A friend asked me what his fame degrees were. Or rather, he asked me to read his chart and I avoided it because reading astrology had a way of making me into a party trick.
“What’s my moon sign mean? What’s a mid heaven?” Or sometimes, more rarely (likely because it was one of the only planets I would read at any given moment), “What’s my Mars mean?” It led to lectures about birth times and locations, others would recount stories they had heard from their mothers about which hospitals they were born in, or maybe not knowing the time they were born at all. On some occasions, once I had insisted it was necessary to know where the planets and stars in question were situated when they were born, I had some people call their parents or close family members right then and there.
This information, while seeming so simple, is what produced a natal chart. Gold in the astrological realm, bread, and butter. Mark was no such stranger hearing in on a conversation, he was my friend, but he also had a proclivity for self-interest. We had fallen out several times over the years we’d known each other, partially because of differences of opinion — those differences being he believed gossiping about me was okay, while I thought it wasn’t. You could have a great time with him, but couldn’t tell any of your plights that you didn’t want others to know about. In a way, he was trustworthy because he never changed. That type of person.
Still, I would be lying if I said there weren’t redeeming qualities. The sound of his voice, when he asked, was enough to make me reconsider my rule about charts. Mark of all people wanted something from me, and not all for his benefit. I had to admit I had ulterior motives, that it wasn’t simply my desire to know if that bravado of his had roots in the stars. If, maybe, that morally gray charisma of his had a deeper meaning. Mark was undeniably a special character, someone who struck a nerve but made you believe they had the right to do so, somehow. He had never had an opposing force that had won against him in all the years we knew each other, every friend he had fell in line, including myself. Charming, I’d called him if anyone asked, brutal, and beautiful. Did his chart reflect that?
In the end, I ended up reading his chart several times. He was a Libra Sun, this described the position of the sun in space when he was born. “Libra” describes the seventh sign in the zodiac, and is based on a constellation with a celestial longitude of 180–210 degrees within space. Every zodiac sign was based on a placement of a constellation, which month Earth was in during the time of birth in relation to that constellation. Since Mark was born between September 22nd and October 23rd, he was automatically a Libra Sun. Whereas I, a Sagittarius could never be a Libra because my birth month was in December.
Sun signs were fixed due to this, but the other planetary placements had nothing to do with the constellation itself. While another person could have been born on the same day as Mark, if they were in a different country, state, or even born at a different time, their astrological charts would never be the same. It was why location and time of birth were so crucial, nobody’s natal chart could mimic the others. Not even twins in many cases due to the time between each birth. As such, each astrological chart was quite personal and told a reader a vastness about the individual.
My eyes flickered hungrily over the information when I got it, but I didn’t wax poetry to Mark about his moon as I would have for most to settle a general curiosity at a party. Interest was always a factor with the people I actively knew, versus strangers. I had known Mark for so long that I could have guessed his Leo moon with closed eyes, his Scorpio rising did nothing to shock me. Sun, moon, and rising, the big three most astrology hobbyists called it. No, this hobbyist was settling on one thing in particular, a more complex portion of his chart — his fame degrees. A natal chart is as simple as it is complex. If I were to explain it in a more philosophical way, I’d say it’s much more interesting than planetary positions during one’s birth, essentially attempting to pinpoint their degree of position around Earth at that exact time, how far they were from the planet, and what that means in particular for your personality, inclinations, and traits in theory.
It could even be considered spiritual, to think that mere humans can calculate how the planets were aligned when they came into the world and their connection to the beyond due to these placements. The theory that space affects us in our everyday lives outside of just being an incubator for a perfect, coincidental environment was bewildering. To me, it was of particular interest because of its uncertainty. Yet, it held so much nuance and had such a wealth of historical references that it became a subject I was passionate about.
I could have said to Mark, “Your moon sign explains your identity, and having Leo there explains why you are so insufferable at times and charismatic at others.”
Leos were considered natural performers, with charged energy and an electric presence. For the most part. Sometimes, it was more of an unpleasant shock than a good one. Am I a Leo moon hater? Absolutely not, but if there was ever a conversation for slander, I would be the first in line to express how having the desire to maintain a big public presence in conjunction with a satellite that signifies our deepest, intimate identity could be a problem more often than not. But that’s just me, an equal opportunity sign hater. Why didn’t I do that then and be done with it?
