Trauma, much like Pluto’s influence, can be subtle, submerged beneath layers of denial, or it can be cataclysmic, leaving cracks in the foundation of our being. You see, Pluto isn’t just a planet; it’s a mirror to our hidden wounds, those lingering shadows that we carry, sometimes unknowingly, deep within our hearts. When you consult an astrologer about Pluto’s position in your chart, you’re essentially asking to peek behind the curtain of your conscious mind. You’re inquiring about those unseen forces that pull your strings, the ghostly hands that manipulate your fears, desires, and unresolved pain. And why is it that trauma often eludes our conscious mind? It’s a defense mechanism, really. The psyche, in its infinite wisdom, sometimes decides that the pain is too much to bear in one go. So, it tucks it away, into the dark recesses of our subconscious, where Pluto reigns supreme. But make no mistake, what’s buried isn’t gone; it’s merely waiting for the right moment—or perhaps the right transit—to resurface, demanding acknowledgment and healing. When Pluto is at work, it’s like the coroner who dissects the body to uncover the truth behind a death, except here the dissection is metaphysical, cutting through layers of repression, avoidance, and fear. Pluto asks you to stare directly into the abyss, to confront your darkest parts, and, if you’re brave enough, to come out the other side reborn.

The process is neither gentle nor swift. Pluto is slow-moving, relentless in its excavation. It digs, it unearths, it exposes. It’s the therapist who doesn’t accept “I’m fine” as an answer, who pushes you to dig deeper until you hit the raw nerve of your true self. It’s not content with surface-level healing; it’s interested in transformation, the kind that leaves you irrevocably changed. So, when Pluto slices and dices, it’s not out of malice, but out of necessity. It forces you to look at those wounds, to understand their origins, and to eventually accept them as part of your story. It’s painful, yes, but it’s also profoundly liberating. For in the depths of Pluto’s underworld, we don’t just find trauma; we find the key to our own rebirth.

Pluto is not a planet not content with the niceties of existence. It doesn’t deal in sunshine and rainbows; it’s more comfortable rummaging through the cobwebbed corners of our psyche, dragging forth what we’d rather leave buried. Now, “compulsive cravings” and “uncontrollable unconscious processes” are Pluto’s bread and butter. They’re the drives we don’t always understand but feel deeply, the urges that rise up unbidden, often unsettling in their intensity. Imagine it as the shadowy figure at the back of your mind, whispering truths you’d rather ignore. Pluto doesn’t just hint at what’s hidden; it demands that you face it head-on. It’s as if it is saying, “You can’t keep sweeping this under the rug forever. Time to deal with it.” But the process of looking within, of truly opening up to this energy, is far from simple. It’s akin to performing surgery on yourself without anesthesia. You have to cut deep, peel back layers of defense mechanisms, and examine the festering wounds underneath.

It’s no wonder Pluto’s reputation is tied to violence, abuse, and the macabre—these aren’t just external realities but internal landscapes we must enter. Pluto doesn’t shy away from the ugly, the painful, or the terrifying. It asks us to go to the darkest places within ourselves, to sit with our discomfort, and to confront the parts of us that are wounded, broken, or lost. And let’s not forget Pluto’s association with survival. In many ways, this is the core of Pluto’s transformative power. It’s not just about dredging up trauma for the sake of it; it’s about finding the strength to survive, to endure, and ultimately, to transform. Pluto shows us that even in the midst of the most soul-wrenching events, there is a part of us that can rise from the ashes, stronger and more resilient than before. This is why Pluto is often linked with rebirth—it’s the force that takes us through the fire, burns away what no longer serves us, and leaves behind something purer, more essential.

However, survival doesn’t come without a cost. The journey through Pluto’s realm requires sacrifice—of ego, of illusions, of anything that keeps us from facing the truth. It’s not a journey for the faint-hearted, but it’s a necessary one if we are to reclaim the parts of ourselves we’ve disowned. Survival under Pluto’s watchful eye demands a toll—a steep one, at that. It’s like crossing a treacherous river where the waters are deep, the currents strong, and the only way to the other side is to let go of what weighs you down. That burden you’ve been carrying, the ego built on false bravado, the illusions that keep you cocooned in comfort, all must be surrendered if you’re to make it across. The ego, this carefully constructed identity we cling to, is often the first to go. Under Pluto’s influence, the masks we wear start to slip, revealing the real self underneath. It’s a humbling process, sometimes brutal, as we’re forced to confront the parts of ourselves that aren’t as pretty as we’d like to believe. But this stripping away of ego isn’t about diminishing who we are; rather, it’s about cutting away the inauthentic layers that obscure our true essence.

