Until Hulu’s The Dropout premiered last week, I’d totally forgotten about Elizabeth Holmes. But as soon as I eagerly pressed play on the first episode of the Hulu limited series dramatizing the story of the infamous fallen CEO of Theranos—the misguided, and frankly, macabre blood-testing startup—I was hooked once again. It’s hard to resist something so deliciously sociopathic.
Like any good astrologer, no sooner was Justin Timberlake’s “Rock Your Body” (we’ll talk more about the music choices on The Dropout in just a sec) setting the first episode firmly in 2002, then I was pulling up Elizabeth’s birth chart to see WTF was going on there. Born February 3, 1984 in Washington, D.C., Elizabeth unfortunately doesn’t have a known birth time. But still, there’s so much there, even at first glance. What I want to focus on though—because not only is it fun to talk about, it’s also super relevant—is that Elizabeth Holmes was born during a Jupiter-Neptune conjunction.
Jupiter-Neptune is an aspect that occurs only once every 13 years or so. It’s a marker of a tiny moment in each generation that has an undeniably fantastical and psychedelic ripple effect. Put in the simplest terms (don’t worry, we’re going to e x p a n d), this aspect is one of delusions of grandeur. Neptune creates illusions and Jupiter magnifies those illusions. Jupiter-Neptune blurs the line between reality and fiction. Though there’s a certain romance to finding oneself in this kind of fog, it’s also scary to be crawling through the dark. This kind of fear and uncertainty is what inspires group think. The dangerous kind. It’s an origin story for scammers and imposter Instagram accounts and cults and fake news. Jupiter-Neptune acts first and figures out an explanation later. Jupiter and Neptune are currently conjunct in Pisces. The aspect goes exact on April 12. Can you feel it? I can feel it.
Jupiter conjoined Neptune at 0º Capricorn on January 19, 1984. A few days later a dystopian Apple commercial—which paid homage to George Orwell’s 1984—premiered during the Super Bowl, introducing the world to the desktop Macintosh in a deeply unsettling way. The haze of Jupiter-Neptune hung over all of 1984, which in culture, saw the release of This is Spinal Tap, David Lynch’s Dune and Prince’s Purple Rain. “Time After Time” topped the charts. It was also the year that Ma Anand Sheela and other members of the Rajneeshee commune (otherwise known as the Osho cult, profiled in Netflix’s Wild Wild Country) launched a bio-terror attack (aka unleashing a ton of salmonella in salad bars in The Dalles, Oregon) to influence a local election.
Major astrological aspects like Jupiter-Neptune don’t come or go quietly, but leave a trail of influence over the entire preceding and following year, especially potent when within a 5º or so orb. When we’re born with these kinds of generational aspects in our chart, we spend our entire life managing that energy, for better or for worse. Elizabeth Holmes was born just 2 weeks after 1984’s exact Jupiter-Neptune conjunction in Capricorn. Capricorn is our cardinal Earth sign. It’s a sign concerned with building systems and structures, starting from the bottom and staying in it for the long haul, the marathon. Capricorn is an architect. Because the sea goat is also concerned with the quality of its materials, in our era of late-stage capitalism, Capricorn has become conflated with a certain kind of linear success, particularly in business. Therefore Jupiter-Neptune in Capricorn isn’t delusions of any kinds of grandeur, it’s delusions of structural grandeur, business grandeur, CEO grandeur.
One of the classic Elizabeth Holmes anecdotes is that when she was just seven years old, she drew a model for a time machine and gave it to her father. Though literally any child could “draw” “a” “time” “machine,” this was constantly brought up to prove her ingenuity and intelligence when she was being profiled in her golden era. “She always knew exactly who she wanted to be!” her fans coo’ed like adoring parents. Her fixation on business was perceived as adorable rather than highly concerning and more than a little narcissistic.
