Virgo III: Life, Death, & Individuation

Odysseus and the Sirens. Mosaic scene from Homer s Odyssey in The Bardo Museum in Tunis, Tunisia, Dreamstime

Next in my exploration of the 36 decans of the Zodiac is Virgo III, the final 10 degrees of the sign. This is a complex section of the Zodiac, shaped by the combined influences of its decanic rulers, Mercury and Venus.

Mercury—the planet of intellect, communication, and analysis—has a strong and elevated presence in this decan. As Mercury is both exalted in Virgo and in its own sign, its natural qualities are amplified here. This enhances the ability for clear, analytical thinking, precise communication, and effective problem-solving.

On the other hand, Venus, the co-ruler of this decan, introduces a contrasting energy. Venus, associated with love, beauty, harmony, and justice, is said to be in her "fall" in Virgo. In astrological terms, this means Venus struggles to fully express her qualities or harmonize with the energies of this sign.

In the video below, I explore how these two planetary rulers interact in this decan and the themes they bring to light. Virgo III resonates strongly with the concept of “individuation,” a term introduced by Carl Jung. Individuation refers to the process of becoming whole—of integrating all parts of ourselves into a cohesive identity. It’s about stepping into who we truly are, a process that often requires navigating challenges, letting go of outdated beliefs, and embracing growth through experience.

The Ten of Pentacles, the tarot card associated with Virgo III, reflects these themes of integration and completion. It speaks to legacy, material fulfillment, and the culmination of efforts—a fitting symbol for a decan so focused on wholeness and manifestation. We’ll also explore insights from ancient esoteric texts and the Hermetic Kabbalah, focusing on Malkuth, the 10th and final Sephira on the Tree of Life. Malkuth is closely connected to the material world and the act of manifestation, but it also represents the necessity of letting go, clearing space for new possibilities to emerge.

To illustrate these ideas, the video also explores the chart of Steve Jobs, whose rising degree falls in Virgo III. Jobs’ reflections later in life often revolved around themes of death and release, which are deeply tied to the energies of this decan.

Transcript (Revised and Expanded)

Virgo: Mutable, Earth, Ruled by Mercury

Virgo is an earth sign, and like all earth signs, it’s pragmatic. It’s concerned with what we can create in the physical, material world. Virgo is also mutable, which gives it a flexible, adaptable quality. All mutable signs occur during seasonal transitions, and in this case, Virgo marks the shift in the northern hemisphere from light to dark as summer gives way to autumn. This transitional quality is a key feature of Virgo’s nature.

Virgo is ruled by Mercury—known as Hermes in the Greek pantheon—and there’s a lot of mythology surrounding Mercury’s trickster nature. People with strong Mercury placements in their charts often have a sharp intelligence and a knack for playing with ideas in surprising ways.

A famous myth about Mercury involves young Hermes stealing his older brother Apollo’s cattle. Apollo, the sun god, represents order and clarity, so this story highlights Mercury’s playful, mischievous, and clever qualities. If you’re interested, I’ve discussed this trickster archetype more in previous videos, and I’ll drop a link below in case you want to check those out.

Mercury has this quick, flexible mind—fast and speedy. I guess "quick" captures all of that. It’s also strongly associated with communication, as Hermes was the messenger of the gods.

Decanic Rulers: Mercury and Venus

Now, let’s hold onto that idea of Mercury and add in the specific qualities of Virgo III, this last 10 degrees of Virgo. I mentioned the planetary rulers earlier: under the triplicity system, Venus is the ruler here. Venus represents love, relationship, harmony, beauty, art, and justice. But she also has a lesser-known side—Venus as Morningstar, the goddess of war. That part of her nature isn’t always talked about, but it’s important to keep in mind.

In Virgo, Venus is in her fall, meaning she doesn’t function well here. I’m actually working on a series of videos about planetary dignity—what happens when planets are in their own sign (domicile), when they’re exalted, and when they’re in their fall. I’ve already done the videos on domicile and exaltation, and the one on fall will be out soon. If you’re following this series, I’ll have that ready in about a month.

So, what does it mean when a planet is in its fall? A planet in fall doesn’t carry the same respect or admiration from others. It can feel like an outsider or a renegade—less dignified, less supported. This is the case with Venus in Virgo.

