Over the last few months, I've been working on a project. I poured over astrological texts, ephemera, personal charts, mythology, anything I could find to apply to unlocking some of these concepts, and I was hesitant to talk about it before I had much on paper. But the fact is, I began this project with an exploration of shame and guilt. I never anticipated it would come into the spotlight in the way that it has over the last few weeks.
I firmly believe change starts on an individual level and until we're willing to be honest with ourselves about the shame and guilt that we internalize and harbor, we cannot move forward into anything better. Our shame, our guilt, is the self-devouring serpent. And if you're not quite sure how to begin unearthing it, how to face your shadow or where to even look, I offer you the first piece of my research. Let's look at Medusa, the Protectress of Secrets, and her role in guarding internalized trauma:
What drives paranoia?
We may think that it’s a fear of the new, an inability to quantify the changes on the horizon, to see where they may lead. Over the last few years, many have invoked visions of dystopia as a dark parallel of our rapidly changing society. Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Terry Gilliam, and Margaret Atwood gave us some of the most enduring visions of a fear-based future, but these dystopian nightmares have something more than their fear in common, and it links them with this very moment in time: Saros Cycle 121.
The name sounds like yet another science-fiction reality, but Saros Cycles are part of an ancient tradition that maps the trajectory of eclipses and calculates exactly what type of eclipse will occur. By looking at these events, the Chaldeans were able to organize them into cycles known as Saros, “repetitions,” stretching over vast lengths of time. Each eclipse in a cycle occurred roughly 18 years apart, a variation on the eclipse preceding it. These cycles could be ...
I was a little surprised to receive a digest in my email earlier this week announcing a dozen or so new members to this group. I began this in the summer of 2020 when Instagram debuted some new features that rubbed me the wrong way. It was the first wave of a new trend of censorship, with algorithms combing through new posts, choosing words out of context and crushing distribution as a result. While plenty of creators noticed their reach decreasing, it didn't seem to affect popular opinion and it was difficult to convince readers that Instagram--among other platforms--would not be the future of content creation. I am incredibly grateful for the readers who joined me here from the beginning, but this platform had its growing pains and for small creators like me, the walled garden model wasn't exactly conducive to growth.
However, with the recent TOS changes across the internet and social media transforming itself into so many publishers of moderated content, platforms like ...
Desire is tension. It exists only in the moments before it is fulfilled with the bowstring pulled tight, begging for release. To shoot the arrow turns desire into reality, a success or failure, satisfaction or emptiness. Just as archery requires extreme discipline and patience, so too does desire: one must hold that tension with care and strength until it is aligned with the target. Too often we wait for the target to move towards us, for reality to align with our own desires. We choose to live in the state of tension, turning it into conflict.
This transformational nature of desire is at the very heart of Taurus. As the ruler of the 2nd House, it represents those things we literally desire — possessions, money, jobs, houses, material objects. After establishing the ego and perception of identity, Taurus represents the point at which we identify with desire, emphasizing the physical experience. In the acid-washed psychedelia of the zodiac-crazed 70s, Taurus is the lusty-eyed bull surrounded by ...