A Meditation on Taurus
This month's 'recipe', solar return astrology readings, Nourished Communities food festival, and more.
I am a Taurus who, until recently, followed up that statement with ‘but I’m really more like my moon sign’ or ‘my rising is more accurate’. This is entirely because I have hated the way pop astrology depicts Taurus – predictable (implication: boring), materialistic (implication: transactional), stubborn (implication: narrow-minded), hedonistic (OK fine that’s kind of true), and unhurried (very true). I didn’t want anybody to associate these things with me, except the last two (which are patently obvious).
What shifted for me is meeting many different Taurus people who helped me realise what this sign is really about. Here is a not-at-all comprehensive list of some more nuanced observations of the Taurus archetype:
It’s All About Pleasure
Pleasure is joy slowed down, which is to say, it’s a more sustainable form of joy. This is extremely important. Smartphones and social media are designed to make us ignore pleasure and chase a fantasy version of joy that is based entirely on social accolades, which in its lowest form is ‘validation’. Congratulations, you exist, you’re not crazy, AKA ‘don’t worry, you still fit in’. That’s not really joy, it’s conformity. While joy can be faked, pleasure can’t, because it’s too quiet, too personal. When someone says: ‘I take great pleasure in X, Y, or Z,’ it feels weird and untrue, as if the documentation or announcement of pleasure cancels out the pleasure, because it is no longer secret.
This is why I just don’t believe the whole ‘cosy lifestyle’ and ‘soft girl’ and ‘I left my corporate job to live in a small town and sell homemade caramel and just so happened to meet my husband there’ content. I like this content, don’t get me wrong. But I just don’t believe it. I know it’s a fantasy, because it is trying to sell me something, if not an actual product then an idea. If you’ve experienced the true pleasure of marbling pieces of paper with your bestie, or collecting rocks on a beach on a solo trip, or chasing your feral nieces/nephews on their scooters, then you know that telling somebody about it after just makes you kind of sad, because it is no longer happening in that moment. No pleasurable experience exists without a bit of inconvenience, weirdness, exhaustion, or melancholy; pleasure does not function in a vacuum. The Taurus archetype understands this deeply, which is why it tends to be cool with silence. (Look to see which house Taurus occupies in your chart to understand how you can access more pleasure. Even if there are no signs there, it counts.)
The only thing that can truly represent the feeling of pleasure is good art, because good art says just enough while leaving the rest to the imagination. This is why Taurus is ruled by Venus, who represents all things art and culture.
Sensible, Not Predictable
Whenever a Taurus co-worker and I went out for coffee, we were more likely to get a pastry too, take an extra 10 minutes just sitting in the sun, and talk about everything but work. (Taurus is good at compartmentalising when it comes to work, because work = money = things that give them pleasure; the work itself does not need to give them pleasure.) If we were having a busy day in the office, we wouldn’t have lingered outside so long, but when it was quiet we figured nobody would miss us.
Once, when crossing the street back to the office, I – who wasn’t living up to my full Taurus potential at that time – was jumpy, keen to jaywalk, feeling guilty about taking that extra 10 minutes. ‘Stop that,’ my Taurus co-worker said (more or less). ‘What’s the point in rushing – they don’t want us to die, right? That would just create more work for them.’
You can always rely on a Taurus to be sensible.
This same co-worker, a few months later, ripped through London on a Lime bike in pouring rain, dressed head-to-toe in her highly realistic halloween costume. (Patrick Bateman in his signature bloody poncho.) Just in time, she stepped right into the middle of our weekly meeting and gave her presentation as planned. So to anyone who has ever called a Taurus boring and predictable, fuck you.
Eccentricity, Not Materialism
The figure of the eccentric flâneur / flâneuse is very Taurus-coded. That is somebody who spends a lot of time walking around a city on their own, slowly and aimlessly, making observations with their five senses, dipping into restaurants and bars, enjoying a bit of art and culture, having a ponder, always maintaining a bit of detachment.
