A few days ago, we got together with the students of the Yoga delle Stelle Academy to kick off the new academic year. We called it—partly for convenience—’the start of the academic year,“ even though, in reality, there’s no real beginning or end at the Academy. Everyone joins the journey at a different time, proceeds at their own pace—sometimes speeding up, other times slowing down, perhaps pausing for a while and then picking up again. And when you think about it, life works more or less the same way. We’re used to imagining it as a line, with a specific starting point and a destination, but perhaps it’s much more like a circle. In a circle, every point can be a beginning.

This was one of the thoughts with which we opened our meeting. A new beginning doesn’t necessarily coincide with a date on the calendar. It begins when something reignites a spark within us, when we rediscover our enthusiasm, when we once again feel the desire to understand, learn, and discover something we don’t yet know. We can start a new year, a new course, or a new project, but we might do so while carrying the full weight of what happened before. And so, in a way, we’re already starting out tired.

During the session, I suggested a very simple visualization exercise to the students. I asked them to imagine they were carrying one of those large hiking backpacks on their shoulders—the kind full of buckles and straps, fitted snugly against the body. Over the years, we’ve stuffed all sorts of things inside: experiences, disappointments, fears, mistakes, expectations, unresolved issues, people, and situations that may already belong to the past but that we continue to carry with us. So we began, at least symbolically, to unfasten one buckle at a time, until we let the backpack fall to the ground.

Of course, letting go doesn’t mean forgetting what we’ve been through. Experiences are valuable, and it would be a shame to lose the lessons they teach us. But it’s one thing to carry what we’ve learned with us; it’s another to keep carrying that weight. And I believe that to truly start something new, we also need a little empty space. If our hands are already full, it’s hard to receive anything new.

I really like applying this idea to studying, too. When we’re children, we learn constantly and almost without realizing it. We look, we touch, we ask questions, we try, we make mistakes, and we try again. We haven’t yet decided that learning has to be hard work. Then we grow up, and at a certain point, even knowledge can become a burden. “I have to study,” “I have to finish the course,” “I have to catch up,” “I’m falling behind.” And perhaps one of the most beautiful aspects of a true journey of learning is precisely being able, every now and then, to become students of life again. To rediscover that curiosity we had as children, the joy of encountering something we don’t yet know, and not feeling inadequate because of it.

That’s also how we approach the study of Jyotiṣa at the Academy. Vedic astrology can initially serve as a tool to better understand ourselves, our character, the patterns we tend to repeat, and certain aspects of our karma. Many people are drawn to it precisely for this reason. They want to understand something about their own lives. Then, as they continue their studies, something interesting often happens: what we’ve begun to learn about ourselves starts to seem useful for others as well.

This is something that happens on many journeys. A person starts practicing yoga to feel better, then feels the desire to teach it. They study Ayurveda to understand their own balance, and at some point realize that this knowledge can also be useful to others. Something similar often happens with Vedic astrology. You start by looking at your own chart, and then it comes naturally to look at that of a family member, a friend, or someone who asks for your help. It’s a beautiful transition, but it’s also the moment when a sense of responsibility arises.

Because behind a chart there aren’t just Grahas, Bhāvas, Rāshis, and astrological combinations. There is a person. What may be an interesting fact for us to observe may represent a wound, a fear, a difficult relationship, a loss, or a very intimate part of her own story. That’s why I believe the study of Vedic Astrology must go hand in hand with personal growth. We can know a hundred techniques, but if we then use that knowledge merely to show how skilled we are, something isn’t quite right.

An astrologer shouldn’t need to prove that astrology works. Instead, they should ask themselves: How can I use what I see to help the person in front of me? It seems like a small difference, but it completely changes the way we work. In the first case, we are at the center; in the second, the person is.

In my opinion, this topic is particularly important today. We live in a time when there is much greater openness—compared to a few decades ago—toward astrology, yoga, Ayurveda, meditation, and, more generally, toward a view of life that is not solely materialistic. Subjects that were once confined to small groups now reach a vast number of people. And that’s a great opportunity. But precisely because this openness is growing, so too is the responsibility of those who share this knowledge.

