← Going Deeper: Intermediate Astrology · lesson 20/38
Beyond the familiar planets, astrologers keep an eye on a handful of smaller, stranger points — and two of the most loved (and a little edgy) are Black Moon Lilith and Chiron. They're modern favourites because they speak to the tender, hidden parts of us: the bits we were told to keep quiet, and the places we've been hurt.
First, a small surprise: Lilith isn't a planet, or even a rock. The most-used version, Black Moon Lilith, is a point — the spot in the Moon's orbit that swings farthest from the Earth. (There are one or two other "Liliths" floating about, but this is the famous one.)
She's named after a figure from old stories — a first woman who simply refused to be told what to do, and walked away rather than submit. So in a chart, Lilith stands for the wild, untamed side of you: your raw instinct, your authenticity, the part that won't be shamed or tidied into shape. It's often where you were told, somewhere along the way, to be quiet or behave — and where, as you grow up, you get to take your power back and just be unapologetically yourself.
Chiron is a real little body — a comet-like wanderer discovered in 1977, looping between Saturn and Uranus. It's named after a wise centaur (half human, half horse) from Greek myth who was a brilliant healer and teacher — and who carried a wound that would never fully heal. The twist of the story is the whole point: because he knew pain, he became the one who could help everyone else.
That's what Chiron means in your chart: your deepest, tender wound — usually some old hurt you can't quite fix — and, in the very same spot, your gift for understanding and helping others who hurt the same way. Where it aches is where you heal. (Astrologers even watch the "Chiron return" around age 50, when life often circles back to that old wound to make peace with it.)
They're a natural pair. Both live out beyond the planets, and both point at the parts of ourselves we'd rather keep in the shadows — Lilith, the wild thing you were told to suppress; Chiron, the wound you quietly carry. And both offer the same brave invitation: turn toward the hidden bit, instead of away from it. Reclaim the wildness; tend the wound. That's where a lot of real growing-up happens.
In a chart, you read each one by its sign (the flavour) and house (the area of life) — so they show you where your untamed streak and your tender spot tend to show up.
I've a soft spot for these two, because they're so honest about being human. We've all got a wild part we were taught to hide, and a sore spot we'd rather not poke. Astrology, in its gentle way, doesn't tell you to fix either — just to stop hiding from them. Your wildness isn't a problem to solve, and your wound isn't a weakness. More often than not, they're exactly where your strength has been waiting.