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Southern Hemisphere Astrology

Tag Archives: Romance

The Drone: Full Moon in Sidereal Capricorn

15 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by abliq in Moon Phases

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Capricorn Moon, Confidence, Country, Cynicism, Drone, Emptiness, Eternity, Gender-Fluidity, Hero, Iconoclast, Idolater, Mansions, Milky Way, Newman, Oxytocin, Romance, The Force, Tropic of Capricorn, Tropics Astrology, Vanity, Vertex, Warrior

“We navigate a passage through a jagged archipelago of partly submerged questions upon the raft of language.“ Kevin Brophy, “Shame-Job“, Meanjin, Winter, 2019.

“The power of incompetence may be one of the most inscrutable phenomena of the modern political age, but it certainly works.

Why else would a man like Boris Johnson feign it so carefully?” Annabel Crabb.

At first glance, the Drone seems to enjoy a privileged position: he is simply required to impregnate Women. They will take care of the rest, with the aid of the Hive. They will connect with other Women to form communities, within which they will raise the children, for whom Daddy will be a frightful imagination of Otherness. The Prodigal left; the Drone elects a life sentence. Diploid children are welcomed by the Sisterhood as relief for any of their three full-time jobs, food gathering, child raising and home maintenance, but haploids are a nuisance. Their demand of equality has always been a problem, but in recent times, when more and more haploids have been affecting to be diploid, that demand has become a real problem. Diploids are workers, not shirkers.

Drone Moon Punta Arenas Aug15

‘Meaning’ is all too often regarded as drawing a statistical line through difference. Actually, the term ‘meaning’ should be restricted to references to romance’s opportunity for a new basis for personality, a new mean of identity, a new origin, and a new incarnation of the Force. A Girl needs to learn what it means to have haploids and diploids in Her class, and how to deal with both. A Boy needs to learn to navigate in order to congregate, and must overcome the fear of losing his balance and turning himself inside out.

Drone Moon Punta Arenas Underworld Aug15

The Drone, or haploid Male, until stimulated by a sunset yearning which floods the west with Her oxytocin, dwells in the Underworld, asylum for the Hive’s superfluous ones, or so it feels when He is accustomed to sunset rising and other upside down signs of an opposite existence. Bathed in Her oxytocin, the Drone is frantic for a meaning–although on the wrong side of the history of that term–to the fusion of opposites at the Vertex whose power (in the Force) safeguards his redundancy. Of course, being haploid is a competitive thing. Once the Sun has gone to the Underworld She may be in the habit of craving humour rather than dependability, and a Drone’s repertoire is limited to one shot. Furthermore, the Force evolves. It really is the case that She seeks salvation of a different order as She gets older. What did you imagine those endless safaris into the Tropics were about?

Drone Moon Newman N Aug15

Washing out the Emu of a Warrior sky, the Drone finds himself this time within a degree of Deneb Algedi, who, like a goat’s mouth (seen in the northern sky) isn’t fussy about what congregation She gets into. And so the Vertex and its opposite evolve towards death without God or Heaven, and Nirvana, like oxytocin, has no real existence in the eternal release from the wheel of rebirth and suffering which is ordained by the Force. The Drone joins the congregation in the Tropics, where Eternity always becomes Permanence because Cynicism always becomes Idolatry. This is serious stuff, where adults beyond transport grids seek to exchange transferable tickets to unlimited travel.

Drone Moon Newman S Aug15

By what mechanism did the Drone find His way at the precise moment of His brightest shining to this place, which if it did not exist, would have to be invented, where the Zodiac, arcing directly overhead from due East to due West, and the Milky Way, arcing in a straight line from North-east to South-west, form a crossroad directly over an observer’s head. In little more than three minutes–how accurately the time of birth must be recorded on the Tropic of Capricorn around 18:00 Local Apparent Sidereal Time–the Anti-vertex has whipped from idolatry in the Tenth House through fantasy, delusion, convention, narcissism and finally cynicism high above in the House of the intellect. No wonder the Drone needs the heroism of His ultimate journeys constantly rehearsed. And no wonder it is! His deaths in the mansion of Deneb Algedi number in the millions and have required of His mystique absolutely everything.

Moons 2019-2028

Flight, heroic journey, mystery lover, significant other? Around and around we go, echoes of madness in the Bardo of a queen’s Spermatheca. The Zealot, you may notice, always narrows himself into the correct precedence, and bullies have always been the socialities most easily socialized: next year, mate, you can be the Drone’s survivor, as you always were.