The risk is thinking that, just because there’s more interest, anything goes. I believe exactly the opposite. The more traditional knowledge reaches a wide audience, the more we need to treat it seriously. That doesn’t mean making it heavy, difficult, or incomprehensible. On the contrary, one of the goals should be precisely to find a way to communicate it simply. But simplicity and superficiality are two very different things.

Jyotiṣa stems from a tradition. Behind it lie texts, teachings, lineages, centuries of observation, and great Ṛṣis who have studied the relationship between human beings, karma, and the heavens. All of this should not be turned into something rigid, nor should it be reduced to a few phrases about one’s character or to a prediction of what will happen to us next week.

Studying seriously also means accepting that you don’t have to know everything right away. At the Academy, I often reiterate this idea. You study a concept, then observe it in the maps, compare it with examples, revisit it, and discuss it with others. Little by little, what was initially just a concept becomes part of our way of seeing things.

That’s also why the new astrology software we developed for the Academy was designed in a somewhat unique way. The features unlock as the student progresses through the course. It wouldn’t make sense to present someone just starting out with hundreds of techniques they don’t yet know. It would be like walking into an airplane cockpit and finding yourself faced with a thousand buttons without knowing what they’re for. It wouldn’t help with learning; it would only create confusion. I prefer that the tool grows along with the student. You study one thing, start using it, and then another one comes along.

And just as our study deepens, so does the importance of self-reflection. When we look at our own chart, there’s always a fairly obvious limitation: we’re looking at ourselves. We may have studied extensively and still have blind spots. That’s normal. A psychologist knows the tools of psychology, but that doesn’t mean they can view their own dynamics with total neutrality. A doctor may have a perfect understanding of the human body, but that doesn’t mean they’d decide to operate on themselves.

It’s not much different with Vedic Astrology. Sometimes it can be very helpful to show a chart to a fellow student and simply ask, “What do you see?” The chart doesn’t change, but the perspective does. The other person isn’t emotionally invested in the chart and may notice something we weren’t seeing—or perhaps something we weren’t ready to see yet.

This is one of the reasons why, over the years, the Academy has become less and less a simple collection of courses and more and more a learning community. There are lectures, of course, but then there are tutorials, the forum, discussions, questions, in-depth explorations, and revisiting a topic months later to understand it in a completely different way. Understanding isn’t linear—and perhaps it shouldn’t be.

This year we’ve introduced a lot of new features. We’ve developed new astrological software integrated directly into the platform, an astrological calendar that lets you track what’s actually happening in the sky, an app that makes everything more easily accessible, and other tools that will continue to grow alongside the Academy. I have to admit that I really enjoy this part. Every now and then, the engineer I used to be before dedicating myself fully to this spiritual path resurfaces and starts building things.

But in the end, software is still just software. It can be beautiful, it can perform countless calculations, it can save us time, and it can allow us to see things that would otherwise require hours of work. However, the tool can never replace the person using it. We could have the most sophisticated astrology software in the world and use it superficially. Or we could have a chart drawn on a piece of paper in front of us and, through that chart, truly help someone see their life from a different perspective.

That's what interests me.

To study ever more deeply without losing our humanity. To learn ever more refined techniques without losing our empathy. To respect an ancient tradition without turning it into something rigid. And above all, to continue to remain students.

Because perhaps the real danger lies precisely in the moment when we think we've made it and have nothing left to learn.

That’s how we kicked off this new year at the Academy: by symbolically leaving a backpack on the ground and reminding ourselves that there’s still so much to discover ahead of us. We don’t yet know everything we’ll encounter along the way, and that’s exactly what makes it so interesting.

Every now and then, it’s worth stopping to ask yourself a very simple question: Am I still learning with enthusiasm? Is there still something that intrigues me? Can I still be surprised by something I didn’t know before?

If the answer is yes, perhaps the new beginning has already started.