In 2005, astronomers identified something new in our solar system. Immediately, as the phrasing of the previous sentence hints, a problem arose:Whathad they discovered? The object was a planetary body even bigger and denser than Pluto, making it the ninth most-massive object directly orbiting our sun. It possessed its own moon. Logically, the discovery, soon named Eris (pronounced EE-ris) after an obscure goddess of the Greek pantheon, was the tenth planet.
Logic did not prevail. Astronomers worried that even more large objects might emerge from the outer darkness of the Kuiper belt and crash the exclusive club of luminaries known as The Planets of Our Solar System. In the past three centuries, we’ve added Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto readily enough, but apparently we’ve hit a limit. Despite the fact that ten is a pleasing number, the very basis of our numbering system, ten planets was deemed too many. Rather than admit Eris, astronomers instead demoted Pluto, lumping the two together with a handful of objects smaller and less planet-like than either of them, and designating the collection “dwarf planets.” The demotion of Pluto overshadowed the discovery of Eris to such an extent that many of the people who mourned Pluto’s change in status have never even heard of Eris.
Meanwhile, in the parallel but non-overlapping world of astrology, Eris also created quite a stir. Demoted or not, the astrological significance of Pluto is beyond question. Pluto is the planet of psychological insight. In keeping with the synchronistic principle that we discover new planets as we discover the elements of human nature with which they meaningfully correspond, the discovery of Pluto roughly coincides with the careers of Freud and Jung, the discovery of the subconscious and unconscious minds, and the emergence of human psychology as a realm of study and significance. Astronomers could demote Pluto, but astrologers knew his power was not revokable. And since Pluto’s significance was beyond question, Eris undoubtedly meant something, too. Astrologers got to work studying charts, attempting to identify her influence.
Right away, Eris was found to have relevant connections to wars and other periods of unrest throughout history. A number of synchronistic principles support the idea that Eris is connected to violence. At her discovery she was in the sign of Aries, the god of war. Since she is very slow-moving, with an orbit that takes 559 years to circle the sun, she will remain there until the middle of the 21st century. In part because her discovery caused so much strife, she was named Eris after the sister of Mars, a goddess known to the Romans as Discordia. The Eris of mythology is famously spiteful. She is said to have gone among the wounded and dying on the battlefield, increasing their pain. She was also the one who, miffed because she had not been invited to a party on Mount Olympus, tossed a golden apple labeled, “To the fairest,” amongst the goddesses Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena, provoking the ill-fated beauty contest that sparked the Trojan War. Therefore, astrologers readily deduced that Eris represents feminine rage. She is vengeful, sadistic, and spoiling for a fight. Wherever she lies in your chart, take cover!
In astrology, all planets (a term used much more loosely in astrology than in astronomy, since, astrologically, the moon and sun also count as “planets”), have a noble aspect as well as a shadow side. Even Mars, the god of war, represents anger and violence only as his shadow side. His higher aspects are courage and will and motivation. To describe Eris as the planet of feminine rage only accounts for her shadow side. Where is her saintly dimension? Astrologers, after quite a bit of head-scratching, seized on a description from Hesiod, praising Eris as the spirit of “noble rivalry.” Where craftspeople are jealous of one another’s skill, and they channel their envy into improvement of their own craft rather than into tearing down the competition, the quality of their work improves, and the world benefits.
But “noble rivalry” is not at all convincing as a high expression of Eris. The test is simple. If shadow Eris on a battlefield increases the suffering of the wounded, high Eris must have a role to play on that field, too — a positive one. What benefit would a spirit of noble rivalry offer to soldiers lying wounded and in agony? None. The concept is meaningless.
Let’s back up for a bit of perspective. Of the “planets” recognized as being of primary significance by astrologers — Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto — only two are considered feminine: Venus and the Moon. This is quite the gentlemen’s club that excluded Eris the moment she arrived on the scene. Not surprisingly, the boys have made room at the table for sex (Venus) and motherhood (the Moon), but the moment an element smacking of feminine power in a form that does not derive her strength from men comes knocking, well, that is clearly a problem. Patriarchal society has been excluding and discrediting women for millennia. When a powerful woman finally does show up, she’s bound to be mad as hell, and who wants to deal with that? Better to take her down fast, shut her out, and emphasize all her worst qualities. This is a familiar script, and it fully explains why Eris’s dark side is the one we can readily see. The smear campaign against feminine power has been going on for so long, and has been so effective, that we simply have no idea what “good” feminine power might look like! (Think Eve. Think how "Fall of Man," phrased more accurately, was "Takedown of Woman.") We’re at a total loss.
We must do better than this. Let’s take a closer look at the mythology of Eris for some clues about who she really is.
First, Eris is associated with war. She celebrated on the battlefields and went among the wounded and the dying, increasing their pain. Let’s translate this battlefield into a more modern and relatable context, one where girls first start to taste, experiment with, and misuse their power: the halls of middle school. Think of the mean popular girl, the one we simultaneously court and fear, never knowing whether she will let us pass as “cool,” or whether she will skewer us on the sharp stakes of our own insecurity by ridiculing our clothes, our behavior, our words. On the battlefield of middle school, we are all the wounded, and Eris goes triumphantly among us, increasing our pain. We fear inviting her to our parties, but we fear offending her even more. Does this terrifying girl have a bright twin? She does, but that girl doesn’t get a lot of press. Do you know the girl who has the same instinct for sensing the insecurities of others, but uses her powers for good instead of evil? Do you know the girl who offers to share her lunch when you forget yours, who compliments the haircut you are nervous about, who volunteers to be your partner when you don’t have one, and tells the mean kid to knock it off when he’s being mean? I hope you do. I hope you notice how amazing she is, but chances are, you don’t give her much thought. Feminine power is easily overlooked when it’s not creating a ruckus. But it makes the world a better place, whether you see it or not.
