Introducing:
Obviously, the project of Southern Hemisphere Astrology is to encourage resistance to objectivity, to create conditions for immunity from just another formal system which seduces the unwary into static, objective, received notions of identity and relationship. Astrology grew organically from observation, and still roots astronomy, at the source of its measurements, in the seasons. All I persevere to persuade those with the instinct to connect below with above is to observe, and recognize that the arcane traditions of Northern Hemisphere astrology are upside down in southern latitudes.
Observe that that the crescent of the waxing Moon is illuminated on the left, that it creeps clockwise as its phases displace it in time, that a negative sign means above, and that if you look to the south and bend over backwards far enough you can see from the Northern Hemisphere. Observe how much further the Moon moves nightly at perigee. Observe whether it is above or below a star such as Regulus or Zubenelgenubi on the ecliptic, and by the Moon’s progress know these and other prominent stars of the zodiac. Above all, observe the constellations the Moon and planets are in when astrology tells you which sign they are in, and calibrate that association so that all astrological meaning becomes at least ambiguous.
When you know where the seasons are in the sky, and when you know what seasons they are, then you’re ready and able to stand upright in the universe, in company with the people of the Pacific and the indigenous people of Australia, Africa and South America. You’re ready for the Gates.
The progress of the Moon through the gates, like its progress through the phases in psychological astrology, is only a game, in this case a geographical game, but it helps to envisage the invisible, and to give a deeper perspective of conditions as they unfold, a global ‘feel’. Bridging north and south, a Gate reminds us that everyone is walking upside down. Duality is not the root of suffering. Duality is the root of humanity. Hence:
and (because of space limitations to convey so much geographical information):
Every New Moon is a new set of conditions; every Full Moon the denouement of a story that unfolds from the attempt to give subjective meaning to those conditions, as dream orientates the events of a day, and Geworfenheit discovers itself, through and despite the pseudo-science of ethnography, as it unpacks the concept of ‘culture’. The absolutely essential ingredient in these conditions and narratives is the Sun.
And the harmonics of Moon orbit and Earth rotation are augmented by the harmonics of Earth orbit and rotation in such demonstrations as this, which will appear on Facebook as “Falling Towards Rectitude”, foreshadowing the next set of initial conditions.
Mother Courage revealed, thanks to what is visible in the sky at solar midnight when the Sun is before a Gate.
To be saved is to drown.
If you think that the mantra, ‘Everything is connected to everything else,’ paves your road through a universe of things; if your boogeymen are racism, capitalism, climate change or, God forbid, immigration, apostasy, homosexuality , delinquency or addiction, and you can’t accept that you are their strongest henchman; and if knowing everything you don’t need to know more, and the relativity of astrology is no more than a penny dropping into your slot: then at least you may recognize the Cartesian, cogito ergo sum, as one of the smallest steps ever taken by mankind. The connection mantra is as small.
The lot of the Great Mother is to lead into nowhere, of the Worker to persevere, and of the Drone to weigh emptiness and purpose. Everything is connected.
There is a boy once–Muna is his name–who is a constant worry to his mother. “Watch out for snakes,” she calls after him as he heads into the bush again.
He likes to escape the gossip of the village, even though there is much he could be helping with, and spend the whole day wandering, wondering about change and goodness, and daydreaming about girls. One day he does come upon a snake, a big one right across his intended path.
With no idea what she is talking about, the lad takes off at a sprint. Seven days and seven nights he runs, until exhausted he trips on the roots of a giant tree on a razorback ridge and falls immediately into a deep sleep. While he sleeps, a swirling fog creeps down the spur from an invisible peak, and voices begin whispering to him. “There is no such thing as eternity.” “Life is a miserable delusion.” “Only a woman can save you.” “Your love can save the world.” “Find the One.” When he awakens, the fog has lifted, and far below he can see the glint of another river. He has never felt more disheartened, nor less deserving to be a headman or to rule over women.
Southern Hemisphere Astrology 