As the Sun in Aquarius perfects its square with Mars in Scorpio over the coming weeks, tensions between different judging processes and clashes between uranian freedom and scorpionic control may arise. This was somewhat mitigated Thursday the 21st into Friday the 22nd by the Moon’s activation of a grand water trine with Mars’ placement and Neptune in Pisces. A contentiousness yields to serenity. Saturday’s Full Moon in Leo, however, might contribute to drama and creative fervor in its opposition to the Sun and their t-square with Mars.
Aquarius is the idea and practice made mobile, the applied thoughtform, the utility of genius. William Blake wrote, “Improvement makes straight roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are the roads of Genius.” The suchness of meaning here goes beyond the poetry of Blake’s word choice. Personally, I like to describe genius as ‘airy’ and brilliance ‘fiery,’ very much the kind of fire channelled by Blake’s Sagittarius Sun, Jupiter and Pluto.
Both fire and air love their freedom. The fire and flash of intuitive brilliance are externalized by the will, funneled into action of singular and harmonic motivation. The winds of the mind might consider many outcomes, but if the will is divided, a person will likely stumble rather than leaping the gap. “Help us to be reflective, of two minds but not two wills, moving along the way,” as Adam Elenbaas recently wrote. Fire wants no limitation, but unconsciously craves roadblocks to burn through and be molded by. The air and buzz of genius, however, seem in their nature to be the application of a vision. Especially in context of Aquarius, genius cannot be separated from the tinkering and experimentation that finds its most agile and efficient form.
In this way, Saturn’s traditional dual rulership of Capricorn and Aquarius finds stone-laying and sure feet with the Goat, the tweaking of policy and wiping of slates with the Water-Bearer. Capricorn is the wizard’s timelessness, in his variably mundane and magical lead-to-gold alchemical processes. Aquarius is their transmutation in new technique and future science. The harmony of these two forges worlds.
And what kinds of worlds? The Cancer-Aquarius quincunx (also known as ‘inconjunct') — a 150° angle between celestial bodies and elliptic points — is one that knows untold compassion for humankind. The rebel heart, the rights activist, the new world nurturer. It is the pursuit of the ideal, and yet it is also the uranian chaos that seems to prevent an egalitarian world. The sheer multiplicity of karmic narratives being lived out… paralyzes any singular wave of awakening, while adding the depth and nuance that makes earthly life worth living. William Blake also wrote, “Eternity is in love with the productions of time.”
With the Moon in Cancer opposing Mercury and Pluto in Capricorn while trining Mars in Scorpio, underwater volcanoes feed the matriarch’s violent poetry of gestation.
From David Eagleman’s Sum: Forty Tales From the Afterlives ::
"In the afterlife you discover that God understands the complexities of life. She had originally submitted to peer pressure when She structured Her universe like all the other gods had, with a binary categorization of people into good and evil. But it didn't take long for Her to realize that humans could be good in many ways and simultaneously corrupt and mean-spirited in other ways. How was She to arbitrate who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell? Might not it be possible, She considered, that a man could be an embezzler and still give to charitable causes? Might not a woman be an adulteress but bring pleasure and security to two men's lives? Might not a child unwittingly divulge secrets that splinter a family? Dividing the population into two categories — good and bad — seemed like a more reasonable task when She was younger, but with experience these decisions became more difficult. She composed complex formulas to weigh hundreds of factors, and ran computer programs that rolled out long strips of paper with eternal decisions. But Her sensitivities revolted at this automation — and when the computer generated a decision She disagreed with, She took the opportunity to kick out the plug in rage. That afternoon She listened to the grievances of the dead from two warring nations. Both sides had suffered, both sides had legitimate grievances, both pled their cases earnestly. She covered Her ears and moaned in misery. She knew Her humans were multidimensional, and She could no longer live under the rigid architecture of Her youthful choices.
Not all gods suffer over this; we can consider ourselves lucky that in death we answer to a God with deep sensitivity to the byzantine hearts of Her creations.
For months She moped about Her living room in Heaven, head drooped like a bulrush, while the lines piled up. Her advisors advised Her to delegate the decision making, but She loved Her humans too much to leave them to the care of anyone else.
In a moment of desperation the thought crossed Her mind to let everyone wait in line indefinitely, letting them work it out on their own. But then a better idea struck Her generous spirit. She could afford it: She would grant everyone, every last human, a place in Heaven. After all, everyone had something good inside; it was part of the design specifications. Her new plan brought back the bounce to Her gait, returned the color to Her cheeks. She shut down the operations in Hell, fired the Devil, and brought every last human to be by Her side in Heaven. Newcomers or old-timers, nefarious or righteous: under the new system, everyone gets equal time to speak with Her. Most people find Her a little garrulous and oversolicitous, but She cannot be accused of not caring.
The most important aspect of Her new system is that everyone is treated equally. There is no longer fire for some and harp music for others. The afterlife is no longer defined by cots versus waterbeds, raw potatoes versus sushi, hot water versus champagne. Everyone is a brother to all, and for the first time an idea has been realized that never came to fruition on Earth: true equality.
The Communists are baffled and irritated, because they have finally achieved their perfect society, but only by the help of a God in whom they don't want to believe. The meritocrats are abashed that they're stuck for eternity in an incentiveless system with a bunch of pinkos. The conservatives have no penniless to disparage; the liberals have no downtrodden to promote.
So God sits on the edge of Her bed and weeps at night, because the only thing everyone can agree upon is that they're all in Hell."
David Eagleman, "Egalitaire"
[ Artwork by James Bristol, "Dark and Deep" c. 2013 ]