Newsletter Issue 3
Welcome to the third newsletter. There is always so much going on with astrology that can be of interest to both astrologers and enthusiasts alike, it is hoped that this newsletter will be relevant to everyone.I hope to be able to include articles from various contributors on all aspects of the subject as well as a 'What's On' section for those wishing to attend workshops, conferences etc.I should point out that the views and opinions expressed by contributors to this newsletter do not necessarily reflect my own and vice versa.
If you wish to contribute to this newsletter, please e-mail me. I am always open to new ideas, suggestions and information and I'm a great believer in sharing what knowledge we have with others.
THE AGE OF AQUARIUS
The Age of Aquarius is upon us and two important and slow-moving planets are passing through this sign. Uranus will be in Aquarius until 2003 and Neptune until 2012.A new awareness is breaking through mankind's consciousness - that of unity and universal brotherhood and over the next ten years we will see the New Age movement gathering momentum as never before.
People will begin to recognize not only their own power in shaping their own destinies, but also the strength that comes from working together as a team to build a better world. Determination will replace apathy and positive action will take the place of mere sympathy for all those in need. Uranus is in the sign of its ruler in Aquarius and is thus very powerfully placed at this time.
Babies born now will be extremely individualistic. As toddlers, many of them will prove to be quite a handful since they demand independence and equality from an early age. Freedom to live their lives their own way will be of paramount importance to them.By the time this new generation reaches adulthood, we are likely to see a very different society. It won't be a question of racial, religious and sexual tolerance, but rather a realization that we really are all equal - just different and individual.
In the years to come the differences between the sexes will become less marked and, significantly, less important as we approach at last true equality for all.The Age of Aquarius will bring into incarnation people who are far more in touch with their intuition and higher senses. Many of them will be clairvoyant or telepathic.
We are likely to see new forms of energy being discovered and technological advancements will proceed at such a pace that it will be hard to keep up with it all.All in all, despite the many problems that lie ahead for humanity as they adjust their attitudes and lifestyles to harmonize with their new levels of awareness and understanding, this is an exciting era in which to be born.All these changes and more will not take place overnight and there is bound to be resistance from many quarters, but I am confident that we are moving forward in the right way; as to the radical restructuring that is likely over the next few decades, would it be such a bad thing to be governed by leaders who are prompted by practical idealism and visions of a 'New Age'?
White Eagle Astrology
The White Eagle School of Astrology runs Beginners' and Advanced postal courses and also publishes a biannual journal 'Altair.' Prospectus and other details are available from New Lands, Brewells Lane, Liss, Hampshire, GU33 7HY (e-mail: enquiries@whiteagle.org. The White Eagle Lodge also produces a regular astrological magazine called 'Stella Polaris'. The White Eagle School of Astrological is a spiritually inclined organization.
For details of retreats and astrology events, some of which are open to non-members, see their website:
http://www.whiteagle.org/community.htm
The
Phoenix
By Stephen Lawrence Lee
'In the myth the Phoenix, a bird of dazzling beauty and sole of its kind, dwells on a lofty tree in an eastern Paradise. Every thousand years it flies to a palm tree in Arabia and there builds itself a nest of spices. Here it is consumed by its own fires and reborn. When full-grown it flies with its own ashes to lay them on the altar of the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis. Men rejoice at the return of the marvellous bird, and other birds assemble. In chorus they accompany the singing Phoenix as it soars to heaven, before flying back alone to its Paradise.'
