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March 23, 1895-1995
(born 00.32.40 GMT, Paris, France)

editor: Tees Reitsma

-part 2 (of 3) -


Contributions in part 2:

4. Ann Kreilkamp: "Ludwig Wittgenstein, Dane Rudhyar and me."

5. drs. Roeland M. de Looff: "Transform or...?"

6. Michael R. Meyer: "Rudhyar: Friend, Exemplar and Sage"



Like many others, I am a convert to astrology and like many others, I entered this sacred world through the doorway of Dane Rudhyar. Had I only been exposed to sun-sign daily horoscopes in newspapers, had I had access only to astrology cookbooks delineating what this and that planet, sign, house, aspect and their innumerable combinations meant, had I been initially exposed to fate and event-oriented Victorian astrologers or closeted little old ladies who divined from crystal balls, I doubt I would have endured the painful and exhilarating death and resurrection of the psyche required in order to enter astrology's realm fully.

My story, like many such stories, is long and complicated. The death process was slow and painful - even now I die daily to the ever-surprising traces of my psyche which still cling to the past. And the resurrection! - well, that too is an ongoing process, an endless spiral curving back to the beginning over and over. There are times when the only way I recognize that my internal process is indeed evolutionary - and not just cyclic, a nightmarish eternal return of the same - is that I am able to endure increasing intensity of both pain and pleasure, while experiencing both with increasing detachment.

I discovered Rudhyar - and astrology - in 1973, at the beginning of my second Saturn cycle. During my first Saturn cycle (Saturn in Gemini) I was preoccupied with trying to fit myself into the usual cultural and philosophical molds - and not succeeding. Meanwhile, I was also attempting to see the truth, what was real in life. Not until the end of that cycle did I realize I had been blindfolded all my life - and then I could summon the courage to rip off the blindfold and throw it away. My story is a good illustration of the old saying: "ontology recapitulates phylogeny". In my own evolutionary process, I recapitulated the history of the western mind since the beginning of the scientific revolution - and then, thanks to Rudhyar, leaped beyond it.

From the very beginning, I was a searcher, hungry for Truth (Sun and Asc. in Sagittarius). I was also stubborn, holding on to whatever version of "truth" I had found as long as possible (Moon in Taurus). Not until my early twenties did I finally give up the Roman Catholicism of my childhood - and then needed to replace it, immediately. The only other candidate for Truth in the world of my limited experience was not religious but secular: science. So I turned to science as a substitute for religion. I wanted to find truth in science, The Truth in science. I wanted to see Science as God, Science as Certainty, the only way to anchor my feet to the ground (Mercury and Venus in Capricorn, Saturn and Uranus in Gemini). Since my religion had failed me, I needed science as a new security blanket. I wanted to wrap it around me and keep out the void.

That was my unconscious intention in 1966 when, at the age of 23, I entered a doctoral program in the philosophy of science at Boston University. I wanted to discover Certainty in Knowledge. In this I was unlike my fellow students, most of whom seemed satisfied to argue particulars. I felt very alone there and upset that others did not seem to be as driven as I. This drove me back on myself and made me wonder what was wrong with me. Why couldn't I take philosophical questions more lightly? Why couldn't I just play with them, have fun with them, impress others with them?

As the years wore on, I became consciously aware of what seemed at that time to be an extraordinary insight, an insight which, I fear, even now few people in the same position notice about themselves: my search for intellectual certainty was a cover for what I really needed: emotional security. This insight was profound. It turned my world inside out. What had been kept safely in the background pushed inexorably to the foreground. The structure of knowledge and how it is anchored, was no longer linear: I was learning to "read between the lines" of the linearity, to sense the spaces between the lines as present, spaces which others either ignored or seemed to assume were there a priori, as anchors. Or did they? What were they doing and did they know they were doing it?

How conscious were they of their assumptions?

Now I felt even more alone. Not only was there no one to talk to, there was no way I could put my questions into words. My questions were pre-linguistic; they existed in that nebulous border zone where thought and language dissolve into the abyss of the unconscious.

I was learning to see the entire edifice of knowledge claims as a linguistic object, which itself was situated within a certain cultural space. I was seeing the structure of that object and how it was suspended, rather than anchored. I was learning that there is no certainty in the sense of anchoring. That whatever we think we know, is but a fleck of dust floating in infinite space.

But I get ahead of myself here. Actually, at this point I was not willing to recognize this way of understanding knowledge. Rather, since I sensed the ground sliding out from under me, I was desparate to avoid the free fall through the void which it entailed - that sense we are all familiar with, what we call: "the blow to the solar plexus", that sickening drop in the stomach which doubles us over in emotional pain.

I was beginning to understand philosophical problems from a subjective psychological perspective. What academic philosophers called: "the mind/body problem" had become personal; my problem. I knew that this was my problem and I knew the problem was serious: for I knew it, but I couldn't allow myself to truly feel it.

