I Use Astrology to Ask Better Questions
How did I become more myself after all the ways work shaped me? Astrology was a start
A former employment attorney probably isn’t the person you’d expect to become fascinated by astrology and Human Design, using it in both my personal life and professional work.
Honestly, I didn’t expect it either.
My career trained me to look for evidence. Facts mattered. Patterns mattered. Assumptions were always stress tested. Stories needed support and second perspectives. I still approach the world that way.
My years of training and expertise is exactly why I’ve never treated any single framework as absolute truth. Astrology, Human Design, Enneagram, personality tests, neuroscience, psychology: each one offers information worth considering, and none of them earns unquestioned authority just by sounding official or old.
Somewhere along the way, I realized the most valuable question that shifts things for me isn’t whether something is right. The more useful question is what it helps me notice that I might otherwise miss if I didn’t consider the question.
In essence, I began to live my life with the solid understanding that the quality of questions I was asking myself determined the quality of my life.
And that powerful shift changed everything.
When I read my astrology birth chart or tune in to understand what the stars and planets are doing, I’m looking for questions more than answers.
Why does this season feel different?
What part of me is asking for attention?
What old pattern keeps resurfacing?
What would happen if I responded differently this time?
Those questions have led to better decisions and recalibrations than certainty ever has.
Human Design taught me something similar, though it took a while to get there. At first, I approached it the way a lot of people do. I wanted to know who I was supposed to be, and I wanted a clean answer.
Eventually the more useful question turned out to be different: does this describe a pattern I’ve actually lived? Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn’t. Either way, I learned something about myself I hadn’t seen clearly before.
Over the past few years, I’ve noticed something in my work with executives and founders. The women who grow the most aren’t the ones who implement a perfect framework and boom, they’re healed never having to experience pain or stress again.
Wrong.
They’re the ones who become exceptional observers of themselves, using all the tools I can share with them to help them see THEMSELVES more clearly. A nervous system practice can reveal when someone is operating from survival. Psychology can explain an old adaptation. Human Design can give language to how a person naturally makes decisions. Astrology can offer a moment to pause and consider the season they’re in.
Every one of those tools can inform a decision. None of them gets to make the change for them. The person does, every time, and that distinction matters more than it might seem.
I’ve watched people hand over too much authority to managers, coaches, consultants, therapists, astrologers, and lately, AI. The framework becomes the authority rather than a thought partner, and that’s the moment I lose interest.
Discernment has always mattered more to me than certainty.
A tool or practice earns its place when it makes you more aware of yourself and helps you to stop abandoning what is true for you. And yet that same thing will cost you something valuable the moment it convinces you your future is already written.
The most meaningful work I’ve done hasn’t come from finding better labels. It’s come from noticing better patterns: the way my body tightens before I say yes when I mean no, the way achievement starts to look more attractive exactly when I’m disconnected from myself, the way my best work shows up after I’ve recovered rather than while I’m still trying to prove something.
No chart told me those things. Life did. Astrology and Human Design simply give me language for what I am already living, in real life.
That’s why I keep coming back to them. They invite deeper observation and keep me curious, and curiosity has changed my life more than certainty ever could.