Scorpio 27° (November 19)
Moving around today sending an artist some money and also doing some shopping in the big city of Orleans. Relatively quiet as compared with the last couple of days and our client cancelled so the afternoon is free. It ended up being something of a mental health day. I will let the marks go by and hit them tomorrow. Sitting in the living room in the afternoon, after a lunch of pasta lefties. Dinner twill be salmon with tomato, thyme rice and avocado. It was bloody delish watching Sophia as Madame Rosa. Will look for my copy of La Vie Devant Soi by Romain Gary in this little corner of a book shelf where all my books are stored but I will not find it.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1161-1165 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.
If Libra represents light, then Scorpio is that shadow that follows. Men of the sign are creatures of shade (in more ways than one) and their path toward success and happiness is stealthy, biding their time, doing what is necessary, largely unawares, to bring about their desires. In his youth, he is brooding and sarcastic, poking fun at, practically joking, or outright undermining his sunnier, more optimistic or blatantly popular peers; if not to their faces, then behind their backs. He personifies a sort of correction, a keeping in check of unbridled cheer, which he is wired to perceive as a set up for a fall. Ruled by planet Pluto, named for the god of the underworld—and of riches, we’ll get to that—Scorpio is likewise subversive, often gloomy, suspicious and seeking to dig below the surface of people, places and things which he simply cannot accept on face value. Pluto doesn’t live in the full, glorious glare of Olympus, but dwells in the netherworld, subterra symbolizing the world of his own subconscious, from whence he sees everything stems.
Rooted in his own interior landscape, Scorpio is the least likely of men to be swayed by external climates; only the weather within determines his actions, hopes and fears. For all his disdain for bluster and braggarts, he is ironically one of the Zodiac’s great egoists, though he’d be loath to admit it, citing a string of insecurities to prove his point. But he takes up a lot of space and energy in so doing; and his so-called friendships tend to smack of a certain psychic possession and hostage taking. Vehemently not a joiner, he instead drags others down into his underground existence, seeking to amass a band of followers, groovy ghoulies who share his gothic sensibility, mysterious if not morbid. Indeed, Scorpio man is motivated by keeping other people at bay and guessing; while his aesthetic is best described as noirish if not bordering on the downright funerary— all dead dried roses, smokey mirrors, frayed rugs and skeletal furniture. And, to extend the metaphor, Scorpio man operates very much by gaslighting. A creature of subtext, notoriously jealous and psychically possessive, he is most proprietary of those who populate his minute social circle. And should he sense they are slipping from his mind-controlling grip, he will launch cloaked attacks. An expert at subtext, he will invent narratives designed to discredit even his so-called closest cronies and freeze them out if he fears they might be plotting to ditch him first. He is the most paranoid of all the signs.
The infamous Pluto myth is that of his rape of Kore, goddess of springtime, who then transforms, 180°, into Persephone (Roman: Proserpina, from whence we get the word prosperity—still keeping a pin in the subject of “riches”). Like Pluto, in a flash, breaking from the ground to grab the goddess, Scorpio man likewise takes a smash and snatch approach, lying in wait, unseen—Pluto wore the original cloak of invisibilty. There is inferior inner voice in Scorpio that says he will be shot down if he approaches any objective desires openly. While Libra man, working his Apollo archetype, negotiates the enobling themes of rejection by Daphne, Scorpio man will not risk rebuffing, this his own central theme running through all elements of his life. He will not venture that which he is uncertain to gain. And he will not wait in hopes of life or the universe providing. He is a pessimist for whom hope is nothing; so he plots and makes every preparation to pull people and opportunities (synonymous to his mind) his way. In this way, he risks being viewed as a kind raptor-captor from whom others may ultimately seek to escape. And we’re back to the paranoia, the fear of abandonment, and the continued need to possess.
Beauty and the Beast is a retelling of the Pluto myth. The Beast/Pluto offers untold riches to Beauty/Persephone—bribes, really, which point to that Scorpion insecurity that he, alone, is somehow deficient or repugnant, and therefore must sweeten the deal in order to be loved in return. This psychology is typically rooted in Scorpio feeling unloved by his own mother, a symptom we see all too often in men of the sign. In a way, Scorpio subconsciously presents a test to would-be friends and lovers. As many people do flee from the prospect of a close relationship with this most uncompromising of men with whom life is always, in a word, intense, he poses a natural weeding-out process such that anyone who can put up with his beastly, grabby, self-centered approach to life, and love him inspite of it, will actually pass through his fogged looking glass to find that he is someone quite completely different—a benign and caring, profoundly devoted, those still dark-humored, prince among men who would literally die for those he loves. To others he may remain one of the walking dead, but to those who break through what is really a facade made of hurt and dejection, he can be his true eternal-beloved self.