In the academic philosophy of that time, there was one place in which mind and body supposedly met. In academic jargon, this place is termed: "sensation", which in turn refers to what were called: the "raw data" of bodily experience. I was interested in Truth and in order to approach even the first step to the ladder which led up to the Truth, one was supposed to begin with that pinched source, the so-called "raw data" of sensation. The only other alternative seemed to be that of Descartes, who posited the existence of "innate (inborn) ideas", which then, he said, he knew were True, because "God was perfect and God wouldn't lie to me"! That reasoning may seem quaint to our ears, but is it really? Astrologers and other "new age" people, regularly talk about something similar, (usually Uranian) ideas which fly through the air and strike those who are receptive to them and which they then know, intuitively, to be true.

But Innate Ideas, or Intuition, as the source of truth, scientific Truth? No, never! Even contemplating such a notion was anathema to my professors - especially to my mentor.

My mentor was a die-hard "logical positivist". Along with a majority of academics of the time (and even now!), he too believed the source of "truth" lay in sensation, or "sense data", the supposedly identifiable and definable bits and pieces of smell, taste, touch, vision and hearing that supposedly make up the world of human experience. My teacher was unusual, however. He knew that any so-called truth we managed to squeeze from sense data would be trivial, not worth knowing. He was in a bind. What he believed wasn't worth anything and he knew it. And he had no way out. Using the left brain/right brain distinction we might put it this way now, 25 years later: for him, only the left brain existed.

Yet a left brain without a right brain yields only bits of data, factoids with no meaning. Therefore, for him, life had no meaning.

My mentor was a tragic figure, believing in that which was meaningless and knowing it and hating it. He would rather have been searching for Truth, too.

But he couldn't. His methodology wouldn't allow it. For me, he represented the walls of the cage I was banging my head against. It was my destiny to meet him: in his cynicism, he exhibited what I could look forward to, should I get stuck where I then was. And it was prophecy which led him to say, soon after, in words which sprang forth from the right brain he refused to acknowledge: "You must go beyond me. You must stand on my shoulders." That was our first direct and confrontational meeting. I was trembling with fear and he was leaning close to me. "Do you want to be like me?" he had asked, puckish and sprightly. "Yes!" I had exclaimed, adoring. "Wrong!" he thundered. "You must go beyond me..."

Enter Ludwig Wittgenstein and through Wittgenstein, several years later: Dane Rudhyar; though one might be surprised that I connect the two. For those readers not familiar with Wittgenstein, let me introduce him. Wittgenstein was an Austrian philosopher and a contemporary of Rudhyar, both of them carrying the generational signature of the most recent great conjunction of Neptune and Pluto. Wittgenstein was born in 1889, six years earlier than Rudhyar, before the conjunction was precise. He was a mysterious figure who regularly left academia, feeling more comfortable as a gardener for a monastry than as a Cambridge don.

Despite his checkered career, Wittgenstein fascinated. He achieved an almost legendary stature within academic philosophical circles during his lifetime and was credited singlehandedly for originating the two most prevalent 20th century philosophical schools of thought - logical positivism and linguistic analysis - both of which he himself repudiated! Since his death in 1951 his influence, while still esoteric and obscure, has spread far beyond philosophy. His aphoristic remarks are quoted by certain thinkers in many fields, though what exactly he actually meant by them will always be a matter of widely varied interpretation.

My own reading of the man's work, done for my doctoral dissertation, is unusual and no more provable than any of the others. I began to read his work at a time in my life when transit Neptune was conjuncting my natal 12th house Sagittarian Mars and opposite natal Uranus in Gemini and felt very strongly at the time that my psyche had climbed inside him, that he and I were one and that there was no question but that I understood him - understood not so much his cryptic ideas, as his muffled cries of pain.

Wittgenstein was a bridge between my teacher and Rudhyar. As my teacher had been locked inside his left brain with no way out and knew it (thus his tragic stature), Wittgenstein went one step further: against his will, he had pulsed on through the boundary and was stuck on the outside of the left brain, clawing at it, desperate to find his way back in. Beyond was the infinite void of the right brain, the starry skies within and he kept his back to it, stiffened, afraid. If my mentor was a tragic figure, Wittgenstein was doubly tragic. I was drawn to tragic figures and determined not to be one myself. After several years of graduate school, I was already fulfilling my teacher's prophecy in moving beyond him. He had told me never to read Wittgenstein. Said he was "confused"; "and besides," he had whispered, "he's a subclinical schizophrenic". Despite his warning, I finally did read Wittgenstein and like many others, became utterly entranced. "This work is true," I said to myself, after reading it all the way through, my eyes glued to the pages, "but I donÕt know what it means."

What? I said that? Impossible. I said that. It was my first intuitive (right brain) remark, the first strike from out of the blue. I wondered how I could say that. For within logical positivism, one has to know what something means before one can determine (ideally through some sort of scientific test or experiment) whether it's true or false. I had been trained under my teacher, a logical positivist; however, this training is not unusual, since logical positivism is a technical delineation of our (scientific) common sense. To say that one can know something is true without knowing what it means is "nonsense", within our scientific framework for making sense. It "makes no sense". Yet it did make sense. That's exactly what I had said and I knew it was true. And yet I didn't know what it meant.

I kept reading Wittgenstein. I couldn't stop. It was as if I was possessed. My obsession with Wittgenstein was a projection, a foil, for my own eventual transformation. Through grappling with him I was bringing up for review what had been the underground assumptions which held all my other more conscious beliefs in place. What had been background was now foreground, staring me in the face.

