If we take criminals for an analogy, exalted Saturn is a refined and charming thinking-man’s crook, like Clooney, Pitt & Co in Ocean’s 11/12/13, while a debilitated Saturn is an in-your-face unpredictable and out-of-control hood such as portrayed by Joe Pesci, or the lieutenants of The Sopranos. 

Although it’s never quite as simple as I’m illustrating here, the distinction between strong/weak planetary influence is a very fundamental one in being able to describe, first, the characteristics of a client and, second, the outcomes of such character. After all, Character is Fate.

So when I spray some RAID! (Radical Astrological Idiocy Deterrent!) into the cracks and crevices of the cosmological community, I’m always amused to see what critters come scurrying out, waving their antennae and convulsing in outrage as they vomit up all sorts of undigested concepts.

Just because I’m a Vedic astrologer doesn’t mean I have an axe to grind with the Tropical community. Quite the contrary, I was raised on Tropical astrology and there’s much I admire and respect, and the further back I go in history, the more I marvel that many modern astrologers seem intent on forgetting the principles and techniques that sustained the careers of our astrological forefathers.

I reject the naïve notion of the “next big thing” – that if it’s new, it must somehow be better than what is old. Frankly, it’s almost never so. The new stuff being minted is often counterfeit, and therefore worthless. Into this category fall a lot of theories, including but not limited to non-traditional planetary rulerships, 13 signs of the zodiac, the interpretation of asteroids, and other notions.

Several months ago, I attended a talk on the Gnostic Circle and its application to astrology. Essentially, this theory superimposes the 9-pointed enneagram onto the 12-sign zodiac to highlight critical points in the evolution of a spiritual journey, eg, from individual through cosmic to transcendent. As an intellectual construct, it appeals to those who like to amuse themselves by looking at cycles within cycles of time, whether your own life or the Age of Aquarius. As a technique to counsel or predict for a client, it’s a formula for confusion, since it overlays yet another paradigm on top of something that already works fine.

Although their followers call them “visionary”, I think some of these theories are just “diversionary”. It often seems that the very people who invent them seem incapable of working successfully with the basic nuts and bolts of a system that already works pretty well. In other words, frustrated at their own ability to comprehend a perfectly workable system, either because they haven’t understood it in the first place, studied it sufficiently, or put it to rigorous practice, they think the key to chart interpretation and forecasting must lie in some other quarter, and if only they come up with an alternative approach, they will somehow stumble upon new truths.

It reminds me a bit of David Icke, who’s written twenty books in his quest to prove that the world is controlled by an elite group of reptilian aliens known as the Babylonian Brotherhood, whose ranks include George Bush, Queen Elizabeth, the Jews and Kris Kristofferson, whom they control from their subterranean headquarters beneath the Denver International Airport. Frankly, I don’t know which is more scary – the fact that he’s channeled this stuff under the guise of a spiritual mission to save Earth, or that tens of thousands of readers believe his theories.

What’s even more frightening is that some of his fans, whom I know from personal acquaintance, are practicing astrologers. To all outward appearance, they appear sane, but scratch the surface, and alien lizards are lurking just out of sight. I don’t know about you, but when I seek counsel from someone regarding my marriage or my career, I want a sympathetic realist, not someone who blames the world’s woes on a cabal of cold-blooded conspirators.

Astrology can be a lifelong romp through an intellectual amusement park, but its purpose has always been to advise and inform the affairs of man. Kooky ideas, in astrology or elsewhere, attract kooky advocates.  

RAID! Don’t leave home without it.

