I never thought much about Chiron. Over the years, I had been told a lot about the Wounded Healer and what it means in a chart, but I can’t say that I felt much resonance with the descriptions. Even my Chiron return passed without much notice, and that was the time when my colleagues snickeringly suggested I would learn what Chiron is all about (the Chiron return stands second only to the Saturn returns in the astrological lore on returns).
Then Chiron got to the last degrees of Pisces. Most astrologers say that it was when he got into the last ten degrees, and I won’t argue, but the closer he got to the end of the sign, the more intense things got. Sadness, grief, and loss seemed a constant undercurrent in the collective consciousness. My Facebook feed began to read like an obituary column, and if people weren’t dying, their pets were. Or there was sickness. Or mass shootings. Refugees struggling to survive in camps.
The grief was both personal and collective - appropriate for Pisces. Your pain touched me, reminding me of my own. Waves of pain rippled through the collective like the waves of a thousand stones tossed into a lake. At best, it opened up the doors of compassion for self and others. At worst, it threw us back into what Carolyn Myss calls woundology, or what might better be called woundphilia, an identification with our pain.
It wasn’t all bad, of course. Uranus in Aries kept things upbeat, and the general flow of things always has highs and lows. But Chiron at the end of Pisces made itself felt, in ways that were uncomfortable.
Neptune will keep some of that going for the next seven years or so. But for now, Chiron has moved on to Aries. Judging by his time in the sign last year, this placement of Chiron will be much better.