The scientific framework of my common sense cracked, collapsed. The boundaries between myself and the world, my own and Wittgenstein's psyche, dissolved. I was discovering another common sense altogether, this one an actual sensing in common.

This kind of common sensing is very different from our so-called scientific "common sense", where we have no senses in common, where instead we are all locked into our own private worlds and receive information individually, through the five external senses. Western cultural angst and alienation is no mystery, when we realize that even the philosophical underpinnings of our daily lives dictate that we remain separate, isolated and lonely. Wittgenstein was one philosopher who felt this aloneness in an acute fashion. His question: "how can we know another person is in pain?" takes on strange new ramifications when seen in this light. Wittgenstein's questions, I feel, are not just mere examples subject to "linguistic analysis"; they can be often taken as disguised and muffled cries for help.

Wittgenstein was not the only one who needed help. My continuous reading of his works was changing me. Soon I was as confused as Wittgenstein had himself admitted to be; as others, his disciples, were determined to deny; as still others, critics, cited and condemned him for. I couldn't stop reading him. My eyes felt like they were glued to the page. His work felt swollen, like an advanced pregnancy, never delivered. Like a vulcano, slowly imploding. Feeling his buried passion, my passion was aroused. I told my teacher: "So what if he's confused. I'd rather have a fertile confusion than a sterile clarity." That shut him up. He looked at me, cocked an eyebrow, startled.

Something was happening to me. I was becoming strange. The walls of the cage had thinned and dissolved. I was spinning out into the void, with no way out and no way through. Back then others called this experience a "nervous breakdown". But I knew, even then, that what I was undergoing was holy. That this journey into the beyond was a sacred initiation.

My worst fears had come true. There was no ground to stand on, no certainty, no security. Instead there were waves and lights and shocking insights, shuddering ascents and descents into realms that I knew not with my rational brain and thus could not describe, nor even remember afterwards. I was hungry for more, more. I went sailing through the universe attuning to stellar winds. But I didn't know it. I had no map and no guide.

Enter Rudhyar. Not that I ever wanted to read his books, or become an astrologer, or even think about it. I hated astrology. I was a philosopher, not a quack! All I knew was the popularized version of astrology, the veil with which our scientific culture has shrouded this most ancient and supreme language. Despite the fact that I had torn off the blinkers of left brain science, I was still looking at the world through narrowly scientific eyes, still avoiding what I thought of as silly superstition.

Rudhyar entered my life at a point when, despite a lingering prejudice, I was newly opened and thus vulnerable, receptive to the new. I had always been a seeker and now my search was leading me in a direction I had not anticipated. A friend set up my astrological chart and I was astonished to find myself asking: "Is this a map? Is this really a map? Will it help me to see? Will it enable me to go on?" When I asked how to read the chart, she handed me Rudhyar's "ASTROLOGY OF PERSONALITY".

I date my own resurrection as stemming from the moment I picked up this book.

From then on, what had been experienced as terrible, the uncertainty of having no intellectual foundation upon which to rely, became magical, the continuous playfulness of the transformed mind, at one with its own imaginative reach. With this transformation, the problem of certainty in knowledge, rather than being solved, dissolves - within a larger dimension. I had set out to discover certainty and instead, fell into the void. The void where Rudhyar lived. The terrible became the joyful, as I beheld and learned to live within the creative present, this infinitely fertile space which upholds and nurtures continuous transformations of form. Space as an electric, alive presence, the magical medium for emergence.

Rudhyar was a musician, a composer; he had no need for intellectual certainty. In music there is no place to stand, there is only change, the continuous contrapuntal play of moving harmonies. Rudhyar's writings in astrology reflected his musical sensibility; they were not written from within a left-brain framework. Rudhyar was inside what he was talking about, his focus of consciousness journeying through time and space, comfortable among the worlds, landing anywhere and viewing the cosmos from that vantage point, then taking off again. Moving with the music, becoming one with it and describing what he saw along the way. His cosmos was a divine orchestral performance with no beginning and no end. In this orchestra, planets and stars were the instruments, great Celestial Beings, and in the play of their continuous motion they were making love to each other, resonating in a vast and complex concerto expanding forever into larger and larger harmonies.

Rudhyar's was a universe in which every point opens into a space and every space is a mere point in some vaster realm. Where each and every point is central and all of them a continuous flow. Where each circumference traces the trajectory of some vast Being circled by others yet larger than itself. In Rudhyar's universe there was no one point to stand on and no need for one: in a continuously expanding universe every point is central. In Rudhyar's universe there is no fear, contraction, separation; instead one expands to sense one's communion with all that is. In Rudhyar's universe there is no huddling with one's back to the void, but a flying free within it, sailing within and between the points into larger and smaller spaces. The sense of dizziness that people feel when reading Rudhyar stems, I feel, from this multidimensional consciousness which both inhabited him and which, paradoxically, he knew he was but a tiny speck within.

Both Wittgenstein and Rudhyar make me dizzy - but with a vast difference. In Wittgenstein I experience the dizziness of confusion; I sense a stifling, but orderly world in the process of disintegration. And yet, for Wittgenstein, that disintegration was precisely what he longed for; he knew, in some part of himself foreign to his rational clarifying mind, that in the buzzing booming confusion of his body's stream of life lay his real life, an intimation of aliveness, a vibrancy that the mechanical orientation of scientific mentality had disallowed. In that longing, I feel at one with him and I feel for him.

