CLEARING THE DROSS with Pluto Moving Into Aquarius
The 47th Gene Key, with its shadow of oppression, feels deeply embedded in my life story. It is encoded into my Human Design as both my conscious and unconscious Pluto, as well as my unconscious Neptune, creating a powerful undercurrent of this archetype. This energy, amplified by Pluto’s cycles of transformation, has been a recurring teacher in my life, surfacing in themes of suppression, marginalization, and ultimately, alchemy.
Oppression has shown up in many forms. As a child, I witnessed the societal stigma my single mom carried. Society often viewed single mothers through a lens of judgment, and that weight was silently passed down to me. When I later became a single mom myself, I experienced this judgment firsthand, carrying the dual burdens of societal expectation and self-reliance.
In my first marriage, oppression took on a more personal form. My thoughts on energy, healing, and spirituality—concepts that are central to who I am—were dismissed and invalidated by my husband. His belief structure left no room for exploration beyond his framework, leaving me feeling unseen, unheard, and unable to fully express myself. That suppression, while painful, eventually became a catalyst for my journey toward self-liberation and authenticity.
When I pursued acupuncture, I stepped further into my truth, but even then, I encountered resistance. Becoming an acupuncturist placed me on the fringes of Western medicine, a system resistant to integrative approaches at that time, and opening very slowly in current times. Later, as I added the pendulum swing into pharmacy, I hoped to bridge the gap between Eastern and Western practices, I found myself facing similar challenges as a pharmacist even in Western medicine. Medical doctors where I was practicing often dismissed my expertise and presence as a pharmacist, just as others had doubted my work as an acupuncturist. In addition, I experienced the unexpected persecution from the acupuncture community while embracing and integrating “the enemy” of allopathic medicine. In both roles, I felt the weight of oppression, striving to prove my worth in systems that weren’t designed to honor the breadth of my perspective.
I had heard about sweat lodges for years, but it wasn’t until 2008, during a trip to Santa Fe, that I was invited to take part in one. I’d come across many stories about the intense spiritual experience people have in the sweat lodge—how it could be both a physical and emotional release, a purification, and a deep connection with the earth and spirit. But nothing could have prepared me for what was to unfold that day.
After several hours of witnessing the preparing of the Grandfather rocks in the fire, we dressed in sarongs, and entered the lodge. There were four rounds of ceremony, as is typical, each round becoming progressively more intense. The heat from the Grandfather Rocks—those dark, sacred stones that were brought into the center of the lodge, one by one—grew more suffocating with each round. We sang, we prayed, made our offerings, we chanted, and we sat in that sacred, steamy space. I felt the sweat dripping from my body, the oppressive heat wrapping around me, the energy shifting with every prayer that was uttered, every heartbeat that pulsed through my chest.
But by the end of the fourth round, something unexpected happened. The shaman of the ceremony, a soft-spoken yet wise man, called for a pause and offered, “For those of you who are first-timers, you can leave now, after the fourth round. But if you feel called to stay, a fifth round has been called and will be a more intense experience, and we welcome you to continue.”
The first-timers were offered an out, a chance to depart gracefully from the ceremony, to go and seek the coolness of the outside world. The air outside, after the heat of the lodge, must have seemed like a balm, a soothing relief to the body. But for me, there was no question. I had come so far—physically, mentally, and spiritually—and something inside of me told me to stay. I didn’t know exactly what, but I felt a deep, internal pull to remain, to continue the journey.
And so, we all continued through the fifth round.
The intensity of that fifth round was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. As the Grandfather rocks were brought in one by one, the heat felt almost unbearable. But this time, the purging wasn’t just physical. I could feel it on a deeper, more visceral level. There was an energy in that space, a collective charge, that seemed to activate something deep within me. The heat wasn’t just from the rocks; it was like the lodge itself had become a cauldron of raw, unprocessed energy.
I was being swept away by the power of something much larger than myself. I began to purge—not just the physical sweat that poured from my body, but an intense, deep emotional release that felt like the very weight of the world was being lifted from me. I began to weep, not just for myself, but for all the suffering I felt around the globe—the pain, the persecution, the injustices, the wars, the hunger, the sadness. It felt as if every ounce of persecution that had ever been inflicted on anyone, anywhere, was being channeled through me in that moment. My body shook, and the sweat turned bitter on my skin.