Think about the time of year Virgo III corresponds to in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s when the leaves are falling from the trees, a season of death and decay. Venus, as a planet tied to beauty and attraction, loses some of her power in this phase. There’s something about aging, about the loss of outward beauty, that connects to this energy of Venus in her fall.

But Venus does have a unique kind of power in this decan. You could think of it as the ability to appreciate the beauty that exists in the moment of death or decay. For example, Steve Jobs—who had his rising degree in Virgo III—spoke toward the end of his life about the transformative potential of death. Or consider the way autumn leaves, just as they are falling, often take on their most vibrant and striking colors. There’s a sense of finding beauty in loss, in letting go.

Mercury, the other ruler of this decan by the Chaldean system, adds another layer. As I mentioned earlier, Mercury is quick, clever, and communicative. When we combine the energies of Venus and Mercury in this part of the Zodiac, there’s a poignant and bittersweet quality.

For those who have planets or points in Virgo III, this area of the Zodiac may bring an awareness of loss and limitation—of what can and cannot be created in the material world. There’s a challenge here to step into those limitations, to take creative and personal risks, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed. It’s through that process that individuation and a deeper understanding of the self can emerge.

And that's what happens when you confront yourself—when you step into life and take risks. You come to know that you're not all that, but you also come to know who you are and what you do contain.

This process of stepping into the world to manifest something is closely tied to the idea of the Hermetic Kabbalah, which we’ll talk about in a minute. It’s about how spirit manifests in the material world, taking form and interacting with the limitations of physical reality.

Ancient Esoteric Texts

But first, let’s turn to the ancient texts associated with this decan. Across these texts, we see recurring themes of death, decay, and the struggle to reconcile vision and creativity (Mercury’s exalted mind) with the inevitable limitations of the material world. Venus in her fall represents that decay—the knowledge that not everything envisioned can be fully realized.

For example, Ibn Ezra describes this decan as a white woman who is self-laudatory. She wears a dyed mantle—a symbol of beauty or outward adornment—but her hands are leprous, showing the decay of the physical body. She is in a moment of prayer, perhaps grappling with fear and melancholy, but also reaching out to something larger than herself. This image reflects the bittersweet duality of beauty and decay, and the spiritual yearning that can accompany it.

The Picatrix gives us another evocative image: a pale man of large body wrapped in a white linen cloth, accompanied by a woman holding black olive oil. Again, we see the interplay of opposites—white and black, light and dark. This is described as a face of weakness, old age, illness, sloth, the injury of limbs, and the destruction of people. It embodies the inevitability of physical decline and loss, preparing us for the end of the material form.

Agrippa offers a similar description: a white woman and death, or an old man leaning on a staff. The signification here includes weakness, infirmity, loss of limbs, the destruction of trees, and the depopulation of land. This decan carries an unmistakable energy of loss in the material world, alongside an awareness of the impermanence of all things.

But what does this allow us to do as human beings? This grappling with limitation and decay is not without purpose. It forces us to confront what we cannot control and to find meaning in the process of individuation—becoming more of who we are.

10 of Pentacles

The tarot card associated with this decan is the Ten of Pentacles, a card filled with imagery that reflects themes of legacy, fulfillment, and the culmination of hard work in the material world. Interestingly, the elderly figure in this card is often interpreted as Odysseus, the legendary hero from Homer’s Odyssey. His presence adds a deeper layer of meaning to this card, connecting it to the themes of individuation, trials, and the wisdom gained through life’s journey.

At the center, an elderly figure—Odysseus—sits under an archway, observing the harmonious interaction of his family: children, younger adults, and even pets. This card signifies the rewards of a life spent striving toward long-term goals, including the legacy we leave behind. Odysseus’ inclusion emphasizes the trials and tribulations necessary to achieve this hard-earned sense of fulfillment.

The Odyssey is a powerful story of individuation. The story centers around Odysseus who leaves his home and family to embark on a journey filled with trials and self-discovery. One of the most iconic moments is his confrontation with the Cyclops, Polyphemus.