With everyone else, he will continue to personify the old adage, it is better to be feared than loved, continuing probe people to show their hands, revealing their truths, just as he keeps those same souls guessing, if not on guard for his next serpentine strike.
Scorpio woman is an immoveable figure, born, seemingly, with an intact moral code and and fixed sets opinions from which she’ll hardly ever waver. It’s as if she emerged into this life fully encoded with all she’ll ever need, a readymade work of art, incarnate, the circumstnaces of life having comparatively little effect on her. She embodies the notion of nature-over-nurture. And if life is a mystery Scorpio is no less so. The proverbial Sphynx, she appears to have all the answers, while it will she who’ll be asking all the questions. She is a natural born psychologiest—think of Lucy van Pelt of Peanuts fame—and she can be no less caustic, on the surface which, when properly scratched, would reveal a caring character with a heart of gold. Whereas Scorpio man is endless probing, provocative or just plain nudgy, Scorpio woman draws out others, typically with a series of well appointed queries, resulting in rather stream-of-consciousness confessions from those she keys into. And after listening, signature stony faced, she will offer up her conclusions on exactly what you should do, when, and in what order to fix or refocus whatever might be ailing or irking you.
Ruled by planet Pluto, which portrays the power of elimination and transformation—named for the god of death which, in astrology and other esoteric fields, isn’t an end but a regeneration—Scorpio is all about killing off that which drains ones energy. Think of the sign’s season autumn, when we prune back trees, so to stimulate new growth, helping to concentrate energy at root level, through the hardened winter. This is a metaphor for how the Scorpio woman operates in toto. She will not put herself out on limbs, unnecessarily, rather concentrating on the most essential needs of her own design; and putting as much energy as possible into rooting herself ever deeper into what she considers a desired lifestyle. Her personality might best be described as dug in, and all that goes with it: You typically go to her, not vice versa, whether on a social visit or soliciting her guidance as premier agony aunt. She sets the agenda with family and friends, creating a strong center gravity from whence both directives and support will derive. She can be something of black hole, too, to be honest. That is to say you might, upon entering her world, become easily caught up in whatever swirl of activity she is currently conducting, assigned tasks you might as well perform, as you’re there anyway.
Drawing on the mythological archetype of Pluto’s female counterpart, Persephone, the queen of the underworld, whom all souls must meet upon their demise and who shall decide one’s ultimate fate—the o.g. maker you meet—Scorpio does tend to collect lost souls and finds no irony in telling the exactly what needs doing to find new footing. People are just some of her many projects. Well, for starters, life itself is one, hopefully, long one. Scorpio has a fixed idea from the time she could squawk how it All should roll out. And though she will tolerate slight deviations in her game plan, she is determined to hit all her major marks, whatever they might be. Typically, she is hellbent on a combo-platter of success, security and excitement—what she avoids like the plague are surprises. When it comes to a choice in life partner she pretty much has a composite sketch in mind for eons before the would-be suspect makes a close enough match. She will seek to stimulate the growth of the desired qualities she observes and the rest she’ll try to kill off, if not with direct cease-and-desist orders, then with withering looks.
On some level every Scorpio woman considers herself something of a femme fatale. She has a notoriously high opinion of herself (whether masking insecurity remains to be seen), such that you might hear her utter, without irony, that a partner or lover couldn’t do any better than her. She is an alpha of the first order, but unlike other signs that fall into said category, she is not an aggressor, au contraire: Scorpio does everything by seduction—cue spider in parlor—inviting every boon and opportunity. She will have you do for her, unabashedly asking for favors, connections and entrées; and she couldn’t be more sure that, in granting her request, she’ll provide a feather for your cap. Circling back to Ms. van Pelt, even she was convinced she drove ’em wild; forever unaware of Schroeder pulling faces to the contrary from the piano. The Scorpio paradox in a nutshell: bossy as hell, wearing the trousers; and subtly seductive, with who knows what underneath them. Undeniably, it makes for a potent, if not lethal combination.