In Rudhyar I feel dizziness as exhilaration, exaltation, a sense of an opening so wide that it takes my breath away; I have to stretch more and more, to encompass more and more. Wittgenstein's confusion was fertile, yes, a longing for something and yet a fear of it, a longing for love, for opening into a larger sense of things and yet an inability or refusal to do so. Wittgenstein makes me feel entombed, suffocating; I fight to get out. Rudhyar releases me.

Both Wittgenstein and Rudhyar discovered the void and that put them both beyond the pale, alone, each in a universe of one. For Wittgenstein, aloneness was experienced as alienation; he was both attracted and repelled by the void which, for him, was senseless, out or beyond all sense. He was outside, out beyond the walls of his cultural and linguistic cage, yet afraid of feeling even more separated and trying to get back in, to identify with what he had left behind by seeing it from up close. The more he tried to go back to normal seeing, the more what used to make normal sense kept sliding into something else. The void was not only out there, it was in here; there was no way to avoid it, this slippage, this lack of a ground to truly stand upon, this lack of certainty, of security.

And yet, paradoxically, he also knew on some level, that this streaming would be his real home, if he could only learn to swim.

For Rudhyar, aloneness was experienced as unity, the all-one; Rudhyar was one whose consciousness included the vastness of the cosmos, where change and diversity were not only acknowledged and included, but gloried in. His consciousness was unitary and utterly spacious: his void was the space which continuously expands; was a sort of universal fluid, both underneath and within the many.

It's as if Wittgenstein represents both a recognition of and reaction to the loss of the scientific world of Cartesian certainty and Rudhyar follows on his heels, courageously opening to the eternally expanding Now. It's interesting to note that Wittgenstein as a security oriented Taurus was followed by Rudhyar's fiery Arian initiative. Both born during the time of the Neptune/Pluto-conjunction in Gemini, they represent the old and the new ways of experiencing the total transformation of consciousness symbolized by this conjunction. Philosophers and others of many disciplines, feel the tragedy of Wittgenstein; many of them too, one senses, fear to move beyond. Rudhyar has not yet found such wide renown, as his kind of courage is still rare.

Yet, despite my immense gratitude to Rudhyar for releasing me from the need for intellectual certainty, for introducing me to absolute relativity, I am still left with the original problem I first contacted in graduate school over twenty-five years ago: the split between my mind and body. Rudhyar lived in a different age. His concerns were celestial. Earth was merely one point in an infinitely expanding universe and the awareness of the astrologer was, potentially, all-inclusive. In Rudhyar's universe one's humanity is identical with that awareness.

For Rudhyar, to be a relativist was to be free to see from any point of view, any dimension of reality. This allows one to have a perspective which is continuously enlarging and diversifying. In principle, one can see relativistic thinking as the key to humanity's transcendence of factionalism and prejudice, breeding grounds for cruelty and war. Conversion to relativistic thinking appears to be necessary, if we are to create a transcultural milieu in which truly peaceful practice can be nurtured as the changed basis for human relations.

Unfortunately, however, relativity can also be and has been used as yet another weapon, to justify actions of any kind. Relativism in ethics can and has often become merely a cynical excuse for doing whatever you want and getting away with it. I feel that this is why most people have not embraced relativism intellectually. From an ethical point of view, its consequences appear to be disastrous. Intellectual relativism, in the absence of genuine feeling, becomes inhuman, a merely abstract exercise. Our transformed mind must be linked to a transformed heart for our actions to be performed with real consideration for others - or even for consideration of other aspects of our own selves - our emotional needs, our body's needs, our soul's needs.

Which brings me back to what I began with in this paper: 25 years ago I discovered that the search for intellectual certainty is a cover for the need for emotional security. Thanks to Dane Rudhyar, I then discovered that the proper function of the intellect is play, the joyful play of the transformed mind. Emotional security, however, remains an authentic human need. A need which I still feel. And I'm not going to get it through reading Rudhyar, or through anyone's intellectual study of the workings of the stars.

My ultimate goal is to integrate transformation in consciousness with a transformation in the way in which I inhabit my own body. Intuitively, I know that "true security is to be found within" - a saying that many people also subscribe to, but do they really understand it? Do they know what they are saying? I feel that most people think of this remark as "spiritual", i.e. once one has "peace of mind", true security will follow automatically. On the contrary, it is my feeling that true security, as long as we are human beings inhabiting bodies on the planetary body Earth, is to be found precisely in our bodies as sacred temples housing the Spirit. I want to learn to tune in to my body, to be capable of feeling the aliveness - and the consciousness of aliveness - in each individual cell. Then, focussing through my transformed body as medium, I want to learn to tune into Earth, the vibrant aliveness of Her body.

Through the integration of a transformed mind and body, I want to transform my understanding of astrology, to particularize it, by grounding it into the here and now - to this place in this time. Somehow - and this is an inchoate notion, only barely perceived and can only be formulated as a sort of guttural grunt, my finger pointing down, not up; not out there, but down here; not all of that, but only this - somehow, what Rudhyar talked about in the abstract, the need to see each point as a space and each space as a point, needs to be realized, made manifest, here in my daily life, in the ongoing experience of my own body.