As a child, I wanted to be an astronomer. That idea soon changed because I was terrible at math, but my love for space never quite faded. I only discovered astrology later on, and it was purely for fun at the time. A pass-time between friends, “What’s your sign? Oh, I’m a Sagittarius” was a giddy exchange solely to create conversation, to make connections to one another with something we likely all thought was a gimmick. Humans love labels, and my classmates and I were all too happy to form relationships solely from our birthdays. In a way, it offered a shortcut out of awkward pauses and attempts to probe for similarities and shared interests. This silly idea of the stars telling us what we were each like, who we would be romantically inclined to pursue, and how clever or determined we’d be on a day-to-day scale was fun for us then. Zodiacs, astrology, and charts were all topics in conversation that were so very shallow and yet, remained a trending topic. A party game at a middle school dance, “Hey, you’re an Aries? We get along, then!” All fun and games.
Until I got older, and while still undeniably childish, the stars to me were anything but. Astrology became much more than whether or not I am compatible with someone born in August or May, but a way for me to define and make sense of myself. It was considered a pseudoscience through and through, but it was definitely one that offered a more personal connection than the idea that space solely existed with no meaning, just dark matter. Ancient civilizations had been using the stars to measure all sorts of things, the Aztecs tracked the stars avidly and with purpose, they were well-achieved astronomers with strong, spiritual ties to space due to many of their gods being related to satellites or stars. The Greek and Roman Empires relied on astrology to tell fortunes and even had high-class positions in the imperial court for individuals with such talents.
Hellenistic Astrology, a form of horoscopic astrology that developed due to a mystic sage named Hermes Trismegistus, was further celebrated and developed by these courts. Astrology was used to explain evolution, conception, and personal destiny by the Egyptians. It has origins as far back as ancient Mesopotamia and spread rapidly throughout the scholarly table, the Babylonians were known to apply astrology to legends and myths alike. The thought that we, humans, simply came to be with no explanation outside of God or a collision of rocks, was depressing to me. I wanted more, so I became good at reading charts, at calculating birth times in conjunction with the planets; but it was the possibility that our connection to space could have been celebrated for centuries that drew me in.
That was why Mark came to me instead of just taking on a Google search and asked me to explain his chart because I was obsessed with astrology and he likely knew I would be obsessed with him as well if he were a part of that. Libras, Leos, and Scorpios shared a desire for attention and interest from those around them, his chart was only adding fuel to the equal-opportunity slander. Also, I had a thing for mapping out cartography, some believed this could be a form of fortune-telling. Maybe it was more than a desire for my interest, but it was more fun to attribute it to the Leo Moon. The hobbyist in me was chuckling when he came back to ask me about it.
His question once narrowed down as a result of that was ironic, “Will I be famous?” I had to remind him I wasn’t a psychic.
But somehow, his question had been on my mind far before he touched on the topic. Degrees, that’s what I was looking for. Not his moon, not his rising, but fame degrees.
Fame degrees, in the simplest terms, are degrees within the chart that determine whether or not an individual has a higher possibility of having a career as a public figure or being well-known in some way. 5°, 17° and 29 are the most well-known variants of these. If each planet, star, and satellite had a specific position when one was born, it means the degrees of those positions are set in time when implementing the point of birth. That position is then measured in conjunction with the monthly constellations of the zodiac and offers an explanation of why an individual may be famous, rather than just if it’s a possibility.
For example, we discussed Leo Moon slander, if Mark’s Leo Moon happened to have a position of 5, 17, or 29 degrees, this would be considered a fame degree placement, but also, an astrologist might say Mark would become famous due to his natural ability to entertain, and high-charisma. In astrology, someone with a lot of Leo in their chart may be pushed to pursue a career where they manage events or have proximity to recognition to a celebrity in some way due to the constellation’s supposed effects on the individual’s personality.
Mark, in this case, did not have a fame degree due to his moon; but he had a higher chance of becoming a celebrity or recognized figure according to his other degrees. He had not just one, or two, but three of the indicators. One 17-degree placement, and (this was more shocking) two 29-degree placements. These were just two of the “fame degrees”, but arguably the better ones — 5 was known to represent short-term fame, 17 was long-term, and 29, the most promising, represented celebrity even after one passed on. Out of all the degrees, most wanted 29 or 17 and Mark had them, one of which twice over. The planets that had been aligned with his fame degrees were surprising, but not for any reason aside from the fact that they so closely represented his personal interests that I had to laugh out loud during our call.
The stars had a way of being right.
