Now how could I not love Leo 7°—The Constellations Of Stars Shine Brilliantly In The Night Sky? And of course it’s ruled by Libra in a twelve-fold sequence, the cardinal-air sign of Light. It is a symbol of our highest spiritual nature and values, our shared humanity, and our enduring archetypal nature. We are all stars. Something which we might one day find out to be a literal statement. We get glimpses of it, individually, in meditation just as we do, collectively, in scientific pursuit. And we use it as metaphor in literature and in song, of course. But I think it might actually be true—that for each star in the universe there is a soul which might be organicially, or holgraphically?, embodied in us here on earth. Too far? Okay, we’ll stick to the metaphor. After all these past days of imagery focused on our ephemeral nature, we now have a solid “image” of our own eternal one, our immortality, portrayed as points of beaming light. Is that better?
Did you know that cultures with an astrology were mainly located in places on Earth with the clearest and most brilliant display of the stars whose movement was as basic to them as a sunset or the change of seasons. The impetus to an astrology came out of the human need for order—Order as well as Light are the domains of Libra whose male archetype is Apollo, the god of order and light. Libra is ruled by Venus on the astral plane. Venus’s energy is centrifugal, that is it seeks union and connection. Libra is balance and harmony, notions of other being intrinsic to those precepts, just as it rules the seventh astrological house of “other” the opposite of the Aries-ruled first house of Self. See! Order! And as a Libra person I’m designed to embrace it—as well as a minimal aesthetic (please send Cy Twombys)—just as I am obsessed with the notion of (permanent) archetypes that we (impermanent) people express, most likely, over and over and over again, ad infinitum. If you didn’t quite grasp that, don’t worry about it.
Dane Rudhyar picks up from there in saying that astrology also stems not just from a need to find order but also to “personalize everything” that could be given a permanent form. It’s like he knows me. These personalizations are called “psychic projections”. Also like the sound of that. And it’s a two way street. If people are to project their human nature on the starry sky then why would the universe not project its contantly morphing patterns upon us? Hmm? Well? What do you have to say to that? In any case, we are now looking at something even longer lasting than the cliffs and canyon of the image of a few days hence. This is some serious eternity, now, sister. It makes the difference between the old-fashioned lady and the flapper-hippy look pretty silly and supercilious. We are made of stuff (stardust, if not starlight) finer and more permanent than our fashions let alone our mortal coils.
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