symbolism

Living a symbolic life: where a Celtic cross took me (part 1)

Eve Neuhaus 6 Comments
A Celtic Cross

At just before six in the evening on February 20, 2026, I was immersed in a Japanese-style hot tub, perfectly round and not too hot, with three dear women friends. With our legs bobbing in the warm water in front of us, the four of us formed a Celtic cross.

It was a seminal moment. We all knew it.

At just that time, the conjunction of Neptune and Saturn was exact. Not only was it exact, which happens every 36 years, but it was exact at 0° Aries, which only happens every 6000 years.

And, not only was it exact, but it fell exactly on the north node of the moon in my birth chart. And we were at that spa at that moment to celebrate the birthday of one of the other women.

That’s a lot of astrology to unpack, and I’ll do it, but first, take a look the Sabian symbol for 0° Aries:

A Woman Just Risen From The Sea; A Seal Is Embracing Her

I hoped the four of us would take that moment to rise from the water and embrace, but, sadly, the water wasn’t welcoming enough for any of us to feel like submerging.

So we meditated and emerged from there to embrace.

What’s the significance of all this?

Last night I dreamed that I was deep in a forest with a group of people. We’d had to escape from somewhere and there was a question about whether we had brought the right stuff with us and whether there was enough food. It was a fairly large group of people, maybe twenty or thirty. I was at the back of the group, walking slowly with a companion. When we caught up with the others, they were cooking and eating. I was happy to see that they had roasted some chicken and that I had a choice of either a leg or a breast piece—I didn’t want them both because it seemed like too much.

Our whole civilization is entering the deep woods of uncertainty, and the question of whether we’re bringing the right things with us matters. The dream is reassuring—there’s enough chicken for us to have a choice, even if we’re the last to be served. Yet it would be a mistake to take it literally. Most of us won’t have to carry chickens along as we navigate the deep woods. We have to take some form of symbolic sustenance.

In the fall, while preparing a presentation for the Seeker’s Compass (watch it here: https://youtu.be/iQIEb5dbF9w), I remembered the profound importance of living symbolically. I’ve appreciated the idea since I was fourteen or so, when the marvelous creative writing teacher at my summer camp introduced us to the power of myth through the work of CG Jung and Joseph Campbell. (My eternal thanks go to Joe Beatty at Lighthouse Art and Music Camp). Ever since, I’ve attended to the metaphors behind details of daily life. I even studied myth at Pacifica and, in my work with Alice O. Howell, focused on seeing the sacred on the commonplace as well as on astrology—but when I used those words “living a symbolic life” in that talk, something powerful reawakened in me.

In the talk I said something like, “In these liminal times, living a symbolic life is surely one of the ways through to the next world.” It wasn’t a phrase I intended to put into that talk, which I gave several times, live and on camera, with and without notes. It wasn’t in my notes.

After the talk, I thought, huh, good thing nobody asked me a question about that—I wouldn’t have known what to say, or who to attribute it to for certain. I thought I remembered hearing it first in a talk by James Hillman at Pacifica, and had assumed it was his. It actually comes from Jung himself. In The Symbolic Life: a collection of miscellaneous writings, he says,

You see, man is in need of a symbolic life – badly in need. We only live banal, ordinary, rational, or irrational things . . . but we have no symbolic life. Where do we live symbolically? Nowhere except where we participate in the ritual of life. . . .

Have you got a corner somewhere in your house where you perform the rites, as you can see in India? Even the very simple houses there have at least a curtained corner where the members of the household can perform the symbolic life, where they can make their new vows or their meditation. We don’t have it; we have no such corner. We have our own room, of course, – but there is a telephone that can ring us up at any time, and we always must be ready. We have no time, no place.

We have no symbolic life, and we are all badly in need of the symbolic life. Only the symbolic life can express the need of the soul – the daily need of the soul, mind you! And because people have no such thing, they can never step out of this mill – this awful, banal, grinding life in which they are “nothing but.” . . .

