Sagittarius 6° (November 28)

Astrology itself is something of noble lie. That is to say one must buy into the notion that the movement of the planets and their relationship to one another has meaning, without having any proof. This is especially true of one’s natal chart, which is a snapshot, a freeze frame, of the planets’ positions, at the time of the individual’s birth. Once we accept this conceit, however, we enter into a world that functions quite scientifically, with rules and math and endless associative, interpretive meanings. Reincarnation, too, is a sort of noble lie that is nonetheless at the center of major religions and belief systems. Like astrology, it can’t be proven but it is the basis for an entire world of philosophy and codes to live by, Karma chief among them. Of course, any belief in God or gods involves the accepting of a noble lie. None of us (that we know of) has ever seen God, and yet nothing impacts our human existence, our morality and our judgements, not to mention the wars we wage, as does our notions of this or that invisible God. At least we can actually see the stars, which appear to us all, nightly.

In a sense, our brand of humanistic astrology involves the acceptance of both the noble lies of astrology and reincarnation. That is to say that you were born the sign you are (with all the intricacies of your individual birth chart, pin in that) to learn a whole set of life lessons endemic, primarily, to the estate of your particular sun- and sex-sign archetype. In this view, astrology, and particularly, the humanistic branch thereof to which we subscribe, is foremost about personal evolution of the individual in this lifetime as it relates to the more esoteric notion of the evolution of an individual’s soul, over many lifetimes. And you can certainly enjoy the exercise of exploring the former application, without accepting the latter, should you find reincarnation a spiritual bridge too far.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1206-1210 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.

It’s (not according to the above date, which would make this yesterday, bacause I had to do some justifying since there are 366 days a year, nearly, and only 360°) Sunday morning and my high school friend David came to visit with his girlfriend Tracey. They are both biologists and very interesting and we have great conversation and food and wine and song together and it is a joy to be with them. A rare, true joy. It was supposed to be really lousy weather but they cam anyway and the whole weekend had a sneak-between-the-raindrops kind of feel.

I was about to close the roof and windows of our old Mercedes which we’d taken for its yearly gas-up and spin through Provincetown when our friends pulled up about 7:30. We had some lovely Lambrusco and I had made two chickens and potatoes and green beans; and we drank Rioja and played music, singing until three in the morning. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I awoke at seven with a start remembering I never closed up the car. It was just starting to drizzle; I made it in time. But I couldn’t fall back to sleep.

Bacon and eggs, trying to start this Keto diet I still have to read about. Then we headed to the beach as it was quite nice out, certain we would never get onto Newcomb Hollow, that the lot would be full. It wasn’t. Crazy. So we went for our full three-mile walk and drank lemonade and saw seals and a whale and various sea birds. We then went into Wellfleet town and harbor and settled at the outdoor Mac’s down by the water. They ate proper lobster rolls and tofu burritos and broiled salmon with steamed vegetables while I ate a bowl of chowder. Poor me.

We came back and tried to nap; but that didn’t work; and it began to pour, pour, pour. So we cancelled our dinner reservation at Baie; but then we had to shop for food and wine which meant Provincetown anyway, so off we went, just the three of us. S. stayed back and got collected. We did our one-stop-shop at Perry’s for pasta, nibbles, sauce, wine, Labrusco, cheese and crackers; and then Dave reasserted the art stroll, which was something they were really keen on doing. Tracey is a collector of sorts, so it was nice to see her enthralled. We got a spot right out front of Ken Fulk’s house and hit a half a dozen galleries. Tracey really connected with Pete Hocking’s work which made sense. And today they set back off to Ptown and purchased one before heading back to New York City.

The synchronicities also abound(ed) this weekend. Because the first night they were here I was saying how my favorite record was the David Byrne and Brian Eno: Everything That Happens. I have of course sang songs from this album and it has inspired me show-wise. Then last night, while we were eating our buccatini and marinara we enhanced with artichoke, S. said that while we were in Provincetown she saw that Neko Case had put on Instagram that it was the tenth anniversary of the record’s release and that is was in her top five records of all time or something. These things always happen to me.

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It was interesting running into Shania. It would be fun to hang out. I feel an affinity there that I don’t much feel with other people, always have. And I find it to be worth exploring. We are officiellement now working the Keto and I think it will yield some good; the thing is I don’t eat much differently, anyway. Ah, that feeling you have as a young person when you can eat and eat and eat and nothing would happen to your body; I didn’t know I would miss that visceral experience quite so much.

I was thinking this morning how I just need to move through writing on my subject rather than thinking about the world of agents and editors and publishers. Oh, my. I’m just going to continue to create and go slow; my rushing ahead is only ever about fear of not leaving no stone uncovered to cover my ass-ets. But this has funneled, along with other obsessions, into a full river called Hypervigilance, and it no longer serves me.

