Linda Goodman is my reading equivalent of “comfort food.” I don’t mean to be disparaging. Far from it. Her prose sparkled the first time I read it, and it still does. An astrologer I know, who’s also a published author, told me that Ms. Goodman has done more to popularize astrology than all the other writers combined. Perhaps that was just a Jovian hyperbole, but her popularity is undeniable.
It’s true that sun sign astrology is less than the tip of the iceberg, but it reaches the masses. It keeps the tradition alive in the consciousness of many. Many who will one day become astrologers or clients of the aforementioned astrologers.
I know some very respectable astrologers who started their journey with Linda Goodman. I didn’t. I started with family story that led me to Cheiro and eventually brought Linda Goodman to me. What kept me walking this path, and still does, are the astrologer-writers whose work is a joy to read.
And there is no finer writer than Ms. Goodman. Her Sun Signs still holds appeal and she still dazzles me with her Love Signs. Even her Relationship Signs, a book about aspects in synastry, is a fun read. She’s fun, yes, but she knows her astrology and she’s a great teacher.
But you know what? She wanted to be remembered as a poet. So keeping that in mind, I want to post a poem of hers. This poem isn’t addressed to any man I ever loved; it speaks to something inside of me. Here is it, from the book Venus Trines at Midnight:
…..to be absolutely honest
as you’ve carefully taught me to be
you’re still a little off center
and doing your thing…
playing with platitudes
reading books about Buddha
to learn how to die, before you’ve started to live
straining emotions through a sterile sieve
and scrubbing your squeaky-clean ivory tower
with Brillo pads
…but you’re improving