And then there are the illusions—the comforting lies we tell ourselves to avoid the discomfort of reality. These are the rose-tinted glasses that Pluto rips off our faces, exposing the harsh light of truth. It’s not pleasant, seeing things as they really are, especially when it involves acknowledging our own flaws, mistakes, or vulnerabilities. But illusions, while soothing, keep us trapped in a world of our own making, a world where growth is stunted, and true transformation is impossible.

Pluto’s realm is a crucible, a place where we’re burned down to our most essential elements. It’s not enough to simply survive this journey; Pluto demands that we evolve. This evolution requires sacrifice, the giving up of anything that no longer serves our highest good. It’s a painful shedding, like a snake losing its skin, but it’s also freeing. In letting go, we reclaim the parts of ourselves that have been lost or forgotten—the parts that are truly, deeply us. This is path for those willing to brave the darkness, to face the shadows lurking within, and to emerge, not untouched, but transformed. The cost of survival in Pluto’s domain is high, but the reward is invaluable: a profound understanding of who you are at your core, and the power to shape your own destiny from a place of authenticity and strength. So, if you find yourself on this journey, remember that every sacrifice is a step closer to reclaiming the fullness of your being. It’s a journey of descent, yes, but also of ascent—a climb out of the depths, lighter, freer, and more attuned to the true rhythm of your soul.

So, if Pluto’s energy is knocking at your door, know that it’s an invitation to a new transformation. It’s urging you to bring to light those parts of yourself that you’ve kept hidden, to confront the darkness within, and to emerge on the other side, not unscathed, but undeniably stronger. Pluto teaches us that survival isn’t just about enduring; it’s about evolving, becoming something new, something greater than we were before.

The wounds inflicted by Pluto—those deep, often invisible scars that etch themselves into the very fabric of our being. These aren’t the kind of wounds that heal easily, if at all. No, these are the soul-crushing injuries, the dehumanising blows that leave us feeling less than human, stripped of dignity, and weighed down by the burden of humiliation. When Pluto’s shadow looms, it’s not just a passing cloud; it’s a storm that reshapes the landscape of our inner world. Humiliation, particularly, is a potent weapon in Pluto’s arsenal. It’s not just the sting of an insult or the shame of public embarrassment; it’s the deep, corrosive feeling of being reduced, of having one’s worth called into question. It’s the feeling of powerlessness that comes when someone else’s cruel words or actions make you doubt your own value.

Whether it’s the harsh taunts of a schoolyard bully or the subtle, cutting remarks that undermine your confidence, these experiences sink their claws deep into our psyche, often leaving us depleted and vulnerable. And yet, Pluto’s realm isn’t just about suffering; it’s about transformation through suffering. The wounds Pluto inflicts or exposes are like festering abscesses that need to be lanced. There’s an urge, a visceral need, to cleanse oneself of the internal filth that these experiences leave behind. But this process is anything but tidy. It’s messy, painful, and often requires confronting parts of ourselves we’d rather leave buried. You see, Pluto doesn’t just ask us to acknowledge our wounds; it demands that we dig them up, examine them, and, in some way, integrate them into our understanding of who we are. This isn’t about keeping the past hidden in some forgotten corner of the soul. Instead, it’s about dragging those nasty little secrets into the light, not to shame ourselves further, but to strip them of their power over us. The more we try to bury these experiences, the more they fester, poisoning our self-perception and our sense of agency. When we’re made to feel inferior, when our sense of power is stripped away, we lose more than just confidence; we lose the belief in our ability to effect change, in our own lives and in the world around us. Pluto teaches us that reclaiming this power isn’t about denying our wounds or pretending they don’t exist. It’s about embracing them as part of our journey, recognizing the strength that comes from surviving them, and ultimately transforming that pain into something that empowers us.

