Libra 1° (September 23)
The Wiki project has to be something that shall begin the weekend workshop. I am supposed to wrote (supposed supposing that the voice in my head is not me perhaps instead I should say “chose to” and dispel any notions of a fractured mind. It’s weird when you’re on your own, sunning yourself, having that Aperol spritz, I mentioned I would eventually have, post Labor day with so many thoughts swimming. I lost a little weight. I have been binge watching some good and crap app shows. Ryan Murphy is a hack, the title of yesterday’s post being an allusion to that, but I quite liked the second season of Sexual Education which I have to say I found moving much of the time. The premise is pretty stupid and, as is often the case, they’ve moved away from the trope, but are still toying with it a bit. They may have to shut down the whole teenage sex counselor thing. Anyway moving on to the good stuff below.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 881-885. 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.
So we’re superimposing the Zodiac against the Christ story. Not a sentence you hear every day. And against the bible itself. Cancer is the Flood Exodus. Leo is Kings, and Virgo is Job—a real piece of work. A broken figure. But that’s where the light gets in! Hold that thought! After Virgo/Job comes Libra/Psalms which is made up of poems, songs, prayers. If Virgo is function, then Libra is design. It’s conceptual. The Scales are the only inanimate sign. Libra is cardinal-air, Light, enlightening, beautiful principles, ideas, and aesthetics, ruled by Venus on the astral plane. Its archetypes are Astrea and Apollo, the god of light and all abstracts like order, reason, prophesy, poetry, music.
The seventh sign, seven notes to “the scales:. Apollo plays the lyre; and Psalms is lyrical, it’s lyrics, choir parts, actually, with directions like “light incense here”. Hello! They’re spells! The projection of thought forms. Inanimate but alive? Apollo is an oracular god and his high priestesses are white witches. So are Libra people on their infamous soap boxes. But we all must stand for some thing! Do you?
How about equality, democracy, liberty? Libra’s mottos I balance and We are, both champion harmony—the seventh house is that of relationships, “marriage” contracts, social ones especially. That navel-gazing conscience of Virgo now becomes a social conscience in Libra. And where the sign’s so-called opposite, Aries, is about that warrior Mars, Libra is a propenent of peace. But to be a proponent for peace means becoming something a warrior for others.
For all Libra’s goodness and light, Scorpio is dubious of appearances and must dig below the surface. If Libra is the glaring light of consciousness Scorpio is the deep, dark unconscious.
Its ruler Pluto is god of the underworld. It’s the fixed-water sign, symbolic ice, crystals, gems wrought by subterranean heat and pressure, a metaphor for the subconscious where deep meaning lies. From poetic Psalms to wise Proverbs we’ve left Libra’s gleaming pulpit of to delve our own inner depths and the subversive, hidden elements of society.
We all really must make an effort to uncover what’s going on—in here—and out there. Societies, like people, are only as sick as their secrets and not to go all conspiracy theory on your ass but there’s lots we don’t know. Pluto in his cloak of invisibility, is also god of riches. Plutocracy.
One Scorpio motto is I desire. Desires are subconscious, seeming to exist in spite of ourselves. Gems buried alive in our psyches calling to be exhumed. Treasure guarded by inner dragons of fear, shame—repressed power that must be unleashed lest it consume us! Regenerative power. Scorpio does rules the genitalialalala. We have is another sign motto. It’s our urge to merge through sex or psychic possession… Or joint banking. The eight house is that of other people’s money. Sex, sleep, death: where we merge with each other, the unconscious, and the infinite. Eight is the lemniscate the symbol of infinity. Cause and effect…
So, last we saw Jesus, he returned from his Cancerian jaunt into the mystic landing a lush Leo life as King of Kings, performing Virgo alchemy and healing, spouting poetic parables from his Libra pulpit, wrestling personal demons of Scorpio desire, emerging rather changed, like Gandalf post Balrog, waxing ecstatically philosophical.
