My Story

Fall, 1987 ~ I had just quit my high-paying day job to become a professional astrologer after some 17 years of study and “practice” in the literal sense.

One afternoon on my way out of a bookstore I’d been browsing, I stopped at the clearance table, attracted by a book called Atlas of the Night Sky. As I riffled through it I got the brilliant idea it might add uniquely to the value of my services if I knew facts about the stars in the “real sky” so I bought it. In my astrology studies I had learned to be alert to conjunctions between planets and certain key stars (i.e., Aldebaran, Antares, and Regulus). If aggravated by a passing “malefic” planet (bad planets?) these stars were said to inflict upon the native some debilitating defect of mind and/or body (bad stars?). I objected to this concept viscerally and chose to deal with it by avoiding further exploration of the troublesome topic. So had gone my brief, negative introduction in 1970 to the role of fixed stars in a natal horoscope. But now I had a reason to review the subject that had previously put me off.

Sitting down in 1987 with my sky atlas for the first time, I was too mesmerized to be intimidated. To keep my bearings, I focused on the constellations along the zodiac belt. ¹  As I explored the familiar area of the sky globe, the 12 zodiac signs unzipped themselves one by one, unfurling to reveal a political map of neighborhoods from pole to magnetic pole – parcels of celestial real estate in all sizes and shapes lay mapped out in the night sky. I was dazzled by the vision of a scintillating fabric of stars and deep sky objects suspended in an emulsion of time. At constellation Sagittarius I was treated to the sight of Aquila the Eagle flying northward over the head of the Archer. I was reminded of a prophecy I’d read somewhere concerning a day in the future of humanity when the neighboring zodiac sign of the scorpion would be transmuted into an eagle ² . This was said to be a sign that the breakpoint of humanity’s evolution had been reached, whereupon a golden age of peace and prosperity would be ushered in. And that’s when it happened.

Constellation Ophiuchus

Next to Sagittarius the Archer, on the page that featured Scorpius the Scorpion, was a constellation I’d never heard of before, in or outside the context of astrology. Yet there it was, literally standing on our zodiac belt between Scorpius — a mere spit of celestial real estate in comparison — and Sagittarius. The constellation, taking up three times as much space along the ecliptic plane as constellation Scorpius, was called “Ophiuchus,” a generic term meaning “serpent holder.” In the serpent holder’s hands was a giant snake, over the head of which was Corona Borealis, the Northern Crown.

Wait just a minute (I exhorted myself)! The prophecy didn’t mention anything about a snake holder appearing as if by magic between the scorpion, archer and eagle constellations! What did this mean? Did it, in fact, have any meaning at all in the context of our zodiac’s body language? And if so, and if this constellation was one of the positive signs presaging the long awaited golden age of global peace and prosperity, how were the Christian-indoctrinated masses ever going to get beyond the ingrained programming that turns what was in ancient times a serpent of wisdom, the symbol of metamorphic change, into the embodiment of evil incarnate taking Eve, Mary Magdalene, and the history of the divine feminine to Hades along with it?

I read what the author of the sky atlas had to say about the constellation. Here it is, paraphrased:

The constellation takes its name from the Greek Asclepius, the master physician who never lost a patient to death. Asclepius could revive the dying and recently dead using soma or amrita, “the deathless drink,” said to reside in the blood or venom of a monstrous snake with dragonish features. Hades, god of the dead, angered at Asclepius’s filching of souls rightfully belonging in the Underworld, convinced his brother Zeus who did strike the mortal Asclepius down with a Thunderbolt for using powers reserved for the gods. However, Zeus placed Asclepius in the sky to honor him and to appease his father Apollo, calling the constellation “Ophiuchus,” which is Greek for “serpent holder.”

I asked myself how it could possibly be that this god-like, life-saving doctor figure did not have a zodiac presence. I looked askance at the scorpion/harbinger of death constellation. Had I just tripped over its subsumed source of (“Scorpios make good doctors”) astrological attributes?

Once I had recovered from the soul-jarring, 13th constellation shock wave that these revelations triggered in my consciousness, I found myself captivated by the idea that here on my very own zodiac belt was a constellation in the image of a man of science. I didn’t have a clue what an investigation of history, myth and legend would reveal. But I was sure I needed to know. Meanwhile, my would-be career as a professional astrologer had just gone up in a puff of smoke but it was too late to go back to my day job—I had already quit it and invested in a home computer – my first. I had just seen in the pages of my new sky atlas the celestial equivalent of a white buffalo. When that happens, you don’t think, you know. This book is a result of all of the above, and as above, so below.

~ February 2005

Preface from The Quintessential Ophiuchus
Copyright © 2005-2011 Donna J. Provancher – All Rights Reserved