I feel there is an understanding that we astrologers need to arrive at and I donÕt think we are going to reach it through abstract speculation. The direction lies inward, in our hearts. We need to attune to the rhythm of their universal beat in order to bring our minds and bodies together. We need to understand things by going through the Earth out into the heavens, rather than by lifting off it and pretending it's just our own little launching pad, nothing special.

For if every point in the universe is the center of things, then so is this one, this point, this place where I live and you.

I don't fully understand what I'm saying here; I only know that for me, astrology has become too abstract, too intellectual. We need to learn how to embody astrology. We will do that through our bodies, each as a portion of the larger Earth body. Earth's body is the medium of our communion with the stars.

We need to move beyond Rudhyar,

need to stand upon yet another great one's shoulders.


Ann Kreilkamp, P.O.Box 81PE , Kelly, WY 83011, U.S.A.





The existence of planet Earth has never before been as threatened as during this period of time. Among all insecurities, one thing is certain however: if we are not able to conquer our egocentric mentality, not only humanity but probably all life on this Earth will be doomed.

From an individualistic to a transpersonal society:

It is Dane Rudhyar who, for example in his book: "THE PLANETARIZATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS", pointed out the necessity for change from a society centered around the individual to a transpersonal one. In this transpersonal society, people would no longer be guided by their ego, but by their Self: the essence of our consciousness that is part of the cosmic whole.

"What is at stake is not some minor modification in the structures of society. What is at stake is a fundamental transformation which transcends local or national conditions and the normal behavior of greedy egocentric men hankering for power to fill their inner soul-emptiness. It is a change as radical as the change from one state of matter to the next in the scale of temperature - let us say, from the solid to the liquid state." (page 299)

Person-centered astrology; bringing the person in harmony with the cosmos:

Astrology has an important role to play in the realization of the necessary processes of change. According to Rudhyar, the birthchart contains the individual's "celestial name". In his book: "THE ASTROLOGICAL HOUSES" he formulated this as follows:

"The birthchart is seen as the formula structurally defining a man's "fundamental nature". It is a complex cosmic symbol - a word or logos revealing what the person is potentially. It is the individual person's "celestial name" and also a set of instructions on how a person can best actualize what at his birth was only pure potential - "seed potentiality". The birthchart is a mandala, a means to achieve an all-inclusive integration of the personality." (page 20)

The astrologer has been given the important responsibility to explain to the client his "celestial name", to show possibilities how he can fulfill his destiny and come closer to his cosmic self. In this way, the astrologer contributes to the transition to a trans-personal society in which people can be their real self - a society without power conflicts, egotism and destruction, where people can live together in harmony and fulfill their destiny.

His books like "THE ASTROLOGY OF TRANSFORMATION" and "THE GALACTIC DIMENSION OF ASTROLOGY" speak about such an approach to astrology; an astrology that stimulates the transformation of the individual and thus enables him to become part of a (future) transpersonal society:

"The transpersonal astrologer is like a poet evoking the meaning of the whole chart as a symbol of the whole person and his or her potential of transformative unfoldment." ("The Astrology of Transformation" - page 119)

This transformation should lead to a person who will: "come to a vivid, inescapable and total realization that the ego-Sun is essentially but one galactic star (which) constitutes essentially the first stage of the transformation of man, as in most cases he is today, into "more-than-man" - and symbolically into a galactic being, a "star". This transformation is necessary as the foundation of a "Galactic Revolution." ("The Galactic Dimension of Astrology" - page 21)

Apart from paying attention to the development and transformation of the client, the astrologer should also talk about his cosmic task:

"(The chart) can be seen to represent the meaning and purpose with which the greater Whole, Humanity, has invested this birth - the dharma of the new human being. The term dharma simply defines what this new human being could do for Humanity of which he or she is a part, what Humanity expects of this individual and what it will help him or her to do, if help is possible." ("The Astrology of Transformation" - page 130/1)


Mundane astrology; how we can creatively use the available planet-energies:

Next to the task to stimulate individuals to live according to their real Self and to fulfill their cosmic destiny, it would be great if astrologers would listen to yet another appeal from Rudhyar. In "The Planetarization of Consciousness" Rudhyar formulates one of today's needs as follows:

"At the threshold of the New Age, the essential task is to fecundate the collective unconscious of mankind with new Images relevant to the expectable global character of the future society." (page 14)

Why shouldn't these new images come from astrologers? They are pre-eminently suited to insight in time-periods for example by practising mundane astrology, the astrology of world events, and have therefore a great instrument available to discover what is needed today. The astrologer observes the planets in their cycles and can advise humanity about the optimal use of these energies. In this respect, the conjunctions of the outer planets are important. The past has taught us that the energies of these conjunctions were not always creatively used and that often senseless wars and repressions were the result. The astrologer however has the know-how to show better ways and make a more positive use of these energies.

