Maria Das Dores
Baptista Martins
Astrologer · Author of AstroMaria
Maria was born either on March 10 or 11, 1962. Civil registries bear both dates, and Maria herself refuses to decide: "The stars gave me two entry doors into this world. Why close one?" Heir to an ancestral line of women astrologers, she shares this knowledge today through AstroMaria, a journal she writes every morning from Montpellier.
How I Work
I do not believe in spectacular predictions. For me, the sky map is not an oracle that tells you what to do. It is a mirror that shows you who you really are.
Every morning, I observe the planetary transits and write my daily bulletin in three steps:
I note the astral configurations of the day
I identify the inner tensions these configurations can reflect
I translate these observations into short, simple sentences, without jargon
This method, inherited from my mother Conceição, makes AstroMaria a collective intimate journal: each reader finds not what will happen, but what is already playing out within them.
My Journey
Some Stories
At 8, in the middle of the night, I wake up screaming that "the trees are screaming". Despite the absence of smoke, I beg my father to wet the roof. Four hours later, a devastating fire encircles the village. Only our house, humidified, will remain intact amidst the ashes.
At 9, I already keep a notebook where I record my nocturnal observations. One evening, I predict to my grandmother that a "great change would come from the west in three years". In 1974, the Carnation Revolution turns Portugal upside down. My grandmother will keep this notebook until her death, as proof of my precocious gift.
Two days before the great storm that devastates France, I close my cabinet. I tape my windows in a cross and advise my neighbors to do the same. "The wind is angry," I simply say. The next day, my street is strewn with broken glass; only AstroMaria's window is intact. This event forges my legend in the neighborhood.
An influential politician comes to consult me incognito. I place his sky map, look at it for a long time, then push it back: "This theme is empty. The person born on that day is dead." The man turns pale and admits: he was using the birth date of his twin brother who died at birth, feeling like living "for two". I refuse the consultation, advising him to live his own life.
"The stars do not command. They observe, like us. My job is to translate what they whisper, not to predict what they decide."