Now for the other story we know of Eris. The gods had a party and didn’t invite her. She announced her displeasure at the slight by dropping off that golden apple “for the fairest.” The goddesses squabbled over the prize. Zeus refused to make the call and chose a mortal man, Paris, to be his fall guy. Paris, who was young and handsome and looking to get laid, predictably championed the goddess of love. Aphrodite awarded Paris a married woman as his prize: Helen of Sparta, wife of King Menelaus. Paris carried Helen off to his hometown of Troy, and the Spartans fought a long and bloody war in order to retrieve her. Clue number one: We consistently forget Eris’s role in this story. Millenia later, we still remember the Trojan war, but hardly any of us know Eris’s name. Instead, we recall the exploits of some dudes: Odysseus for one, and Achilles. Clue number two: Eris’s response to the rudeness of the other Olympians in excluding her from their party was actually quite classy. She didn’t flame in, a creature of battle and vengeance, hacking about with her sword. She politely pointed out the error by dropping by with a gift. If Zeus or Hera had opened the door, accepted the golden apple “for the fairest,” as a hostess gift, and invited Eris in with an apology, all would have been well. Instead, everyone acted out their insecurities. If we blame Eris for the chaos that ensued, we also have to give her a lot of credit for her laser-sharp social instincts, for knowing exactly how to manipulate her adversaries into showing their tushies to maximum effect, while she herself walked off whistling.
For Eris to take a true and meaningful place in the astrological pantheon, she must embody an aspect of the human experience which is emerging into our awareness around the time of her discovery. Remember Pluto, discovered just as we were learning the power of the subconscious mind? So the next place to look for evidence of high Eris, examples of positive feminine power, is in recent current events. Like Eris’s role in sparking the Trojan War, we can assume it is easily overlooked.
We don’t have far to look. Recently, the concept of emotional labor has risen into greater general awareness. Emotional labor is the invisible, under-appreciated “women’s work” that consists of juggling all the social and practical elements of family life so a couple or a family can function smoothly. Emotional labor is what gets the thank you notes written, the teacher gifts bought, cupboards stocked with everyone’s favorite snacks, appointments scheduled functionally around work, school, and after-school activities, transportation arranged, favors asked and repaid, laundry done before anyone runs out of clean underwear, date nights scheduled, pets’ needs accommodated. Emotional labor is noticing that the toddler is about to melt down from exhaustion and leaving the friend’s house before all hell breaks loose. The result? Harmony, that few notice or appreciate except in their absence. Women are exhausted from this work that many men do not even appear to see.
This year, 2020, with discord and suffering rampant on every hand, we’ve had more opportunities than usual to notice and appreciate the work of the harmonizers, the emotional laborers. Health care workers are showing up, giving care, easing suffering amongst the sick and the dying. Grocery store clerks and janitors have become newly heroic. Extraordinary leadership in these extraordinary times has been disproportionally displayed by female world leaders, who have offered reassurance and practical care to their frightened citizens. Protestors are thronging in the streets to demand we stop marginalizing, brutalizing, killing our fellow humans for the color of their skin — while wearing masks to protect each other from the virus that rages among us.
What is the power that we sense emerging now, long overlooked and underrated, without which we are literally dying in the streets? First, empathy. The ability to see the hurts and needs of others. But empathy isn’t enough. At worst, empathy might identify the hurt and cruelly, vengefully increase it. (Think Trump. Think Derek Chauvin, and Amy Cooper.) Or empathy might see the need, but turn away because seeing hurts too much. (Think white fragility. Think glossing over the wound with “All lives matter.”) But at best, empathy sees the need and rushes to help. The word for that is compassion.
And there we have it. The high expression of feminine power is compassion. If shadow Eris increases the pain of the wounded on the battlefield, noble Eris bathes and bandages the wounded, and carries them to bed. And with that, the full spectrum that is Eris becomes visible. Eris, whether her expression is high, neutral, or low, is empathy. She represents the power to see and understand beyond the limits of herself.
(The power to gain wisdom by looking beyond the self gives Eris an obvious affiliation with the sign Sagittarius, by the way, another fact that should endear her to astrologers, since to truly belong, a planet must have a natural home among the signs of the zodiac.)
It’s no mystery why the gods on Mount Olympus didn’t invite Eris to the party. The person who can see into you, and understand your needs, your fears, your broken places? That person is scary. She might use her knowledge to hit you where it hurts the most. But the surest way to incite her anger is to shut her out. The higher road, and by far the safer ground, lies in inviting her in and accepting her gifts. Otherwise, best case scenario, she’ll simply walk away, and leave you at the mercy of your wounds.
Despite her small size and great distance from the sun, planetary Eris is the second most brightly-reflective large body in our solar system. (The first brightest is an icy moon of Saturn.) Like empathy itself, she is both hard to see, and absolutely luminous once you do. That apple “for the fairest?” Eris is the original owner. Isn’t it high time we opened the door, accepted her gift, and invited her inside?
This article was originally posted on Medium.com on June 10, 2020.
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