When the Mind Has to Share a Table With Taste

I've been thinking about Mercury conjunct Venus, and I think astrologers sometimes make this conjunction sound far too civilized. Beautiful speech. Charming communication. Artistic thinking. Pleasant voice. Fine. All very lovely. It also sounds like the description on the back of a very expensive candle.

Put Mercury and Venus together and something much more interesting happens: Mercury says exactly what it thinks it sees, and Venus immediately has a problem with the wording.

Mercury says Taurus is stubborn.

Venus says, “Do we have to call it stubborn?”

Yes.

“What about steadfast?”

No.

“Strong-minded?”

No.

“Resolute?”

We're talking about someone who has been sitting in the same opinion since Tuesday.

Venus thinks about it.

“Consistent.”

And this is how a conjunction becomes an argument.

The interesting thing is that Venus isn't necessarily saying Mercury is wrong. That's what makes her so irritating. She is saying that Mercury has chosen the least attractive interpretation available and is now behaving as though vocabulary has no consequences.

Mercury, meanwhile, would like Venus to stop putting lip gloss on the adjectives.

Between the two of them, you get something much more complicated than “good communication.”

You get an argument about what people are really like.

And the zodiac is an excellent place to have it.

Take Leo.

Everybody knows what people say about Leo. They want attention.

Okay.

Were you paying attention?

Because this detail is always missing from the complaint.

“They think everything is about them.”

I don't think that's entirely accurate either. Leo doesn't think everything is about Leo. Some things simply haven't realized they're about Leo yet.

Now, can Leo be dramatic? Please.

Leo can turn “Who moved my charger?” into a three-act exploration of betrayal.

There are witnesses. There is pacing. Somebody who had absolutely nothing to do with the charger is suddenly being asked where they were at 4:15.

And yet, somehow, the same quality that makes Leo capable of turning a missing charger into King Lear is also what makes them capable of turning a completely ordinary Tuesday into an event.

That's where Mercury gets annoyed.

Because dramatic was perfectly accurate five minutes ago.

Then Venus walked in and added alive.

Cancer is worse because you can't even finish the adjective before Cancer starts asking questions.

“Sensitive.”

“To what?”

Everything.

“What happened?”

Nothing happened.

“Then why did you say it like that?”

Like what?

“Like that.”

This can continue indefinitely.

Cancer doesn't merely hear what you said. Cancer hears the punctuation. Cancer heard the comma you didn't know was there, noticed that your “okay” had fewer emotional nutrients than yesterday's “okay,” and is now wondering whether something happened around lunchtime.

You thought you were speaking English.

Cancer was listening to the director's commentary.

And yes, this can make a person want to climb out of a bathroom window.

But here's the irritating part: Cancer also notices what everybody else missed.

Somebody got quiet.

Somebody isn't eating.

Somebody laughed, but not normally.

Somebody said they didn't care, and Cancer knows perfectly well that person cares so much they may need to be removed from the premises.

Mercury calls this sensitivity.

Venus says perception.

Mercury says, “Can it be both?”

Finally.

We're learning.

Then there is Taurus.

I don't even know why anybody argues with Taurus anymore. It seems disrespectful to everyone's time.

Taurus has already decided.

You may not know Taurus has decided, because Taurus allowed you to continue speaking. This was generosity, not uncertainty.

You can explain your position. Taurus understands.

You can bring additional information. Taurus understands that too.

You can arrive with charts, specialists, a PowerPoint presentation and what appears to be written correspondence from God.

Taurus will read it.

Taurus will nod.

Taurus will return it to you.

“No.”

Peer pressure is particularly funny around Taurus because peer pressure is accustomed to getting results. It approaches Taurus confidently, uses all of its established techniques, receives absolutely nothing in return and eventually leaves wondering whether it should go back to school.

So yes, stubborn works.

But I still prefer structurally unconvinced.

Because stubborn makes it sound like Taurus cannot be moved.

Taurus can absolutely be moved.

Taurus simply needs to have wanted to move before you arrived.

That is different.

Aquarius presents another problem entirely because Aquarius may not care what adjective we chose.

Aquarius is physically present, which is already generous.

Mentally, Aquarius is somewhere between the future of civilization, a documentary watched in 2019, an obscure historical fact and a completely unrelated question about whether dolphins have regional accents.

Then Aquarius comes back.