This is not only a possibility, but also a duty of the astrologer. I am convinced that we did not only receive our talents for ourselves, but also and especially, to use them in relation to others. If the cosmos has blessed us with the talent to interpret the cycles of the planets, then we have an obligation to use this talent for the benefit of the cosmic whole, especially in critical times like ours. Then we should not lose ourselves in side-issues, but focus on the essentials, the heart of our professional motivation.

Ideal and practice:

If we wish to be frontrunners in the necessary processes of renewal, should we then invest a lot of energy in recognition by the established sciences and authorities? Do we really have to strive for acceptance by those who sooner frustrate renewal than stimulate it? And what is the price we will have to pay for this?

At the moment both Uranus and Neptune, planets symbolizing astrology as well as spirituality, are in the sign Capricorn. I noticed that there are quite a few astrologers who strive for a good position in society, for recognition, and who pay a lot of attention to the business aspects of their profession. There is of course nothing against the "manifestation in matter" of an ideal, otherwise it remains a "pipedream" and will never be "grounded". This becomes a different picture, however, when the ideal fades in the background or disappears altogether.

Astrology is a profession with a special "calling" and a special responsibility - this should become apparent from the way it is practised. Much astrology is at the level of what Rudhyar sees as:

"the broadly psychological type of astrology which merely describes their character and how they should handle their conflicts or opportunities for growth at a purely personal level - a kind of growth that would mainly make them fee happier, more confident and better able to function at home and in various social situations." ("The Astrology of Transformation" - page 116)

After all, in these days with Uranus and Neptune in Capricorn, there is an urge to practice astrology in a so-called pragmatic, problem solving way, in the hope that the number of problems will diminish for the client. However, Rudhyar thinks and I fully agree, that such a happiness will turn out to be fake and that real happiness can only be found in the contact with your real Self and in living that way. Thus his arguments for transpersonal astrology:

"The transpersonal astrologer tries to evoke (for the individual eager for selftranscendence), the possibility of using every opportunity, every tension, every crisis as means to gradually overcome the inertia of his or her past, of social and mental habits and prejudices and, above all, the resistance of the 'I' to changes that would undermine its centralizing and controlling authority." ("The Astrology of Transformation" - page 117)

It is my experience that such an approach to astrology does not always lead to suggestions focussed on short term happiness. The individual often has to embark on a long and difficult journey to find his real Self and to overcome his (karmic) past. The reward, however, is real inner happiness, instead of only on the surface.

Perhaps with Uranus and Neptune in Capricorn, it is less fashionable to be idealistic (Neptune relates to fashion, which is nowadays very grounded and pragmatic). Especially in times like this, we should be careful that the essence, the central motivation of our astrological profession, as described by Rudhyar, does not get lost.

Mundane and personal astrology serving the transformationprocess:

The astrologer should be in the foreground, I think, of the renewal of society and stimulate the transformation of the individuals who are part of that society. The old ways have brought the earth to the brink of disaster. If we ignore Rudhyar's call, we will all go over the edge.

As astrologers we should trace the deeper sources of symptoms like pollution, violence and racism. We can point out how the (astrological) archetypes that correspond with these symptoms, can be used in a better way. These archetypes are after all neutral. Wˇ are the ones who decide whether they will work in a positive or negative way. This is the first part of our astrological work.

Another part consists of bringing the individual closer to his destiny by deciphering his "celestial name". That will lead to real happiness in life for the individual, so he can take the place in society that the cosmos meant for him. The more individuals follow this road, the more harmony will result in a society.

Let us honor Dane Rudhyar in a concrete way:

The inheritance of Dane Rudhyar can help to counteract the excesses of a too businesslike professionalism and too pragmatic approach. For me the idealism as formulated by Dane Rudhyar, is the central motive to be involved with astrology.

If astrology was without any inspiration and had no "higher" purpose, I would stop immediately.

Astrology supplies sufficient means to astrologers to contribute to the transformation-processes in a concrete way. We owe it to the cosmos and life on earth to use these. Of course we do have a choice and can decide to hold on to the old and tried safe ways. That safety will however turn out to be fake, because it will eventually make us partly responsible for a dark future......a future that can be much brighter and more beautiful, if we all put our minds to it. This is for me the most important lesson that Rudhyar taught us.

To act accordingly

is the highest honor we can bestow on him.


Roeland M. de Looff , Brunostraat 64-B, 5042 JA Tilburg, Nederland






I first met Rudhyar in San Francisco during the summer of 1968. At that time I was immersed in the study of Theosophy. I felt certain that somewhere, somehow, there still existed a few men and women through whom the living power of Theosophy flowed; that there were still active in the world living exemplars of the Path of Transformation, co-workers and chelas (spiritual disciples) of the Buddha-like beings of Wisdom and Compassion who, a century earlier, sponsored H.P. Blavatsky's mission "to change the mind of the 20th century".

I didn't need to be convinced that there was more to life and reality than appearances and what I had been taught in school. But I also realized that the teachings of Theosophy - especially as formulated by its early 20th century popularizers - did not comprise an "Absolute Truth", they rather constitute approximations and descriptions of a reality framed in words, symbols and images acceptable to Victorian men and women.

I realized, as Blavatsky stated towards the end of her life, that a new, more inclusive message and worldview would be needed, released and formulated during the last quarter of the 20th century. In a youthful way, I realized it was part of my destiny to seek out its occult source and help formulate and promote the new message for the new century.

