Dennis Elwell is a world leader when it comes to championing the cause

of 'good astrology'. Notable for his outspoken views against rigid

adherents to traditional astrology (he attracted notoriety in the US by
venturing to create 'Project Foresight' just as 'Project Hindsight' gained
the backing of the astrological world), his views upon horary astrology
and its practitioners have often been controversial and challenging.
In this article Elwell calls for astrologers to take a new look at the art of
horary; to recognize that the innovative and creative input of the
astrologer is the key element of successful and worthwhile judgement.
This work is adapted from Elwell's classic text Cosmic Loom, a truly
remarkable book which should be studied and contemplated by anyone
who claims to have a legitimate interest in astrology. We welcome your
feedback to the opinions presented here.

t any given moment there is a whole complex of interacting ideas

seeking vehicles of manifestation. Rich rewards undoubtedly await
those who have insight into the uniqueness of the moment, and the skill
to act as midwife to whatever is struggling to come to birth. The universe
seems to be so constituted that it matters not at all that the planets are
continuously moving on: because of its uniqueness the cosmic signature
of every moment remains eternally.

For centuries astrologers have practised a technique of divination which

relies on this same moment-by-moment interconnectedness of mind and
universe. In 'horary' astrology our human concerns are referred to the
heavens by setting up a chart, and the pattern of the planets for that time
and place becomes a sort of 'exploded diagram' of the problem in hand,
and is presumed to point to the likely outcome.

By attempting to answer any and every question, ranging from the

whereabouts of a lost cat to whether the Channel Tunnel would ever be
built (the astrologer was wrong on that one), horary astrology offers a
tempting target to sceptics. They point out, with some justice, that if you
can answer questions like 'Will the favourite win the two-thirty?', or
'Will this stock be a good investment?', then horary astrologers would
have the world at their feet. The inconvenient fact is that while offering
to pronounce on a wide range of clients' problems, as a group, horary
exponents themselves seem to have loftily spurned the advice the stars
might give them on practical affairs. Challenged, they are apt to retort
briskly that not everybody is obsessed with money and success.

Yet the persistence of the horary art, and its resistance to the obvious
criticisms, is one of the paradoxes of astrology today. It is certainly true
that by encouraging clients to ask questions to which the answer is either
a plain yes or no, the horary consultant can count on being right half the
time, a feat that could be replicated by tossing a coin. Finding you are
correct in fifty per cent of cases encourages you to perfect your skills,
and press forward towards the elusive hundred per cent.

Not surprisingly, many modem astrologers have rejected horary as a

throwback to more superstitious times. The astrology of any age is fitted
to the mind-set of that age; indeed, what applies to astrology is true of all
the other activities that are subject to historical development. Both
astrologers and those who turn to them for help are products of their era.
It could hardly be otherwise.

Therefore we can learn from Greek astrology, or from the astrology of

William Lilly - that persuasive voice of horary speaking from the
seventeenth century - how people thought about the world and their
place in it. We can discern their priorities, their values, for the simple
reason that astrology has always sought to make itself relevant to current
concerns, to be of service.

For most of astrology's long career its 'consumers' had a very elementary
yardstick. They wanted simple answers to their pressing problems. They
wanted to know if good fortune awaited them, or the reverse, as if all
were being dispensed by some fickle god. If astrology has changed, and
become less black and white in its determinations, it must be because the
Western mind-set has changed, and more sophisticated evaluations are
required.

Horary today has the hallmarks of a fundamentalist belief system, with

its practitioners harking back to the extraordinarily finessed rules of
judgment propounded by exponents like Lilly, and arguing theologically
among themselves. Quite recently there arose among contemporary
astrologers a defence of what was deemed to be the astrological
tradition, and at one extreme, horary has become a seventeenth century
time capsule. Its rules are to be venerated, not interrogated, and contrary
opinions are simply dismissed.

One problem with defending a tradition is to know what tradition, whose

tradition? In astrology's long career there have been a number of
traditions, nor at any one time have their upholders agreed among
themselves. Moreover, acknowledging the stature of Lilly and others,
one cannot in conscience gratuitously insult their intellect by supposing
that, given the opportunity to embrace more recent advances, they would
have remained behind with the cobwebbed thought-forms of their period.
The minds of these pioneers were nothing if not lively and inquiring.
Indeed, had they been content merely to perpetuate the tradition of their
day, their own original observations would have been lost.

Those who have glimpsed the riches waiting to be mined from an

enlightened astrology can only deplore this failure to keep up with the
times. While other branches of knowledge strain to advance their leading
edge, horary die-hards have pronounced that there is nothing left to be
discovered. The tragedy is that they happen to be the custodians of
astrology's central truth, namely that our human minds are embedded in
a cosmic mind, and from moment to moment reflect its nature.