“What?”

Nothing.

People call Aquarius detached. Sometimes they are. But sometimes what looks like detachment is simply somebody refusing to perform emotional accessibility on demand.

Aquarius can love you tremendously and still make you wonder whether your message went through.

Then six months later they'll mention one tiny thing you said in passing and you realize they heard everything.

Apparently the signal was fine.

The customer service department was closed.

I also enjoy the accusation that Aquarius is contrary.

Tell Aquarius that everybody agrees on something.

Go ahead.

Watch the face.

You can practically see a new opinion downloading.

Other people hear “everybody agrees” and think, good.

Aquarius hears it and thinks, suspicious.

This is not always convenient, but I have to respect anybody whose first instinct upon encountering consensus is to check whether consensus has been getting lazy.

Then Libra arrives, and unfortunately I have sympathy for Libra because people keep calling deliberation indecision.

Ask Libra where to eat.

This sounds like a small question because you don't understand what you've done.

What does everybody feel like? How far do we want to drive? Didn't we have Mexican recently? Does everyone like Italian? What did you want? Is parking going to be ridiculous? What's the atmosphere? Does the place have good lighting?

Good lighting matters.

I refuse to debate this.

Forty-five minutes later, everybody is starving and Libra has successfully negotiated the fairest dining arrangement for a population now too weak to enjoy it.

People call this indecision.

I call it excessive democracy.

Libra's real problem is that Libra can see what is appealing about mutually incompatible things.

You can argue with Libra for twenty minutes, make an excellent point and walk away thinking you've won, only to discover Libra has just spent twenty minutes understanding you.

This is not the same thing.

“Pick a side.”

“I did.”

“Which side?”

“Perspective.”

You see why people get irritated.

And then Libra has the nerve to be charming about it.

That should probably be illegal, but Venus rules Libra, so naturally the paperwork disappeared.

And then we arrive at Pisces, where Mercury begins regretting the entire project.

Pisces has one feeling, three coincidences, a song that came on at exactly the right moment, something somebody said in 2008 and a thought that appeared while washing a spoon.

These items are related.

Do not ask how yet.

Pisces is still assembling them.

Mercury would like a recognizable path between Point A and Point B.

Pisces has already arrived at Point Q and would appreciate Mercury catching up.

People call this unrealistic.

Pisces would first like to know who was put in charge of reality.

This is usually where the meeting deteriorates.

The Pisces mind can make associations that look completely ridiculous until, every once in a while, the ridiculous association turns out to contain something nobody else noticed.

This has encouraged Pisces terribly.

There is now no stopping it.

Mercury wants notes.

Pisces has a feeling.

Mercury wants sequence.

Pisces has symbolism.

Mercury wants to know how we got here.

Pisces would like to point out that we're here, aren't we?

At which point Mercury needs a little time alone.

And this is why I think Mercury conjunct Venus deserves a better interpretation than “charming communicator.”

That's not wrong. It's just painfully well-behaved.

Mercury and Venus together can create something far more interesting: a mind that understands that words don't merely describe things. They frame them.

Call someone stubborn and you've made one kind of person.

Call the same person steadfast and you've made another.

Call someone sensitive and you may be describing fragility, perception, tenderness, vigilance or simply somebody who noticed what you were hoping nobody noticed.

The trait hasn't necessarily changed.

The angle has.

And Venus understands angles.

Mercury isn't innocent here either. Mercury loves definitions so much that sometimes finding the word feels suspiciously like finishing the thought. Name it, categorize it, move on.

Venus keeps ruining this efficiency.

“What else could it mean?”

Mercury hates this question.

It creates additional work.

But it's a very good question.

Because people are rarely only the least flattering adjective available to describe them.

That doesn't mean we have to become ridiculous about it. If somebody is being impossible, Venus does not need to arrive carrying a thesaurus and announce that they're “passionately committed to an alternative interpersonal strategy.”

Sometimes impossible is doing excellent work.

But there is a difference between softening everything and seeing more than one dimension.

That's where I find Mercury conjunct Venus interesting.

Mercury notices the absurdity.

Venus notices why somebody might love it anyway.

Mercury finds the word.

Venus asks whether it's the whole word.

And somewhere between those two instincts, language becomes a little more accurate, a little more beautiful and considerably more annoying to write.

Which reminds me:

Libra still hasn't picked the restaurant.