Drone Moon Auckland Aug16

Capricorn

The Force is other than country. On my country, the phases of ancestry are synchronous with the six moments of the Milky Way, the values of the stars are devices of the poetry of landscape, and the cycle of Full Moons is a music of heroic impotence. The Force, meanwhile, is where my country loses its emptiness, where there is no when to be absent from, and where I am nothing but inscrutable purpose in an instant of virtual forgetting, like the flight of a Drone.

New Moon in Sidereal Cancer: Connection

01 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by abliq in Moon Phases

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Astrology in the Tropics, Bardo Houses, Cancer, Cardinal Directions, Connection, Emptiness, Handedness, Idealism, Imagination, Limerence, Narrative, Normality, Romance, Stuff, Things, Vanity

Yes, the Stone Circle of Wurdi Youang may well mark the setting Sun from solstice to solstice, and I can sympathize with the satisfaction of the layers of the stones, but it seems a comfortable confirmation of what we already knew, that the Sun’s arc is shorter in winter than in summer, as though they were saying, people migrated out of the Tropics, problem solved. What problem?

The problem of the cardinal directions: I know where I am, right here, but how do I describe it? How do I relate it to you, my hunting team, when you can’t see me? In our almost instinctive knowledge that the Sun rises on our left and sets on our right, or vice versa, we short-circuit an astronomical heritage more ancient and fundamental than Wurdi Youang witnesses. To say, “the kangaroo is on your sunset side,” or “the crocodile is to my south,” we have to all know what the shadows mean, which way the stars are revolving, where the Sun rose, where noon is, in front or behind.

Relationships can be like this. If the Other knows exactly where they’re going, to the extent they know where you’re coming from, and you’re actually from a different hemisphere, just get out. Simple. If you have history and want to plough it into a brand new present, and they say, why? There you have the epitome of short-circuit. Your emptiness just got invaded by the Other’s presence, or rather their self-composed fullness. If reality is not there for you to invent, merely discover, you’re still in school, at least according to the teacher. Is it so stupid to only trust those who don’t know what they’re doing? Don’t answer that.

It is quite normal to trust the ones who know what they are doing, who are in a story with interconnected chapters, beginnings, middles and an end, way off in the distance. It is quite normal to find oneself integrated into a web of connections between things and events as they are in themselves, and to spend many years of childhood and adolescence discriminating among possible meanings to keep things real. It is quite normal to take unconscious advantage of those whose reality has fallen apart, rather than to confront the insecurity of the social construction of one’s things. It is quite normal to discover it is the self as creator who is responsible for unlovability, and to have recourse to psychological reassembly.

And although it may not be normal, who cannot forgive the one who learns how to protect the heart by making love permanent, by idolizing objects as expressions of perfect love, for denying the enduring hormonal reality of romance, rejecting in the very last chapter of one’s individualist narrative needy romance’s cauldron of transformation, life’s offer of transpiration to the skeletal things one must keep connected, the trees of one’s wood?

It is self-evident that the Earth is a thing which does not move, for example in a rotation on its axis, or at varying speeds around the Sun. One cannot see the Earth rolling towards the sunrise, but one can see the Sun as a thing rising above the flat Earth. Once in a generation perhaps, one human imagination has played with the idea of the Earth rolling and the Sun staying still. Try it. It is almost impossible. Leave everything you know out of the equation, the kettle, the toaster, the fridge, the smartphone, the TV, the radio, and imagine your world flying through space faster than anything you’ve ever seen, without a hair out of place. That one is a more recently recorded experience, early in the twentieth century, of the emptiness of things.

Imagine yourself without an imagination. Dream that you’ve never had a dream. Believe it or not, there really are men who have never imagined being a woman, and women who have never imagined being a man! Not to mention men and women, the very definition of Bogan, who have never imagined themselves to be men or women! So you see that this is how everything is connected, how Cancer in the Northern Hemisphere can be a lion, and in the Southern Hemisphere a water-carrier, not by the reversal of absurdly fixed seasons, but by not assuming anything, by playing with appearances, by imagining the impossible. A crab really might empathize with the kids playing in the wet sand above its castle: a King Crab, the Lion in Winter.

Yes, you who learnt yourself as real from your parents and teachers, and what fell into place with the television, the economy and social canon allowing only a few kosher [sic] alternatives, must heal. The fabric of reality is damaged because yours is wrong, in the sense that every object is wrong, until you create it yourself in relation, shorthand for, say, “Careful, a crocodile is in the westernmost waterhole!” Perhaps with Sun and Moon conjoined in Cancer, you will be in Tropical Aquarius, and perhaps you will be in Leo. All that parents and teachers are really saying is, this is where I am. That’s all I’m saying too, and all that I’m hearing, now that you’ve discovered you’re not normal, is where you are too.