I know I will slowly be moving mountains this week. I have much in the way of writing and editing and emailing to do to pull off this festival. Doing so as best I can at this point really does constutute success. And I have to keep the book-writing going as well. On that note I muse on Aries:

He can’t deal with rejection in the least (while his so-called opposite sign of Libra’s whole being and existence is hinged on negoatiating it, along with all things one-on-one relationa)l. No sign takes what life may bring more personally than does Aries. Impuslive. He sees the world/existence as possessing the same qualities as he—that reality/existence is impulsive, competitive, dog-eat-dog, raw and rather random.

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Vulcanalia the First Day of August. I once wrote a whole thing about this. It was a for a variety show we hosted as opening night to the Afterglow Festival in 2013:

Quinn
Enlightenment. Revelation. A Turning point.

Stella
A turning out.

Quinn
To everything, turn turn turn.

Stella
This is a great turn-out

Quinn
This is a real nice clambake

Stella
A revelation is a turning out of cosmic Truth and Grace

Quinn
And a turning out of Self to receive it (Stella puts arms up in Y) See you are the chalice. You are the holy grail ready to be filled

Stella
Giving up and over

Quinn
Surrendering

Stella
Total faith

Quinn
Belief

Stella
In Love

Quinn
Love, Love, love

Stella
A Sudden, Spontaneous Connection with the Divine

Quinn
Not organized Religion

Stella
A word that actually means to re-link, the root word lig as in ligament, connective tissue

Quinn
A re-linking implies then that there’s is a disconnect (aha moment)

Stella
See, that’s the enlightenment part.

Quinn
And as far as the entertaining goes, it’s not just that we love to sing and gotta dance and (Jimmy Durante) tell jokes just like everybody does.

Stella
Ah, well, everybody should. But not every body does.

Quinn
It’s that the performing arts and spiritual practice, ritual, used to be one and the same.

Stella
All coming under the heading of “lifting spirits” if you will.

Quinn
Re-linking our own indivial divine sparks with the eternal flame of the All.

Stella
You’ve seen it happen. Whether a performer on stage or your math teacher in class suddenly blurring-out, becoming a pure aura of energy against the green blackboard.

Quinn
Oh, beam me up, Scotty. Or to your ancestral Edinburgh home.

Stella
To be sure. That divine energetic connection will be made. As above so as below.

Quinn
If we journey inward, microcosmically we find tiny central orbs being orbitted by even smaller orbs, if we journey outward, macrocosmically, we find central orbs being orbitted by smaller orbs….and

Stella

We are stardust (a la Joni)

Quinn
Yes and Hu are we, (realizing they have come full circle in conversation)

Stella
Huuuuu (singing)

Quinn
Hu-mans! Hu. H-u is the most ancient “name” for “god”. It’s the divine sound of the universe. We are man and we are hu. Both animal man and divine hu put together but…

Stella
there is a disconnect

Quinn
…which we can relink by chanting, singing Hu, the

Stella
singing Hu activates our upliftment.

Quinn
singing Hu draws us closer, in our state of consciousness to our divine being…and so we going to re-lidge, here and now, theatre and temple, stage and sacred space as well as our own man=ly sides—and I promise you you have one….

Stella
and you my dear are totally good to go

Quinn
with our Hu-sides, all together, and and and we will also connect our divinely dual individual selves with each other so I want everyone to hold hands or lay your hands on one another in some fashion, those on the aisle can grasp the shoulder of the person in front of you and Stella and I will grab hold here

Stella
oh I know, you hate to be touched, that’s okay there is a simple remedy for that. You turn it out. When you don’t want to be touched, right, you recoil, your energy goes in.

Quinn
So just turn it out

Stella
I use this technique especially on the subway. If someone mindlessly or intentionally rubs his leg against mine, or if i’m straphanging on a crowded train and I feel some lumber rising into my own sacred spaces i don’t recoil but instead I Turn It Out and express the full energy of my being from the area and, well, my whole being really, and the power of my energy emanating forth first relieves all my stress in the situation and it actually disallows any intrusion, repelling unwanted advances….except in those rare instances where the connection is more than you bargained for and you end up getting off …the train…a few stops earlier than planned and then have to call your girlfriend later to apologize for having had to miss your lunch date but, as I say that rarely or really never happens, but when it does you know the energy was gooood…..well it’s like you with telemarketers.

Quinn

yah, yah…(increasingly pleased with himself) well I did figure out the best way to get off those pesky call lists. It’s very easy. The phone rings. And it’s like: hi it’s Ashley from Foreclosure Village or whatever and instead of hanging up or yeah recoiling in some way you Turn It Out and start getting into it like oh yeah Ashley. oh yeah I am so glad you called right now cuz I was just toying with my own foreclosure was actually just feeling…..ad lib…..all kinds of pressure building up and I would totally love for you to talk me through the issue that needs to be worked out before it blows up in all our faces.

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.