Scorpio 7° (October 29)
The quincunxed planet will act as a conduit of energy, or as a profound and deeply felt block. This aspect can produce a heightened direction of energy in the chart which may also oscillate between bifurcated states or situated personalities. A planetary opposition to the quincunxed planet of the Yod can be malefic, or can produce situations of dramatic reversal.
Midpoint the sextile is a very sensitive point in the chart, as transiting planets, when conjunct with this midpoint, will then be in opposition to the quincunxed planet. This situation is said to trigger major events, thus revealing the true power of the Yod. Multiple sextiles and trines involving Yod planets can be extremely beneficial and thus spread the energy of this aspect in one side of the chart or produce a focal point for intense energies on the other side of the chart. Hence, the yod is the most difficult natal chart aspect to interpret and requires a great aptitude in astrological interpretation to divine accurately.
The conflict arises between the worldly, sociable character of Leo and Libra, which tend to seek inspiration in the world, versus the introverted, unworldly character of Pisces, which is too sensitive to be able to cope with worldly life and aims to work in the background serving others. These energies do not interact and hence this hypothetical native would possess great difficulty making the choice between serving others and seeking inspiration on the social stage.
Jupiter is in a feminine sign, while the Sun and Mars are both in masculine signs. Jupiter is also in a mutable water sign, while the Sun is in a cardinal air sign and Mars in a fixed fire sign. Jupiter shares neither duality, element, nor mode with the two planets that aspect it in quincunx. This complete lack of commonality of Jupiter with the two sextile planets illustrates how the yod triggers an irritating situation that can be overcome only through adaptation and discovering new paths. If there is no other aspect outlet for Jupiter (as would be reflected in a trine or sextile angle to another planet), a transiting planet in opposition to Jupiter and conjunct the midpoint of the sextile planets can trigger major life events which are difficult to handle and take great creativity to overcome. This is why the yod is often called the “Finger of God”,[ for it takes great initiative and fortitude to overcome the limitations created by the yod, but great rewards can result if the native does the necessary work.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1061-1065. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.
I’ve really debated, back and forth, about sharing a certain creative idea with you; and, though even now, when I felt the impetus to introduce this Blague I had already determined that I would. Then the second I started typing, well, I feel that maybe I should shelve the idea. You see it has a great title; and I’m not sure weather revealing it, in a copyrighted…so I think I’ll muse on the stars of the month—the Aries people of the planet.
Aries males are the butchest. And it’s always the Aries man show. He is great at putting it out there but it’s difficult for him to take things in. This buster can filibuster, like the fire sign he is, sucking all the air out of a room. He is the most honest of the gender signs, for shiz, and fairly brutally so. He is boss, and he’s good at it, so long as his delegates buy wholesale into his vision. Voted most likely to achieve singular goals, Aries man is shot through with adrenalin, just one of many A-words associated with Aries, along with ardour, assertion, aggression, ambition, actualization, achievement—even his biblical and mythological archetypes, Adam and Ares (Roman: Mars) do likewise.
I’ve always found much treasure in the typecasting of actors as they often get pigeon holed by virtue of the archetypes and attributes associated with their star signs. Aries women play unapologetic and unabashed. They can be at war with the world and the men what made it. They hold themselves apart, at once aloof and armored, thus, one feels, also readied for attack. They are objectifying of that which they want, which they want when they want it. What she fancies is hers by rights, it seems. She is selective after all and thus singular in her ambitions and would be conquests. She can be most selfish for love, if not in it. To connect the aliterative dots she is alert, attentive, aware, audacious, avid and avaricious. She assimilates and seeks to do so, most simply. She is strategic and employs an economy of moves, suffering no fools. She isn’t by nature sentimental, and she will people, places and things from her life, without regret. When she goes, she’s gone, to coin a phrase.
A little musing never hurt any astrology writer after all. And I suppose I am getting the cobwebs out of my creative machinery specifically designed to churn out starry notions.
Shopped Provincetown, to Perry’s, for a final hoorah of wine as tomorrow will mark day one of thirty specified alcohol-free days; so we got a bunch of cheeses and paté, and smooth arichoke, and we had Formaggio’s grill toasts, arugula and Badoit; so we watched news and had a picnic which isn’t something we normally do, but it was so much fun. We put off our big shop and just pieced together what we could. I actually love creating meals from the fewest of ingredients; to be honest I think you get the best meals that way, so I’m already eyeballing what we’ll have on the weekend, including the leftover picnic will never eat in its entirety, but…close enough.
I do think it wonderful to witness the March For Our Lives (even though the tiny skeptic in me can’t help but feel that this too, like most things, will peter out). However, the thing I do feel is different about it as an event was that it provided a marquee underwhich these kids can find unity and live according to more democratic dicates and also, vote in more global a block. They know hot to be connected to a great many people at once, a hallmark of both technology and of the Aquarian age. The archetypes of Aquarius, too are the cupbearers (which contain not just eternal life, but eternal youth). And, look, my skepticism isn’t about me—I am all in, and I cried throughout the entire thing, for love of the kids and for pure joy—I just think that by the time the society at large takes on what these kids truly have to say, that they will already have kids of their own. We have to know that and they really have to know that. They are the youth, but they must sacrifice that youth in the achievement of their mission, which is, by any account, truly spiritual in nature.