1. Calculate the chart correctly. Compare your original data to what you’ve input into the computer, and confirm you’ve entered it right. There’s no more sick feeling than being halfway into a consultation, only to realize that you’ve goofed up in the calculation, and have the wrong ascendant, or even worse, the wrong day, month or year!
2. Favor the major Ptolemaic aspects (conjunction, opposition, square, trine, sextile) and little else. Many astrologers like to use several if not all of the minor aspects, but the more minor aspects you allow in a chart, the more cluttered with aspect lines your chart becomes. After awhile, it looks like a knotted ball of twine, and then good luck trying to unravel it.
3. Use relatively tight orbs, seven degrees or less. The tighter your orbs, the fewer aspect patterns you’ll see in your charts, but the stronger those patterns will be. Learn to recognize additional strength via applying versus separating aspects.
4. Use the major planets and little else but the Moon’s nodes. There’s no place for asteroids and the Galactic Center in my charts. Although I’ve occasionally used the major fixed stars and a very few Arabic Parts, students should leave them alone until they’re competent analyzing charts using the basics.
5. Evaluate all planets vis-à-vis their essential dignities or lack thereof. Typically, this means recognizing strength via planets in their own or exalted signs, or weakness via debilitation or combustion. (There are other sources of strength and weakness, eg, directional strength and retrogression, but not all conditions are regarded in the same way in different systems of astrology).
6. Pick a house system and stick with it for awhile. There are many house systems, and they go in and out of vogue depending on their use by popular writers of the day. Knowing the vagaries of astrological opinion, I settled for Porphyry, which simply trisects the arcs between ASC, DSC, MC and IC to get intermediate cusps.
7. Take careful note of the ascendant lord with respect to its strength, the house it occupies, and the aspects formed between it and other planets. Do the same for the Moon. Do the same for the Sun. Does this suggest any common life themes or personality characteristics?
8. Depending on what interests you or the client, examine other house lords and occupants for strength and weakness, house placement, and aspects formed with other planets.
9. Take note of the major aspect patterns, eg, Grand Trine, Grand Cross, T-Square, Kite, etc, and what they mean with respect to their participating planets. Likewise for the patterns popularized by Marc Edmund Jones, eg, Bowl, Bucket, Locomotive, Splay, etc.
10. Constantly synthesize to find common themes and/or outcomes suggested by the analysis of various houses. Astrology is all about pattern recognition, both in chart configurations and in the meanings attributed to such configurations.
11. Use progressions and/or transits to identify periods during which latent potential in the chart might be triggered. Fame or misfortune don’t happen in a void – the chart can only deliver in time what is promised at birth.
12. Ask your client beforehand what they’re interested in, and be prepared to discuss those topics or answer specific questions. Speak in plain language, not in astrological terms or New Age gobbledegook.
13. Ask for feedback in the form of confirmation or denial when you’re finished your reading. If there were things you weren’t sure of, ask your own questions in order to get the facts. Learn from your mistakes as well as your successes.

Although both the Faculty and my own curiosity introduced me to many other techniques, including things I’ve since rejected, the basic process remains the same – identify strong and weak elements of the chart, recognize recurring patterns, and synthesize their various meanings in order to provide insights for the client in their areas of interest.

The asteroids are thought to be the remnants of the proto-planetary disk, a Saturn-like ring of space-junk beyond the orbit of Mars which, during the formative period of the solar system, was prevented by Jupiter’s large gravitational force from being able to coalesce into one or more separate planetary bodies. Despite this, the asteroids have nonetheless been dignified by assigning them names.

At last count, according to the International Astronomical Union, there were 14,525 named asteroids. Many early discoveries were named after gods and goddesses, and in tropical astrology, the insertion of Pallas, Athena, Vesta, Juno and Chiron into horoscopes was popularized by some astrologers with specialized ephemerides from the 1980s onward. Nowadays, having exhausted the pantheon of the gods and goddesses of all civilizations, asteroids are named after their discoverers, their favorite movie stars, or less prosaically, Beer, Pecker and Zero.

The speaker illustrated asteroids’ utility by looking at a few select charts to show how asteroids named after their significant marital partners turned up in proximity to a planet or angular point in their charts. And who wouldn’t be amused to know that the transiting T-square involving Mars, Venus and Saturn were aligned respectively with the asteroids Johann, Lorena and Pecker when Lorena Bobbitt cut off husband John’s penis while he slept?