As a precocious child, Elizabeth Holmes proudly told adults that she wanted to be a billionaire. As an awkward teenager, Elizabeth Holmes became obsessed with Steve Jobs. As a 19-year-old with an undercooked pre-frontal cortex, Elizabeth insisted that she had an idea that was going to change the world. This could really be the story of any Millennial brought up in the halcyon days of the 90’s and early 00’s, continuously told that yes we were special snowflakes and yes anything we can dream we can be. But it’s Elizabeth’s prominent and near exact Jupiter-Neptune conjunction that illustrates how this became less of a personal or generational quirk and more of a public health issue.
One could say that the idea behind Theranos was “good,” or at least, intriguing. No one likes getting blood drawn or needles stuck in their veins. Yes it would be ideal (another Jupiter-Neptune word) to be able to diagnose hundreds of medical conditions with just one tiny drop of blood. Yes, it would be even more ideal if these tests could be administered in a warm, welcoming wellness center rather than a sterile clinic. Wellness as a concept and a culture is extremely Neptunian. Like, what even is it? No one knows. But it sounds good. One of the longest cons of Theranos was that the technology never worked. Every demo was an act of desperation and a majority of the results were fudged. It was all smoke and mirrors. Still, Elizabeth made herself into a caricature of a CEO. She wore the same Black slacks, jacket and turtleneck everyday (Black being the color of Saturn as another nod to Capricorn), used a fake, baritone voice and weirdest of all, she never blinked. Employees, investors and journalists were all mesmerized (Neptune), staring into her oceanic, hypnotizing, blue eyes.
Now I know we’ve talked a lot about cults and group think and power-hungry CEOs. But in a best case scenario, Jupiter-Neptune in Capricorn dissolves empires and builds ethereal palaces. Lorde, who casts spells with her songs, who’s first major hit challenged “Royals” and who’s most recent release Solar Power lampoons wellness culture, has a Jupiter-Neptune conjunction in Capricorn (1996). Jack Antonoff, who collaborates with Lorde and is generally known for building Coliseums of infectious pop, was also born with Jupiter-Neptune in Capricorn (1984). It’s not all bad! Even in the case of Elizabeth Holmes, during her brief moment of being a media darling c. 2013-14, the innocent side of Jupiter-Neptune in Capricorn was represented in her obsession with efficiency and design. Theranos’ products needed to be sleek, the blood draw process barely noticeable. It seemed impossible (and it is!) that one could run hundreds of blood tests using just one drop of blood, but Elizabeth convinced not just her friends and family, but the general public that it could work. A strongly wielded Jupiter-Neptune idea is infectious, even when it’s poisonous. In the worst case scenario, Jupiter-Neptune in Capricorn wants to become King of the Metaverse. (see: Mark Zuckerberg was also born with Jupiter-Neptune in 1984.)
Elizabeth Holmes’ entire world was a kaleidoscopic web of deception, falsehood and girlboss propaganda. What I want to emphasize is that she was able to dupe so many powerful people. Again, this was not just her Mom thinking she was brilliant or an excellence award at Stanford graduation. She raised millions, billions of dollars. She had former cabinet members on her Board of Directors. Chemical Engineers trained at Oxford were eager to sign up. She convinced the designer of the iPhone to give up Apple stock options and join the team. Capricorn is the sign of diplomats, army generals, heads of state. Ruled by Saturn, Capricorn is the sage, the crone, the elder. Elizabeth Holmes successfully convinced a bunch of geniuses, plutocrats and oligarchs that she was their guru. It was them who could learn from her. Former Secretary of State George Shultz, a Theranos board member and one of Elizabeth’s biggest champions, was born in 1920, another Jupiter-Neptune year. Some Jupiter-Neptune people create the fog while others get lost in it, and others still break through it.
What we may never know about Elizabeth Holmes is how much she herself bought into what she was selling. She has never admitted guilt nor showed any real remorse for what she did. And yes, this is the behavior a sociopath—particularly not showing any remorse toward the patients or employees who were harmed or died because of her deception and negligence—or at least someone with a highly inflated self image. But, no matter how many investigative journalists and courts of law examine this case, even now that Elizabeth is awaiting sentencing on four counts of federally convicted fraud, we really don’t know how much of her deception was intentional. Yes, factually: she lied. But, she also believed her lies would eventually save the world. Did she “know exactly what she was doing” or was she the boy who cried wolf for so long that she became the wolf she feared? Is there even a difference? This kind of perfect storm is the danger of Jupiter-Neptune. We so badly want to believe in magic, in the good that we forget that we live in a world capable of damage, destruction and irreversible harm.
