will discuss some of his greatest lines concerning the cosmos as well as how his prestige as a Taurus Sun vocalist is exemplified through these lines and monologues of his.
Historically, astrology fizzled out of the cultural zeitgeist a little after Shakespeare’s time due to its status as a divinitory tool used outside of Christian faith. However, the Elizabethans used it for more than divination, as astrology offered answers of philosophy and medicine, as well as even assisting in court decision-making. In general, it was far more accepted in Shakespeare’s time, which shows by his casual use of over a hundred allusions to astrology throughout his work.
The most famous astrological allusion by Shakespeare occurs in Julius Caesar when Cassius tells Brutus:
“Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings” (I.ii.139-141)
Shakespeare loves to combine the concept of fate with the cosmic play of the planets and stars, so he goes back and forth on this particular idea quite a bit. Here, I love how true to reality this quote is: the fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves. We cannot blame the way in which the cosmos were arranged at our birth or in our present because destiny is never outside of ourselves but within. This wisdom is the whole point of astrology at the end of the day — we can do our damndest to understand ourselves, our fates from observing the cosmos but none of our charts decide our fate or inact our future — only we, the stars’ underlings, can carry out our destinies. Astrology is a mere tool to understand but the end-all-be-all is truly within our hands (look what he’s done — I’m speaking in rhyme).
Without having to say anything about astrology, Shakespeare is able to reach out through time to inform the audience the nature of the cosmos. In a few lines, he is able to prove the point more than I or other astrologers can within entire write-ups. That’s a prime vocalist for ya.
We can see the opposite point of view in King Lear with Kent’s lines:
“It is the stars,
The stars above us govern our conditions
Else one mate and make not beget
Such different issues” (IV.iii.36-39).
Here, the loyal character Kent argues that there must be some say in how we develop based on the position of the stars due to the radical difference between King Lear’s daughters. To me, this is Shakespeare’s attempt at featuring the common man’s thread of thought surrounding astrology. Kent is not a great stategist like Cassius but he is of noble rank as an earl, so he is not totally outside the understanding of cosmic complexities having witnessed high drama play out in his own life; however, between Kent and Cassius, Kent’s troubles largely come from matters outside of his control, like King Lear’s short temperament, while Cassius deals with consequences very obviously born from his participation in assassinating Caesar, so one could surmise that because of their opposing experiences with fate, both would take on the opposite approach on who is more to blame: the man or the stars.
Additionally, earlier in King Lear, Edmund even says as much in his monologue:
"This is the excellent foppery of the world that, when we are sick in fortune — of ten the surfeit of our own behaviour — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on (I.ii.118-126).
While Kent is quick to blame the stars, Edmund criticizes the folly in such blame, saying that we lay blame on the sun, moon, and stars when most misfortune comes from our own excesses. He thinks it’s stupid to believe all liars and thieves were made that way from a divine compulsion of the planets, and I’d have to agree! The key factor is free will — what a person chooses to do with what they’ve been given. Even if the planets allow for a predisposition of aggressive or dishonest behaviors, we still choose when, where, and how those behaviors show up, sometimes choosing not to satisfy predispositions at all.
I mean, think about it: how many times have we seen a typically kind, gentle woman blow their fuse when they’ve been tested one too many times or put through the ringer? As much as she wants to remain patient and in control, sometimes that is not what the situation calls for or what her emotions allow. Sure, we can say that the planets correlate with such outbursts, but then we’d be avoiding the core of the problem by over-focusing on the external perameters. And isn’t it just like Shakespeare — a man who has made entire plays around the idea of avoiding external reality to eternally wax poetic about the nature of fate and death — to so frequently feature differing observations on how the stars relate to our lives?
True to life, no character can be so sure how much the cosmos have to do with fate within his plays.
One thing that can be certain is what Taurus rules over. I had the pleasure recently of playing Olivia in a stage reading of Twelfth Night and absolutely died at these two drunk dufuses’ lines:
Sir Toby. Were we not born under Taurus?
Sir Andrew. Taurus? That’s sides and heart.
Sir Toby. No sir, it’s legs and thighs. (I.iii.128-130)
So, Shakespeare is being a little tongue and cheek here (with Toby Belch & Andrew Aguecheek, no less) by purposely misconstruing Taurus’ rulership of the throat with the heart (Leo) and legs & thighs (Capricorn) to give these drunkards reason to dance their cares away. This is in reference to medical astrology, or melothesia, which was used to determine what parts of the body were affected by the movement of the planets. While Sir Andrew may be a Taurus, he is not quite as fine of a vocalist as his creator, at least when he is totally wasted (which is always the case in this play).
