I grew up speaking astrology.

What was once a private, family language became a more serious pursuit when I was in my twenties and my queer community became obsessed with astrology. Soon, everywhere I went people were discussing their signs. I loved their interest, but the problem with learning just a little astrology is that rush of confidence that leads to sweeping generalizations. If you’ve ever felt reduced or flattened by astrology, this is probably why. We begin learning astrology as broad strokes, what some might call stereotypes. True astrological fluency takes a long time to learn. The deeper you go into the discipline, the more you’re met by the vast complexity and diversity of our human experience.

I began teaching astrology out of my living room in 2010. For my first class I hand-painted an entire solar system we could stand inside of and watch the planets move. After a few years of informal teaching I apprenticed with astrologer Emily Trinkaus and opened my consulting practice in 2013. Working with clients is the most fulfilling work I’ve ever done. I’m grateful and honored that I get to sit down with so many brilliant people and talk about their lives and struggles.

My astrology consulting is informed by queer, intersectional ethics and disability justice. I take seriously the political dimension of spiritual care and strive to empower my clients in all our interactions. I was a volunteer at the first Queer Astrology Conference which profoundly shaped my counseling ethics, and I presented my own research at a later QAC. For the decade of its existence I was a guest instructor at the Portland School of Astrology, specializing in astrology and social justice and relationship astrology. I continue to teach and formed my first mentorship cohort of emerging astrologers in 2021. My horoscopes have appeared in Mask Magazine, Grindr’s Into, and I’m the house horoscope columnist for Autostraddle.com.

When I’m not doing astrology I make artwork with my sister as Abacus Corvus, offer my time and care to movements and collectives, and take seriously my Taurus Moon’s need for restorative downtime.

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