Scorpio personifies power, which isn’t lost on her, and she’ll have you know it. She brims with skills and talents and wisdom and wiles. And should they not find proper expression, or be met with deepest appreciation, she will become a cauldron of frustration, despair and fury. She does not take her life lightly, and you shouldn’t either. She is all the mysteries of the ages, smiling wryly, Mona Lisa, forever luring others to, and inspiring longing for, her. In Sextrology we call her The Specimen, and she is the perfect one.
He has the most unbridled energy of anyone in the Zodiac, yet he handles himself as one would a prized thoroughbred, minding, harnassing, his signature fury of fabulous ideas and outsized inspirations, as only he can. His particular paradox lies in being at once totally at ease in his skin and jumping out of it. He is his own whisperer bent on simultaneously taming and tapping into his wildfire spirit. Sagittarius is the sole mutable-fire sign in the Zodiac, which most readily translates to lightening, that proverbial wildfire in the sky; and his sign is ruled by Jupiter, named for the omnipotent chief god, incidentally, of thunder and lightning, so that all fits nicely. Lighting speaks to the most immense natural power there is while also metaphorically pointing to certain genius. Although we’ve heard literal accounts of lightning strikes causing brain damage, or providing some kind of second sight, or both. The sign of Sagittarius, whose motto is I See (also I Understand) is very much hinged on the notion of a third-eye perspective of existence, something the Sagittarius male is most readily designed for. The physical seat of the third eye is the pineal gland, so called because it resembles a pine cone. The wildly ecstatic god Dionysus bore a staff topped with a pine cone. He and his father Jupiter share the masculine estate of this sign as, unlike all his hundreds of other sons, Dionysus is heir apparent, inheritor of his supremacy. The largest planet, Jupiter’s brand of power is expansive—and so is the Sagittarian male’s m.o., for better or for worse.
The male population of the sign is replete with figures who’ve gone to great lengths and/or too far. Sagittarian men are born with an ex prefix, driving them to explore, experiment, express, expose, and yes, expand, and explode up any given given seen; but potentially also to excess, expense, exhaustion and early extinction if he’s not mindful. If he is, he will more readily “master” meditative like practices than most other men. He is typically an extrovert and unapologetic in the extreme; but even a so-called Sagittarian introvert will take up a lot of energetic, if not emotional space. No one can be more silently demanding and yet, another paradox, spiritually libertarian than he. Even though Dionysus is the seamless scion, chip off the old block, he is also a rebel nonconformist who shakes, and perhaps breaks, the traditional order. In Sextrology the Sagittarian male chapter is titled The Maverick because he draws on this archetype of being daddy’s boy, a mini-me of sorts, particularly at ease in the patriarchy regardless of sexual or gender identity, and yet he is bound to shatter the mold of his fathers he once so easily fit. Often Sagittarius works in the same line of biz as his pop, but does him one better there, at the very least, still expanding out from an existing formula.
There are a great many ways Sagittarian man breaks on through to the other side of whatever it is he is setting his mind to. As a list of so many satirists and comedians of the sign would suggest, humor is one of the key ways. The madcap comic genius is an obvious figure in our culture, bringing the funny in more expansive and explosive a way, breaking through taboos, the result being torrents of laughter and thunderous applause as a—wait for it—mindbending new take on reality shockingly takes hold, forever altering mass consciousness. We see this same pattern in any professional or personal walk of life the jovial, jocular Sagittarian treads. He will always bring the funny, point out the absurd, if not rattle nerves and cages, particularly in exposing that which has gone unnoticed or unsaid. The Sagittarian experience is stream-of-consciousness, making links between the conscious and the subconscious (or subversive, suppressed or otherwise unspoken); which, yes, can result in a kind of ecstacy or hilarity, though probably as often in censure, arrest, and other oppressive forms of blow back. But whenever that connection is made, either within our own minds—as is a constant for the Sagittarian man—or culturally, it is like a lightning flash, an exposure, of something that can never then be unseen. Mark Twain (an invented name meaning “the point between”—third eye!), a satirist of the first order, nonetheless exposed a many societal ills and, thus, altered our global perception.
If it feels like Sadge’s personal life is being somewhat ignored here, you should see how he deals with it. He is at once uberdemonstrative and ultra-detached, exhibiting affection in sudden and showy ways, with extravagant gestures, which, one wonders, could be overcompensation for lacking emotion, or inability to tap therein. He can be all over the place inrelationonships, whether due to diverse preferences—he’ll try anything trice—or in sheer quantity of experiences, or both. He’s both-minded about most things. Whereas his opposite sign, Gemini, signals duality, Sagittarius is past it, forever looking at life from both sides. Now, that may seem too vast a vista for most would-be mates, but for someone willing to provide ample free rein, life with freewheeling Sadge will prove be a rodeo of daring thrills, mindboggling skills, satiric philosophy and a broad clowning.