As much as Jupiter-Neptune gets us caught up in dangerous fantasy, it can also makes space for actual utopia. Jupiter-Neptune lowers our inhibitions, heightens our intuition, and allows us to get lost in music, art and romance. A fiction of The Dropout that perfectly illustrates the reality of Jupiter-Neptune is the series’ highly self-aware use of music to both set the scene and influence the action. In an early scene, Elizabeth (in a star turn by Amanda Seyfried) sits on the floor of her dorm room, listening to “Y Control” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on her first generation iPod, the music pulses as she reaches what can only be described as a brainstorming orgasm, pressing the contours of the iPod against her face. Ingenuity arrives in a moment of indie bliss. In another scene, Elizabeth in full millennial main character drag bikes through the Stanford campus while listening to Wolf Parade’s “I’ll Believe in Anything.” Though anachronistic, the song is her battle cry.
But I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
I said I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
For older to mid millennials (born with Saturn in Scorpio, Sagittarius or Capricorn, 1984-1990), these needle drops are evocative. Instantly transportive to a simpler time when we too believed we could be and do anything. The weed? Secured. The vibes? Immaculate. The crushes? Intoxicating. This kind of nostalgia trip reminds us of inspiration, clues us into to how and where and why we could be inspired again. Music as escape, not just the soundtrack to genius but the genius itself.
The last Jupiter-Neptune conjunction was in the last degrees of Aquarius, going exact three times in the Spring, Summer and Fall of 2009. This was, of course, the height of the Great Recession, the peak of lazy, burnout pop—“Rude Boy” (a song about someone who is…too lazy to have sex?) was all the rage. A certain kind of millennial-white-hipster-American-Apparel-clad-Pitchfork-evangelist also found a cultural zenith in 2009. (What the kids are calling “indie sleaze.”) Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavillion, Phoenix’s Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Dirty Projector’s Bitte Orca, and Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest were all released in 2009. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. When “indie music was indie music” some would say.
Personally, the highlight of Summer 2009, for me (a self-identified white millennial hipster) was driving to Western Massachusetts in the middle of the night with two friends from my summer job at Starbucks, smoking a blunt in a tree when we arrived. I spent a lot of that summer comfortably numb. Obama was President but life wasn’t getting better, the administration had not delivered on the promised “hope” or “change.” We all just wanted something nice and kind of psychedelic to carry us through the uncertain times. Jupiter-Neptune is intoxicating, but it doesn’t always have to be a literal acid trip. Sometimes all we need is music or art or romance to escape. Crushes are also addictions. So is nostalgia. Even villains need an altered state. Fun fact: after she was indicted on federal fraud charges and Theranos dissolved, Elizabeth Holmes went to Burning Man.
"It ended up being about: What are things I love, what are the things I need, how can I make sure they take up as little space as possible?"
-Tavi Gevinson, interviewed in Architectural Digest in 2017, on designing her Brooklyn apartment.
Tavi Gevinson (who does a haunting impression of Holmes, btw), was born with Jupiter-Neptune co-present in Capricorn (1996) and is an example of how this aspect is not just an artist but also a tastemaker. Tavi found fame as a tween, writing a blog called Style Rookie which chronicled her OOTD and eclectic designer taste with an inspiring, effusive verve. Tavi made fangirling into an art form. Her blog eventually led to her founding Rookie, a magazine by and for teens, giving a voice to her generation. Jupiter-Neptune’s big dreams aren’t always a sham! Sometimes they really do come true and effect real change for the collective.
Now, to return to the present, I just want to step out of the fog and remind everyone that all of the Jupiter-Neptune examples I’ve given thus far have been with both Jupiter and Neptune in Capricorn and Aquarius, Saturn-ruled signs. Despite the disquieting mass surveillance of Mark Zuckerberg, and the staying power of first wave Pitchfork nostalgia highs, these are all conservative examples of what Jupiter-Neptune can do. The current Jupiter-Neptune conjunction is in Pisces where even the tiniest dreams become massive tidal pools of fantasy. Pack your flotation device because it’s terrifyingly easy to drown in these waters.