But is astrology’s only purpose to entertain us with such hindsight? Could any asteroid-smitten astrologer have predicted John’s fate that night, knowing the disposition of the transits and the aptly-named asteroids? Could anyone have warned John Bobbitt that he should sleep only on his stomach? Not a chance. And here’s why.

With 14,525 asteroids spread over 12 signs, that’s1210 asteroids per sign, or 40 asteroids for every degree of arc. The speaker suggested an effective orb of three degrees between an asteroid and the planets or angles of a chart. That would embrace 120 asteroids on one side of your ascendant, and another 120 asteroids on the other side. In other words, for every single point in your chart, you’d be looking at 240 asteroids. And that’s just considering the conjunction!

With so much noise, a radio engineer would ask you, how can you hear the signal? From an astrologer’s point of view, we’d be faced with such a multitude of asteroids to choose from, how would we ever know which was meaningful? And even if we could choose a significant asteroid by whatever standard (none offered by the speaker) how could we possibly begin to interpret it, unless it was a well-known deity, historical figure, or geographical location we could look up in Wikipedia?

Let’s see. My descendant is conjunct the asteroid Dudleymoore (yes, that’s in the catalog), and in university I thought his co-star Bo Derek was so incredibly hot in the movie Ten that I had a big poster of her over my bed. Wow, asteroids rock!

Is it just me? Am I the only one who can do simple math? Am I the only one who applies critical thinking to such ill-conceived propositions? Am I the only one to say, this is just barely amusing in hindsight, but where’s the application in counseling and forecasting?

Just because it’s up there in the sky doesn’t mean we have to credit it with any meaning. But don’t take my word for it. Go ahead and spend the rest of your astrological life devoted to the asteroids. I won’t lose any sleep worrying about the clients who’re going to flock from me to you.

The great astrologers of antiquity didn’t need space junk cluttering up their charts. Neither do we. 

Enter Mercury, a twitchy metrosexual with a cup of takeout coffee in one hand and a copy of Wired in the other. He sinks into the deep leather chair opposite Dr. Chiron’s desk and releases a heavy world-weary sigh, not unlike that of a moose who’s finally been run to ground by wolves.

Dr. Chiron:  And how are we doing this week?

Mercury:     I’m at the end of my rope.

Dr. Chiron:  What seems to be the problem?

Mercury:     It’s déjà vu, all over again. 

Dr. Chiron:  Don’t quote Yogi Berra, speak from your own heart.

Mercury:     I’m tired of being blamed for everything.

Dr. Chiron:  I feel your pain. Share with me.

Mercury:     It’s like a recurring nightmare. Every time I go retrograde, people lay every misfortune at my doorstep. I’m afraid to step outside. There’s so much vilification piled on my lawn that the City’s assigned a special garbage truck just to haul away all the crap that people are dumping on me.

Dr. Chiron:  Metaphorically speaking, of course…

Mercury:     No. I’m literal as hell, and I can’t take it any more. If the computer crashes, I’m the virus. If the flight’s cancelled, I’m the technical difficulty. If there’s a labor strike, I’m the instigator. If the stock market falls, I’m the bad news bear. I can’t even take the subway to work any more. You should see the looks I get when the train’s late. I can hear them muttering under their breath as they give me dirty looks across the platform. He’s at it again, the little weasel.

Dr. Chiron:  Look, you’re not alone. Friday the 13^th has a public relations problem too.

Mercury:     Don’t patronize me. Friday’s got it made in the shade compared to me. People love Friday. “TGIF,” they say, like a prayer that’s been answered. You know what Friday’s associated with? Dinner, drinks, dancing and the dirty deed. But do you ever hear anyone say, thank God it’s Mercury retrograde?

Dr. Chiron:  Not in my 30 years of practice.

Mercury:     And why not, I ask you? Mercury retrograde is good for lots of stuff. One-sixth of humanity is born with Mercury retrograde. Does that make us all villains? Many of us are academics, artists, business people, designers, geniuses, models, writers, scientists. Why does the world hate us just because it looks like we’re going against the tide? (sniffles)

Dr. Chiron:  (nudging the Kleenex in Mercury’s direction) Don’t take it so personally.