The Cyclops is a literal and symbolic obstacle. He represents a primal, unrefined force—powerful but lacking vision in the broader sense, as he has only one eye. Odysseus doesn’t defeat the Cyclops through brute strength but through cunning and intelligence, qualities tied to Mercury. This moment underscores the idea of individuation: facing external challenges and internal fears, using cleverness and adaptability to move forward, and ultimately coming to know yourself more deeply.

Odysseus’s journey is full of loss, but it’s also a story of transformation. He returns home not as the same person who left but as someone who has confronted his limitations and discovered his strengths.

The story of Odysseus confronting the Cyclops is a great example of Mercury’s qualities—wit and intelligence prevailing over brute force. Odysseus uses his cleverness to blind the Cyclops and escape, which is very mercurial. It’s a moment of triumph: Look how great I am! But then, in his hubris, Odysseus taunts the Cyclops as he’s sailing away, revealing his name and identity. This act of arrogance leads to further problems, as the Cyclops calls on his father, Poseidon, to curse Odysseus.

This dynamic captures something important about “exalted” Mercury in Virgo. On one hand, there’s brilliance and ingenuity, but on the other, there’s the potential for hubris—overconfidence in one’s intellect or abilities.

Each adventure Odysseus goes through forces him to confront the shadow side of who he is. He learns, again and again, that he’s not invincible and that there are consequences to his actions. These trials mature him and expand his capacity over time. This is the essence of individuation—the journey of becoming more whole.

As I mentioned earlier, Carl Jung coined the term individuation. It’s the idea that the conscious part of who we are knows or believes certain things about ourselves, but there are always parts of us that we’re unaware of—our shadow. The process of individuation involves integrating those shadow aspects. By confronting our limitations and accepting that we’re not “all that,” we actually gain the tools to become more of who we are. It’s a paradox: through humility and self-honesty, we grow stronger.

This humility is very much tied to Virgo’s energy. It’s about acknowledging both the beautiful things we contain and the things we might not like as much—those shadow parts. But here’s the thing: not everything in the shadow is bad. Sometimes, what’s in the shadow is something good that we’ve ignored or undervalued.

Let me go off on a brief tangent about this. If we struggle with low self-esteem, for example, we might discover through life experiences that we’re better or more capable than we think. Maybe we grew up with messages from family or society that we’re not good enough or unworthy of love. Part of individuation can involve letting go of those limiting beliefs. Through this process, we might realize that the truth hidden in the shadow is our lovability or worthiness. So, integrating the shadow doesn’t just mean confronting negative traits—it can also mean reclaiming hidden strengths and truths.

The Hermetic Kabbalah

The arrangement of the pentacles in the card is a direct reference to the Tree of Life in the Kabbalah. The creators of the tarot deliberately wove together astrology, Kabbalah, and other ancient esoteric traditions into the imagery of the cards. This reinforces the idea we’ve been circling around: the Ten of Pentacles is about manifesting something in the material world, but it also acknowledges the limitations and challenges of that process.

You can see here that Kether is at the top. It’s where spirit enters. From there, energy moves down through the various Sephira, each representing a different stage of manifestation, until it reaches the final Sephira, Malkuth, at the bottom. Malkuth is the number 10, and it’s the point where spirit fully manifests into the material world.

The Tree of Life is a mystical diagram that represents the descent of divine inspiration into the material world. The "lightning flash" is the path that traces the flow of creative energy from the divine source at the top, through each Sephira, until it reaches the physical world—Malkuth—at the bottom. This process illustrates how spiritual concepts take form and manifest into reality.

Now, let’s move to the next diagram or slide. This one focuses on the relationship between Yesod and Malkuth.

When we talked about Virgo II, we looked at the Nine of Pentacles. Now, in Virgo III, we see the transition from the 9th Sephira, Yesod, to the 10th Sephira, Malkuth. Yesod is the realm of unconscious dreams, intuitions, and emotions. It’s the foundation that connects the higher, more abstract spheres to the physical world. Malkuth, by contrast, is the realm of physical manifestation—the material world, the tangible. It’s the culmination of all the spiritual and energetic processes. This is where the abstract ideas, those grand visions of what we want to create, finally take form and become real. Essentially, this is where the divine is grounded into matter.

But here’s the thing: there’s often a certain melancholy that comes with this process. As we manifest our ideas into reality, they’re never exactly as we imagined them to be. There’s always some gap between the perfection of the vision and the imperfection of the material result.