Possessing the first 29 in Libra, and the second in Aquarius, those connections were at odds in a manner that intrigued me. Opposites, you could say. Libra, the seventh sign in the zodiac, was ruled by the planet Venus, a wealthy placement through and through. Libra has the official symbol of scales, think weight, and maintaining balance. Venus represents beauty, luxury, and all things relating to what pleases the eye, artistic value. Having a Venus-ruled planet in relation to a fame degree meant Mark would likely be very recognized for his allure, and for appealing to others whether it was with his tastes, or physical attributes. I told him this could represent a career in modeling, or perhaps he’d date or be romantically involved with someone well-known.
“That’s odd, I had a dream I was a model a few days ago. Not weeks, days.” That was his response to this little theory of mine, likely he had decided not to comment on my second thought.
Admittedly, Mark took his looks seriously and made great efforts to maintain them. There had been several times when we had spoken and he was in the midst of doing something relating to trying some new clothing trend, or perhaps a product, maybe an exercise he did consistently and thoughtfully. He had once told me he had a calorie counter and shared with me the lengths he went to make sure he was in shape. Mark was tough on himself, and he held himself to a standard. He wasn’t someone you had to worry about in his pursuits, but he managed consistency and routine out of a desire for order.
Aquarius, the eleventh sign of the zodiac, also seeks control. It is ruled by the planet Uranus, or arguably, Saturn, and has the official symbol of the water bearer. Both of which are categorized as intellectual planets. Uranus represents advancement, think technology and creation, and the pursuit of transformation via revolution or adaption. Whereas Saturn is discipline, justice, and karmic retribution or balance. It is considered the planet that pushes for growth and is feared by some astrologists as it can spearhead change, whether you want it or not. Having Aquarius as his second 29th degree meant that Mark’s extended fame could very well relate to some sort of technological innovation, or perhaps he would create some form of a movement or change within society or his community that would be of note according to the stars. Mark, who had a hobby of building electronics, was shocked by this notion. He hadn’t expected his chart to be so specific to him, and admittedly, neither had I.
“Did you think this was a game?” I joked, and he laughed.
“No!”
As for the third degree, everyone who was Gen Z had it. Sagittarius in Pluto, 17 degrees. Sagittarius was the twelfth and final sign of the zodiac and had the symbol of the archer. On the other hand, Pluto refers to the dwarf planet’s placement at the point of birth, which represents transformation and renewal. Due to being a slow-moving planet, it doesn’t revolve around Earth enough times to have a varied degree very often. Starting in 1995, Pluto’s Sagittarius phase lasted until 2008. Meaning, everyone born between those two dates automatically has a pluto in Sagittarius and as a result, 17 degrees of fame. Arguably, that could also say a lot about our generation’s effect on society.
Considering that this timeline matches up with the belief that every 250 years a civilization collapses, it could mean that Gen Z is the catalyst for a shift in societal norms. As for personal meaning, Sagittarius is an intellectual sign in the zodiac. The “free-thinker”, and “scholar” with an edge of recklessness and hedonism. Due to this being a generational placement, it has to be measured alongside other fame degrees, versus one that can stand on its own. When used in conjunction to determine the other two degrees, it could represent that Mark’s choice in career, or perhaps his reason for recognition, would be something original and fresh. There was a strong theme of metamorphosis in his overall chart, but every fame degree he possessed would likely be catapulted by the prospect of personal growth and rebellion that Sagittarius offers. I told him the overall fame reading reminded me of Grace Jones or even Lady Gaga, who he shared were inspirations of his. Both figures had fame degrees within their respective charts, Lady Gaga’s was in Neptune 5°, which was a planet known for escapism, impressionism, daydreaming, and delusions. It’s the planet of magicians, dreamers, and illusionists. She also has a Chiron 10°, a minor planet that represents healing.
Unfortunately, this degree can mean a massive amount of fame but at the cost of being mistreated within your industry, Lady Gaga has shared several interviews where she discussed her struggles with the industry and being taken advantage of. While Grace Jones had a very prominent 28° in her sun sign, Taurus, which is known as household fame, a fame that exists even after death and has a massive legacy left behind. Taurus is known for sensuality, passion, and is a lover of all things material and beautiful. Photographers, builders, botanists, and fashion designers are commonly tied to this sign. Grace Jones was a major fashion icon and pushed the boundaries with her music.
It was those moments that made me believe that Mark truly did have that special something, the je ne sais quoi people spoke of. Perhaps in a couple of years, he’ll pay me for his readings when he’s rich and famous.