Mercury:     Can you blame me? Look, the facts are pretty obvious. I only go retrograde three times a year, for about twenty days at a shot. That’s sixty days out of the year. And yet, when I’m retrograde, it’s like every Tom, Dickie and Harriet goes on red alert, looking for a disaster to blame on me. Come on, people, get a life. Was I retrograde when the twin towers went down? No. When the Indonesian tsunami rolled in? No. When Katrina drowned New Orleans? No.

Dr. Chiron:  I guess most people overlooked that.

Mercury:     Lucky for me, else I would have been burned at the stake. But my reputation’s ruined anyway. You know how hard it is for me to get a date, to hold a job? As soon as something goes wrong, it’s my fault. Just because I occasionally go retrograde doesn’t mean I’m a pervert or a saboteur. Except for the luminaries, all of the other planets do it, but does anyone ever blame anything on them?

Dr. Chiron:  Unfortunately, you seem to have been type-cast.

Mercury:     Well, I’m tired of being everyone’s astrological whipping boy. Let’s share the blame. Consider the astronomical data. In any given year, both Venus and Mars are retrograde for more than a month or two, respectively. Jupiter and Saturn are walking backward for four months. And those outer planets, they’re all in reverse for five months at a stretch! And nobody points a finger at any of them! But let me turn my back for just three weeks, and suddenly it’s open season for Mercury-bashing.

Dr. Chiron:  (looking at his watch) I’m sorry, but our time is up. Shall we schedule a few follow-up sessions?

Mercury:     Sure. (turning on his Blackberry) Same time next Wednesday?

Dr. Chiron:  Sorry, we’ll have to skip the next three weeks.

Mercury:     Why? You’re on vacation?

Dr. Chiron:  No. You’ll be retrograde.

Mercury:     AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!

Some philosopher once quipped that God invented time to make sure everything didn’t happen all at once.

The problem with time is the uncertainty of when things will happen. Because we don’t entirely control our karma, we sometimes wait for things that never happen. Or we give up just before the thing we’ve been working or praying for would have happened.

Indian folk literature has many stories about karma. In one, a woodcutter enters the forest one day, where he hears someone praying. He creeps through the bushes and sees a sadhu, or renunciate, seated in a clearing chanting a mantra while fingering his prayer beads.

As the woodcutter watches, the sadhu falls silent. He hurls his prayer beads into the bushes and turns his face to the heavens. He complains he’s been performing spiritual practices for 15 years and nothing has happened. So he’s giving up. Before he’s too old, he’s going back to town to get a job, find himself a wife, and start a family.

After the sadhu leaves, the woodcutter retrieves the cast-off prayer beads. Recalling the mantra, he sits in the clearing and begins to chant. After several minutes he enters a trance-like state.

The clearing fills with light and Shiva, the great god of renunciates, appears before the woodcutter. Shiva tells him he’s achieved liberation and will be freed from the bondage of rebirth. The woodcutter says, but I’ve only been chanting a few minutes, while the sadhu was at it for 15 years.

Shiva tells the woodcutter that the sadhu, had he persisted, would have achieved liberation today. Now that he’s given up, he must be reborn to complete his karma. On the other hand, woodcutter, you’ve been chanting this mantra many lifetimes, and you had only a few minutes left to complete your karma.

On occasion, life seems uncertain. Gaining perspective on our lives can give us hope, direction, or a reality check, whether in relationships, career, health, finances, artistic or spiritual pursuits. Astrology is one such means to read the map of our karma. If you face uncertainty about some aspect of your life or future, consider the option.

It all started during awhile back, when I was reading a post to the Astrology Meetup mailing list of which I am a member. A certain correspondent, who shall best remain nameless, was gushing about how notable was the position of the Galactic Center (26 Sagittarius) in certain charts he had observed. 