How might the tradition embodied in the horary approach be brought up

to date? There is a way, which not only preserves the integrity of the
tradition but enhances it.

A client who takes a pressing question to a horary astrologer is entitled

to ask: 'If you're so smart that you can tell me the answer, why can't you
tell me the question?' After all, it might be argued that before listening to
the client's concerns, the astrologer is already mentally asking what the
question is going to be! So why should not the heavens be answering
that?

It is a highly instructive exercise to try to discern the question posed by

the chart, before the client gives his or her version. This may not be the
precise question as formulated by the client, who may not actually have
yet understood the real issue, or may simply be reluctant to reveal it. The
heavens may be answering not so much the question as the questioner.

Two charts culled from the Astrology Quarterly

(summer 1998) will serve as examples. A woman
asked: 'Will I travel or stay at home the next few
months?' Now if the astrologer had attempted to
unwrap the question from the chart, without the help of
the client, a cluster of planets around the cusp of the
fourth house (home and family) would have been
instantly noticed. The planets included a conjunction of Venus and Mars,
the 'rulers' of the first house (the questioner) and the seventh house (the
husband).

The inference was that the real question concerned the home she shared
with her husband. Indeed, it turned out that her husband wanted money
to be spent on overdue repairs to their house. Her preference was to blow
it on a trip, hence her question about the likelihood of travelling.

When bringing their questions to the heavens clients are encouraged to

 enter the fated and deterministic world which horary astrologers suppose
reality to be. Instead of asking 'Will I travel in the next few months?' she
might have asked 'Should I travel in the next few months?', because in
view of the conflict with her husband, it was undeniably a should issue.
A modern art of horary would go beyond the strict wording of the
question, and offer positive insight by exploring why it was being asked
in the first place. That Venus Mars conjunction speaks volumes. Venus
is about 'we', while Mars is about 'I'. Relationships are often a conflict, or
at best a balancing act, between what we desire for ourselves, and how
far we are prepared to go along with the wants of the other person.
Probably the holiday issue was a sample of what was currently
happening in her marriage, and she may even have hoped that the
astrologer would detect the underlying difficulty and throw light on it.

This chart offers another important clue. Horary astrologers say that a
planet in the ascendant describes the questioner, and elaborate
descriptions have been compiled of the appearance and personality
disposed by each planet and sign. Here the moon (females) rising in
Libra (partnership) indicates a married woman. Of course many
questioners will be married women, but when their status is spelled out
so clearly it indicates that being a married woman is somehow important.
The fact that the moon squares the Venus-Mars conjunction, and also the
sun, suggests that her marital role was becoming a problem.

In the other chart from the same source, the question put was 'Will I have
another baby?' Here again one suspects this was not the central issue. Some
charts shout 'babies!' at you, but not this one. Its most striking feature is
Neptune (uncertainty, ambiguity) exactly in the midheaven (status, identity).
There are also indications of emotional frustration. The astrologer who did
not take the question at its face value would wonder whether the quandary in
which this woman found herself was connected with the fact that for ten
years she had been living on and off with a man friend, a situation into which a baby would
introduce a new element. Moreover, since the midheaven is connected with the career, the
astrologer might usefully have inquired what would happen to her job, at the age of forty-five,
if a baby arrived.

Coming to this chart at second-hand it is not possible to discover how far the real issue was a
desire to escape from one or more frustrating situations, with motherhood seen as a way out.
But this chart illustrates that while a question may seem straightforward, it could merely hint
at the person's true concerns. Handed this chart, any astrologer who tried to guess in advance
the drift of the question that was about to be asked would have probably got close to the mark.

It must be said that to open out questions in this way leads to a more ethical horary practice. It
cannot be ethical to paint a picture of a future which is already predetermined in its details.
After all, a woman of forty-five who asks 'Will I have another baby?' might be looking for
confirmation that she no longer needs to practise birth control! One celebrated astrologer who
assured a client that the stars were shining brightly on partnership ventures never suspected
she was planning to murder her husband!

The ethics of astrology are something of a minefield, but any approach which brushes aside
free will and the need for personal responsibility must surely be deplored. In so far as horary
plays down the crucial role of human choice it is in need of a radical rethink. The astrologer
should be enlarging the scope of free will by explaining the real issues, thus allowing sounder
decisions to be made, and perhaps revealing options which may have escaped notice.

This is the point to express a view which will doubtless outrage those who are determined to
defend the horary paradigm. As usually understood, horary is about asking human questions
to which the heavens make a human answer. That is to say, the cosmos is expected to speak
our language, and to be immediately comprehensible to us. Yet throughout astrology we find
that our human questioning is apt to be met with a cosmic answer, which may require us to
stretch our imagination. To assume that the cosmos can do no other than function within the
straitjacket of our limited human concepts is the ultimate arrogance! Therefore there are many
instances where we think the cosmos is saying one thing, when actually it is saying something
quite different.

