When the progressed Sun forms an aspect natal Venus—there can be a romantic rendezvous. It could be a time to fall in love with others, and with life, art, beauty, and perhaps even with yourself (which, as it happens, is the most revolutionary act of all). You may attract people who mirror your evolving self. Don’t be startled if they seem to ‘get you’ before you’ve said a word. It’s not witchcraft, it’s resonance. Venus tunes your soul to the frequency of love, and others will pick up this signal. It is when the selfhood—the Sun—meets the goddess of grace, affection, and aesthetic delight—Venus. What follows is nothing short of a love affair between your ego and your heart. During this period, your sense of identity begins to shift. Something in you longs for beauty, and you begin to see yourself as part of a wider constellation of affection, of intimacy, of shared meaning. There’s a desire for harmony—a soft but insistent pull toward people and places that reflect your most loveliest self. Romantic partners are certainly possible, but also kindred spirits who speak your emotional dialect.

This alignment often coincides with marriage or deep romantic connection. The inner climate becomes ripe for such unions. You’re ready in the way a flower is ready to blossom. The Sun on Venus ripens your capacity for love—the giving and receiving of it, but also the understanding that love is an unmasking. And yet, this isn’t always easy. Venus softens, but the Sun still burns. There may be an intense yearning for affection that exposes where you’ve been malnourished. You might find yourself longing for sweetness in places where only salt was ever offered. The result can be bittersweet—because in seeking union, we’re also shown the places within us that have been starved of it.

Creatively, this is a golden age. You may feel inspired to create beauty, to express the inexpressible. Art becomes less a hobby and more a necessity. You may find self-expression in colors, music, touch, the way a phrase lands softly on your tongue. At this time, social gatherings become spaces of meaningful exchange. Conversations feel richer, laughter more intoxicating. You want to be surrounded by what is beautiful—visually, energetically, emotionally, and spiritually. This progression, in essence, asks: What would it look like to live as if love were your guiding principle? It isn’t romantic love necessarily, but a higher, Venusian love that sees the beauty in the mundane. It stops to admire the way someone tilts their head when they think, or the sound of birds arguing over breadcrumbs. It is kind of love rewires the whole nervous system—it humbles the ego.

And in this golden haze of affection and aesthetic delight, you may find that what you’ve really been searching for isn’t just someone to love, but a way of being that feels like home. A way of living where your inner light is welcomed, adored, and reflected back through the eyes of another—or, sometimes more powerfully still, through your own.

During this phase, we often see the stirrings of the heart, and the emergence of creation in its most literal and symbolic forms. The birth of children at this time is no surprise. A child represents the synthesis of selves, a living embodiment to union, and under this progression, one often feels compelled to pour their love into something worthwhile. If not in human form, then through art, business, or vision—each a kind of spiritual offspring. You’re no longer content to merely consume beauty; you want to produce it, nurture it, shape it with your hands.

You could feel a draw towards artistic pursuits or entrepreneurial ventures, and it stems from the same energetic source. Venus rules love, charm, money, value, and aesthetics. When the Sun progresses into her territory, the self becomes a vessel for value. You don’t just want to be someone—you want to create something. Whether it’s a painting, a brand, a boutique, or a baby, the impulse is the same: to externalize your inner light into a form that holds weight in the material world. It is a form of devotion. 

This period says, “You are worthy.” And sometimes it shouts it, if you haven’t been listening. It pushes you to finally recognize the wealth within you—your creativity, your charm, your unique blend of perspective and presence—as currency. Suddenly, any old feelings of self-doubt, of imposter syndrome, of scarcity—they begin to fade, because Venus doesn’t deal in lack. She knows her worth. And with the Sun shining through her, so do you.

This isn’t only a romantic or aesthetic renaissance—it’s a time of material ripening. The fruits of your labor can finally be harvested, or at least begin to show signs of blooming. Financial stability becomes more than a survival goal—it becomes a mirror of your self-esteem. You want to live in alignment with your worth. You want your bank account to reflect your inner beauty. There’s no shame in this—it’s grounded grace. It’s the understanding that abundance allows you to give more freely, to love more fully, to live more artfully.

Liz Greene says,

As the Sun gradually moved towards a conjunction with Venus he met his lover. The progression of Sun conjunct Venus symbolises constellation of the anima, the archetypal feminine; and it is hardly surprising, therefore, that at this time he would not only marry and divorce, but also become involved in the most passionate affair of his life. During this time he was compulsively seeking a woman who embodied the inner image dominating his consciousness, which the energies reflected by the progression had activated. Relating: An Astrological Guide to Living with Others on a Small Planet

Now we come to the less fragrant part of the Sun-Venus progression—the thornier patch, the place where roses grow still, yes, but not without blood. For when the Sun forms a challenging aspect to Venus in the progressed chart, there could be unmet longing. It begins subtly, as all true transformations do. The heart no longer responds to the same cues. The sweetness that once dripped from a lover’s words now tastes faintly of vinegar. You find yourself irritated by tenderness, suspicious of affection, or perhaps ravenous for intimacy that once felt sufficient. These are signs of a shifting you rather than a failing partner. 