For example, Bill Clinton had Mars trine the GC, which explained his testosterific charisma. Nixon had multiple aspects to the GC, which explained his checkered rise to and fall from power. But what clinched it for me was when he observed that Saddam Hussein had been pulled out of his underground hidey-hole on the very day that transiting Moon formed a perfect trine with the Galactic Center at 26 degrees Sagittarius!

Now it’s just that sort of highly generalized non-critical thinking that arouses my ire, and makes me want to take my friend Uzi out of his cage and go visit said correspondent down at the Galactic Center…
 
The GC lies at 26 Sagittarius. Considering the major Ptolemaic aspects only, that gives us two perfect trines at 26 Aries and Leo, two sextiles at 26 Libra and Aquarius, squares at 26 Virgo and Pisces, and an opposition at 26 Gemini. That makes, along with the conjunction, a total of eight (8) points of contact.
 
Allowing the Moon a traditional 7-degree orb on either side of exactitude, that’s 14 degrees of span for each of 8 contact points, which provides a zone of 112 degrees, almost a third of the zodiac, from which the Moon could score a “meaningful” aspect on the GC. In other words, a 31% chance.
 
And that’s without allowing larger orbs for the Moon, as some are inclined to do. Without invoking minor aspects, which many others are inclined to do. Without using one or more of the other nine planets traditional to western astrology, or the nodes, giving us 12 moving bodies in total. And please don’t mention Chiron and the other asteroids, or I will start another rant.
 
We can take any point in the zodiac and attribute (hypothetical) meaning to it. We can examine every birth as well as every mundane event in history and, using luminaries, planets and nodes, ALWAYS find some connection via some aspect, major or minor. But single connections are meaningless.

“One swallow doth not a Spring make.” The astrological paraphrase would go something like this: “Don’t get your knickers in a knot just because you see one thing connect with one other thing in the chart.” It happens ALL the time.
 
My teacher drilled The Rule of Three into me: (1) If you see one thing, it means NOTHING. (2) If you see two things (suggesting the same interpretation), you MIGHT be onto something. (3) If you see it three times, then you have a THESIS worth discussing with your client or audience.
 
Some astrologers seem to be like small children, who understand little but are attracted to bright shiny objects they’ve never seen before. These are often the first people to embrace without question every new concept that comes down the pike, whether it’s Asteroid 666, a “progressed aspect” derived by dividing your age by the Golden Mean, or the north node of newly-discovered dwarf planet Eris.

Let’s face it, astrology is complicated. It takes a lot of study; it takes a lot of discrimination to filter the signal out of all the noise. But that very complexity behooves us to THINK a little.
 
If we don’t understand something, we don’t gain greater understanding by adding more complexity via additional celestial bodies and aspects and whatever else will be new and shiny next year. Greater complexity doesn’t lead to clarity, it leads to confusion.
 
Curiosity is a wonderful and precious thing. Without it we would neither seek nor find new territory, intellectual or otherwise. But we have to be discriminating too. That’s why a study of classical astrology is an antidote for all this foolishness. We could be busy the rest of our lives trying to master the BASICS, but then at least we’d have something to work with.

As a Vedic astrologer who no longer uses Uranus, Neptune and Pluto, I’ve also come full circle to appreciate all over again the classical western astrology that was practiced by Bonatti, Brahe, Lilly, Nostradamus and many others who operated in the pre-1784 era before Herschel with a telescope even discovered Uranus. If they were able to do such fine work with the then-known and visible planets, who cares about the outer planets, never mind the asteroids? It’s one thing to acknowledge their astronomical existence, quite another to force-fit them into the astrological paradigm, as some have done.
 
As a final parting shot at the Galactic Center, please consider this. It was only five centuries ago that Copernicus dared to say that the Sun, not the Earth, lay at the center of our little “universe”, and only four centuries since Galileo defended him, even though it incurred the unwelcome interest of the Inquisition.
 
