Special Edition: Uranus in Gemini
The threshold of a new frontier.
On Monday, July 7th at 2:45am Central Time, Uranus moves into Gemini.
Usually, this newsletter focuses on the monthly transit of the Sun through the signs of the Zodiac. I write about the Sun’s journey because its symbolism feels energizing and vitalizing—and because frankly, folks don’t call me Sunny because of my pessimistic disposition. There’s something uplifting about solar energy, and it inspires me to respond to nature in a way that feels both connective and creative.
But one drawback of what some folks call “Sun sign astrology” is that it risks over-simplifying a very complex ancient art, one that provides us with an archetypal meaning for many planetary bodies. If someone is born with the Sun in Pisces but positioned closely to Saturn, they may be a Pisces with a Capricorn-like edge. Or if that Sun-in-Pisces person was also born with the Moon emphasized at the time of their birth, they could seem more like a Cancer than anything else. Astrology, like life, is complicated.
I’ve noticed that when life feels particularly stressful, people like to ask astrologers if there is something important happening in the sky. It can be a peculiar question to address, because the answer is always, “always.” But one trick to help focus the amount of astrological information you take in is to pay special attention to the changes of the outer planets: Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. These three planets move at a very slow rate, and thus, it’s a much bigger deal when they shift signs.
It takes Uranus a total of 84 years to make a complete cycle around the Zodiac (the same distance the Sun travels in a year). So similar to the point I made earlier this year about Neptune’s move into Aries, Uranus entering Gemini is a moment that most of us won’t have experienced yet in our lifetimes. Perhaps that makes the quality of this time feel extra special, and perhaps it makes it feel quite destabilizing. Either way, Uranus is our latest cosmic escort into new territory.
The Planet of Progress
Many astrologers before me have linked Uranus to the story of Prometheus, the mythic Titan that stole fire from the gods and brought it down to Earth for humanity. Before this act of defiance, humans were a beast-like race, living in primitivity and eating uncooked animals. It was an unrefined, bloody mess. Thus, fire was an especially valuable resource, not only for its nourishing warmth, but also as a symbol of creative power and divinity.
Perhaps equally moved by his own restlessness as he was by the societal injustice before him, Prometheus tricked the gods, stole a spark of fire, and gifted it to the human race. His act of defiance provided the gateway for a new era of civilization, refining human culture and later establishing the arts, sciences, and humanities. And while Prometheus eventually suffered for his rebellious nature, his story serves as an ode to our drive to evolve human consciousness.
We recently celebrated the July 4th holiday here in the United States—a day that tends to remind me of how far humanity has come and how far it still needs to go. It commemorates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, and it also serves as an excuse to spend extra time with family, go to the beach, or re-listen to the Original Broadway Cast recording of Hamilton.
But for many of us, the irony of a country declaring its value of independence while brutally capturing, killing, and enslaving others is too painful a contradiction to bear. I’m one of those folks that can find it difficult to process the history of July 4th, so I carved out some time instead to re-watch my favorite Star Trek movie: First Contact. Fellow Trekkies will recognize First Contact as the cinematic masterpiece that it is, one that combines everything great about Star Trek—the crew of The Next Generation, a Borg storyline, and time travel—with just enough tell-it-like-it-is energy from Alfre Woodard to restore your faith in humanity.
The film is mostly set in 2063, taking us into a fictional future world full of largely distrustful humans that are constantly at war with each other (hard to imagine, I know). But when an eccentric man makes a groundbreaking discovery, space exploration becomes possible, ushering in the dawn of a new era. Once they recognize they aren’t alone in the universe, humans learn to work together to end poverty, war, and disease.
Fantasies of that future is what a lot of folks love about the Star Trek franchise, and it may also be what drives our Uranian impulses. The promise of a new frontier can be very energizing, leading to new insights, disruptive innovations, and radical change. And one important feature of Uranus is that it is incredibly future-oriented. Astrologer Liz Greene notes that the name Prometheus means foresight, and that “Prometheus, with his gift of foresight, saw the potential of human consciousness…He had a vision of what human beings could be.”1
Liz Greene reminds us that this is a visionary energy rather than an instinctive one. To be in touch with Uranus requires a degree of detachment from the here and now; it’s fighting for a future that you haven’t actually seen or felt.
