One thing the average layperson immediately grasps about Taurus is that if its mascot is a bull, then Taurus, too, must be sturdy and immovable. Not gonna lie, though, it’s weird that Taurus is always pegged as the stubborn one when there are literally three other fixed signs in the zodiac. Is it perhaps that the stubbornness of Leo is confounded with the consistency of the Sun’s light, or that Scorpio’s unwavering determination is more active than resistant, or that when an Aquarius stays true to an idea, there’s often a sort of logic behind that choice that doesn’t rely on them to exist?
Then again, Taurus is the sign of fixed earth, and earth is the densest of the elements. Earth is not just the fertile soil that receives the seed, but also the hardened rock that only gradually yields to erosion or to occasional quakes. Earth can adapt, but it’s simply moving on a slower timeline. Perhaps resistance to urgency can be coded as stubbornness in a world where, relatively speaking, everything else appears to be in a rush.
“Stubborn” is also an oversight — to be stubborn is to defy. As a Venus-ruled sign, Taurus doesn’t take its time to antagonize anyone, but to languorously take pleasure in the process and to produce something worth savoring. Taurus takes what Aries started and implants it in the womb, or roots it in the soil. This time of year is marked by the patience required to cultivate the seeds you planted, but also quite literally stopping to smell the roses. In this metaphysical Garden of Eden, the peace of stable, temperate conditions allows fruit to multiply into an abundant harvest.
A Venus-ruled earth sign would know a thing or two about the spoils of nature, and technically, nothing humans have concocted is excluded from that. Taurus is sometimes reduced to its materialism and its spendy spending habits, and this can actually be a thing when you funnel “indulgence” through the prism of consumerism. This embodied form of Venus knows the touch of a good-quality silk, and it can taste the difference between wine that’s been aged with care and wine made for cheap consumption. Taurus will pay for quality when it can, but it also knows how to create its own luxury for free — because at the end of the day, the original luxury was the gift of belonging to nature.
And yes, this goes part and parcel with the other big Taurus stereotype, which is that it’s basically just one big nap and munchies cuddle pile. The Taurus-to-snack-pipeline is a tired cliche, but it’s not without basis. In addition to being a pleasure land under the decree of Venus, Taurus is also the sign of the Moon’s exaltation, which is all things nourish, nurture, and self-care. There are so many ways to treat your body well beyond eating and sleeping, but these just happen to be the two things that are probably most foundational to our wellbeing. And honestly, if you need to eat and sleep to survive, why not do those things really, really well?
By the way, the lunar side of Taurus also goes a long way to explain why you might know Taurus to be a creature of habit. Taurus loves its routines, it loves its creature comforts, and it loves eating the same five meals on a rotational basis. As the abiding stereotype goes, Taurus isn’t a huge fan of change. The Moon itself has a habit of cycling through the same patterns every 28 days with consistency. It puts the “comfort” in comfort food. It signals predictability to our somatic awareness, which puts the body at ease. The Moon, in part, symbolizes the body.
Resistance to change can also be a symptom of Mars deficiency. Taurus is where Mars experiences a condition of exile, or detriment. The go-go-go quality of Mars can feel nothing but somewhat out of step with the serene, plodding environment that lets the Moon and Venus eat their damn grapes beneath a palm frond. In Taurus, Mars conserves its energy for the things worthy of disturbing its peace and commits to the scenic route. And at the very same time, Mars can feel somewhat toothless here when it comes to its willingness to challenge its own comfort, which can be a necessary prerequisite for growth but which is often applied overzealously by people in a permanent self-improvement cycle.
Is Taurus actually lazy then, or is it deeply resistant to the misguided demands of burnout culture? In a world of constant striving where some of our effort inevitably loses the plot, Taurus is an oasis where we can choose to simply let ourselves be. If that sounds boring to you, you might be comforted to know that there’s literally a whole chapter in the Bible about that.