No shrinking violet, she. Sagittarius woman is an arresting character who runs the gamut from quietly charismatic to blowhorn blatant. She is dazzling, easily lighting up a room. Yet there is always something nervy or skittish about her, a bubbly mixture of natural enthusiasm, excess brain activity, and a penchant for pleasing. She is a flatterer, but a sincere one, tending to key into the best qualities in a person, often missing their worst, at first. Like male Sagittarius, she appears larger than life, her ruling planet Jupiter hinging on largesse, optimism, in every sense of the word. Her default view on life is one of celebration. Expansive she enters, but, you know, the bigger the bubble of optimism, the more likely it is to burst. And so we see glimpse a potentially explosive woman, who is vigilantly negotiate a superspontaeous nature, a wildcard element in her makeup, that sees her swing to extremes, from daring to dread, devotion to disdain, delight to despair.
One such point of negotiation is learning how not to get too far of herself. She is the archeress, after all, with her narrowly expansive eye on the target, prize and future. But sometimes she gets ahead of herself—enter nervy skittishness. It’s not easy for her to live in the now, which is why she makes some version of her doing so a top priority in her life. It’s a happy paradox about the Sadge—she is so painfully aware of her shortcomings, the sting of them so severe to her, that she is most compelled to make positive changes. The sole mutable-fire sign, the assignation translates most readily to lightning, the most potent form of natural energy. So much power but where will it strike next is not predictable. And that’s how Sagittarius feels of the thunderous tempests she feels raging inside her.
Planet Jupiter is named for the chief lightning and thunder god; and whereas Sadge male draws on that archetype, Sadge woman draws on that of his wife and queen, Juno, goddess of power, thus goddess of knowledge, and goddess of women, none of the above being mutual exclusive, au contraire. The thing about Juno, who like Sadge woman, is also prone to jealousy, is that when her envy and rage did flare, they literally did so. Talk about being triggered. Juno would come to full power and emit an energy so radiant that all were burned or blinded. Cue next irony: The sign’s motto is I See (and I Understand). Juno blinded Tieresias for siding with Jupiter against her. She is Lady Godiva (goddess-diva) who put out the famed peeper’s peepers. Sagittarius knows she’s likewise volatile, and that she is capable of great, some resplendent, shows of perrsonal power, but that she can also blow everything up. In cartoon mythology she is the X-Men’s Jane. Juno as the penultimate power in the universe presents some pretty big archetypical shoes to fill. An insightful inference, here, thus, might be: That the most accurate way of describing Sadge’s particular brand of lifelong process (née struggle) is as the persistant growing pains of becoming herself.
And, for this lady diva, what an epic journey it is—part canter in the park, part race against time atop a bucking bronco, through an expansive landscape where lightning strikes and wildfires need putting out. The respective metaphorical meaning being that Sadge often receives bolts from the blue of opportunity and big breaks for which she’ll move on a dime, strenghth to strenghth, amid fiery family relations, friendships, and too-familiar professional bonds. Whoa, nervous Nellie, Sadge woman lives by leaps and bounds, progressively sitting calm and tall in the saddle, as her genius aspirations increasingly meld with her more preternatural urges. That’s the symbolism of the centaur: Finding that connection between our animal self and our higher mind, both of which are more infinitely powerful than we realize—Sadge woman having especial lighting glimpses into the fact. There’s no room for second-guessing, typically, in her experience. Jupiter is the planet of abundance and fortune, and it comes like a thundering freight train and leaves the station just as fast. Risk-taking is de rigeur for this ironically reticent creature. And sometimes it’s a love train.
In love, Sadge isn’t impetuous but she is sweeping. She makes big love-connect, drawn to those who live large and promise an active, engaged and worldly lifestyle. Just as projects an exaggerated vision, she has heightened expectations of what a relationship should deliver, and though loath to admit it, she’s wired to want it all—fun, excitiement, means, an ecstatic meeting of the minds, and the mostest carnal know-how she can bone up on. But for the most easily board Auntie Mame at the bouffet, enough is never enough, not even constant, coordinated travel and redecorating. No, she soon learns that externals don’t cut it in the true-happiness game, that she must shine her light for herself, radiating Juno-like with a such knowledge and power she can impart to others. If planet Juipter is generosity than Sagittarius is a generator in whose strength and power we hope to share.
