The Names of the Gods
- Lucy Singingwolf

- 5 days ago
- 2 min read

Have you ever wondered where the names of the planets really come from?
Sometimes, when we speak of astrology, we speak so easily in its language that we forget how
ancient and layered that language really is.
The names themselves carry a long memory.
What we call Western astrology comes to us most clearly through the work of Claudius Ptolemy, writing in Greek Egypt nearly two thousand years ago. Yet even in his time, the system was already old — shaped by the sky-watchers of Babylon, who first traced meaning in the wandering lights above.
The signs we use — Aries, Taurus, Gemini — carry echoes of those earlier traditions, though the names themselves often reach us through the Latin of Ancient Rome. And the planets… we speak of Venus, Mars, Jupiter — Roman names, yet behind them stand older Greek forms, and behind those again, something even more ancient and unnamed.
It is as though each name is a doorway.
When we say Venus, we are not only naming a planet, but invoking a lineage of meaning — the goddess of love, certainly, but also something deeper: a pattern of relating, of attraction, of harmony and longing, that has been recognised across cultures and centuries.
And perhaps this is where astrology truly begins — not as prediction, but as poetic astronomy.
A way of looking at the heavens and recognising ourselves there.
The ancients did not separate the sky from the soul. The movements of the planets were not just physical events, but expressions of living archetypal forces — what we might now, in a Jungian sense, call patterns within the collective psyche.
So when we speak of Mars, or Venus, or the Moon, we are speaking in a language that is both astronomical and deeply human.
A language that has been translated many times: from Babylonian observation, to Greek philosophy, to Roman naming, and now into our own quiet reflections.
And perhaps the question is not whether these names are true in a literal sense.
But whether they still speak.
Whether, when we hear them, something in us recognises their meaning — not as belief, but as experience.

Because if astrology is anything, it may be this:
A remembering.
A way of noticing that the patterns we see in the sky are not separate from us, but mirrored within us — quietly shaping how we love, how we struggle, and how we grow.
Later this week, we’ll see how these archetypal energies are moving in the present sky.”
Meanwhile, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts.
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