But the path to this empowerment is fraught with challenges. Pluto doesn’t offer easy victories. It’s more like a grueling marathon through a dark, treacherous landscape. The process of cleansing isn’t just about getting rid of the filth; it’s about understanding where it came from, why it lingers, and how it has shaped us. It’s about accepting that these wounds, as painful as they are, have also given us the opportunity to grow, to evolve into a more authentic version of ourselves. In the end, Pluto’s influence reminds us that the deepest wounds can also be the source of our greatest strength. It’s through facing our pain, our humiliation, and our sense of powerlessness that we find the strength to rise above them. We can’t change what has happened to us, but we can change how we carry it. We can choose to cleanse ourselves of the toxicity, to let go of the shame, and to reclaim our power, not by burying the past, but by transforming it into a source of wisdom and empowerment.

This is the paradox of Pluto: in its darkness, we find the seeds of our own light. And it’s through the painful process of confronting our inner demons that we ultimately discover the power to transform our lives.

Pluto is the cosmic sledgehammer, the volcano simmering beneath the surface of our everyday existence. It’s the force that can lay us low, plunging us into the darkest recesses of our minds, and all too often, we’re utterly unprepared for the devastation it brings. When Pluto awakens, it’s not just a gentle movement; it’s a seismic upheaval that can leave us reeling, grasping for anything to hold onto as the ground crumbles beneath our feet. Sometimes, it’s a subtle unease, a gnawing discomfort that something isn’t quite right. Other times, it’s a full-scale emotional cataclysm, a deluge of pain, fear, and even hate. And hate—let’s not shy away from that word, because it’s real, it’s potent, and it’s one of Pluto’s most volatile expressions. When we’ve been deeply hurt, when someone or something has wronged us in a way that cuts to the bone, hate can feel like a natural response. It’s the burning lava that bubbles up when our boundaries have been violated, when our sense of self has been attacked.

But here’s the thing about Pluto: it doesn’t just bring the eruption, it brings the opportunity for transformation. As terrifying as those volcanic moments are, they also clear the way for new growth. The old structures, the outdated ways of being that no longer serve us, are burned away in Pluto’s fire. What remains is the raw, fertile ground on which we can rebuild, stronger and more powerful than before. The problem is, we’re not taught how to handle these Plutonian forces. There’s no school curriculum that prepares us for the deep, transformative work Pluto demands. We don’t learn how to handle intense emotions like hate, how to process trauma, or how to rebuild after everything we thought we knew has been torn apart. So when Pluto shows up—often in the guise of a life event that throws us completely off balance—we’re left scrambling, unprepared, and overwhelmed.

Yet, this is exactly where Pluto wants us to be: in the thick of it, facing the fears, the pain, and the hate head-on. It’s not because Pluto is cruel, but because it’s relentless in its pursuit of truth. It doesn’t want us to skim the surface of our lives; it wants us to dive deep, to explore the shadowy corners of our psyche, and to confront the parts of ourselves we’d rather not see. When that volcano erupts, spewing hot lava over everything we thought was solid and secure, it’s a call to action. It’s Pluto saying, “Look, you can’t ignore this any longer. The time has come to face it, to process it, and to transform it.” This transformation often begins with acknowledging the hate, the hurt, the betrayal—allowing ourselves to feel it fully, without judgment or repression. It’s about letting the lava flow, letting the emotions rise, and then, once the eruption has passed, beginning the work of rebuilding. This rebuilding is the essence of Pluto’s transformative power. It’s not about forgetting or dismissing the pain; it’s about integrating it, learning from it, and using it as a foundation for something new. The structures that emerge after a Plutonian event are often stronger, more authentic, and more aligned with our true selves. But to get there, we must first endure the fire, the chaos, and the darkness. So, when life throws a scary situation your way, when that dormant volcano suddenly roars to life, remember that you’re not just being tested—you’re being given a chance to grow. Yes, it’s terrifying, and yes, it can feel like the ground is giving way beneath you. But in those moments, when you’re brought to the lowest points of your world, know that this is also where the seeds of your next evolution are being planted. Pluto may bring the destruction, but it also holds the promise of rebirth, of rising from the ashes stronger, wiser, and more empowered than before.

