Reflections on My Journey into Astrology

Astrology had always been around me in some way. I stayed open to it and had my chart read a few times by different astrologers. But I hadn’t felt the call to really explore it for myself. That began to shift gently around the same time I started painting mandalas, in August 2024—through small signs, meaningful experiences, and quiet nudges that kept showing up.

During the summer, I had taken a few classes with a school called Cosmograma, but I wasn’t quite ready—I didn’t yet have the foundation to really take it in. Still, something kept pulling me. In late November, about a week before leaving on a spiritual trip to Egypt, I signed up for their 10-month astrology program. I knew I’d miss the first two live classes while traveling, and I hesitated—but the call was too strong to ignore. I trusted I could catch up later with the recordings. And so, I took the leap.

While in Egypt that December, I visited the Temple of Hathor in Dendera—and there it was: the zodiac carved into the ceiling. I stood beneath it in awe, feeling a deep, ancient recognition. Later, inside the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid, I remembered Robert’s recent research about the zodiac found on its walls. I knew in my gut that I was on the right path—following something far older and wiser than my mind could fully grasp.

Back in the US, as I started to immerse myself in the Astrology teachings, I learned to draw the symbols and explore what each planet, sign, house, and aspect represents, something opened in me. I began to see my own chart with new eyes—not as a collection of traits, but as a way to uncover my soul signature. Slowly, I started noticing deeper patterns in my life—and with them, the possibility of change.

There was a particular moment that moved me deeply: understanding the meaning behind a very tight conjunction in my own chart—Sun, Mars, and Saturn. I realized how I could map much of my lifelong pressure, strictness, and inner judgment in that configuration. And in noticing that, I also saw the choice: these energies didn’t have to express as rigidity. They could express as strength, discipline, and focus—without the harshness. That realization brought me to tears. I felt compassion for parts of myself I’d once rejected for causing me pain.

As I was learning more and more, I was also looking at the charts of those closest to me.

And in doing so, something extraordinarily beautiful happened: I began to understand why they are the way they are—through the energy patterns encoded in their soul map - what’s often called a “natal chart.”
And I could feel a softening in myself.

Now, where judgment may have existed, compassion was naturally arising: I could see the weight they were carrying, the gifts hidden beneath their defenses, and how perfectly their sensitivities made sense within the design of their chart.

My perception of myself, of those closest to me, and of humanity as a whole has softened. I see now that each of us is living out energy patterns quietly woven into our natal charts—scripts hidden in plain sight. When we recognize a pattern, or shadow, it naturally rises into the light, where it can be met with understanding and transformed into wisdom.

Astrology has become a beautiful tool for self-discovery—with compassion and grace. Like painting mandalas, it offers a way to meet ourselves without judgment. A way of holding what’s tender or difficult with understanding. It’s not about labeling people. It’s about remembering who they are beyond the patterns—and helping them live that truth with more ease, awareness, and dignity.

That’s why I now offer this work to others. Not as predictions, not as formulas—but as a shared journey of self-discovery.

If you feel called to explore your chart this way—with warmth, depth, and gentleness—I would be honored to walk beside you.