Stardust
Written word varies from verbal delivery by about a mile and half, especially in my case. Plus, there are items that I try to convey in person and some of this material just doesn’t lend itself to a short narrative form.
Anyway, to start with, understand that Mercury orbits the Sun about every 88 days. North Pole, South Pole, blah blah blah…
Venus, 260 days for an orbit, north pole, south pole, and so on..
Earth, 365 days, north pole (Canada, right?), south pole, 17 degree axial tilt, day, night, seasons, blah blah blah.
Mars, 22 months (give or take, I’m doing this from memory), north pole, south pole, Martians, Rover, and so forth, blah blah blah.
Jupiter 12 years, north pole, south pole, &c. Saturn, 28 years, rings, poles, you know the rest.
Each planet is hooked up with an astrology sign. Aquarius gets Uranus. (If you’re about to smirk at that planet’s name, I’ll smack you really hard. Don’t even go there. It’s not funny any more.)
I tend to just refer to the planet as “Your-nuss” to prevent any childish snickering.
Anyway, this planet is the one that is associated with Aquarius. Odd ducks, them Aquarius folks. Several astrology writers have shied away from any kind of Aquarius Love Fest because, apparently, those authors don’t understand some of the basics of either astronomy or human behavior.
I’ve used the expression before, and I’ll reiterate it, “Each Aquarius is an individual, just like every other Aquarius.”
Which actually works, as each Aquarius is a little different than whatever “normal” is. Which might be a problem, until I go back to the astronomy involved, and the planet associated with this one sign: Uranus.
See, the planets in our solar system all have, basically, a rotation pattern wherein, there’s a north pole and south pole, more or less, at a ninety degree angle to the sun. Like here at home. More or less. But Uranus (Aquarius) the north pole points at the sun at all times. So it’s rolling along sideways, compared to the rest of the solar system. 84 year orbit, too.
There’s really a lot more that has to do with the mechanics of the way it works, but let’s just, for the sake of demonstration, consider that the ruling planet for Aquarius is 90 degrees off from the rest of the solar system. Unlike any other sign. The symbolism is too hard to shake.
The Aquarius “theme” is rebel. Weird. Odd. Different. Plus, it’s an air sign. Intellectual, as well. Usually very smart cookies. Very smart. But sometimes in an odd way.
Last weekend, I was seated across from some guys with a product that helped with ADD, ADHD, ADT, or whatever we’re calling it this week. Dollars to donuts, though, I’ve found that some of that “Attention Deficit” material stems from either Gemini, afflicted Mercury, or Aquarius stuff in a chart. Air. Thinking material.
In a recent exchange, I asked an Aquarius how that person felt about a certain situation. The all-too-typical response?
“I think I feel…”
The flip side of the question? What did that person think about the same situation?
“I feel like it’s…”
It’s not that these folks don’t have hearts, quite the opposite. But the expression comes across as different.
The ADD banner made me think about the Aquarius and the way they take tests. Let’s assume it’s a multiple choice, A, B, C. C is the correct answer. But A is cute, funny and poignant. The typical Aquarius answer? A.
Look: this test s going to be graded by a machine. Doesn’t matter that answering A made a funny point. So the test results don’t go so very well, and they belie the Aquarius intellectual ability. (I’d probably mark A, too. I’m funny like that. Why I’m no longer in academia, as well.)
True story: an Aquarius friend wanted to go and listen to some “alt-country” one evening, down at the Broken Spoke. It’s a treasure of a venue, a step back in time, where the males are gentlemen and wear hats, like they’re supposed to, and everyone is pure redneck. I love the place. Boots and jeans are not required but a very good idea. So the Aquarius? She shows up at my place wearing a darling metallic miniskirt, white knee-high go-go boots, and for a purse? A little backpack that looked like a jet-pack. Well, this is Austin, but even then, she did look a little odd. Not exactly out of place, but not quite in-step with the crowd. As an unnecessary addendum, she was whisked into the “Country Mosh Pit” within thirty seconds. I think I was still shelling out the cover charge.
Typical Aquarius approach, that’s for sure. Didn’t blend, but fit in perfectly well.
The final Aquarius Moon reading, earlier (Wednesday, actually), was enlightening for me. I was running through some of this material, after I slapped myself because I didn’t recall the moon sign when we set up the reading, and then the client suggested the term, “intellectual rebel.”
Wished I’d said it first. But yeah, that’s as good as an expression as anything I can come up with. Just a little different.
I have a mental box for all 12 signs. A little slot of each planet, sign, attribute and so forth. But for the Aquarius box? There are no sides. No top. Nothing to constrain or contain the Aquarius spirit. No limits. Which means, that the Aquarius is quite content to stay within that framework because there is no framework. Only makes sense.
Remember, it goes back to the astronomy, Uranus is 90 degrees different from everything else in the system. Like Aquarius.
N.B.:
The mechanics are really a little different than 90 degrees, it’s something like 87 degrees and the north pole and the south pole swap positions every 42 years, or one-half of an orbit, which, oddly enough coincides with a mid-life turning point. But for the sake of symbolism, just assume it’s 90 degrees. Much easier concept to grasp, and the planet’s still sideways, no matter how you look at it.
Echos
I was listening to neighbor, cavorting in the spring sun. Weather’s a hot topic, as a Leo, then a Sagittarius, and finally a vocal Gemini jumped into a heated discussion about Tuesday’s brief but severe weather.
“Golf ball sized hail,” one was saying. I can verify that. I stepped out, under the awning, briefly, while I watched the ice fall from the sky.
Less than an hour earlier, I’d been creek-side, with a pole in hand, feeding worms to my little friends.
But then, Wednesday was cool and clear. nary a sign of the brief deluge.
“Dude, I’ve got to cancel dinner,” a Pisces was telling me, “a boyfriend showed up.”
That’s why I like being “boyfriend lite,” Doesn’t bother me a bit when the real thing shows up. I’m happy for them.
Further reverberations:
I putting on the headset, slamming a tape down in the machine, and getting ready for a phone reading. I noticed I had a bare hook, and I’d been meaning to pop a new worm on that hook. I opened up some “new” plastic worms, “infused with the flavor bass crave” and I gagged. The cat went outside.
Worse than a week-long vacation with no empty litter box. More noxious than, well, I give up. Catfish bait? Sure. But a plastic bass worm? It really made the place stink. Bad. It’s a variation of garlic, but not like an appetizing garlic, more like a rancid one. Bad smell. Put it on the pole and left the pole outside. Insects wouldn’t land on it. So far, neither would the fish.
Only one place to keep bait that good, in the ice box. Inside a ziploc bag inside a tupperware. Double bagged, so to seal the deal.
Let me see, that phone reading, Sunday through Wednesday, that’s four days. Any bet on the moon sign? I think I’ll continue that thought in an astrology lesson, as I learned something today.
Several years ago, a place called “Freebirds” was all the rage. There’s a new one on South Congress, and I had a “big as your face” burrito there. First time, probably won’t be the last, either.
Three little fishes, after dark. Then the wind kicked up pretty good and I gave up.
Brief political notation:
Seems like one Texas elected guy just can’t catch a break. I almost feel sorry for him. (Not really!)
Can’t hit the road without one last musical notation:
“I left Houston Texas in a Gulf Coast Hurricane, I was blowed down by tornados, washed up by the rain.
(Robert Earl Keen, off The Live Album)
“I’m headed for the border, man, I’m goin’ down in style…”
