Man, I never thought I’d be talking about Sun and Moon signs, let alone spending hours figuring out what makes one guy tick. I always figured astrology was just stuff people read in the back of a magazine while waiting for the dentist.
The whole thing started with this dude, Rick. He was my partner on a big investment deal, right? A total brick wall when it came to business. Focused. Disciplined. Never missed a deadline. Everything you want in a guy holding half your future. You looked at him, and you just saw pure, unadulterated Capricorn Sun. He’d scoff at people who wore bright colors or took long lunches. He was The Practical One. I trusted him completely on the numbers because he always delivered the spreadsheets two days early, perfectly formatted.
The Great Contradiction I Discovered
But then stuff started to get weird. The first time I noticed the shift, we were signing the final paperwork for a big warehouse lease. A major win. The landlord spilled his coffee, and Rick, instead of just grabbing a towel, stopped the whole meeting. He said the coffee stain was a “cosmic sign” the deal was cursed. He literally packed up his briefcase and walked out. I was left standing there, stuttering out apologies, while the landlord just stared at the brown puddle on the mahogany table.
I called him later, fuming, ready to end the partnership right there. He answered the phone from a hiking trail, muttering about “feeling the energy of the forest.” I asked him, “Rick, are you a millionaire CEO or some kind of sad, wandering poet?” He told me, dead serious, “Maybe I’m both.”
That night, I was so pissed off, I decided I had to figure out what kind of mental break he was having. I pulled up his birth date I had on file—I always keep charts, just in case—and I ran his full spread on a cheap website. That’s when I saw it: Capricorn Sun, but a big, watery, messy Pisces Moon. I realized my problem wasn’t a bad partner; it was two partners living in the same body, constantly fighting each other.
My Investigation: Tracking the Two Ricks
My practice, after that, wasn’t about the deal anymore; it was about tracking which Rick was running the show. I started a simple notebook. I used colored pens to log his decisions for two months. Blue for Pisces Moon (Emotional, vague, charitable, prone to random disappearances) and Black for Capricorn Sun (Practical, structuring, cold, focused on money).
I found a pattern quickly. I observed that the Cappy Sun dude showed up from 8 AM to about 2 PM. He banged out the emails, made the ruthless calls, and demanded accountability. He was a machine. But around 3 PM, the Pisces Moon started to drift in. He’d get distracted by some random animal documentary. He started giving away chunks of our operating budget to struggling artists he found on the street. He bought a water feature for the office that looked like a drunk stone mermaid and claimed it was essential for the “flow of creative wealth.”
I had to develop a system to manage the chaos. I implemented a hard rule that any decision involving more than ten grand had to be made before the 2 PM cutoff. If he brought up a new idea after lunch, I used a dismissive phrase I invented specifically for him: “Thanks for sharing that vision, Rick. Let’s put a Cap-tag on it tomorrow morning.” That little “Cap-tag” phrase was enough to invoke the practical side that secretly craved structure and hated open-ended problems.
Here’s what I learned by forcing that daily structure on his chart:
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The Battleground: The Cappy Sun is the manager who built the schedule. The Pisces Moon is the moody artist who sneaks out through the back window to catch a train to nowhere. They are both essential, but they cannot coexist happily in the same meeting. The Cappy provides the money and status the Pisces Moon needs to fund its escape fantasies.
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The Focus Point: I realized that when he felt too restricted (too much Cappy), he leaked emotion (the Moon). When he had a good day of crying or helping someone (too much Moon), he felt guilty and overcompensated the next morning (the Cappy). The only way to deal with him was to let the emotional thing happen, but only in low-impact ways, like letting him buy the stupid mermaid fountain, so he wouldn’t blow up the next seven-figure deal.
I spent so many hours charting his mood swings and actions, I felt like a scientist studying a volatile element. I had to learn this stuff because my bank account was being dragged through his identity crisis. I needed to know if my money was safe with the hard-nosed CEO or the mystic who thought seagulls were messengers from the past.
The Realization: Neither, But Both
So, are they too emotional or practical? The answer I came up with is they are too much of both, all the time. It’s an exhausting combination because the practicality of the Sun builds the box, and the emotion of the Moon saws a giant, unnecessary hole in the bottom of it. I walked away from that experience a changed man. I respect the structure of the chart now. I respect the contradiction. And I learned to never trust a Capricorn Sun Pisces Moon with the final documents on a Friday afternoon. You wait until 9 AM sharp on Monday when the Cappy is fresh, cold, and ready to work without seeing any “cosmic signs.” That’s the only practice that ever worked for me.