Something to ask yourself in this time of Jupiter-Neptune is: am I living my own dream or simply caught up in someone else’s? Jupiter-Neptune is an aspect of projection. Though this aspect trends grandiose, it can also work in the opposite direction, giving people very little faith in themselves. Some born with Jupiter-Neptune aspects put everyone on a pedestal and avoid looking at the dark (read: human) side of those they love. Jupiter-Neptune can turn us into players of someone else’s game. It’s smart to be mindful of how much you’re buying into someone else’s story. I kept thinking about this while reading the Vanity Fair cover story on Grimes in which the indie-pop-star-turned-tech-villain-housewife reveals her secret baby, tells of her forthcoming metaverse girl group called NPC, and shows a few too many of her cards re: how much her boyfriend Elon Musk dictates every detail of her life. Musk was born during a Jupiter-Neptune conjunction in 1971 (the same year that Don Hoefler coined the phrase “Silicon Valley” and the first Starbucks set up shop in Seattle’s Pike Place Market). As far as Elon’s delusions go, sure, going to Mars is a “good idea” or, at least, an idea. But, why exactly is he going? It’s inspiring to fall in love, it’s lovely to escape into music, and sometimes it’s necessary to be intoxicated. But in this time, with so much change afoot and so much joy at stake, it’s important to consider why and for who? Keep asking: who am I doing this for?
Mercury sashay-ed into Pisces on March 9th, joining Jupiter and Neptune there, giving them a voice. Mercury is a trickster and a shapeshifter; the planet of technical skills, writing, speaking, and making. More than any other planet, Mercury becomes a product of their environment, easily taking on the qualities of their surroundings. Though Mercury is said to be in their fall (the condition of being a stranger in a strange land) in Pisces, planets in their fall aren’t inept. When we have planets in their fall in our chart, we’re at a disadvantage, at least in the way traditional astrologers (who were all wealthy, educated men btw) would describe it. To be disadvantaged when it comes to planetary dignity is to go against the status quo. Planets in their fall break tradition, forcing us to strategize, to think outside the box, to connect the dots in our own unique way. While in Pisces, Mercury is a poet. Romantic, sensual and imaginative. Under this influence, all of our dreams (both in sleep and waking life) are potent and vivid. Non sequitur reigns supreme. Things don’t make sense yet we still understand everything.
Yoko Ono has a Jupiter-Neptune conjunction in Virgo opposing her Mercury in Pisces. She’s a dreamer, an artist, a lover. Her work, both personally and artistically, makes room for how big the world really is. Jupiter-Neptune in Pisces reveals that freedom is only an illusion and reminds us that we must heal before we take flight. Mercury lets us think through these big feelings and put our feelings to words. In my client practice, I’ve had a lot of questions about when inspiration will return and I do think these next few weeks are it. Mercury meets Jupiter on 3/21 and Neptune on 3/28. Gather your supplies. Commune with the muses. Think of Tavi’s culture gourmand, Jack’s stadium pop, Lorde’s maximal poetic humor. Take inspiration from Yoko’s Grapefruit and write an instruction manual for loving and dreaming and making through this new reality. It doesn’t have to make sense.
This is a moment is for meandering, for maneuvering off the beaten path, embracing hidden talents. Creating an instruction manual for forgiving ourselves and learning to live with our illusions, requires letting go. Romance comes easy. Escape comes easy. Meaning comes easy. Don’t quit your daydream, just know that you’re lost in it.
But I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
I said I'll believe in anything
And you'll believe in anything
Some of it will be snake oil but much of it will be a salve.
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works cited & referenced & inspired
The Dropout, series, Hulu (2022)
The Dropout, podcast, ABC News (2019)
Rookie: Yearbook One, Tavi Gevinson (2012)
chats with Eric Shethar re: needle drops in The Dropout & Mitchel Civello re: what do we call peak 2009 Pitchfork era