The Circlet of Pisces

22 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by abliq in Stargazing

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Adam's Rib, Circlet of Pisces, Moon, Pisces Ridge, Romance, Southern Hemisphere Astrology, Uranus, Venus

Venus rises tomorrow in remarkable circumstances. Visible less than a fingerwidth above the horizon, even in the glow of dawn, she affirms everything which is wondrous in the feminine. The chart should speak for itself, but note the star in the Hero’s side, Adam’s Rib, splitting the attenuated masculinity of retrograde Mars and Saturn. I do wish more men would listen when I talk about the stars.Venus Conjunct Uranus Apr23Spontaneous Venus is not only in tight conjunction with the hidden daring of Uranus, but the two are invisibly in the line of stars which in the Southern Hemisphere constitute the horizontal fish of Pisces.

The asterisms we associate with corporate functions, football grand finals and racing carnivals, those we see in the Spring night sky, are not just horse (Pegasus), jockey (Pisces) and catering steward (Aquarius), as SHA depicts them, although the affinity many young women have with horses is worthy of mention.

They look a lot different by day. The vast sweep of sky between the winter splendour of the heart of the galaxy and the summer spectacle of the Orion Arm provides a number of obstacles to the progress of the Sun by day.

Once she crosses the plain of Capricorn, battling the northerly crosswinds of February, she must negotiate the confluence of rivers that is Aquarius, and then there is the trudge up into the foothills of Pisces, and over its two ridges.

Uranus has been mysteriously camped on the slopes of the first one for two years, where Venus joins it for a giggle in the morning, but no holiday whim is it for the Sun. She is oblivious to the mystery of that ridge: where it leads, what lies at its end. Surely not Venus.

The feint circle of five stars known in astronomy as the Circlet of Pisces is a mysterious clearing on an escarpment at the western end of the ridge, in an ancient forest choked with bracken and creepers and fallen leaves. The beaten path is some distance off, and the silence of sensuous presence prevails, but a ghostly commotion whispers to any traveller who stumbles here.

This was the site of a great castle for centuries. Here it was that the Knights of the Round Table committed to the quest for the Holy Grail, where Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger and slept for a hundred years. Before that it was a hill fort of the Iron Age, and some say that once it was Valhalla, and before that Mt Olympus. More recently, it was Netherfield Park and Les Sablonnières.

I seem to remember a scene in which the astonished Meaulnes witnesses the carriages arrive by torchlight at the stately home, the opulence which surrounds him and beckons him to the life-achievement which will elevate him to this noble company. Remember the magical countenance in your own experience of one in such company entranced by you!

It was here that the romantics of yesteryear met and instantly fell in love with their dream, transforming themselves and each other into ‘the One’. The Circlet was their crown. What haunts this place is romance, and the voices you can’t quite make out are the embodiment of projected love-images clamouring for release from desire.

In 2011, the Moon found his holy grail in the stately home which stood here then. The intervening years have persuaded him that the love of his life does not exist outside a dream, and now steers wide of it, and of faith in the possibility that it might be love for a woman which gives meaning to his existence. This place is his wound, the impetus of the dilettante.

The nineteen-year cycle of the lunar nodes is the mechanism of the Moon’s relationship with the Circlet. It passed visibly through it (though seen loitering in the vicinity at first or last light on numerous other occasions of the period) at:

  • 05:00 06/09/09
  • 05:00 06/06/10
  • 04:00 27/8/10
  • 01:00 17/11/10
  • midnight 16-17/8/11
  • 21:00 06/11/11
  • 04:00 12/06/12

and nineteen years previously….

Do any of those dates resonate with grand memories of your romantic youth? Perhaps one of these was your wedding day.

The Moon returns to the Circlet’s haunt:

  • 02:00 30/10/28
  • 01:00 30/07/29
  • Midnight 19-20/10/29
  • 06:00 26/05/30
  • 23:00 19/07/30
  • 03:00 10/10/30
  • 02:00 10/07/31
  • 23:00 02/09/31
  • Midnight 23-24/11/31.

Perhaps he will enter a new mansion, perhaps he will find a mirage. Either way, it will be no delusion. May circumstance rescue you from the disease of living to heal a wound.

Venus also knows the clearing well. She did her retrograde loop nearby in 2009, and will double back to thoroughly investigate its mythical qualities this time next year, and again in 2025. I hope romance outlives us all!

 

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