Everything is banal; everything is “nothing but,” and that is the reason why people are neurotic. They are simply sick of the whole thing, sick of that banal life, and therefore they want sensation. They even want a war; they all want a war; they are all glad when there is a war; they say, “Thank heaven, now something is going to happen – something bigger than ourselves!”

These things go pretty deep, and no wonder people get neurotic. Life is too rational; there is no symbolic existence in which I am something else, in which I am fulfilling my role, my role as one of the actors in the divine drama of life.

After I copied and pasted the above text into this essay, I thought I’d look for an image to illustrate the concept, maybe something from Jung’s The Red Book. The very first image that came up in my search was this one:

Over the top synchronicity.

But to return to the astrology that marked the moment: when the woods get deep and all the trees look alike, I often look up at the stars. Astrology provides a symbolic map for understanding changes in our personal and civilizational lives.

Astrology divides the celestial sphere into 12 sections or signs of 30 degrees each, for a total of 360 degrees. 0° Aries is considered the first degree of the zodiac, the threshold of a new level in the upward spiral of change. The exact passage, or conjunction, of two planets that appear to be moving slowly through the heavens, occurring at 0° Aries begs exploration.

Saturn is the furthest away of the seven “planets,” which in astrology include the sun and the moon, which are visible to the naked eye. Thus, it’s what holds the “world” together, the outer boundary, the structure.

Neptune, discovered using a telescope in 1846, was assigned the farthest out concepts of the time: imagination, illusions, dreams, the abstract, the mysterious.

The conjunction of Saturn and Neptune indicates a merger of structure with dreams.

In a birth chart, the planets are laid out on the zodiac in the position they were in at a person’s birth, each planet at a certain degree in one of the twelve segments, or signs.

In 1925, an astrologer, Marc Edmund Jones, and a clairvoyant, Elsie Wheeler, created a series of 360 images, one for each of the degrees of the zodiac. They called them the Sabian symbols. Each one is completely unique. For example, the woman rising from the sea embraced by the seal is followed by a man entertaining a group of people, and a few degrees later, by a triangle with wings.

In addition to the planets, there are other markers that are assigned meaning, among them the lunar nodes, which mark the moon’s orbit as it intersects the apparent path of the sun. The south node is said to show what a person comes into life with, and the north node what their purpose is.

One of the basic things astrologers do is to compare the position of the planets in the sky at present, or at any given time, to their positions at the time of one’s birth. Thus, I knew that the rare conjunction of Saturn and Neptune at 0° Aries coincided with the position of the north node in my birth chart at 0° Aries. When I looked up the significance of that, Astrology.com said, “When planetary transits touch your north node directly, you’ll find significant, destined events and meetings take place. The north node is uncharted terrain and unlocks the key to your life’s purpose.”

So, there I was, creating one of the four limbs of that cross in a circle at the exact moment of the structure/dream collaboration, at the exact point in time when I am supposed to come into whatever I came into this life to do. And with three dear friends, one of whose birthday was at the same time.

It’s taken too many words and too much time to get to this point in the story, so I’ll explore where the experience took me in my next post.

Synchronicity: Tarot Cards, the Witches’ Market, and the Aurora Borealis

Eve Neuhaus 7 Comments

Sometimes I have extraordinary dreams—some of them are told in the links below—and sometimes my life is filled with extraordinary synchronicity. A few weeks ago I was graced with a series of delightful synchronicities.

That weekend, Tom was still in Africa so I had plenty of time to work on my book. There were no real meals to think about, minimal shopping to do, just the dog to walk, which is good for me and almost always a pleasure. I was on a roll.

The last three chapters that I’d written were all pretty dark— the excerpt I published here a few weeks ago is part of one of them—so I decided to add in a lighter one. I gathered my characters in Gert’s parents’ sitting room for New Year’s Eve, had Gert put on some popular music with funny lyrics—it was good fun to do that research—and pretty soon everyone was singing and dancing. They couldn’t dance for all the hours before midnight though, so I figured they could play games. More interesting research. No parlor games popped up, but card games were popular. The first card games from that time and place that came up in my search were played with tarot cards. Good idea. Let the characters play the game and afterwards draw a card. Or better, I’d draw a card for each of them.

