Pisces 3° (February 22)
Paris, Day Thirty of Sixty. And Day Two of Bikram. This is not going to be easy. I am on just a few hours of sleep and I might still be drunk from the seven bottles of champagne and wine we drank between the four of us. Oh gods. Stella is not going to yoga. I cannot let myself down just day two into the process. So off I go. I get on the nerves of one of the Bikram people because I’ve put my towel down before they can pretend to clean the room. One single mop is not going to clean the whole entire room. That’s fine. I go to the front this time. Yesterday I was in the back behind the most annoying person I’ve ever encountered in a Bikram class—blague on me—who is big (that’s ok) but doesn’t do the postures when everyone else does and falls out ever single time and is really fucking distracting I will be avoiding her like the plague from this moment forward. Anyway today I go to the front and that has it’s own worries. The teacher comes in and actually says—I know she’s directing this at me—if anybody is a beginner in the front row please leave. There are only one other type of male body type in the room, now, two days running other than my own: perfect. My stomach is huger than it has ever been in my life and it is hanging over my shorts. Ugh. Not my shiningest moment but that’s okay because I am dedicating this thirty day stint to the losing of this stomach. I do all the postures but skip triangle. I know my pacing this is right on point. People are perfect in the locker room I am hiding myself as best I can. I took my time in savasana and I’m home by one. We decide as it is nearly sixty degrees out to go for a nice walk in the Marais which really is too crowded. But we stuple on Cire Trudon and decide to buy ourselves and others prezzies. I thought we were buying things for the colors of the packaging but I will learn that is not the case. Whatever. We have a tiny bit of leftovers—some baba and some stuffed pepper remnants and some cheese—for lunch; and then I try to take a nap. Maybe I fell asleep for five minutes while watching Sabrina but maybe not. I suggest we take ourselves to a café and work by hand for a couple of hours so we head to Barav our favorite place in the third across rue Bretagne. We pass that expo space and realize that is where they are having the Vintage show. There is a huge line and all the cafes in the area are packed as is Barav and say they don’t have a table but they do. There is one ratty looking barman there I do not like but all the rest of the staff are wonderful. S. has crudites and dried carpaccio (the fresh sort is out) and I get a planchet of meat and chesses. We share a white Beaujolais that has the consistency of a light syrup; and then a Peyriac that wracks our world. Now this:
The female archetype of the Libran woman is no cinch to pin down. Not just because this is an etheric sign—the symbol Scales being the only inanimate one in the zodiac—there’s just something esoteric about Libra. The male archetype is embodied in the god Apollo, a famous deity but an abstract one. He rules an inanimate estate that includes light, order, reason, music, prophecy and other intangibles. The female archetype of Libra points to the paradox particular to this abstract sign, which is that of an unseen, intangible but nonetheless animatingforce. Let’s call it en-light-enment, for lack of a better term. For, we are not looking at the initial divine spark of life that animates the body, associated with Libra’s so-called opposite (cardinal-fire) sign of Aries and the advent of birth, but rather the cardinal-air force that animates the soul, quickening its karmic evolution. Esoteric, see. In Sextrologywe speak of the Libra woman as being typified by the oracular High Priestess (counterpart to Apollo) and etheric goddesses like Sophia, emblemized by a dove, and other astral Venuses like Astraea or Psyche all of whom are seen as the holy-spirited feminine agent of the universe with whom one becomes suffused, characterizing their individual (re-)connection with the divine. Little wonder that Libran women seem to personify all goodness and light with high expectations that are not always so easy to meet. She is the white goddess of daylight, not a dark femme fatale. She seeks to elevate people, not drag them down. A bevy of Libran belles du jourincludes: Catherine Deneuve, Kate Winslet, Julie Andrews, Olivia Newton John, Kelly Ripa, Angela Lansbury, Glynnis Johns, Susan Sarandon, Hillary Duff, Kelly Preston, Gwen Stefani, Naomi Watts, Avril Lavigne, Heather Locklear, Carol Lombard, Joan Fontaine, June Allyson, Deborah Kerr, Helen Hayes, Lilian Gish, Neve Campbell, Maria Osmond, Nancy Kerrigan, Pam Dawber, Gwyneth Paltrow. Goop indeed.