The Taurus archetype really, really hates relying on other people, so Taurus placements learn to cultivate pleasure (which we have already established is very important to them) on their own. They like to be enmeshed with things, not people. They are collectors (sometimes hoarders), and will project value to things other people may or may not understand. This includes spending money they may or may not have on things they may or may not need.
I think that’s where where pop astrology gets the idea that Tauruses are materialistic – it assumes that Tauruses only value what society values: money, status, expensive things. But Tauruses value whatever makes their eccentric hearts feel happy and safe, whether it’s vintage silverware or actual garbage (i.e. guitar picks they find on the street).
Patient, But You Really Don’t Want to Test That
A while ago, when visiting the Serengeti with my family, our tour guide told us about all sorts of bloody accidents people have gotten into with wild animals. On this safari, my sister accidentally dropped an empty plastic bottle out of the window, right next to two cheetahs. This man calmly retrieved the bottle, which was at one of the cheetah’s feet, and was nowhere near as livid at my sister as the rest of us were. But when we drove past a bull, he shuddered. That is an animal you do not want to cross, he said. Lions, rhinos, leopards that will drag you up a tree and feast on you over the course of a week – none of them were as terrifying to this man as a bull.
This confused us, because in our eyes, a bull was just a glorified cow. Calm and minding its own business. He said that it was rare for a bull to get angry, but if it did, we were all goners.
This is so Taurus, a sign (represented by the bull) that is archetypically very reluctant to express anger. Because expressing anger means losing the composure they maintain in order to protect their peace. They will lie to themselves (and others) in order to protect their peace – i.e. convincing themselves something is pleasurable long after they’ve lost interest. The look around at all they have collected and let those inert objects act as proof that they are still happy. How can I not be, look at all this beautiful stuff?
So when rage blows that composure open, you will be hearing every single thing that has ever hurt that Taurus, including what they claimed to have forgiven and forgotten. Because they lied to themselves about it, they lied to you about it. And now they are having an identity crisis. That bull will topple a van full of people because it is suddenly overwhelmed by everything it has been repressing in order to protect its peace.
I think this is actually really good for a Taurus to experience this kind of outburst every now and again. It forces them to see they are actually much better at adapting to new circumstances than they realise, thanks to that in-built resourcefulness and ability to find pleasure wherever they are, or create it out of nothing. Like this mini cluster of flowers growing out of the concrete.
The ‘Recipe’
That’s my pre-amble to this month’s recipe, which is not a recipe at all, but an invitation to do what Taurus does best: slow the hell down. Wander about town aimlessly. Don’t chase a fantasy of joy when pleasure is right there, off screen. Settle for what makes you even a little bit happy right here and now, but don’t get so settled that you confuse comfort for peace.
Self-Promotion Corner
Please forward this newsletter to your Taurus mates so I can get more subscribers.
I offering Solar Return Astrology Readings, which is essentially a birthday reading that tells you about the year ahead, for £65. They are super fun, it’s kind of like getting a new Rising and Moon sign for the year (the Sun remains the same). My methodology is based on the The Book of Astrological Returns by Theresa Reed (The Tarot Lady). If you are a subscriber, you get 20% off the full price of the reading, so it will cost £52. I’ve priced these in GBP, but can give online readings to people based anywhere and convert the currency accordingly. They are a really good birthday gift, for yourself or someone else. Limited spots available because I am still working on a novel, have a full time job, etc. I charge a lot less than other astrologers because I still consider myself a student, even though I’ve been studying this stuff for about seven years. My prices are kind of like paying less for a haircut from a junior stylist. If the price still isn’t accessible, do not hesitate to DM me, we can work something out.
I will be giving tarot readings at the Nourished Communities food festival on Sunday, 21 June! In London. You can book a slot in advance here, or show up on the day of. If there’s time / I’m not already booked, I can give you a reading.
Until next time,
Nikkitha