This is a daunting task for me: writing a blog on Virgos. I’m afraid to admit that I have the least experience with the sixth sign of the zodiac. In general, I feel we tend to misunderstand each other. My chiron falls in the first house in Virgo, so perhaps I’ve been avoiding some necessary practical energy that would prove beneficial to my growth and sense of confidence. However, the four years I spent in my college theatre program taught me more than just the history of Beckett, or how to open a wine bottle with a pen and a hammer. It illustrated what I had only read in Astrology for Lovers, and taught me the value in understanding those I cannot inherently relate to—in this case, Virgos.
If I were to describe Virgo’s energy in one word, it would be calm. Maybe this is due to the connection to their bodies, or all the quinoa and Bon Iver they consume. But their ability to harness control over their emotions seems more developed than Scorpio’s at times. Again, I don’t have many examples to use as reference. But let’s consider their opposite: Pisces—a sign I have quite a lot of experience with. Pisces is notorious for its role as the poster child of emotions, and more specifically, uncontrolled emotions. But if Pisces is a floodgate, Virgo is the gate, assessing the distinction between what’s allowed entry, versus what’s irrational and unwelcome. So, while Pisces floods right through any gate in its path, Virgo remains poised, its iron frame built solidly into the earth. To the more watery types, their rationality is both foreign and admirable. But through categorizing their emotions, they’re able to process them, at least to some extent. And in turn, they’re able to turn their focus outward—offering a helping hand to others and a solid, yet gentle presence to lean on. With that being said, life is not black and white. As humans, our conflicts and issues are extremely nuanced. So their help, however good-intentioned it may be, can appear to the less earthy personalities as an obtuse judgment. Some problems cannot find resolution through dissection and logic. And I believe this is Virgo’s lesson to be learned.
The Virgos I attended college with were mostly skeptical toward astrology, despite their blatant displays of the sign’s stereotypes. My theatre program, for better or for worse, immersed me in a jungle of type-A individuals who ironed their jeans, ate salads after a night of drinking, and expressed love for research papers. I felt a special kind of rage against those who also possessed a gift for creativity. My planets in Pisces offer a vast imagination with little care for mechanics or details. In my experience, great art requires both. Many artists I admire were born with their sun in Virgo. Even Liz Greene, my favorite astrologer, is a Virgo who uses her talent for classification to describe each personality of the zodiac in a way that is honest and clear. She has taken one of the most nuanced concepts in the world, and has dissected it to a point where the ideas are as straightforward as geometry. And despite my resistance to their rigidity, I can’t help but admire what I lack. In fact, I think I’m quite jealous of it. A Virgo probably could have told me that after the first sentence of this rambling nonsense. Perhaps there’s a reason the universe put me in a class full of Virgos during such a vulnerable time for my ego. We can all benefit from some honest logic. I certainly can.