The dark night of the soul is when Pluto drags us to the very edge of existence, where the air is thin, and hope seems but a distant memory. It’s in these moments, under the crushing weight of Pluto’s influence, that the mind can veer toward the unthinkable. Thoughts of self-destruction, of ending it all, can loom large, like ominous storm clouds blocking out the sun. It’s as if life itself has conspired to strip us down to our very bones, leaving us to trudge through a seemingly endless tunnel of despair, unsure if the light at the end will ever appear. This is Pluto’s darkest side, where the journey through the underworld feels more like a descent into madness than a path to transformation. The volatility, the raw emotional intensity, can be so overwhelming that it feels like we’re being torn apart from the inside out. And in those moments of utter vulnerability, when we’re at our lowest, the temptation to just let go, to stop fighting, can be overpowering.

But here’s the paradox of Pluto: even as it drags us down, it also offers us a way back up. The journey through Pluto’s realm isn’t just about descent; it’s about resurrection. Yes, it’s a long and tough road, often feeling like we’re clawing our way back to the surface with bloodied hands. But it’s a journey that, if endured, can lead to profound transformation—a rebirth, if you will. The lashing out, the inability to manage our feelings, these are symptoms of the immense pressure we’re under. It’s like a volcano ready to blow, the magma of unresolved emotions bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest trigger to explode. And explode it often does, in ways that can be destructive, both to ourselves and to those around us. This is the danger of Pluto’s energy when it’s not properly channeled—it can lead to a spiral of self-destruction, where the only perceived escape is through obliteration, of the self or of the situation.

Yet, this is also where Pluto’s potential for transformation lies. When everything is stripped away, when we’re forced to bury our old selves and start again from scratch, we have an opportunity to rebuild, not as we were, but as we can be. It’s a painful process, no doubt, but it’s also a cleansing one. In the depths of Pluto’s realm, we’re asked to confront our most deeply buried emotions, to face the parts of ourselves that we’ve kept hidden, even from ourselves. But how do we navigate this darkness? How do we find the strength to keep going when the light at the end of the tunnel seems impossibly far away? The key, I think, lies in surrender—not in the sense of giving up, but in letting go of the need to control the uncontrollable. Pluto teaches us that there are forces in life, in fate, that are beyond our grasp, and sometimes, the only way to survive them is to yield, to allow ourselves to be carried by the current, rather than fighting against it.

This surrender is not about defeat; it’s about trust. Trust that the darkness is temporary, that even in the depths of despair, there is a spark of light, however faint, that can guide us back to the surface. It’s about trusting that the process of breaking down is also the process of breaking through, that in the ashes of what was, new life can and will emerge. When unpleasant circumstances find us, when everything seems to explode at once, it’s Pluto’s way of forcing us to confront what we’ve buried, to deal with the unresolved pain, the unexpressed anger, the unhealed wounds. It’s brutal, yes, but it’s also necessary. For only by facing these emotions head-on can we begin the process of healing, of transforming that volcanic energy into something constructive, something that fuels our growth rather than our destruction. So if you find yourself in Pluto’s grip, remember this: the darkness is not the end of your story. It’s a chapter, a passage through which you must travel, but it is not your final destination. The light at the end of the tunnel may be faint, but it’s there, waiting for you to emerge stronger, wiser, and more attuned to the true essence of who you are. Keep moving, keep breathing, and trust that this journey, as painful as it is, is leading you toward a lasting transformation.

Jeff Green’s insights on Pluto are a poetic dive into the soul’s dark night. Pluto, in his view, isn’t just the destroyer; he’s the ultimate alchemist, transforming the lead of our past wounds into the gold of our true selves. It’s a journey, not just of surviving but of reclaiming who we were always meant to be, before the world piled on its expectations, criticisms, and limitations. The barriers we build, the defenses we erect—they may protect us for a time, but eventually, they become the very walls that imprison us. And Pluto’s energy is the force that shakes those walls to their foundations. Pluto’s journey, as Green describes it, is like being thrust into a crucible where everything false, everything inauthentic, is burned away. This isn’t just about pain for pain’s sake; it’s about release, about shedding the layers of our persona that no longer serve us—or perhaps never served us at all. It’s the adult reckoning with all the lies we’ve told ourselves, all the feelings we’ve repressed, and all the parts of ourselves we’ve disowned. It’s about confronting the person we’ve become and asking if that person truly reflects the essence of who we are.

