I’ve had my chart read before, but always the person read my sun sign to me: Sagittarius. Last week I’d listened to the podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, where Glennon Doyle and Abby Wambach talked to the professional astrologer Heidi Rose Robbins, and I’d been made aware of the importance of my rising sign which is represented in how you live your life day-to-day. (I think—so much of this is new to me.)

My sun sign is Sagittarius. I love that sign. I love that it is seen as adventurous, freedom-oriented, and unfiltered. I went so far as to have Pegassus tattooed on my back when I was in graduate school because Lidia Yukanvitch, a writer in one of my classes, offered me the gift certificate she’d won from a local tattoo studio. I figured if I got a big stamp on my back, I was showing the universe I was serious about my commitment to writing and somehow I was getting some of Lidia’s talent by putting all that ink in my skin since the tattoo had been meant for her . A flying horse seemed like a way to claim power and magic. I had spent a lot of time with horses with I was young, and the smell of horse on my hands is one of my favorite scents .

Later, after my first divorce, I had the tattoo lasered (mostly—it flipping hurts, and you have to do it many times to get the whole thing erased) off because it felt too “soft” too me, like…uh, a flying horse? What’s the point, Dude? What are you, twelve? I had it removed as a statement. I am not a flying horse. I am the blank slate of me.

One problem with claiming to be a blank slate is that it’s not true, and it is a hiding based on fear. So many adopted people don’t tell their story even though they have a burning yearning to do so because they are trying to remain the blank slate the adoption narrative needed them to be. It’s terrifying to have a story that is not in alignment with who you believe your world wants you to be.

One cool thing about having your natal chart read when you are an adopted person is that the stories about who you are and how you were conceived and born and nurtured are often murky at best, often unaddressed, often twisted into someone else’s narrative based on their needs, not your actual factual rooted truths, but, assuming the date and place of birth are on your birth certificate (if, god help us, you have yours with the time and place marked on it) is correct, a natal chart reading tells you about who you are based on where the stars and planets were when you took your first breath. (That was an extremely long sentence because it had to hold so much information. Welcome to being an adoptee, where the simplest things can take ten lines to explain.)

No adoption agency or orphanage or birth mother or adoptive parents or government can change the placement of the stars and the planets.

Sarah Heffner calls herself a poet witch, and after working with her, I see the title fits. She had written to me on Instagram asking if she could do a reading for me since she was an adoptee who was trying to build a business out of this gift she has made into a vocation.

I was in tears within the first ten minutes of our session. For the first time ever, I heard about myself as my rising sign, Capricorn. The interesting thing about Capricorn for me that past week was that it contained many traits I had, but needed to develop to be my best self. Even since listening to the podcast, I had taken on the challenge of living out wholeheartedly Capricorn traits.

Sarah told me that, as a Capricorn, I was focused, ambitious, and that the connection to writing made me introspective and that I would feel lonely. She told me the only person I have to compete with is myself, and that because I have Saturn in Capricorn and Jupiter in Sagittarius, there was a lot of tension. She told me I would want to eat my own self.

She told me I was an arrow with two heads, one headed for a target, and one headed for myself.

All of this felt spot on.

I felt the warm bath of relief: it’s not my fault I’m lonely. That crazy intense desire I have to be by myself is in the stars, and it’s in service to my craft. Also: the intensity in which I drive myself is also not my fault. The almost feral competition I feel is directed straight at me, and I am relentless. And, again, it’s not my fault. I’m just working with the energy the stars and the planets gave me.

If you don’t believe in astrology, I hear you. So much of it can sound like a fairy tale, but I feel seen when I have my chart read and I get to recognize myself in the reading. Who cares if it’s true or not. It’s true to me. In some ways, a natal chart reading is the closest I’ll get to looking in my mother’s eyes. I see you. You see you. There you are. Everything is okay.

Sarah read to me about all twelve houses in my chart, and, when we were done after an hour, I wanted to take a nap and let the experience have room to root and settle.

A true medium runs your energy and not only sees you, but feels you. The way I felt made me think of someone who goes to the hospital to have their blood cleaned out by running it through a machine. I felt as if my whole body had been processed, and now I wanted to rest and experience my body in this new state.

I immediately bought a session for my friend. Sarah charges $75 for the hour (which does not include the time she spends reading your chart), and this seems like an incredibly low amount for what you get. In other words, dear friends, feel free to pay her more.

Being seen is the bomb. Feeling seen is the bomb times a million.

I feel like I should have spent hours and hours on this post, but I have to work on the book about the winningest coach in Ivy League history. I took a break so you could have as great of an experience as I did, but I gotta get back to work. (By the way, you don’t have to be adopted to work with Sarah. You just have to be a nice person. Says me.)

Sarah is a poet, healer, bartender, transracial adoptee and creativity coach!

Whenever she meets another adoptee, there is an automatic sense of empathy.

With astrology in tandem, the ability to feel seen is amplified even further.

Astrology allowed Sarah to know herself in a way that had always felt impossible.

It gives origin stories and archetypes that feel useful in defining a sense of self.

She is excited to share this powerful healing tool with others, especially adoptees.

Learn more at www.littleshaco.com or follow her on IG @thepoetwitch_ for magical selfcare