Libras, the Twilight of the Ages.

It is often the beauty less talked about, the one we glide over is what interests me most about this sign. Libra stands at the threshold of my favorite season too, autumn.

Libra is the star source from which my mother and my middle sister came from, solar wise. But although they’re related by natural and biological tie as a mother and daughter, they couldn’t be further apart in mind and spirit.

Of course, one would argue for the existence of decans or faces, that each sign is equally divided into 10 days cycles that are each in turn governed by different planets, hence the different energies. Or even, that each sign is given an unequal measure of divisions by the terms or bounds, for Libra it’s even more striking that the first bound is correlated with Saturn and the last one with Mars, Mercury having the most governance in temporal capacity, with a swooping 8 days total.

There are, of course, other attributes to one’s personality traits and features, that have much more to do with the environment, what one has or has not been exposed to, and in a literal sense, one’s own arrangement of the star chart that designates an odd amount of varieties that far surpass the sole dominion of a solar sign.

Libra is ruled by Venus, yes, the very same planet that ruled Taurus, the midterm of spring earlier this year. Only this time, Venus is putting on a veil, a shall of some sort, not at all as a disguise — although aesthetics enthusiasts like me might find reason to argue otherwise — but an attempt to reveal a different face of the one we have grown to know.

If Taurusean Venus was all about glamour, exposure, the beginnings and strengthening of roots, the beauty, the one quiver before it in the words of Donna Tartt, or the beauty we either have it bestow upon us from cradle or not.

Taurausean Venus promised an eternal spring, a joy in the first flush of youth that anticipated peachiness in every thing that sings with life. A naive kind of beauty that makes us mortals completely forget the coldest, most deadliest wintery nights just a few months ago.

It completely shifts the perspective of our senses, tricking us into thinking that this is actually the only natural habitat to earth. Earth was made to host flowers and pine trees, fertile lands that flourished plants from every single kind that could possibly exist.

This is not a Venus of tricks or imagined eden, it is a real manifestation of what the divine can do with certain energies married, it is a reflection of a long gone paradise that we mortals could only catch a fleeting glimpse of. Fleeting because, as with everything in life, change is inevitable.

Summer is but a transition to what is coming to all those attractively delirious branches, thinking that their moment in the sun would not escape the coming of the night. But the night will not come unless the earth and its inhabitants acknowledged a different type of beauty. The beauty that still lingers in old age.

The decaying of the papers, yellowing, the willowy wooden frames, the deep lined faces of a long life shaped by many tears and laughter, and the wisdom that comes from that said life. The experience of both joy and terror, the fruits we gather from a successful harvest, only perceived to be successful in retrospect.

Venus of the autumn is the mother, she is no longer the youthful maiden who thought she’d never age. Autumnian Venus belongs to the stuff of fairy tales, the moment of realization that carries our actions into a momentary solace, the quiet moments when earth begins to come into terms with the finality of its cycle that teaches us to do the same, if we only listened. If it is to be tied to any time of the day, it might as well be during the golden hour of the dusk, and even dawn.

Those meditative, quiet moments where there’s no need for language anymore, expression becomes reduced to an act of union with the universe that can only be achieved through observation, and silence.

Motivated by the themes of changes, earth elects to reward us with another wave of sheer beauty, resulting in a myriad of colorful demonstrations.

Because at its core, it is a performance, a showy one at that. The leaves crunch below feet with delicious satisfaction, the shades and the many attributes to brown, orange, red and their cousins, the hues that remain unnamed year round become suddenly in the foreground, bearing on the clothes, the accessories and the hats we wear.

Trees themselves morph into runaway models, elating with seasonal fruits that benefit the humankind and add a touch of sweetness into the mix. Libras, if you were wondering, have the same effect on the people around them. There’s a strange depth within their eyes that it is hard sometimes to sustain eye contact with them, because when you look right through a libra’s pair of eyes, you’re looking at a mirror to your own upcoming period of finality, the cusp on which mortality sits, but also when real beauty resides.

Not the one everyone celebrates, the superficial kind that warrants applause make head turns, indeed, it’s the sublime form of beauty that is evenly existent across all souls, with equal share, and which lives not to collect any sum of praise.

Having Saturn governing over the first bound of Libra sends some strong signals best associated with integrity, authority and order. Saturn’s exalted sign happens to be Libra as well, can you imagine? The Great Teacher, the solemn old sage, the hermit accepting the invitation of a juvenile, puerile entity such as Venus whose focus had long been about appearances and attraction.

Unless, this very entity had grown to become the embodiment of sacred femininity, the essence of the Yin in all its prowess, only then can Saturn feel at home.

Saturn here also signals the upcoming darkening of times that will soon be under his sovereignty, and so a formal amicable visit just before sunset is considered not only good tact, but a well established deal of clever diplomacy, which Venusian Libra accepts and delivers leaving no traces of hostility.

And so, when Libras are at times faced with the vicissitudes from a challenging life, you’d catch them navigate the situations with swift ease, so naturally you might think they’re enjoying pushing off the many arrows life throws at them.

Whether born at the early cusp of Libra or not, all the entangling planets both in the world of decans or bounds have an inherent influence and affect all Libra natives relatively similarly, unless the very said planets have a striking resonance or challenging aspects within their own charts.

Happy Libra season.