The notion of the Galactic Center is still relatively fresh (circa 1918), and is based upon a science of radio telescopy that is constantly evolving. The GC may be a paradigm subject to change. Do we think anyone has climbed high enough above the “horizon” to see the edges of the Galaxy and determine its center?
 
What happens when, twenty years from now, the scientific establishment opines that there are actually several galaxies within a larger cosmos, and the Cosmic Center (CC) is located at 26 degrees Aries, exactly where my Sun lies at the MC?
 
When that day comes, I guess I’ll declare myself Emperor of the Cosmos. And if anyone in the crowd mutters that I’m walking naked among the stars, my friend Uzi and I will pay him a visit.

Little wonder that, when the least evidence of our legitimacy arises, we embrace it with all the fervor of a re-born Christian who hears the Messiah is coming to town. Last time this happened was in the 70s, when French statisticians Michel and Francoise Gauquelin turned up significant evidence that angular planets had a bearing on professions. Since then, we’ve had little more than our faith to keep us going.

Today there is, if not a Messiah, at least a kindred voice on the scene – James Hillman, Jungian psychologist, scholar, and author of twenty-plus books, one of which should be required reading for all astrologers. The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling was first published in 1996, and since reprinted in a trade paperback version. The copyright page lists its library catalogue headings as: (1) Individuality, (2) Individuality in children, (3) Fate and fatalism, and (4) Gifted persons.

Hillman’s central thesis, illustrated by several biographical sketches, is that remarkable people, ranging from serial killers to renowned artists, are born, not made. This flies in the face of conventional psychological wisdom which says that either genetics or parental upbringing is the greatest determinant of what a person makes of themselves. To the contrary, Hillman asserts “neither nature nor nurture” dictates the outcome of a life. Rather, it is an innate quality possessed by each person, a spark of individuality that, like a master code for a person’s life, determines the direction of his destiny.

Hillman employs the Greek term daimon for the notions of guardian angel, spirit, or soul, all of which imply an over-arching intelligence guiding the course of life. This is the “soul’s code”. Thanks to the daimon, the adult’s true fate is already known to the child, and this knowledge guides the child unerringly, despite all the obstacles imposed by parental and societal norms, in the inevitable direction of its fate.

A child’s daimon can’t be reduced to either parents or genes. Each soul chose its parents to be born from, and the genes through which it could grow. It is not controlled or developed by us; we are fated to become the image it has conceived of us before we were born.

Hillman’s “acorn theory” suggests that in each small child there is a tight bundle of compressed future-self, the acorn practically exploding with its furious desperation to grow into its “oak-ness”. Plant an acorn in a corn field, and it will produce an oak, not a corn stalk. Let mother encourage or discourage, it makes no matter, the child knows where it’s going and will have its way in time. The daimon is in the driver’s seat.

Readers with an appreciation for astrology might well wonder whether the “soul’s code” could be a reference to the birth chart. Although Hillman never gives his readers an explicit nod in this direction, his occasional allusions to astrology encourage us to believe he’s familiar with its basic principles and practices. He is perhaps even sympathetic when he says, “There is in each of us a longing to see beyond what our usual sight tells us. A revelation of the invisible in an intelligible form leads us to the astrologer.”

The Soul’s Code is about one’s calling, fate, character and innate image, notions encapsulated in the term daimon. Hillman’s acorn theory suggests that “each person bears a uniqueness that asks to be lived and that is already present before it can be lived.” Doesn’t this sound remarkably like karma?

In Sanskrit, the planets are called grahas, those which have the power to seize. In the birth chart, planets are forces for both the divine and the demonic, and their respective conditions determine which way the balance tips. Hitler was seized by his daimon from an early age. Indeed, his whole life appeared to have been mapped out for him to such an extent that he himself commented: “I go the way Providence dictates for me with all the assurance of a sleepwalker.”

As Hillman notes, the old Greeks said of their gods: “They ask for little, only that they not be forgotten.” And in practice, this is why many Vedic astrologers, prior to an astrological analysis or consultation, invoke the navagraha (nine planets) via a brief mantra, thus honoring the planetary deities in the birth chart, within whose chakra we read the soul’s heart and purpose.