(Helen Gardner: Penguin Metaphysical Poets)
There ought not to be anything immutable about our zodiacal images. The human and animal figures, mythical or actual, that we use to symbolise each sign do not, cannot, represent everything about that sign. Given the inherent limitations of a single emblematic 'animal', they all do a remarkably good job, but our appreciation of the signs and our relationship to each of their symbols changes over time, and there comes a point at which it is permissible to ask : "Is this the best symbol for this sign?" For Scorpio in particular, I think this is a relevant question; and astrologers have been casting around for alternatives to the Scorpion for some time. The Scorpion problem is that it produces a negative image in most people's minds: a furtive, scuttling creature with a fearsome poisonous sting which it will use on itself when in a dangerous situation from which there appears to be no escape. Beside the other zodiac animals, the scorpion lacks anything that people can happily identify with. Like the crab, it is a 'lower' form of animal life far removed from the warm-blooded mammal world of which we see ourselves a part, but whereas the crab is seen as defensive and its pincers likely to inflict only momentary pain, the scorpion is seen as unpredictably aggressive and its poison as potentially lethal.
I would like to see new images allocated to all the water signs: Sheila Farrant, in her excellent 'Symbols for Women'(1) suggests Dolphins for Pisces and Bees (the Queen Bee!) for Cancer - but makes no alternative suggestion for Scorpio, preferring instead to identify it with the Egyptian civilisation which gave us our first use of the Scorpion image. However, there have been many alternatives proposed in recent astrological history. To my knowledge the following animals have been suggested in relation to Scorpio: eagle, snake, scarab, dove, sphinx, phoenix. There may well be others. Some writers are tempted to pair off symbols; thus the eagle and the snake (or scorpion) are said to symbolise the 'higher' and 'lower' natures of the sign. This begs the question of whether there are such distinct natures, and if so, why not have two symbols for each sign?
A consideration of each proposed symbol can shed some light on the way in which astrologers perceive the nature of Scorpio. Of the non-mythological animals, my own favourite is the scarab, or dung-beetle. One of the animals worshipped in ancient Egypt, where it was held to represent life itself, its Plutonic nature is very suggestive. Not only does it live on dung (transforming shit into food! ), it also digs underground burrows and is entirely black. Its basic activity is an example of the extraordinary adaptability of nature. Dung consists of the poisonous waste-products which have to be eliminated from the digestive system of 'normal' animals, and in the usual process has to be organically broken down and assimilated back into the soil before it is fit to feed plant, and subsequently animal, life. Yet the dung-beetle performs the direct transformation back into sustaining food, cutting out the two intermediate processes which are otherwise necessary.
But I feel that nothing less than a powerful mythological figure will do for Scorpio, which leaves us with the Sphinx and the Phoenix. The Sphinx obviously addresses the sense of mystery which most of us feel is inherent in this sign; the feeling that more is hidden than is revealed (the iceberg syndrome). The Sphinx knows the answer but is giving you no clues; you must work out the answer to the riddle by yourself and failure to do so is final (fatal, according to the myth!) - you have no second chances. The Sphinx is thought by some to be related to underworld guardian figures, and is said to have destroyed herself once the answer to her riddle became known. But there is confusion between the Egyptian and Greek Sphinxes, and to my mind the Phoenix is a much more numinous image.
The Phoenix supremely exemplifies the spirit of Scorpio in our imagination, as I think the quotation at the head of this chapter clearly shows. The Phoenix is indeed a marvellous bird. Unlike most other mythological constructs, it is no mere coupling of this with that; the head of one animal with the body of another and the claws or tail of something else. The Phoenix is simply a bird, it is its 'life-cycle' which is supra-natural. In accordance with the central meaning of Scorpio, the core of the myth concerns transformation through death and re-birth. The myth also carries a consistent theme: from 'sole of its kind' through to 'flying back alone to its paradise' the Phoenix lives and acts on its own - it is even consumed by its own fires. This brings us close to the awe-inspiring self-sufficiency of Scorpio, and its tendency towards isolation and separateness.