The basic premise - humans asking questions and the heavens replying - seems a
straightforward enough transaction. But the process at work in genuine horary astrology is the
exact reverse! It is the cosmos that asks the question, to which we must make a human
response. The most authentic questions arise, not out of mere curiosity, but when some
pressing circumstance moves us to seek an answer. That is to say, the impetus for the question
comes out of our individual or collective life experience. The need to know is prompted by
the stream of cosmic becoming, in which our participation is as uninterrupted as it is
unconscious.

William Lilly, the maestro himself, ordered some fish from London, but the warehouse was
robbed before it could be delivered. Taking the exact time he heard the bad news, he set up a
chart to see what had happened to his fish. He wanted his supper back, and the villain
apprehended. He has bequeathed this chart, and his deliberations on it, to posterity, but
although he tracked down the thief it is obvious from his description that the feat owed as
much to private sleuthing and a bit of luck as to astrology - what he calls 'discretion, together
with art.'

What Lilly did not pause to ask was why the universe in its majesty should visit this
inconvenience upon him, at precisely this time. Do the purposes of the cosmos really include
trivial malevolence? Instead of wondering why me, why now, he assumed the only question
to be answered was how the injury could be righted.

The chart he set up tells another story. The moon rising in Taurus is held to
refer to the querent, and indeed this combination describes someone
disposed to the creature comforts, notably a good meal. The fish were
intended to see him through Lent, the period of penance and fasting.
Traditionally Mercury is the planet of thieves, and it had become standstill in
the sign of the Fishes, and in the twelfth house, where 'secret enemies' are
said to lurk. So the chart unmistakably contains the trappings of the event.
But is that all?
Instead of rushing to apply the quaintly inflexible rules on which horary judgment depends,
Lilly's thoughts could have taken a different route. He might have speculated that if the
universe is intelligent, not blindly vindictive, there must be meaning behind its dealings with
humanity. At one level Mercury is about making experience intelligible, and the sign it
occupied (Pisces) notoriously represents forces which - like the fishes tied tail-to-tail - tug in
opposite directions. So he might have taken the hint that this experience could be turned
around and read in more than one way.

Maybe if he had been born in the age of Jung, or was familiar with the daemon, the guardian
angel, the higher self, the spirit guide, Lilly might have pondered the significance of the fish
as a Christian symbol, for Lent is after all a Christian festival. He was a religious man, as his
famous open letter to students of astrology makes plain, and he called his masterpiece
Christian Astrology. Was Pisces catching him out, trying to face both ways?

Taurus was strong in his birth chart, and mealtime abstentions do not come easily to some
Taureans. But for someone born under a Pisces ascendant, as he was, fish on the menu may
not be a real deprivation at all, and maybe for the good of his soul his guardian angel did not
want him to fake his asceticism.

At any rate Lilly pursued the miscreant as implacably as any Inspector Javert. He did not stop
to ask why a fisherman should steal fish. Nor did he recall the Christian doctrine that when
somebody slaps you with one wet fish you should take him another - and why not stay to eat it
with him while you are about it!

Lilly thought he was posing the question, but perhaps this was an interrogation of Lilly, on the
sincerity of his faith? Indeed, as we go through life the system continually tosses us problems
and puzzles, asking 'What do you make of this?'

Another point needs to be made. The idea that the heavens manifest equally everywhere, as if
by some purely mechanical process, is hard to sustain. Some people may be 'better connected'
than others, and the rapport of the same person may vary from time to time. It is feasible that
lukewarm feelings, flickering thoughts, tend to distance us from the cosmic order, while
conversely the intensity shown by fanatics binds us more tightly to it. Thus, speaking to us
from the thirteenth century, in his De Mirabilibus Mundi, Albertus Magnus declares:
'Whoever would learn the secret of doing and undoing these things must know that everyone
can influence everything magically if he falls into a great excess ... For the soul is then so
desirous of the matter she would accomplish that of her own accord she seizes the more
significant and better astrological hour which also rules over the things suited to that matter'.

A journalist for most of his life, Dennis Elwell has explored any byway that might throw light
on astrology, leading to a study of science on the one hand, and occultists like Rudolf Steiner
and Gurdjieff on the other. Teaching himself the basics as a teenager, he became a regular
contributor to American Astrology; a platform for the leading astrologers of the day. The
association continued for twenty years. He began lecturing to astrologers in 1963 and has
subsequently gained an illustrious reputation as an original thinker and stimulating speaker.
In 1987 Elwell attracted considerable media attention through forewarning the shipping
company P&O of impending disaster. Ten days after their reply, expressing complete
confidence in their safety standards, the 'Herald of Free Enterprise' capsized of Zeebrugge
with the tragic loss of 188 lives. His book Cosmic Loom, was published in the same year and
was recently republished by the Urania Trust in an updated and expanded version.