A year or two earlier, I had started tuning in to what the few representatives of the many spiritual traditions (gurus) who were known in the West at that time had to offer and by 1967 I had already met some self-styled American and English gurus, including Alan Watts and Timothy Leary. Then in 1968, searching for someone still in touch with the living power of Theosophy, the divine Wisdom of the universal Mind, I visited many theosophical centers in New York, in the American mid-West and in California.

A turning point came when I saw a new book at the San Francisco Theosophical Society: "THE LUNATION CYCLE" by Dane Rudhyar. Although I was then only mildly interested in astrology, I bought the book on impulse. It didn't take me long to realize that it advanced a new and satisfying approach to astrology. Indeed, it restored cyclicity to astrology. But what most impressed me about "The Lunation Cycle" was its theosophical foundation. Not that Rudhyar quoted Blavatsky's "Secret Doctrine" or that he drew attention to the theosophical basis of his approach to astrology. Indeed, he didn't.

But I immediately realized that Rudhyar's description of the structure of the lunation cycle - with its involutionary and evolutionary hemicycles and its 8 soli-lunar phases - was rooted in the theosophical worldview. Indeed, Rudhyar's presentation of the 7 illuminated soli-lunar phases and the dark new moon phase closely followed the theosophical doctrine depicting 7 "globes" of manifestation plus an unmanifest "pra-laya" phase of dissolution.

A few days after reading "The Lunation Cycle" I was fortunate enough to see a notice posted in Lewin's Bookshop in Berkeley. It announced an informal debate on the beginning of the Aquarian Age between Gavin Arthur and Rudhyar, to be held at San Francisco's famous Glide Memorial Church.

I had already heard of Gavin Arthur, the wealthy grandson of an American President. He was something of a grandfather hippie who had opened the doors of his mansion to a flock of beautiful boys and girls. He was the San Francisco counterculture astrologer.

Arriving early for the debate, I took a place in the front left pew. Soon a young couple about my age settled in next to me. Striking up a conversation, we spoke of our natal charts. Before long it became evident that the young man and I were "astro-twins" - born on the same day, year and time and only a few miles apart.

There was something about my astro-twin that made me uncomfortable. I was still very shy and socially withdrawn at the time, but my astro-twin seemed to manifest our strong Scorpio-Leo configuration much differently. He seemed very self-confident, assertive, aggressive and more than a bit egomaniacal. On top of that, he was very interested in Aleister Crowley and claimed to be proficient in ceremonial magic and hypnotism.

The friendly debate finally began, about an hour late. In it Rudhyar summarized much of what was later published in the book: "ASTROLOGICAL TIMING - THE TRANSITION TO THE NEW AGE". The audience seemed impressed with Rudhyar's historical and philosophical insights. And as the debate progressed, it became clear that Rudhyar was not only convincing the audience of the validity of his position but that he was, in his first 'en masse' contact with the counterculture, winning the respect and admiration of the unconventional young and not-so-young people who filled the venue to capacity.

But the really impressive, convincing and inspirational part came after the debate, when the two astrologers responded to written questions submitted by the audience. I asked Rudhyar how the coming Aquarian Age tied in with the coming of the new and highly integrated type of humanity Blavatsky and other theosophists said was to be born in California. He sent back word that my question was too specialized to discuss before a general audience, but that I should feel free to approach him at the close of the talk. Then, looking in his direction, I noticed he was staring at me.

Rudhyar did, however, respond that evening to some other questions, like: "What can we do now to prepare for the coming New Age?" It was in response to such questions that he spoke of the key components of his sociocultural vision which appeared a few years later in his books: "WE CAN BEGIN AGAIN - TOGETHER" and "DIRECTIVES FOR A NEW LIFE".

With a light and power I had never before experienced, Rudhyar spoke of 'seed groups' as lenses, giving existential form to what he called 'seed ideas' and new aspects of archetypal Man. As he spoke, his voice rolled like thunder through the hall. The Tone of a mighty gong seemed to sound through Rudhyar and my mind, being and consciousness resonated to it. The air, and our minds, vibrated with the spiritual power that seemed to flow through Rudhyar like light through a window. I realized I was encountering a living representative of the Community of Seers and Sages.

After the talk, a group of eager young people gathered around Rudhyar, asking questions of all sorts. I remained on the fringe of the group, too self-conscious and timid to speak, but I noticed Rudhyar frequently looking at me. Then, after the group thinned out to a few determined seekers, Rudhyar made a friendly comment regarding the question I had submitted earlier and asked if I was from a theosophical family. I told him my mother was from a prominent Masonic family and that after I had discovered Theosophy on my own, I learned that my grandparents had studied Blavatsky's "Secret Doctrine".

When the sponsors told us it was time to leave, because the custodian wanted to close the church for the evening, Rudhyar suggested that since it was still early evening, the group could reassemble at the comfortable home of his friend and hostess: Mrs Winslow, across the bay in Berkeley.

There he listened carefully to our thoughts and experiences and seemed genuinely interested in all aspects of the counterculture, which was then in full blossom.

