The four transformations4 termsZi Wei Dou Shu 紫微斗數

The four transformations aren't four stars, they're four modifications applied to stars already on the chart. The year stem of your birth decides them: the same star transforms to 祿 for someone born in a 甲 year and possibly to 忌 in an 乙 year — which is the step that turns a standard chart into yours.

祿 is the supply among the four. Its image is a salary: not a windfall but the part that reliably arrives. So whichever palace it lands in tends to get fed — contacts, openings, resource, sometimes literal money.

The practical way to read it isn't asking whether money is coming. It's asking where to start spending effort. The palace 祿 marks is the lowest-resistance entrance on the chart.

權 is the force among the four. Its image is the sceptre: able to decide, to move, to change an existing arrangement. Its difference from 祿 is clean — 祿 is things arriving, 權 is you being able to move them.

So the palace 權 lands in is usually where you won't sit and watch: you'll want to do it yourself and dislike interference. That's an advantage, and it's this transformation's standard cost — where you want control is also where conflict starts easiest.

The tradition's caution about 權 was never 'don't use it' but 'mind which palace'. 權 in the career palace is drive; 權 in the marriage palace wants care. The same force behaves completely differently depending on the room.

科 is reputation and record among the four. Its image comes from the imperial examinations: papers, documents, the list of names — things formally written down. So its range is leaving a trace rather than earning a sum.

Which is why 科 is usually called the gentlest of the four: it doesn't change the size of a thing, it changes its visibility. The same piece of work, and the person with 科 is remembered while the other one finishes and it passes. In an era where work outlives people, this transformation is underrated.

科 is also associated with relief from trouble, and the old claim still holds: someone who is known is more likely to have hands reach out when something goes wrong.

忌 is the most misread of the four. It looks like a taboo and actually means stuck-to: whatever palace it lands in is what you can't put down, what you keep circling and re-entering. The tradition does list it as the one to watch, but not because it brings disaster — because it takes a disproportionate share of your attention.

So it's a weakness and a depth at the same time. The thing a person genuinely masters in a lifetime is often in the palace carrying 忌, because only what you can't put down gets twenty years out of you. People with 忌 in the career palace frequently become the most deeply dug-in person in their field.

The practical reading treats it as an attention budget: knowing where you overspend gives you the chance to decide whether that's where you wanted to.