What’s really happening is this: your individuality is growing. It’s getting louder, clearer, more insistent. The self you once were is changing. But ego, in its habit, often projects this inner unease outward. And so, we blame the lover. We say: “You’ve changed,” when in truth, we have. We accuse them of withholding, of drifting, of becoming alien—when all along, it’s our own soul that’s been quietly renovating its inner realm. The irony is both cruel and revealing: in this friction lies a chance for immense growth. The discomfort is a prod from the universe to look within. To ask: What do I really value? What kind of love do I deserve? Am I clinging to someone out of fear, nostalgia, or the belief that this is the best I can get? These are not easy questions. They come with grief. They come with goodbyes, sometimes. For often, this transit heralds the end—or at least the radical reconfiguration—of relationships that no longer serve the emerging self.

In some cases, the shadows gather thicker. The love triangle. The betrayal. The late-night phone that’s locked. The glances that linger too long on someone else. When this happens, it feels like injustice, like humiliation, like a violation of the pact. But even here, beneath the pain, is a mirror. One that reflects back our awakening. Sometimes it takes the sting of jealousy or abandonment to unearth the raw nerve of our unmet needs and buried worth. But let’s not be too tragic about it. There’s power here. This is a rite of passage. It may look like loss, but it will pass

The Sun and Venus, when at odds—are a lover’s quarrel written in the sky, mirrored in the theatre of our human hearts. You could be torn between two people—an agonizing position. One speaks to the history of who you’ve been, the other to the possibility of who you might become. One might offer stability, familiarity, and the warm ritual of shared routines. The other brings heat, danger, perhaps even chaos—but also awakening. Suddenly, love is a mirror, and it isn’t always a flattering one. You’re asked to weigh loyalty against longing, duty against desire, and growth against grief. And these aren’t intellectual equations. They are felt in the gut, the heart, the sleepless nights. They live in the questions you can’t answer and the fantasies you can’t ignore.

This is the terrain of jealousy, the primal emotion—part fear, part fury, part deeply wounded pride. It’s a terrible teacher but a beautiful revealer. For jealousy shows us where we feel small, where we feel replaceable, where we fear we are not enough. Under a tense Sun-Venus progression, jealousy may rise like a serpent from the subconscious, curling its way around your thoughts. But here’s the strange salvation: if you can face it, trace it, understand it—you’ll find it points toward some unclaimed territory of the self. Some place still waiting to be loved. Marital bonds, especially those built on outdated compromises or unspoken resentments, don’t always survive this progression. Evolution is messy. The dissolution of a marriage under this transit isn’t necessarily a failure. Sometimes, it’s the ultimate act of respect—for both yourself and the other. To say, “We are no longer growing in the same direction.” It’s honesty. And it allows for the possibility of true connection elsewhere, perhaps even with oneself. Because at the heart of all this—the love triangles, the betrayals, the yearning—is the soul’s quiet plea: Know me. See me. Let me become.

After the upheavals, the jealousies, the reevaluations, comes the time to come home to yourself. The Sun in challenging aspect to Venus is the unearthing of who you really are beneath all the masks you’ve worn to be loved. You are falling in love with your own essence—a romance far deeper, far more necessary, than anything bound in vows. This is the kind of love that doesn’t require validation or comparison. It’s the kind that arises in solitude, in long walks with no destination, in the noticing of what brings you peace. 

You may find that you suddenly care how life feels. You’ll begin to notice what no longer fits—the clothes, the routines, the friendships that once seemed fine, but now feel threadbare against the expanding landscape of your soul. Venus is drawing your attention back to your own values—these aren’t the ones you inherited, or mimicked, or performed—but those that rise from within. What do you truly value? 

In this space, love may awaken or deepen. You may meet someone new, or see an old partner with new eyes, once you’ve peeled away the filters of old projections. But whether or not there’s another body in your bed or a name saved in your phone, the real romance here is internal. Because Venus—despite her reputation for sweetness and charm—is more than a provocative goddess. She is the fierce protector of worth. She asks, sometimes through pain, “Do you know what you deserve?” And so, even the tears you’ve cried in this phase, even the nights spent wondering why someone didn’t choose you, or why you can’t seem to choose them—these too are important. Because they are teaching you that love is something you are, in all your tangled contradictions and complexities. You are becoming someone who loves—wildly, wisely, and most importantly, yourself. And once you do, the rest of life begins to gather around you in harmony.