Enter the mutable-fire sign of Sagittarius ruled by Jupiter, named for the uber god of lightning, fire in the sky, triggering altered states of genius or madness. Either way a bit touched. Jupiter’s wife Juno, too, is blindingly radiant, a terrible wound but a gift of second sight. Sadge’s motto is I see, our vision being most expansive. Jupiter is growth, optimism, liberation, excess. (Sagittarius rules the liver.) And the thigh from which Jupiter gave birth to wild child Dionysus. The orgiastic god of wine, the ancient drug of choice for blowing ones mind, forging a stream between Libra consciousness and Scorpion unconscious.
Though you don’t need hooch to do so you must continue to blow your own minds, to expand your superelastic bubble brains with exposure to the exotic, the extreme, extrinsic exhultant. Education from the Latin Ex to draw out. Knowledge is power and Jupiter and Juno are gods of it!
Dionysus, with his pinecone septor, the pineal gland, the third eye, is the precursor of Jesus whose following spreads like wildfire in a purple haze. Superstar! Break on through. Light my fire. Are you experienced? Have you read the Ecclesiastes meaning “the big picture”? How about Blake? he’s a Sag? The Beat Poets? The Doors of Perception?
Sagittarius—excess—run amok is then restricted, contained by Saturn-ruled Capricorn whose motto is I use, that is to say I don’t waste, I save. Jesus Saves. Capri-corn, the goat horn of plenty, is all resource. Capricorn is cardinal-earth, the mountain with its natural resevoirs. We go to the mountain to receive god’s commandments, rules, restrictions—designed to help others rise up spiritually. The sign rules the bones and skin, structure and containment. And for some strange reason God tells Moses build your tabernacle from goat hair. Mo-hair.
Jesus, his own crowds of downtrodden people overflowing, delivers his sermon on the mount once sacred to goat god Ba’al. This leads to his arrrest, his containment and, well.. Capricorn MLK delivered his I’ve Been to the Mountaintop speech and the next day…Tragedy. The word derives from the Greek tragodia—am I pronouncing that right?—meaning Goat Song. The scapegoat saves us by riddding us of excess sin, baggage. Do Capricorn people tend to be scape-goated? Sure. Yes but as you say we are mainly self-sacrificing—I’d climb to the nearest mountain and take the hit if I could take out that orange orangu…Now now now…
But your point is well taken. We all must ask ourselves for what are we willing to do? How much YOU willing to sacrifice, and for WHAT CAUSE for the good of all people. Saturn rules Capricorn. In myth he’s the old deposed king, cut down. His emblem is the sycthe, the sickle, the grim reaper, old father time. At pagan Solstice the young Oak King vanquishes the old Holly King, Saturn, Santa.We make our Capricorn New Year’s resolutions, sacrifices. Out with the old. And though the Zodiac traces the Christ-mas story, there’s no way Jesus was born under the sign of Capricorn. Sure he was born near the new year when we had a ten month calendar.
Let’s move onto Aquarius. Knowing he’s being scapegoated, what would Jesus do? Throw a dinner party? Yes! Performing a bit of transsub-stantiation—turning bread into flesh, wine into blood, that holy grail, the Aquarian “water bearer” of everlasting life. In Greek myth, the cup bearer, Hebe, pours the nectar that ensures the gods’ youthful immortality. John the Baptist too bears the baptismal waters of everlasting life. He, the lone voice in the wilderness, alienated, outcast, a madman, the weirdo on the shortbus who’s really just ahead of his time. Well we know how alienating being a progressive can be!
Jesus, too, feels he’ll be thrice denied and, when it comes to it, that even god has forsaken him. But Aquarius fixed-air is a point of light. A star. The Star in the Tarot depicts the Waterbearer. It surely does. It’s our true north. Truth. Revelation. Aquarius’ motto is I know. We can’t tell you how to have a revelation, but it will come in the eleventh hour if you’ve done all you can do. The eleventh house that of the future. Revelation gives you a glimpse. It’s also the house of humanity into whose arms you might fall. A trust exercise. Opposing Leo, the Sun, Aquarius is our own distant star to which we may return. Jesus’ last words may well have been beam me up. Feeling oh so alone.
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.
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