The characters probably would have used an Industrie und Glück deck, but I used what I had on hand—I’ve accumulated a good number of tarot decks over the years. The first one I found was my well-worn Waite/Rider deck from the 1970’s.

An Industrie und Glück deck:

I divided out the major arcana cards from my deck, drew one for each of the characters, and then wrote them into my story:

Gert puts one of the decks into two piles. “Pull the chairs back into a circle with a table at the center while I sort the cards.” When the chairs are in place she explains, “I’m putting the major cards, the tarocks, in one pile and the minor cards in the other. Then we’ll each draw one of the tarocks, and I’ll explain what they mean. Or at least what I think they mean.”

“Ooh, she’s going to tell our fortunes!” says Toni. “How exciting!”

“Me first!” Gisi calls out. “I want to get it over with.”

“Okay.” Gert shuffles the smaller set of cards and fans them out so Gisi can choose one.

Gisi looks at the backs of the cards carefully. She runs a finger over them. “No,” she says. “I can’t do it. Someone else has to start. Sorry.” She sits back in her chair.

“I’ll do it!” volunteers Max. Gert shuffles the cards again and fans them out for Max. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately drawing a card from the center of the deck and turning it over.

“It’s Der Naar, the Fool. What does it mean?” he asks Toni.

“Well, that’s appropriate,” she laughs. “It’s the wild card in the deck. It symbolizes beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, and a free spirit.”

“Very appropriate!” Hugo agrees. “I’ll go next.” He runs his finger over the cards a few times before drawing Der Herrscher. 

Gert smiles. “The Emperor. Another good fit. The Emperor represents authority, the establishment, structure, and a father figure. He’s the ultimate ruler of the world.”

“Good God,” says Hugo. “Is that how you all see me? I always wanted to be an artist. Isn’t there an artist card?” 

“You are an artist,” says Anna, “but the card fits, Hugo. Accept your destiny.” Everyone laughs.

Leo volunteers next. He draws the Magician.

“Ah, my favorite,” says Gert. “Der Magier is the first of the Tarocks. It symbolizes manifestation and means that you can make your wishes come true.”

“Phew! A lucky one for me! What should I wish for?”

“That’s up to you,” Gert replies.

“Then I wish the power of Der Magier for all of us. May all our wishes come true.”

“Leo, generous as always! Thank you, my friend,” says Hugo.

The last rays of sun fill the room.

Everyone is smiling.

“Thanks!” says Anna. “I’ll go next, now that I have the power to make my wishes come true.” She takes only a moment to draw Die Sonne, the Sun.

Gert claps her hands. “I think Leo’s card worked. Die Sonne signifies enlightenment, joy, marriage, and happiness.” Anna looks at the card and grins.

“You are an excellent fortune teller, Gert,” says Gisi. “I guess I’ll risk taking a card now.”

Gert reshuffles and fans the deck out on the table. Gisi looks over the back of the cards several times, pauses, and then slowly draws out a card slowly. She studies closely, holding it up to see it better. “I have no idea what this means,” she says, turning it around so everyone can see.

“Oh, it’s der Gehenkte, the Hanged Man,” says Gert. “It’s a complicated card, but it generally points to pausing—voluntarily or involuntarily—in order to assess your situation. It can also mean that it’s time to shift your perspective. Sometimes it means you’ll have to make a sacrifice.”

“Aha!” says Max, rubbing his hands together. “I thought this would go a little deeper eventually. I think it’s an accurate reading of where you are in life, Gisi—of where we all are, no? Very interesting, Gert!”

“It is a good representation. All of our lives are held up right now, aren’t they. None of us knows where we’ll be in a year,” muses Gisi, tracing the form of the hanged man with her finger.

 Hugo says, “I think all the cards have all been pretty good representations of who we are, or of who we could be.”  

“I’ll go next,” Toni volunteers, and Gert lays out the cards again. Toni also takes her time to choose. Eventually she closes her eyes and stabs randomly at a card. 