From Taurus to Gemini: Embracing the Awe
From the discovery of fire to the invention of barrier-breaking technology, we’ve created countless stories that reflect our urge to progress society forward. As Uranus traveled through Taurus over the last 7 years, we may have found our dreams of progress felt more stable and secure. I think it’s interesting that the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic introduced a time when perhaps the most radical idea was to stay at home.
But the practical nature of Taurus can also stagnate us. Many of us may have experienced the comforts of home to feel more like a prison, leaving us stuck in old routines or ways of being. It seems we’re still uncovering the consequences of that particular style of revolution, and it’s a reminder that each era of change has its limits.
Lucky for us, the Zodiac has built within it a natural response mechanism, with each sign serving as somewhat of an antidote to the one that proceeds it. Gemini meets the stability of Taurus with an effervescent need for new information. It seeks. It moves. It may even trick us once or twice. It is, admittedly, not quite as reliable as Taurus. But it also tends to be at least a little bit more fun.
For many astrologers, Uranus moving into Gemini is the (artificially intelligent) elephant in the room. You don’t have to have a relationship with the stars to anticipate the kind of massive change that is upon us—one that feels resonant with the themes of Gemini and its focus on knowledge, intellect, and connection. We seem to be on the threshold of a new era of technology that is sure to change how we relate to multiple perspectives and growing data.
I can’t help but feel like I’m time traveling as AI leads us into a strange new world filled with images, roadmaps, and ideas that previously seemed impossible. It’s both a science fiction dream-come-true and a potential for harm that requires thoughtful caution. I’m trying to remind myself that information isn’t the same as truth, and knowledge doesn’t necessarily lead to understanding.
I also wonder if we might cope with this unpredictable influx of information by way of Gemini’s sense of awe and curiosity. Meditation teacher Sharyn Salzberg writes how connective awe can be, stating that:
“What makes awe such a powerful call to love is that it’s disruptive. It sneaks up on us. It doesn’t ask our permission to wow us; it just does. Awe can arise from a single glance, a sound, a gesture.”2
It seems that the subtle sneakiness of our awe is the key to its power, and perhaps also makes it a particularly useful ally of Uranian energy. Approaching scary things with curiosity is like a secret weapon for meeting the new. That doesn’t require us to ignore our emotional experience. Change is hard, and there’s no getting around feeling into that. But perhaps we can be with that discomfort in a way that still has room for discovery, adaptability, and wonder. All of which, along with awe, are Gemini’s gifts, as well as potent medicine for staying present in a world that stubbornly won’t stop changing.
Something that’s always struck me about the myth of Prometheus is that he didn’t steal fire for himself. That feels important, not just for considering the wider social impact to the new style of our innovations, but also for remembering that we’re not in this alone. We can look to our friends and neighbors as we envision the impossible. And as we recognize the complexity of astrology, artificial intelligence, and even the anniversary of a complicated nation, we may learn to do so with a sense of awe-struck mindfulness. Simply noticing our capacity for wonder may prove to be as precious as fire itself.
Uranus gives us this glimpse into our next era before it briefly retrogrades back into Taurus from November 2025 to April 2026. After that, it will officially take residence in Gemini until Spring 2033. Wherever the journey leads you, I hope you find pockets of peace in the midst of shifting realities. Maybe I’ll meet up with you in a new world that neither of us recognize. And as a very special extraterrestrial ally once imagined, I think it's helpful to envision that future world as a place where every one of us gets to live long and prosper.
With love and wisdom,
Sunny
Liz Greene, The Art of Stealing Fire: Uranus in the Horoscope, (Originally Published 1996), The Wessex Astrologer, 2023, pp. 8-9
Sharon Salzberg, Real Love: The Art of Mindful Connection, Flatiron Books, 2017, p. 123