today is my jupiter return :)

a meditation on growing up, and my books are open for June

Today is my Jupiter Return! The planet of hope is here to renew my optimism and usher in a new 12 year spiritual quest.

I baked bread to celebrate (Jupiter rules my sixth house, so it always comes back to the mundane). I have reflections on what it means to keep growing up and the trials and tribulations of planets in the third decan of Taurus, but first some business:

My books are open for June! You can use code SPINCYCLE for 20% off all readings through the end of May. I’m keeping my schedule more wide open for initial booking in June and will likely cut back once slots start to fill up. Summer availability in July and August is going to be very limited so if you’ve been waiting to book: do it now.

good fortune! (which in many ways was the project of my Jupiter return) will conclude its first season with this Sunday’s episode—are you listening? (and if you are listening, have you left a review?)

If you’re in NYC, I’m working on the details for a late Gemini season/early Cancer season event. Think: secret spa.

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Jupiter—planet of hope, faith and relief—is right now at the exact same degree of the zodiac (29º Taurus) that he was when I was born.

Jupiter returns happen every 12 years and is as much about opportunity for growth and leaps of faith as it is about growing pains. Jupiter acts as a magnifying glass, blowing up whatever he touches. If something isn’t working, Jupiter makes it obvious and unavoidable, not because he wants to push you when you’re down, but because (in theory), he wants to help you out of the muck. (This goes for any Jupiter transit, btw). 

My Jupiter return also signals that Jupiter is spending his last few days in Taurus, moving through the final degrees and minutes of the bull’s sign. To be real: the third decan of Taurus isn’t cute. If the first part of Taurus is about discovering fertile land, and the second part is about planting abundant crops, then the third part is about battening down the hatches to make sure your little farm survives the winter. Austin Coppock likens the third decan of Taurus to an insurance policy and describes those with Jupiter in this part of the zodiac as people whose luck is limited by how often it involves avoiding disaster¹. I hate how true this is for me. I always get myself out of a sticky situation, but what if the situations were less sticky?

But Coppock does offer solace for those of us with planets in this part of the zodiac (looking at you Taurus suns born May 10-21), saying that, ““We are never powerless when our words reach the ears of those willing to help us.” The way forward requires patience and humility. From the ruin comes restoration.

I spent some time last week deep in “research mode,” wanting to write a longer form essay on this part of the zodiac, but never got past the brain dump stage, that ugly Taurean stubbornness (read: perfectionism) rearing its ugly head. Most of this
”research” involved revisiting Sofia Coppola’s oeuvre. Coppola, born on May 14, 1971, has Sun and Saturn in Taurus III, and her work is steeped in this decan’s symbols. One of Taurus III’s most notorious qualities is that it contains the fixed star Algol, a binary star connected with the gorgon Medusa. Coppola’s female protagonists carry on the mythic wild woman archetype of Medusa and Athena and Lilith, reclaiming the word virgin as someone who belongs to herself, not to any man. From The Virgin Suicides to the Lilith-like Marie Antoinette, and the Medusa-esque girls of The Bling Ring. Coppola invented what the kids are now calling “girlhood.”

When asked why she opened Lost in Translation with a long, slow shot of Scarlett Johannson’s ass, a cinematic choice debated by (mostly male) critics at the time for what it said about the character’s sexuality, Coppola replied, “I don’t really have a good reason for it. It’s just how I wanted to start the movie.”

Say what you want about Coppola—and her nepo baby status certainly allows her some of this freedom—but both the work and the ethos behind it really capture the joy of being a teenager, the moment you realize you can belong to yourself.

The first Jupiter Return (ages 11-12) aligns with actual adolescence. It’s when we recognize the desires and begin to fantasize about our adult life. In a way, all of the following returns (at ~ 24, 36, 48, 60, 72…) correspond with their own kind of adolescence. Because isn’t charting the waters of adulthood about realizing that there will never be a moment of feeling actually grown up?

I went into my Jupiter Return hoping it would correspond with some kind of material boon (I have Jupiter in the 8th house of other people’s money after all), but instead it has been about both reconciling debts and igniting passions. At this moment, I feel more consciously aware of what I need than I ever have before. Both on a very basic budget level but also on a spiritual level. I feel younger and more curious than I did at my last Jupiter Return at 23. I’m not fully secure, but I know I’m on the path to security. Something I’ve never felt before. I’m finally taking out the insurance policy.

Back in November 2021, we had an eclipse at 27º Taurus, very close to where Jupiter is today. I wrote something here for that eclipse diving into Lilith, Algol, all of the myths. It’s how many of you found me actually. I ended it with a thought that I’ll repeat now as I think it’s applicable on the eve of a Full Moon in Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter conjunct Venus in the final degree of Taurus:

Meet this moment as you would meet a lover. Read up on your crush’s hobbies and interests like you have an exam. Clean your house like a hot hookup is on the way over. Who knows where this day is going, where this hot date is going, where the next year is going, but there’s relief in getting ready for it.

1. Austin Coppock 36 Faces (2014) - Coppock continues, ““Sometimes catastrophe befalls us through no apparent fault of our own. The wise acknowledge what is revealed here, and make plans to accommodate the unforeseen.”