Capricorn man is a throwback. He is cosmically steeped in tradition, born with an old-world sensibility, a practical penchant for tried -and-trued methods, and reverance and romanticism for former grandeur in any number of forms. This is archetypally ordained, it would seem, as the sign is ruled by Saturn, the deposed king of the god’s and ruler of the mythological golden age, that of the Titans, before being overthrown by the classical Olympian gods. Though more primitive a time, the reign of the Titans was something of a paradise, as there was no vice in the world, everybody did the right thing; there wasjust peace and harmony and prosperity; nobody worked to survive, the earth providing in abundance, and people lived to a very old age while retaining their youthful appearance, dying peacfully, though living on as ancestor spirits. Nothing wrong with that; unless you forever long for a world while living in this one, something Capricorn men do in a variety of ways.
Capricorn might live by a solemn moral code—rules and regulations, long-held traditions being attributes of the tenth astrological house associated with his sign—while indulging in certain decadences—decay being a hallmark of his own artistry and aesthetic. There is an inherent wistfulness to his character, fittingly, if not a sorrowful melancholy that is suprising motivating. For, Capricorn is not a defeatist; rather he won’t easily venture that which he’s not pretty much guaranteed to achieve; as such he is highly realistic about what talents he does or does not possess; he never strives to be something that doesn’t come easily. That which does will be given his total all—he’s never one to put eggs in multiple baskets. And being so narrowly focused, he doesn’t entertain. the notion of competition, that is except for the self-kind of beating his own personal bests.
In contrast to Jupiter whose energy is expansive (ruling over the previous sign of Sagittarius), Saturn’s energy is restrictive, containing and retiring. It is about preservation. And Capricorn surely paces himself, like an elder getting through a long day’s events. His tastes tend to the elegantly leisurely—no man perhaps possessses as many pairs of loafers. He is not out to prove…anything. Still, his own self-imposed goals will be as high as the standards of personal conduct he sets for himself. Like the metaphoricaly deposed royal that he is, no matter his worldly origins, Capricorn comports himself with what can only be described as good breeding, which, biologically speaking, is a most vivid example of tradition. Carrying on, in fact, is something Capricorn is wont to do, in every sense of the term. That is to say he can succomb to wailing bouts of melancholia so abyssmal that he must fight to climb out of them. In some ways Capricorn man seems not so much a scapegoat as an escape valve through which not just his own but a sort of collective grief is expressed. Like he’s mourning for all of us. That sense of hurt lends him a serious air, pulling on heart strings and contributing to his overall appeal and profile as a seasoned, experienced, mature and sophisticated a man.
Even at a tender age, this, the Zodiac’s Holden Caulfield, has a wizened lens on the world, which motivates him to gather his rosebuds as he may; which manifests in something of a paradoxical manner: Capricorn, whose sign motto is I use, will waste not a moment in pursuing his dreams, working every wrinkle in time for accomplishment; while, at the same time, he sows more wild oats and samples more earthly delights than any man in the Zodiac. Of course, if doing so conflicts with that notoriously strict moral code, he may wrestle self-loathing on that score. For the most part, though, Capricorn doesn’t find his lofty aspirations and licentious affectations to be mutually exclusive. Like the goat god Pan living in Arcadia, even the most urbanite Capricorn has a pastoral view of existence—simple and quiet but for the rutting of satyrs and nymphs. He is, in fact attracted to rustic types with whom intimate relations will smack of certain corruption. He likes to have the upper hand in relationships, as a rule, often partnering with people who in no way threaten to get up in his goatish grill. Let’s bring the catcher Caulfield back in to illustrate the Capricorn male paradox: He wants to at once save and slaughter the innocence of life, to preserve it so to savor the spoils thereof.
