Where do YOU feel hard-done-by? Where you feel that others—and life itself—are out to get you? Where do all the “have-tos” crowd in? Chances are, that’s the theme of your Sedna; and its purpose in your natal chart is to teach you how NOT to be a victim.
Sedna is an asteroid with an orbit of nearly 11,400 years—so it probably shouldn’t affect us here on Earth, right? Wrong. Sedna symbolizes all the things I just mentioned, plus a host of other things we call bad luck—Murphy’s Law—fate (when we’re feeling grandiose about our grievances)—but it all boils down to how we handle it.
Sedna differs from Chiron, another asteroid connected with unexpected pain, in that the source of our distress may or may not be legitimate. Chiron, called the Wounded Healer, deals with blows and disappointments that are REAL, not imaginary: there the heroism needed to rise above the crisis is obvious and frequently admired. Sedna deals with our lesser, petty selves—the parts we don’t really like much—where kvetching is a guilty pleasure instead of a noble cry to the heavens. The discipline and resolve to rise above it isn’t likely to be applauded or even noticed; but it is the lynch-pin of character.
The myth connected with Sedna is a gruesome one: an Inuit princess was wooed by the Bird-King and persuaded to marry him with promises of a life of luxury. When she arrived at her new home, she was aghast: instead of a palace, she found a hovel; in the place of servants, she found a host of scrappy, vicious relatives who beat her and expected HER to wait on THEM. She cried out to her father, who came with a boat to rescue her; but as they fled the island the Bird-People came after them. In terror, Sedna’s father threw his daughter overboard; and when she tried to climb back into the boat, he cut off her fingers. Sedna’s fingers became the fishes of the sea, and the rest of her body the other sea-creatures, which nourish the waters and feed the people who live along the shorelines; and she came to symbolize the search for a wider meaning to suffering.
Suffering is inevitable: the trick is to make it mean something.
The things which are sent to try us—from peskiness to true persecution—remind us that we CAN conquer them, that we can turn our sense of injury into one of purpose. Sedna invites us to quit our bitching and look beneath the surface of what bothers us to resolve it.
All part of the map we were given at birth.