To say that Pluto is the final arbiter of all human life is mythically accurate, and though it might sound like a rather dramatic statement to make, it nevertheless has some considerable truth to it in mundane human life. We all understand that Pluto is dignified in Scorpio and detrimented in Taurus, and I have read various theories about exaltation; some say Aquarius, some say Virgo, some say no sign exalts Pluto.
This latter assertion appears flimsy, since we are interested in principles, not rules – except insofar as rules help us to sublimate principles. The astrologer who innately espouses principles will probably be good at his or her job; the one who only determines on the basis of rules will probably simply add to their clients’ many constrictions. In one sense however, I can agree with Pluto’s exaltation in Aquarius, simply through the appallingly destructive influence of Pluto in the sign of Leo; but again this is not entirely satisfactory, because it is hardly a sign in which Pluto struggles to express itself.
The jury is out on exaltation for the lord of the underworld, but one observation stands true; Pluto in Leo is just awful.
Wherever Pluto is found, in the unevolved (thus 99.9% of the human race) we find obsession; Pluto merely delineates the mode and preferred outlet for that obsession; and in Leo, it’s all about status. The generational effect of Pluto in Leo is quite easy to observe here in the United Kingdom, where all anybody seems to have a mind for these days is the car they drive and the value of their house. There are supplementary concerns of course; which school the children are attending, their exam grades, which handbag is in vogue this month, being seen at Ascot; but fundamentally, the Pluto in Leo generation have raised up the golden calf of status and created a raison d’étre out of it. They have also passed these dubious values on to their children, the Pluto in Virgo generation who seek to perfect their parents’ skewed vision, by appearing flawless, the epitome of health, vitality and with not a hair out of place: the ambience of the passing of the Plutonic baton then, has been to make an obsession out of the kind of status that is to be found in perfection. Inevitably, it’s a big ask, and as Uranus grinds over the radix Pluto placements of this generation right about now, there are going to be a fair few casualties.
Intriguingly though, with Pluto making its final foray in Sagittarius for the next quarter-millennium, it really is the end of the good times for Pluto in Leo and all his self-obsessed children. The quincunx that is created in Capricorn cuts this whole generation adrift, and with the lower-quincunx having a clear sixth-house influence, this entire swathe is in for a wake up call; there is a challenge in the pipeline, one that reverberates with themes of health, of occupational matters, of what we do in our day to day, in how we eat, wash and look after our appearance, and all of this because: they’re fast running out of sympathy.
This describes the quincunx exactly: Pluto in Leo simply has no common-ground with Pluto in Capricorn. If they were two people you’d imagine them being like Victoria Beckham and Ray Mears, but marooned together on a desert island. They just wouldn’t have anything to say to each other; Ray would consider Posh to be irrelevant, and for the singular purpose of living a subsistence lifestyle on a remote desert island, he’d probably be right. In fact, after he’d got bored of her pouting, he’d probably throw her off a cliff to improve his own resources and nobody would much care when years later he got rescued and his crime made the papers, because actually, Pluto in Leo is starting to seem a bit pointless now. A bit blown-up, selfish, greedy, pompous and irresponsible. They spent the children’s inheritance on cheap champagne and plastic baubles after all, and now it’s hard times for everyone.
The final crisis for Pluto in Leo will not truly manifest until Hades reaches Aquarius of course, and the last stragglers will expire with a final “oh dah-ling!” into the history books, the cement-head generation, who squandered an entire world’s resources just so they could look good.
This ought to be a wake-up call for the Virgo posse following on, let’s spread the word.