So far the myth reflects the difficult aspects of Scorpio nature, though they are alluded to in a more positive manner than is usually the case. But the myth also indicates that which is most life-giving and inspirational in the sign. The paradise inhabited by the phoenix is exotic (a nest of spices in Arabia is doubly exotic to the European imagination), and the bird is capable of soaring to heaven. (Not 'towards heaven' or 'heavenwards', but to the place itself). The Phoenix causes rejoicing simply by its periodic return; its extraordinary nature being sufficient in itself to renew the human spirit, and the spontaneous assembly of singing birds is a token of the outpouring of creative endeavour it releases. All of which denotes the profound nature of Scorpio as the catalyst which frees the spirit from its customary blockages and hang-ups. I am far from happy with the current mania for 're-branding' the familiar, but if Scorpios were to embrace the Phoenix as the emblem of their true nature it would rightly transform our perception of the sign.
Love hath reason, reason none.
So far we have dealt with the original Phoenix myth in its pure form. Another story which attached itself to the myth is that of the 'marriage' of the Phoenix and the Turtle-dove, in which the spiritually transforming power of the mythical bird is allied to the faithfulness of the familiar dove. Thus the dove takes on what Richard Idemon(2) calls the Static role in the relationship (No risk, safety and security, sameness, no change) and the phoenix is responsible for the Erotic role (not specifically sexual, but involving risk, intimacy, growth, variety, and above all the urge for change on a deep level). In Shakespeare's poem "The Phoenix and the Turtle" these roles are referred to as Love (phoenix) and Constancy (turtle), The fusion of the two qualities is not only what the poem is about, but can be taken as a paradigm for the sign, for the Fixed nature of Scorpio translates into a loyalty unmatched elsewhere in the zodiac when it is founded on deep emotional attachment.
But Shakespeare's poem goes even further into the mystery. It describes an ideal state of love, which is non-sexual ("it was married chastity") but in which the partners achieve a union which involves the complete merging of their souls while at the same time retaining their unique individuality. The key stanzas are as follows (complete with notes by Helen Gardner, which I cannot improve).
Here the anthem doth commence,
Love and Constancy is dead,
Phoenix and the Turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved as love in twain,
Had the essence but in one,
Two distincts, division none,
Number there in love was slain. *
*The logical impossibilities of a completely mutual love are set out in scholastic terms. In two persons was the one substance (essence). Though distinguished, they could not be divided: the terms are from logic. Though they were two, they were one and one is no number. Mathematics, or numbering, was made impossible.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder,
Distance and no space was seen,
Twixt this Turtle and his Queen,
But in them it were a wonder.
Property* was thus appalled
That the self was not the same,**
Single natures' double name
Neither two nor one was called.
*Property: that which (properly) belongs to an individual. (This word has acquired a very different meaning since the advance of the capitalist world-view, and now applies to money, land, and other possessions which are bought and owned by a person; whereas the original meaning of the word did not imply any sense of such ownership but only applied to the inherent qualities of the person: S.L.).
**The self: The self-same. Language here fails as mathematics has before it. Reason recognising its own defeat celebrates its overthrow in the rest of the poem.
Reason... cried, how true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one,
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts, can so remain.
The magnificence of this poem lies in the expression of a logical impossibility which nevertheless makes emotional sense; and to do so in language which is both beautiful and strenuous. The seamless quality of its rhythm and its rhymes, and the effortless flow of the words, serves to highlight the metaphysical argument that it contains. This is not a sentimental or romantic poem; it is closely reasoned and there is not a superfluous word to be seen, yet the effect is to engage the reader's emotions: it engenders an emotional response to a fundamentally emotional question (what is the nature of true love?) and does so by employing rigorously logical language which manages to defeat its own logic while approving the logic of love.
Scorpio is imbued with emotional intensity yet is capable of clear and incisive thought. The Scorpio mentality is very much at home with logical thought as a tool (or weapon), yet behind it is the ever-present emotional force which controls and uses it. Much more of this will be discussed in the relevant chapter. In the poem, 'reason' is put to emotional use, not just to defeat itself, but to reveal a truth which I believe lies near the heart of the Scorpio experience. That this truth involves 'impossible' ideals and 'impossible' logic is, of course, no deterrent. To Scorpio, the impossible is that which takes a little longer: to Pluto, there is no such word.