It was then that I began to understand something profound. I was not alone in this experience. I was not just purging my own personal suffering. I was connected to a much larger, collective energy—a force of healing that transcended time and place. In that sweat lodge, I could feel the pain of the world, but also the hope and strength that comes with true spiritual cleansing. It was a deep, profound realization that my purpose in this life was linked to something much larger than just myself. I began to understand that my journey was not only about personal healing, but also about offering whatever I could to the collective healing of humanity.
By the time the fifth round ended, I felt a profound sense of release. The heat, the sweat, the tears—they had washed away something deep inside of me. It wasn’t just the burdens of my own life that I had let go of. It felt like I had shed the collective weight of generations of suffering and persecution. The experience was overwhelming, and yet it was also incredibly liberating.
As I left the sweat lodge that day, I did so with a newfound sense of purpose. I didn’t know exactly what that purpose would look like in the future, but I knew that it had something to do with healing—healing myself, healing others, and healing the world. The sweat lodge had opened something in me, a deep understanding that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
That day in Santa Fe, I not only learned the power of the sweat lodge, but I also began to understand my place in the grand tapestry of life. It was a humbling experience, a transformative one, and one that would mark the beginning of a journey that I continue to walk to this day.
This theme of persecution became even more profound in June of 2020, when my oldest son and I discovered that one of our ancestors played a pivotal role in the Salem witch trials of the 1660s. This ancestor was not among the accused but was a key accuser. The revelation shook me. It was then I realized that I carry DNA from “both” sides—the persecuted and the persecutors. This awareness deepened my understanding of the ancestral imprints I carry. It also clarified the profound work I am doing in this lifetime: healing and transforming this energetic lineage. The oppression I have experienced isn’t just mine—it is part of a generational wound, one that I am uniquely positioned to help integrate and heal with the hope and intent of rippling out to the rest of humanity’s expression of this theme.
Through the awareness of the 47th Gene Key, I see how this work transcends me. The shadow of oppression, carried in my DNA, has invited me to confront and transmute these patterns, not just for myself but for my ancestors and future generations. The journey from oppression to transmutation to transfiguration is not an abstract ideal—it is a lived experience. By embracing the pain of persecution, I am alchemizing it into a force for healing, uniting the fragmented energies of my lineage.
Astrologically, this theme has been powerfully activated as Pluto traverses back and forth across my Descendant, moving between the 6th house of health and service and the 7th house of relationships. Pluto, the planet of shadow work and transformation, has unearthed deep patterns of suppression, particularly in how I relate to others and how I serve. This energy feels like a stripping away, an invitation to release old structures of oppression and control. As Pluto prepares to move firmly into Aquarius on November 19, I sense a shift—a chance to integrate these lessons and step into a more liberated, authentic version of myself.
The 47th Gene Key holds a promise: oppression contains the seed of liberation. Its shadow may weigh heavily, but its gift of transmutation and siddhi of transfiguration offer a path forward. Through every experience of suppression—whether societal, relational, or professional—I have been asked to find strength within myself. I have learned to rise above the external forces that seek to define or confine me, reclaiming my sovereignty.
This journey is not just about me; it is about the collective. By healing the shadow of persecution within my lineage, I am creating a bridge for future generations. The DNA I carry from both the accusers and the accused reminds me of the dualities we all hold. It is through integrating these opposites—light and shadow, victim and oppressor—that true healing becomes possible.
As I reflect on this journey, I feel a deepened commitment to the work of the Gene Keys Venus Sequence, particularly the sphere of my Purpose, tied to the 14th Gene Key and its shadow of compromise. The theme of oppression, after all, often stems from compromise: silencing oneself, shrinking to fit into structures, or abandoning personal truth to meet external expectations. As I release these patterns and reclaim my authenticity, I create spaciousness for something new—a life where oppression no longer dominates the narrative and where I can honor both my individuality and my connections to others.
Most importantly, I see the spaciousness now to welcome balance into my life—a life where my healing work extends beyond vocation and into relationship. By releasing the shadow of persecution and embracing the gift of transmutation, I am creating a legacy of freedom, integration, and love for myself, my lineage, and those yet to come.