Whereas Libra man, regardless of sexual preference, tends to place women on pedestals, tending to play the role of Pip, in his heterosexual bonds, to any number of unattainable Estelles—the god Apollo chasing Daphne into a petrified personification of perfect laurels—the Libra woman can’t help plopping herself onto that pedestal, podium, pulpit or portable soap box, providing herself a platform, playing her own archetypal role of High Priestess, offering up her edicts, advice, decrees and, yes, judgments lest we forget she is the lady of The Scales, dame Justice incarnate. High and mighty, her principles will be known. Beyond being all goopy goodness and light, Libra women can righteously activist with decided ideas on how society, if only their intimate variety, should operate. (Tap, tap…)Is this thing on? Let’s hear it for the outspoken, decorous, exacting and emotionally judicious, if not detachedly judgy, democratically loving Libra woman: Eleanor Roosevelt, Mira Sorvino, Susan Sarandon, Janeane Garofalo, Nana Mouskouri, Ani DiFranco, PJ Harvey, Alicia Silverstone, Judge Judy, Kate Walsh, Barbara Walters, Linda McCartney, Dr. Joyce Brothers, Emily Post, Margaret Thatcher, Mata Amritanandamayi, Sharon Osborne, Toni Braxton, Cherie Blair, Michelle Bachelet, Joy Behar, Teresa Heinz Kerry, Catharine MacKinnon, Jody Williams.
If you’re a reader of our work, you’ve no doubt heard us make mention that Apollo, god of light, is the main male Libra archetype. The Scales is the only inanimate symbol in the zodiac and the sole cardinal-airsign, which translates to light. Apollo isn’t the warmest, fuzziest god—though he tries to be. The thing is, he rules the etheric realm, that of abstracts and intangibles—order, music, poetry, prophecy, oracles, oration, reason, truth, all things which characterize the uplifting of conscious minds and spirits. Gnostic Lucifer, meaning “light bringer”, often conflated with the devil, Satan, was cast out of heaven because he sought to bring said enlightenment to man. Just as Apollo, who tried to overthrow Zeus, was, for a time, cast from Olympus. Likewise, Luke Skywalker with his light saber is cast down by his father who is ultimately raised high by him. (Apollo has a twin sister, Artemis, so does Luke have Leia—Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher are, incidentally, both Libras. Artemis, whom Homer calls “a lioness amongst women”, archetypally rules the female sign of Leo, not Libra—but that’s another story.) No lion of a god, Apollo’s prime animal totem is the wolf, related, no surprise, to his rule of light. A wolf sees in the dark, his vision actually illuminates. And there is an etymological link here: He is Apollo Lyceus and Apollo Lycegenes, respectively, from the Greek, Lukeios(light) and Lukegenes(wolf-born). Some wolfy looking Libra guys, often with signature Siberian husky eyes are Wolverines Hugh Jackman and Liev Shreiber, Matt Damon, Sting, Viggo Mortensen, Will Smith, Seann William Scott, Guy Pearce, Zac Efron, Josh Hutcherson, Matt Bomer, Ryan Reynolds, Christopher Waltz, Charlton Heston, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Jim Caviezel, Stephen Moyer, Ben Whishaw, Dan Stevens, Luke Perry, Steve Coogan, Tate Donovan, Eric Stoltz, Jeremy Davies and Peter Coyote, but of course.
The Scales, being the only inanimate sign, Libra men, personifying that abstract cosmic Libra energy, create characters for themselves, often changing their names: Sting, Meatloaf, Eminem, Usher, Le Corbusier, e.e. cummings, Flea et al. Another symptom of this inanimate assignation is: Libra man not seeming “real” to other people, which is compounded by the fact that Libra is a renaissance man, like his archetypal Apollo, who can read as a dilettante. Ruled by Venus on the astral plane (it rules Taurus on the earth plane), Libra experiences Venus’s pleasure principles of beauty, love and grace not as physical but as ideological attributes. It’s seventh-house mottos are: “I balance” and “We are”, which both point to that house’s rule of relationships, especially a karmic one, between individuals. Little wonder that the sign of the Scales—Justice for all—is one that espouses beautiful ideas of democracy, equality, as well as aesthetics and certain enlightenment. Old Father Saturn is exalted in Libra; and, indeed, over time, Libra man’s tendency to seem all over the place, with hands in many pots, coalesces into a number of solid talents, typically, in creative pursuits as well as socially active ones. And one added thing: The original meaning of the word oaf, deriving from pagan Nordic belief, is that of an imposter child put in the place of a real one stolen by elves, witches or fairies. And as any Libra man will tell you, he feels he must have been switched at birth, not belonging to his family of origin nor identifying with his birth-self (Aries’ first house) thus developing his character and personality (Libra’s seventh house) becomingthe person he was born to be through careful cultivation. Some creative, socially active and rather oafish looking Libra men: Tim Robbins, Chris O’Dowd, John Lithgow, Michael McKean, Will Smith, Andrew Dice Clay, Zach Galifianakis, Sacha Baron Cohen, Simon Cowell, Clive Owen, Jon Favreau, David Morse, Michael Gambon, Chevy Chase, Roger Moore, Randy Quaid, Christopher Lloyd, Peter Boyle, Jeffery Jones, Walter Matthau, Bernie Mac, Phil Hartman, Kevin Sorbo, Jeff Goldblum.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. 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 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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