At someone's suggestion, Rudhyar summarized his biography. It was then that he spoke of his theosophical background and his close relationship with the great theos-ophist: B.P. Wadia. He went on to describe his multi-faceted creative activities and since there was a grand piano in the house, Rudhyar treated us to a couple of his compositions, which were unlike anything we had previously heard. He went on to some improvisations of the sort, he said, he used to play for Martha Graham's rehearsals back in the 1920s and 1930s. That terribly impressed a dance student from Mill College.

I returned to New York City a couple of months later, where I spent the next 3 years. Every year, however, I saw Rudhyar when he came to New York to give lectures and seminars. During those years we corresponded a few times and I read all his books. I especially remember waiting for the publication of "THE PLANETARIZATION OF CONSCIOUSNESS", which Rudhyar promised in a letter would treat theosophical and metaphysical issues in a new way. I read the difficult book cover to cover 2 or 3 times during 1970-71, realizing that here was finally a modern reexamination of the key ideas of Theosophy.

It wasn't until I returned to California during the summer of 1971, however, that we became close friends. I had sent Rudhyar some material from my work in progress: "A Handbook for the Humanistic Astrologer", which greatly excited him because it would enable the new wave of astrological students to learn the first principles of astrology without first being exposed to and conditioned by the traditional, event-oriented textbooks of the day, most of which were written decades earlier.

Rudhyar spent the late summer as a guest of Jose and Miriam Arguelles in their Palo Alto home. It was there that we had our first long, private meeting. I arrived during the early afternoon and he wouldn't let me leave until that evening. I recall he was extraordinarily kind and encouraged me to ask all sorts of questions. He seemed intensely interested in learning all about my background and my thoughts on a broad range of subjects. As sometimes happens among close and longtime friends, during that early meeting when asking him about a remote subject, he often replied that he was at that moment thinking along similar lines. One of his favorite remarks to me, which I heard dozens of times over the coming years, soon became: "You are psychic!"

That afternoon we spoke largely about the Theosophical Movement and his involvement in it, about the fantastic and promising social and mental changes which were then so prevalent in the U.S. and western Europe and about how our lives and work figured in both. And he spoke of his "spiritual parents" - B.P.Wadia, the great theosophist and Aryel Darma, a Dutch theosophical lady from Java - whom he met during 1920 at the Krotona theosophical center in Hollywood.

It came out that Esalen Institute had asked him to give a weekend seminar during September in Berkeley on: "A New Look at BlavatskyÕs Secret Doctrine" and he invited me to attend as his guest. After saying something about how difficult the task was and how one never knows how intellectuals will respond to (and misconstrue) theosophical ideas and concepts, he went on to summarize his general approach to the subject. Throughout the meeting I became increasingly aware of the fact that since I first met Rudhyar in 1968, I had felt our destinies were somehow linked; and over the decades since, I have often sensed certain ancient situations impressing themselves upon the present.

Toward the end of the meeting, I spoke of something which had been on my mind for some time. I mentioned to Rudhyar that it was easy to recognize his great contribution to astrology in the form of restoring cyclicity to it, of his

formulation of the humanistic, person-centered approach and all that. But why, I asked, did he spend so much time and energy on astrology when he could do so much more as a spiritual teacher? "Why be an astrologer," I wanted to know, "when you could be a great guru?" I suppose it was something like Marie d'Agoult asking Franz Liszt why "playing piano well" was so damn important, when he could be a great artist and an influential philosopher.

In reply, Rudhyar spoke of the great difficulties and obstructions he had encountered during his earlier years, of how opportunities (perhaps too many opportunities) later presented themselves in the astrological world, of aborted attempts and of his earlier unreadiness. But, he confided, with the approach of the last quarter of the 20th century, perhaps more will be possible. "And look," he said on an up note, "Esalen has already asked me to do that talk on The Secret Doctrine."

Before leaving, Rudhyar graciously presented me with copies of some of his old theosophical articles (such as: "A Call to Occultists and Theosophists"), which he had brought along for his "Secret Doctrine"-seminar. It was out of that seed moment that the book: "OCCULT PREPARATIONS FOR A NEW AGE" - and other books written after 1975, which Rudhyar and I discussed and corresponded about during 1973-74 - grew. And it is in these books (as well as in his earlier book: "The Planetarization of Consciousness") that I believe Rudhyar made his really outstanding, yet largely unrecognized, contribution.

I can't even begin to describe how Rudhyar "influenced" my life. I cannot even imagine what I would be, if there were no Rudhyar. But if there were no Rudhyar, sooner or later something or someone would have met, no doubt in a different way, the need; someone else would have given a future, so to speak, to astrology and to theosophy. I heard Rudhyar once say that he "was allowed to live". And indeed, his often fragile health saved his life, because it exempted him from military service during WW I, in which the regiment he would have joined, was wiped out in the retreat from the Marne.

It seems that what is needed, survives and if one is opened to the downflow of transcendental, transpersonal light and power, in one way or another one receives the help and protection one needs to fulfill one's dharma.


Now it is for us to survive

and give existential form and meaning

to the new operative aspect of divine Wisdom

and archetype Anthropos

now seeking realization

through a new, truly PLANETARY humanity.


Michael R. Meyer, P.O.Box 691269, West Hollywood, CA 90069, U.S.A.
website with Rudhyar Archive: www.khaldea.com


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