“The Hermit,” announces Gert. “Huh. Der Eremit isn’t a card I would have associated with you, Toni. The Hermit is a person who gains wisdom by being alone, through introspection. It also means the answer to your question will be found within.”

Toni is surprised too. “Soul-searching certainly isn’t something I’ve done much of so far in my life. All the other cards have seemed so exactly right though. Maybe I should take it up.”

“My turn now,” calls out Felix. “I’m so curious! Every one of these cards has been fascinating to consider.” Gert offers him the deck.

“Temperance. Die Mäßigkeit. Moderation,” she says when she see what he chooses. “Is that you, Felix? Or is the card advising you to be more balanced, more patient?”

“The latter,” says his brother. “Obviously.”

“I beg your pardon, Leo. I am the model of Patience. I ooze Balance from every pore.”  Felix stands on one leg, extending his arms, wobbling a bit, but then holding the pose.

“Very good!” Anna claps and the rest of the group joins in. 

“And now,’ Gert says. “I’ll pick one for myself.” She shuffles the cards three times and then riffles them. At last she chooses a card. 

It’s Der Tod, the Death Card. 

Everyone in the circle looks stricken. 

“Wait, wait,” Gert cries. “It doesn’t mean death literally! None of the cards are meant to be understood literally. It symbolizes transformation or change, or an ending.”

Anna sighs audibly.  “Of course, none of them is literal. Still, it’s shocking to draw it.”

Gert is shaken, but she hides it. “How about if we transition to Jause now? My parents will be home any minute. Come help me in the kitchen, ladies.”

When I had written that far, I took a break and walked the dog up the hill. It was surprisingly crowded in the village Saturday afternoon. Then I remembered that it was the day of the Witches’ Market!

There must have been half a dozen readers or sellers of Tarot readers there.

The second synchronicity occurred a week or so later. My chapter was dated January 25, 1938, so I followed my usual process of looking up what happened in Vienna at the time. It was a tense time then, six weeks before the Anschluss, when Austria merges into Germany.

In late January that year, the Northern Lights were visible in Vienna for the first time since 1805, just days before Napoleon marched into Vienna. Many Viennese saw their appearance in 1938 as an omen. Others were more hopeful—they thought it marked the birth of a princess in Holland.

I wrote the Aurora Borealis into my story by weaving together bits of whatever eyewitness reports I could find. The pictures were all in black and white, but the words were evocative. I went to bed imagining it.

In the morning, I saw that my social media was filled with pictures of the current Aurora Borealis.

Such a Dream

Eve Neuhaus 9 Comments

While I was staying at my daughter’s place in California, I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote down this dream.

July 12, 2024

I had such a dream.

In the dream, I owned a huge, rambling, falling down house, though some of the rooms were still good. A woman in her forties of North African or mixed-race descent—with light brown skin and beautiful curly black hair—came to the door with her teen-aged daughter. A group of other women and girls, all in long dresses, were with her. She explained to me that they could fix up my house, and I invited them in.

Room by room, they created a series of magical spaces full of color, filled with marvelously compelling furniture and objects, and cloths draped everywhere, each one unique. I went looking for my own room, and I found it, spacious, airy, comfortable, elegant. Oddly, I realized that the room was an illusion, even in the dream, but I loved it anyway. Next to it was Tom’s room, his piano in the middle of it. I knew he would be pleased.

I walked through room after room until I came to the end of the house. Through the window of the last room I could see a jumble of metal stairs and incomplete infrastructure, piled up, all in ruins. I realized it was part of my old house.

I set out to look for my own room again, but it wasn’t there. Instead I found a sort of throne room where all the women were sitting. When I entered, the head woman approached me, drew two longish sticks from a pot, and gave them to me. They were tipped with large cannabis buds.

I was happy but still looking for my room when I woke up. The place was vivid in my mind, rich and magical like Arabia of old or India of pre-colonial days.

I’m still feeling happy.

A few days after the dream, I had my best birthday ever, filled with family, friends, and food.

A few days after my birthday, Joe Biden stepped down, and Kamala Harris stepped up.

I hope dreams come true.