The imagery of the Phoenix rising from the ashes is perhaps the most powerful metaphor for this process. The Phoenix doesn’t just endure the flames; it is consumed by them, reduced to nothing but ashes. But from those ashes, something new, something truly alive, is born. This is the essence of Pluto’s promise. It’s not just about surviving the burn; it’s about emerging from it renewed, reborn, and more fully ourselves than ever before. And this is where Pluto’s true power lies. It’s not just in the destruction, but in the rejuvenation that follows. The death of the old is necessary for the birth of the new. And while this process can be terrifying, it’s also profoundly liberating. When we let go of what no longer serves us, we make space for the person we were always meant to be. We strip away the layers of pretense and expectation, revealing the core of our true self—a self that is whole, independent, and powerful beyond measure. So, in this Plutonian journey, remember that the flames are not your enemy. They are the purifiers, the catalysts for your transformation. And though the process may be painful, the reward is nothing short of a new life, one where you are not bound by the past but empowered by the wisdom it has given you. Like the Phoenix, you will rise from the ashes, not as you were, but as you were always meant to be—whole, free, and gloriously alive.

Pluto’s presence in everyone’s horoscope is a reminder that none of us escapes the darker, more enigmatic aspects of life. It’s the shadow we must confront, the inner turmoil that demands reckoning. Pluto’s energy can feel like a malevolent force, tainting our freedom, burying our true selves under layers of hurt, guilt, and shame. These emotions, festering over time, have a way of suffocating our capacity to trust, love, and maintain a positive outlook. They’re like ghosts from our past, haunting our present, and whispering in our ears that we are less than, unworthy, or broken. But here’s the thing about Pluto: while it may feel like it’s burying us alive, it’s also offering us the tools to dig ourselves out. It’s a paradoxical journey, where the very forces that seem to imprison us also hold the key to our liberation. This is Pluto’s challenge—forcing us into an acute confrontation with our own identity, where the battle isn’t against external enemies but against the demons within. We become our own greatest adversary, wrestling with the voices that condemn us, that tell us we’re not good enough, that we’re defined by our past pains and failures.

Yet, it is through these trials that we discover who we truly are. The battle Pluto symbolizes is nothing less than an initiation, a rite of passage that strips away the false layers, the masks we wear to protect ourselves from the world and from our own insecurities. In this confrontation, we’re forced to face the parts of ourselves we’d rather ignore—the guilt, the shame, the unresolved pain. And it’s in facing these shadows that we find the power to silence those condemning voices. The process of digging up trust, love, and a positive outlook from beneath decades of pain is neither quick nor easy. It’s a slow excavation, where each shovelful of earth reveals something buried—a forgotten dream, a suppressed emotion, a long-buried truth about who we are. It’s about reclaiming the parts of ourselves that have been lost, rediscovering the joy and authenticity that have been buried under all that hurt. But this reclamation requires courage. It means standing in the face of our darkest fears, acknowledging the depth of our wounds, and choosing to heal rather than hide. It’s about understanding that the power Pluto holds over us is not absolute. Yes, Pluto brings the darkness, but it also brings the light of transformation. The liberty that Pluto taints isn’t destroyed; it’s merely obscured, waiting for us to unearth it. And what do we find when we emerge from this battle? We find that we are stronger than we ever imagined. We find that the identity we’ve forged in the fires of Pluto’s trials is one that is resilient, authentic, and deeply connected to our true selves. We learn that the voices within us that once condemned us can be quieted, not by force, but by understanding—by embracing the parts of ourselves we’ve long denied, and by letting go of the guilt and shame that have kept us shackled. In the end, Pluto’s lesson is one of empowerment. It teaches us that while we may be plunged into the depths of our own psyche, we are not meant to stay there. We are meant to rise, to reclaim our liberty, and to emerge not just as survivors, but as individuals who are whole, who have integrated the shadow with the light, and who can walk forward into the world with a newfound sense of self—one that is untainted, unburdened, and truly free.