The rally was so visceral—cue young Samantha throwing up on stage; and rightly dramatic—the six plus minutes of silence, Emma standing staalwart. That was not easy to do. I tried to look up her sign on line but I couldn’t find it. What I hope also gets stressed is the connection from the Parkland kids to all other kids everywhere—that was rightly represented and I not only hope they keep it strong, I hope that form an impenetrable web that goes beyond the gun issue (which it already house) to the unity of the races, social stratas and every other bogus category that divides us. They want us divided and these kids have the opportunity to stand up to what has been an endless inevitability of division which may be starting to gasp it’s last entropic breaths.
It’s important too that, at a time when we may have to take to the streets for other issues involving politics and, particularly this White House, as we projectile toward impeachment, this has contextualized that probability, setting a positive example whereby we can all participate in a poised and peaceable manner. In the face of deepest trajedy, the protest looked not only poignant and powerful, but also uplifting. We need to remember moments from that rally moving forward.
Meanwhile back in the cosmic kitchen I made three soups today, one from leftover spinach, mushroom and potato I brought with me to Boston—and onion, celery, carrot and stock and zhush: cups of soup for lunch with leftover cheeses. The second soup, we’ll have for dinner is a roasted red, yellow, orange pepper one; and I’ve prepped a celeriac soup to have for tomorrow, Sunday’s, dinner, when, I hope, a porn star helps to bring down a circus peanut.
My dreamscape last night was crazy. I had this male lover or something, with whom I hadn’t been intimate (so I don’t really know what to call him) but he was young and sort of trade-ish and we either met at some resort or he was writing me, oh yes, that’s it: I received a letter from this fellow who had more than a friendly attachment to me, the premise being that he and I had already spent time together, though it wasn’t sexual by nature (it never is in my dreams); however I had the distinct feeling from that letter—I believe he mentioned coming to see me, or I was somehow going to be seeing him, coincidentally where he worked, at this resort from which he was writing me. I remember looking at the map and seeing he wasn’t that far from St. Tropez—I have a very dear friend who lives not far from St. Tropez either; and as I type this I do feel a longing to return to that part of the world. There was nothing incriminating in the letter—I passed it to Stella to read; and I think I said to her, at least with my eyes, that I thought the letter was infused with anticipation. I felt she agreed. We were going to keep a watchful eye.
The dream was so bizarre and included some recurring elements like: Stell and I were walking on Twelfth Street, from Seventh Avenue, toward Greenwich. There was a song one had to sing, a little ditty, that was like the opposite of an open sesame, upon leaving the subway station, as if to ritualize the passage. Anyway, I found I still had my key to the front door; and Stella ran a bit of interference keeping lookout while I put the key in. It was thin, like a pin (hey no cracks) and yet eventually went in and turned and we were in our old lobby. We pushed for the elevator, and more people came in, and we were waiting all together; keeping an eye to make sure the super John or Kevin (as he was called in the dream) would show his face. I think I confused this so-called Kevin, based on the real life, last super we had there whose name tramautically escapes me, with short-lived super called Frances whom I really liked. Anyway, we got up stairs and down the hall and, I believe, into the apartment. But, truly, as this is a so-often-recurring dream, I’m not sure if the rest of it is a remembrance of last night or a previous night in the past. But I think because I fell asleep watching the film of The Odd Couple, with that eight room Upper West Side apartment, with the moldings, so exactly like those in our two room West Village apartment, the hair-trigger I’m on for being launched back into this dream landscape was pulled and so there I was. It was in more disarray than usual which makes me suspect I did dream about it last night, triggered by Oscar Madison’s messiness.
I am a Felix, after all. I have the same afflictions: the clogged Eustatian tubes, the bursitis in the shoulder, the rampant need to clean, cook, shop, tidy, time and measure everything.
The dream went from the inner landscape of my old West Village apartment to this place, I’ll say Europe, where this resort spot on the map from whence this younger ardent fellow wrote me was a short hop skip and a jump. I was already on the beach and then on the water. Swimming, in small boats and so forth. A friend was swimming along the coastline and he was too far out beyond the breakers. Seals as big as sealions were riding waves, smaller ones, babies, “sitting” on their parents who were stretched out like surfboards. It was cartoon comical, but there was something lurking; and then large sharks, or at least one, panels of slick grey and white running the length of its body, and it was munching on boats and I tried to signal my friend but he seemed to be okay and then I don’t have much that readily comes back to me.
Still, I always feel that the quality of the dream is as telling as the content. It was so very vivid.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°, for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360 degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go! Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved. Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox.
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