The last allusion to astrology I’ll discuss is his other famous example from Romeo and Juliet, namely when he mentions the term of star-crossed and other ill-fated star alignments. For instance, in the Prologue, the children of Montague and Capulet are:
“A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-marked love
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage” (6-12)
Ole spoil sport Shakespeare here reveals that Romeo and Juliet are essentially doomed to this fate and there’s nothing the characters or audience can do but feel bad for these unfortunate souls. They are star-crossed, death-marked, and they can do nothing to remove that fate. I love that there is nothing to interpret here like in the previous astrological allusions: this is their fate and that’s that. Enjoy the show. Brutal yet perfect.
Later, Romeo muses to himself in real-time how he feels right before crashing into Capulet’s party, noticing this unsettling feeling that what he’s about to do will lead to an early death.
“I fear too early, for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night’s revels, and expire the term
Of a despisèd life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death” (I.iv.113-118).
I love the phrasing of “my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars,” as if the stars are screaming down at him from on high, “You better watch out now!” There are so many little winks Shakespeare gives in these moments as the controller of his characters’ fates; it’s the only time a writer can play god without taking on actual divine authority.
To me, his exploration of cosmic fate in Romeo and Juliet is the most Taurus-coded because of how matter-of-fact and fixed it is written, while also commenting on the nature of love, lust, and romance. There is no room for arguing whether or not the planets and stars affect fate: they do. There is no questioning of whether or not their love is doomed: it is. The only thing we have to wonder is the sincerity of their affections, which I think is laid pretty clear from the get-go: they are children in love, so they behave like children in love.
Still, he is honest about the mixings of lust and young love, demonstrating the errors of falling too quickly, consuming too much, too often. And still, the play contains some of the most beautifully romantic passages ever written. Like — “O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair” and “Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again” — are you kidding me? For a first kiss? Only a Taurus would.
Shakespeare is one of the only writers to consistently use the language of the stars to create his art. He had an early understanding of the cosmic story at play where all the world is a stage and the stars are projectors casting down light onto its players. We are not puppets on planetary strings but rather the same light and shadow casted from the luminary storytellers above. Even though my writing is all about astrology and the cosmos, I’d still feel lucky to achieve half the magnificent musings on the stars that Shakespeare managed. But it is hard to compete with a prestigious Taurus Vocalist, now isn’t it?
Funky Fresh
For my last section, let’s go over why there is so much funk in Taurus-heavy people. I learned about funk, oddly enough, from my very white, Taurus Sun dad who has always enjoyed blues and has said on multiple occasions that music should have a little funk to it. As it turns out, there are a plethora of Blues, R&B, Funk, Jazz, and Soul musicians with significant Taurus placements, such as:
Suns: Robert Johnson, Albert King, James Brown, Eric Burdon, Stevie Wonder, Janet Jackson, Grace Jones, Ella Fitzgerald, & Cynthia Johnson
Moons: Donald Glover, John Mayall, Dianna Ross, Steve Marriott
Ascendants: Miles Davis
Mars: Michael Jackson, Smokey Robinson, Chaka Khan, D’Angelo
*Note that some of these musicians have other Taurus placements like Taurus Mercury or Venus that I haven’t listed simply to avoid repetition and bulkiness.*
I listed Robert Johnson first because he not only fits the Vocalist Taurus archetype, but he also fits the Cultivator archetype as well due to his early influence in Blues singing and songwriting. In fact, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame calls him “the first ever rock star,” so that is pretty magical.
Albert King could also fit both archetypes as another early influence in Blues music. He and two other Kings (all unrelated) — BB King and Freddie King — were deemed the “Three Kings of the Blues.”
By this point, we have a pretty good understanding of Taurus’ values, so let’s reflect on how these values show up in music taste. As sensual, steady cultivators, Taurus likes to sit back and relax, listening to slower tunes that have a lot of soul and beauty in their sound. They like the natural sound of acoustics and brass instruments because of their down-to-earth and weighty tone. Because they value honesty, lyrics that feature true-to-life woes and heartfelt sincerity greatly resonates with Taurus. Lastly, with Venus as their ruling planet, most themes revolve around relationships — the plights and conquests of love abound.
Mix everything together and you have the prime ingredients for several genres predominantly originated and popularized by black musicians. There’s also a large number of Taurus musicians within Country music because of the overlap of musical themes such as an acoustic sound and lyrical themes such as hardship within relationships. These genres were born out of similar places and circumstances, as well as from similar cultures and people — all with the shared goal of expressing themselves through powerful art. As the throat of the world, Taurus is able to pleasantly vocalize the unpleasant and give beauty to the ugliest parts of life. Their words and songs remind us that prosperity cannot exist without unfiltered art and that something is always worth doing if done with a little heart and soul.
Closing Thoughts
Thank you so much for reading my piece on Taurus! I wish I had more to say about my Taurus Sun character from my series but he is still very much in development, so I could only cover the basics. There will be quite a lot more about my Gemini Sun and Gemini Moon characters next month though, the latter of which I already introduced back in The Leader archetype section of my Aries piece. Until then, thank you again and goodbye for now!