Half the world’s population believes in reincarnation, which obliges us to be reborn again and again, working on our soul’s multiple-life lessons, like some poor kid who can’t get his college degree until he passes Ethics 101.

Karma and reincarnation are linked. According to Universal Law, every action generates consequences sooner or later. Therefore, actions in one life may carry over into consequences of subsequent lives, creating conditions of happiness or sorrow for reasons we don’t understand.

Karma is pretty complicated, which is why Mahatma Gandhi said, “After inventing karma, God was finally able to retire.” And because God wasn’t satisfied with just a “one-size-fits-all” karma, He actually came up with four different models.

Sanchita karma is “accumulated”, like an eternal biography in which all of your actions in all of your lives are recorded for posterity. If you were Cleopatra in a previous life, it’s written. If you were naughty or nice, it’s been noted.

Prarabdha karma is “ripened”, like fruit on a tree that falls when it’s now ready to be eaten. If your accumulated karma is a full deck of cards, your ripened karma is the hand you’re dealt, to play as best you can in this game of life. 

Kriyamana karma is “action”, the exercise of your free will. Perform good or bad deeds, chances are you’ll be rewarded appropriately. If it happens in this life, we jokingly call it instant karma.

Agama karma is “thought”, whether you act on it or not. Although it’s a grey area, the Bible warns us that it’s almost as bad to commit adultery in your mind…

Some people’s karma is “fixed” and no matter how much they try, they’re stuck with it. On the other hand, some karma is “flexible”, and if people exercise sufficient free will in performing right actions, they can rise above it. 

Your astrological birth chart provides a map of your current life’s karma, which is why astrology is considered a divine science. But it takes training, experience and judgment to assess the balance between fate and free will, which is why the practice of astrology is considered a divine art.  

Uh-oh, wait a minute, you say. Mercury is not retrograde?!

So what’s wrong with this picture? Hollywood writers have been on strike since 5 November 2007. Writers are ruled by Mercury. If even the intelligentsia of modern society don’t follow the laws of astrological synchronicity, it’ll be total chaos! What the #$%^ is going on?

Don’t these guys know they’re screwing with the Law & Order of the cosmos? And while they’re picketing my House, they’re stirring up my Criminal Minds (yes, plural, because I am a multiple-mutable-sign schizophrenic!), not to mention giving me a bad case of HSA (Helgenberger-separation-anxiety) due to the impending C.S.I. interruptus.

Deal or No Deal? No deal, man. Everybody knows, strikes happen when Mercury goes retrograde. People go back to work when Mercury goes direct. But Mercury has been direct since well before November 5th. Therefore, either Breszny or those striking writers have it all backwards. Hmm. Is this the mathematical equivalent of multiplying two negative numbers and getting a positive? Let`s see. (Breszny’s astro-babble) X (writer’s bad timing) = cosmic order…?

Or is it just that shit happens all the time, and we only think it’s “predictable” when we also notice that Mercury is retrograde at the same time? Last week I had a computer malfunction, my DVD player died, and my car doors iced up. I would have loved to blame that weasel Mercury, but he was nowhere near retrograde. Who am I supposed to attack now – Mars?

All of this should give us pause to think of retrograde Mercury as the astrological equivalent of our stepping on a crack in the sidewalk, walking under a ladder, or having a black cat cross our path. Do we really think the sky will fall on our heads if we stumble across one small event of dubious symbolic meaning? Once upon a time within a certain context, the black cat and the ladder might have had a relevance, but since then they`ve become over-used and ossified (rigidly set in a conventional pattern of behavior, beliefs, and attitudes) that they’re no longer relevant for general application.

Go stand in front of the mirror. Ask yourself, how many of me are real? And which one of us belongs in a support group for a better understanding of astrology? Just don’t avoid your first meeting because Mercury is retrograde, for fear you’ll be the only one there. Unless of course, you’re a multiple-mutable-sign schizophrenic…