The movement from Yesod to Malkuth involves translating the energies of the subconscious and intuitive realm into physical actions and tangible creations. It’s about grounding dreams, emotions, and spiritual insights into the concrete reality of everyday life, where they can take shape and be experienced. This process of grounding is powerful, but it also comes with the bittersweet realization that in the material world, perfection is elusive.

Chart Example: Steve Jobs

Lastly, let’s take a look at the chart of Steve Jobs.

Jobs had his rising degree at Virgo 22, right here in Virgo III. In many ways, we can see his chart reflecting the qualities of this decan. As much as he was an innovator and brought groundbreaking technology into the world through Apple, his impact went far beyond the individual. His work profoundly influenced collective consciousness.

This is reflected in his chart by the conjunction of Jupiter and Uranus in Cancer in the 11th house. Jupiter is exalted in Cancer, so it functions strongly there. The 11th house relates to groups, organizations, and the collective, as well as big ideas that can be brought into reality. Through his work, Jobs essentially transformed collective consciousness, expanding our understanding of what’s possible through technology. He grounded visionary ideas into the material realm, which is exactly the energy of Virgo III.

That was Steve Jobs’ genius. But we also have to acknowledge—by many accounts, he could be difficult, even harsh. His treatment of people in the workplace is well-documented and not always flattering. For example, Jobs was infamous for berating employees when their ideas didn’t meet his high standards, calling their work “garbage” or “worthless” if it didn’t align with his vision. While this perfectionism drove innovation at Apple, it also created a culture of fear and tension for many who worked under him

This could be tied, in part, to his Virgo Ascendant. As I’ve mentioned, Virgo has a shadow side: the negative perfectionism that criticizes and attacks, pointing out that things aren’t good enough. It’s that harsh, relentless focus on what’s wrong.

But the conscious, positive side of Virgo is different. It’s the desire to create wholeness—to bring something into the material world that aligns with an ideal vision. It’s about striving to make or create something that fulfills a deep sense of purpose or beauty.

Now, I want to highlight something that I think fits really well here: one of the last quotes of Steve Jobs’ life. After being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he reflected on death and its ability to clarify what’s truly important.

Even if we think of the beauty of fall leaves—how they burst into vibrant color just before they die—that’s Venus in her fall. There’s a beauty in the impermanence of life, in the way that endings can bring clarity and meaning.

Our culture, particularly in the United States, often rejects sitting with the reality that we’re all going to die. But when we fully take in that truth, it can clarify life. It can lead us to a profound recognition of the value and beauty of life, precisely because it is limited and must end.

Here’s the quote from Steve Jobs that captures this so well:

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure (that’s a Virgo thing too)—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what’s truly important. Remembering that you’re going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.
You are already naked. There’s no reason not to follow your heart.
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet, death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is how it should be, because death is very likely the single best invention of life. It’s life’s change agent—it clears out the old to make way for the new.”

This quote beautifully encapsulates the energy of Virgo III. It speaks to the ways in which stepping into life, even when it involves ego death, can be transformative. Ego death is what happens when we take risks, when we try to do something that scares us. We may have a desire to create or achieve something, but fear holds us back. Yet, when we step into that fear, we must accept that our efforts won’t always be perfect.

Still, there’s something exciting and clarifying about the process of taking a risk, confronting failure, and coming to know who we truly are. That’s the energy of this decan: the courage to step into life, confront loss, and find meaning in the process.

I want to close with one last observation, which I found so fascinating. While searching for images of Steve Jobs, one that caught my attention was Nemo from Finding Nemo. If you look at Nemo’s face of fear in the background—it’s striking and kind of telling.

The film Finding Nemo, created by Pixar (a company Jobs was deeply involved with), is an individuation story. It’s a story about life, death, fear, and stepping out of the bubble of safety. It’s about confronting the chaos of the universe and realizing we’re not in control. We’re not in charge.

This is something that Virgos can really struggle with. Virgos want everything in order, neat and organized, because that sense of control brings security. Trust me, I know—I have a lot of planets in Virgo.

So, I hope you enjoyed this video. I’ve loved putting it together. I’ll see you in a few days when we move on to Libra I, which will be an exciting transition to the air element.