Like his mythic ruler, Saturn, Capricorn is all about divine decadence. Saturn is god of seed sowing, and yet, with his signature scythe, he is the prototype of the grim reaper. Also of Father Time, which seems to be on Capricorn’s side. He is an enduring character who moves, albeit sometimes at a tortoise’s pace, from strength to strength. Even when suffering a personal fall, he rarely slips so far that he can’t pick himself up to continue his ascent toward his next milestone. Capricorn David Bowie even rose from the dead, Lazurus-like. And we may find that young Holden recovered from his own breakdown—depending on what Capricorn J.D. Salinger may’ve published posthumously
The most monumental of women, even pint-sized Capricorns pack an iconic punch. She is at once a staunch and capricious character, depending on the stimuli. Most people will experience her as the former, only a handful of intimates getting glimpses of the latter. Much of the ongoing Capricorn condition is hinged on affecting a certain flow between the more rigid and more carefree sides of her personality—to find the freedom inside her infamous self-rules and -regulation and to employ them as solid scaffolding from which her boundless spirit may safely soar. Ruled by Saturn, the planet of structure and containment, she is born with healthy boundaries. Whereas Capricorn man draws on the archetype of the mythic Saturn, Capricorn woman derives power and meaning from his female counterpart, Rhea, whose name means “ease.” This might be music to Capricorn ears as, from youth, she is used to hearing and feeling that life must be hard. In truth, the mountaineering Goat is drawn to great heights of achievement, tough roads to hoe, but this is Capricorn’s happy paradox: As she matures she increasingly finds success in her professional and personal callings the more she eases into their processes. In our book Sextrology we call Capricorn woman The Sleeper. She is, by would-be cosmic decree, something of a late bloomer, all the hard work of her youth contributing to what might appear, to outsiders, as latebreaking overnight success. And they’d never seen her sweat.
In mythology, Rhea is goddess of motherhood; she the “grand mother” and “goddess of generations”, plural. Her husband ate her first five children; she managed to save her sixth, Zeus, who overthrew his father and freed his siblings. She embodies the passing on to others—she even mentored and gave her grandson, Zeus’ inheritor, Dionysus, her full “estate”, that is to say her brand of power, making him a male nature god, plus perks like her leopard-drawn chariot. She is the embodiment of traditions, endowments being passed down. She comes to us in fairy tales as the fairy godmother, a kindly all-powerful being. All of this goes a long way to illustrate Capricorn woman’s character: Whether or not she herself ever gives birth, the grandness in the she-goat’s character dictates that she play universal mother to a great many, nurturing, mentoring and administering to so-called children on a vast scale, in the abstract or both. Even if she is a literal mother, she is somewhat eccentric and detached. Though thoroughly loving, she imposes a healthy formality, on guard against codepency, you might say, taking a more grandmotherly approach, with one cool remove, to motherhood.
The mythical Saturn, with his scythe, is the symbol of the grim reaper, but Rhea’s brand of “passing on” is in the form of a baton. Likewise, Capricorn’ ambition always includes others. She learns things she can impart; she gains wealth to share it. The Capricorn motto is I use, and she does so for great purpose(s). Born under the cardinal-earth sign, symbolized by a mountain, Capricorn is sure-footed, enduring, in it for the long haul. Rhea’s home is the mountain, also called a horn—Matterhorn means mother mountain. Capricorn is the cornucopia, the goat horn of plenty. The previous sign of Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter, is about abundance—Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, denotes containment, seeking to preserve the bounties of the world lest they overflow and spoil. To be exact, Capricorn is the Sea-Goat, mountain and lake, a reservoir, a container of all that is abundant and pure. Capricorn woman is reserved and conservative in the truest sense, a cosmic holder of that worth preserving. She is a keeper of postive traditions, generation upon generation, be it knowledge, customs, codes, mores, all such things that will serve the future. She is a human time capsule, a classic, a golden girl from the get go.
Being likened to some kind of grandma, even in her youth, is common for Capricorn. She leads with her serious self, intending to be respected and never trifled with. (If you catch her in a rare moment when you get an opposite impression she’s taken off her granny glasses and down her bun to let off a little steam.) She grooms herself into a person of importance, learned and refined, with ethos to impart. She is culture incarnate, the best of the past, present and future, three points drawing the circle of time (eternity). The cornucopeia, the reservoir; the Petri dish, in which select new growth is cultured . (Never mind that Capricorn Mary Tyler Moore played Laura Petrie on TV in the 1960s, evolving the culture, panicking the patriarchy, by insisting on wearing Capri pants.) The word panic comes from the goat-god Pan, whose wailing melancholy speaks archetypal volumes on Capricorn man. But Capricorn woman is so on guard against would-be gloominess, constantly climbing out of sinking feelings, this becomes the main motor of her self-empowerment. She will overcome. She’s not only been to the mountain, she is it, monumental. As a biproduct of her own edification, she Sherpas others and elevates the ethos overall. She personifies all that is enduring, meaning: lasting and worth suffering.
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.