Gemini I: You Can’t Do It All

By Sam Manzella

Before I was an astrologer, I was a journalist. I worked professionally in digital media for more than five years, first as a reporter, then as an editor, and later as a digital producer. Sometimes I wore all three hats at once.

Ask any contemporary journalist about their experience working in media, and they’ll probably have something negative to say about the state of the industry. They’re right: it’s in shambles, and it has been for quite some time. I still loved being a journalist. I loved the frantic pace of the job; the unshakeable worker solidarity among journalists; and of course, the sheer volume of writing and editing I did every day. I loved it even when my work kept me up way too late, tinkering with the same 500 words over and over again until every sentence sounded like utter nonsense.

I loved it so much, in fact, that pivoting away from journalism to write for an astrology app full-time — a dream opportunity I enthusiastically accepted, and a welcome respite from years of emotionally taxing journalistic work — has challenged me. It’s forced me to confront a core truth about myself: I’m loath to pick a lane, even if it’s a lane I love.

I can’t do it all. The rational, anti-capitalist part of me understands that. But a not-so-small part of me is always, for better and for worse, tempted to try.

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These are all classic Gemini decan I antics — if you’re familiar with the 36 decans, it won’t surprise you to learn that I have my natal Sun here. This decan spans the first 9 degrees of Gemini. It’s co-ruled by Mercury (Triplicity) and Jupiter (Chaldean). Gemini I also has one of my favorite descriptions in The Picatrix, a famous astrological grimoire: “a beautiful woman, a mistress of stitching, and with her ascend two calves and two horses. This is a face of writing, computation and number, of giving and taking, and of the sciences.” She’s a (beautiful) woman in STEM, people! And her resume is long and varied, so you know she delivers.

When I read this description, Mercury’s influence jumps out at me right away. Mercury governs writing, science, technology, mental processes, and the myriad ways we exchange information each and every day. It’s also Gemini’s ruling planet. Intellectual curiosity, nimbleness in social settings, an affinity for words and numbers — we see these traits in Gemini because this zodiac sign is innately Mercurial. They’re especially loud in Gemini I because this decan is also Mercury’s domain.

Though subtler, Jupiter’s influence reverberates here too. Jupiter is the planet of optimism, generosity, and abundance. In practice, it bolsters or amplifies whatever it touches, often (but not always) in a beneficial way. It’s the entourage of “two calves and two horses” flanking our Gemini I queen as she enters the conference room and gears up for a big presentation.

Mercury excels at processing and relaying information. On its own, it’s one hell of a translator. Paired with Jupiter, though? This is where the scribe becomes the storyteller. It’s where we see disparate pieces of information get synthesized and woven into a larger, more complex narrative. It’s the compelling memoir-in-essays, the hilarious “storytime” TikTok with a full-circle ending, and the cherished classic rock album with clear thematic throughlines. (Singer-songwriter Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac fame is one of my favorite examples of a celebrity with a prominent Gemini I placement.)

Mercury-Jupiter is also where the student meets the sage. We’ve all had that one godsend of a teacher who explained a tricky concept in a way that finally clicked for you. In this scenario, the teacher isn’t just leaning on their knowledge; it takes a certain level of mental and social dexterity to translate that knowledge effectively. Often, they rely on feedback to gauge their student’s understanding. That back-and-forth exchange is quintessentially Gemini I.

But remember, Jupiter amplifies. Whenever you jack up the volume on Mercury, you run the risk of information overload. There’s an intellectual insatiability inherent to this planetary pairing, and to Gemini I — people with placements in this decan want to read it all, to learn it all, to do it all. To paraphrase the poet Walt Whitman (another Gemini I icon, for the record), they contain multitudes. They’re multi-hyphenates, and they relish in it. What they don’t want is to be pressured into narrowing their focus or choosing a specialty.

As astrologer Kira Ryberg writes in her “The 36 Decans” guidebook*, “This decan is the epitome of ‘a jack of all trades is a master of none,’ but what most people don’t know is that the full quote is actually, ‘a jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.’” Not everyone has the desire or capacity to be an eternal student. Gemini I does, and in many ways, people with placements in this decan are stronger for it. What they lack in mastery, they make up for in nimbleness. Where they tend to struggle, notes Ryberg, is “the challenge of decision-making that often arises here.”

I can’t do it all; neither can you. Our time and mental energy are limited resources. At some point, each of us has to sit down and decide how we want to use them. For Gemini I placements especially, that usually means picking a lane (or two) and sticking to it.

But what if we reframed those pesky decisions as acts of generosity? What if, by being more intentional with our time and attention, we create more space in our lives for the people and things that matter most to us? What if honoring our mental bandwidth instead of pushing up against it is a life lesson in and of itself? 

That's what Gemini I makes me think of: the art of knowing when to indulge our curiosity, and when to be real with ourselves and rein it in. Perhaps it’s the one thing in life that we should earnestly try to master.

*If you, like me, are eagerly awaiting the new edition of Austin Coppock’s definitive but out-of-print text 36 Faces, I highly recommend Kira’s guidebook to tide you over. It’s a thorough but digestible overview of all 36 decans, and Kira does a fantastic job of explaining the origins and practical uses of the decans in the introduction.

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About the Author

Sam Manzella (she / they) is a quintessential Gemini: a freelance journalist by day and an astrologer by night. She practices traditional astrology with a modern slant. They've written content for astrology apps and penned horoscopes and explainers for publications like Well+Good, SheKnows, and Apartment Therapy. Sam is also one-half of the queer astrology newsletter Venus Gays.
Twitter / X: _sammanzella
Substack: Venus Gays
Website: sammanzella.com

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References

Kira Ryberg, “The 36 Decans: A Guidebook,” p. 40., https://www.kiraryberg.com/guidebooks/p/the36decans. 

“The Picatrix,” translated by John Michael Greer and Christopher Warnock, p. 114. https://krasiancientastrology.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/picatrix-complete.compressed.pdf