Let’s hear it for the Babylonians, who either invented or discovered astrology, depending, a long time ago. The Babylonians worked it all out just before being obliterated by Cyrus the Great–bummer they didn’t see that coming!
But there’s something to the idea that mere antiquity gives a philosophy weight. After all, rumors still persist that even before the invention of the written word, the primordial Wakka Wakka people were well on the way to proposing a Grand Unified Theory of particle physics, when unfortunately their oral tradition was disrupted by the terrible Tongue-Eater tribe bent on expanding their woolly-rhinoceros hunting territory. Such a loss.
Astrology, however, continued to thrive long after the Babylonians failed to, because it is fun. You get your own chart. It’s your chart! Not really like anyone else’s! You feel like a five-year-old with her first backpack that has her very own initials on it. It’s very specific, and just as good at explaining your life as anything else. You can open a can with a car tire, too.
An acquaintance practices the occult arts for a living. Shortly after we met, she asked me my zodiac sign and I made her guess. She finally fetched up at “Libra” eight signs in. “You know how I knew?” she said, triumphant.
She has since explained various aspects of my personality to me, although I rarely recognize any of them as being my traits, and when I squinch up my eyes and say “Well, not really, I’m just the opposite,” she tells me that it’s because probably my moon is somewhere or other. Else. In a house. There are a bunch of houses. That moon could be anywhere. You can’t trust it.
The idea is that the position of the planets (and moon and sun) at the very moment of your birth determines a lot about who you are and what you may become. Your whole natal chart is thrown out of whack if you’re off by a couple hours.
|Doesn’t he look thrilled.|
My mother was clearly aware of all this, which is why she had me induced one week before the school cut-off and two weeks before my due date, so that I would grow up to be the kind of kid likely to enter first grade at age five instead of age six and ultimately leave home altogether as soon as possible, because she and Daddy were getting on in years.
Astrology worked well enough to be considered a science for a long time, but there were always things that didn’t quite add up, until, finally, the missing piece showed up in 1930, when Pluto came on board and straightened out the whole franchise. Unfortunately, he later retired as a planet, and now just does consulting part-time.
I’m not certain what mechanism the planets use to influence our psyches. Evidently it has to do with energy, which will remain undefined out of respect for its mystery. All the planets have different kinds of energy. I don’t know which one holds the most sway over me. But the smart money is on a gas giant.
Judging from all your poop-centric posts, I'd say that Uranus has the most influence over you. (Did I just resort to a pun? Yes, I'm afraid I did….)
I'm glad it's Uranus and not mine!
Still a gas giant, of course.
There is a big competition for being the biggest gas giant right here on earth! Our president is one of the biggest contenders.
Well I hope he gets fracked.
The Babylonians actually thrived after Cyrus the Great incorporated Babylonia into the Persian Empire. They were able to expand their business operations all over the Middle East and their mathematics became even more advanced during the Hellenistic period. Don't know how their astrologers did, but there's always a market for that kind of stuff.
Donald Trump must have been born under the sign of the Lyre. I know that's not normally a zodiac constellation, but in his case it's the only one that fits.
There's always The Bull.
I remember vaguely a in '70 there was a moment of syzygy when I felt at one with the cosmos, and understood the unified theory completely. It might have been the windowpane, too….
You just made me remember scribbling deep thoughts in the middle of the night and then checking them by morning light. I haven't saved any of them.
Gravity-wise, the doctor that delivered you had more influence than the other planets and such did. You should believe me, as I am a Leo, and we make great teachers.
I did try to look up which star sign had the most skeptics. Nothing conclusive.
As far as I'm concerned, you've explained astrology perfectly!!
I done what I could.
I can't for the life of me understand how, even in the thinnest small-town newspaper, there it is: your horoscope. Every day. Do they actually know that it sells papers? If so, what does that say about their reading audience?
Then again, the only thing I read is the funnies, so . . . ouch . . . I guess . . .
Our paper probably has a horoscope in it that I manage to overlook, but what I can't figure out is how fully half the paper is the sports pages.
I am a perfect Capricorn. Except when I am not. Which is true of all the other star signs as well.
Actually, I'm a pretty solid Libra. So I'm guessing THAT's the skeptical sign.
I learned that I am on the "cusp" between Virgo and Libra. So I think I am uncategorical or something. That's also apparently not a word. Uncategorizable? Also not a word? Oh well.
I am too! Or I'm on the cusp of the cusp, depending.
In The 70’s, I learned that I’m Double Aries with my Moon in Virgo, which certainly explains that. It was The 70’s. We threw the I-Ching. We took the Luscher Color Test. We thought a song that claimed “Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere” was excruciatingly deep, but only if sung with a high nasal whine. Recently, my horoscope in a magazine at the checkout said blogging is making a comeback.
I got my chart done then. I don't know what it means. I just know things used to be a lot more meaningful. Now they're more likely to be, uh, whatever.
When in doubt or overwhelmed with MAGA turn to: http://www.sacred-texts.com/tarot/pkt/tarot0.htm
I like the idea of giving all the birth details to someone who can then work out why my life is such a mess of stuff-up after stuff-up, but there's so much good stuff in between the stuff-ups and I don't want to jeopardise that by finding out where my planets may or may not have got it wrong. I'll stick with the ignorance is bliss theory.
I suspect my life got jammed up in the asteroid belt somewhere.
Your eyes would become stuck somewhere way up north of your eyebrows were you to spend any time around me and Phoebe. We have EVERYBODY figgered out. All's we need's your birthdate and time. Now, the induction thing–and the whole Caesarean thing–really bugs me, least of all because it messes with your houses and moons. There is something magical in a baby's choosing when it wants to be born. Because: Birthing is hard, and Dying is mean/ So get yourself/ Some loving in between. (Langston Hughes)
No, I know that about you! In fact I was afraid to publish this because I didn't want to offend you. Then I thought: Julie doesn't get offended that easily. I'd be happy to have you read my chart. In fact, I have another post coming up where I print it out. It's weird-looking, is all I know.
I once had an epheremis (a book that tells you where all the planets are on a given date, which also told you what certain conjunctions were supposed to mean. I drew up a chart for a work friend that I had a wee bit of a crush on as a birthday gift. He went ballistic: apparently I had hit the nail on the head way too many times and he accused me of talking to his mom about him behind his back. He kept his distance after that.
You sound spooky! What a great quality.
I had one done many, many moons ago – i'm 80 now and it's around here someplace, I know it is. I'd really like to find it and learnwhether it was accurate in any way. Now where'd I put the phone?