Scorpio ordinarily insists on the autonomy of the self and the primacy of the individual's unique experience of the world; no-one should underestimate the strength of this outlook, which at times can cut off the rest of humanity as if it didn't exist. But alongside it lies the itch for the seeming opposite; for the complete transcendence of the self which lies in the merging of that self with another self, or with an all-consuming idea or activity. This ego-death is characterised most often as a state of total identification within a sexual relationship. This is where we meet the much misunderstood Scorpio involvement with sex, for though the sex is real enough, it should be recognised not as the essential factor, but partly as a symbol of that essence and partly as a way of achieving the desired end. Human beings constantly seek to reduce sex to simple functions like procreation and pleasure. These simple functions are real and important, but scarcely account for the power and mystery inherent in our sexual experiences, and when these deeper meanings -- and the emotional force behind them - are denied, we create more problems than we solve.
The poem does away with the sex (and any posterity), but keeps the power and the mystery by describing its essential nature. Love and Beauty are represented by the Phoenix, Constancy and Truth by the Dove. They remain fully realised as separate beings, but their love creates something which is beyond individuality. Both the birds and the words are pertinent to the nature of Scorpio, and their union is symbolic of a Scorpionic ideal. The 'love and constancy is dead' line is echoed at the end of the poem:
Truth may seem, but cannot be,
Beauty brag, but tis not she,
Truth and Beauty buried be.
John Keats (31.10.1795) declared that "Beauty is truth, truth beauty", and the death of this ideal vision is one part of the tragedy played out in the Scorpio consciousness as it comes to terms with an imperfect world.
"Since Love will thrust in itself as the greatest of all principles, let us at last willingly allow it room. 'Tis the only heir and benefactor of the world. It seems it will break in everywhere, as that without which the world could not be enjoyed. Love is a Phoenix that will revive in its own ashes, inherit death, and smell sweetly in the grave."(3)
References.
(1). Sheila Farrant: Symbols for Women; a feminist guide to the Zodiac. Mandala, 1989.
(2). Richard Idemon. Through the Looking Glass; a search for the self in the mirror of relationships. Samuel Weiser, 1992.
(3). Thomas Traherne: Centuries of Meditations. 1908. (written circa 1670)
The text and notes of 'The Phoenix and the Turtle' by William Shakespeare (whoever he may have been) is taken from Helen Gardner (Editor). The Metaphysical Poets. Penguin, 1957. if you are not familiar with this poem, I cannot urge you too strongly to read it as soon as possible -- it is one of Shakespeare's most sublime creations.
THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE.
Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy are dead,
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved, as love in twain
Had its essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none;
Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote yet not asunder,
Distance, and no space was seen
Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix' sight;
Either was the other's mine.
Property was thus appalled
That the self was not the same;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was called.
Reason, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together;
To themselves yet either neither,
Simple were so well compounded,
That it cried, 'How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one !
Love hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.'
Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.
THRENOS
Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:
Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
Who are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
SOLE OF ITS KIND
There is only one Phoenix. Well, a lot of exotic birds setting fire to themselves and being reborn from the resulting ashes would attract a lot of attention to start with, but the novelty would soon wear off, people would get 'transformation fatigue' and scarcely bother to look up when it happened: it would become unmythical and unmiraculous. But as the sole of its kind, the Phoenix exists apart from the usual pattern of life; and unlike other mythical beings its role is not at all interactive - it doesn't have to be killed or tamed, it asks no riddles, it just is. This is very like Scorpio, which is the one sign that exudes this quality of aloneness. The Scorpio part of your horoscope is where you feel you are on your own and where you must (and are able to) rely only on yourself.
Stephen Lawrence Lee (Student of Astrology)
58 Warwick Street, Ryde, I.O.W., PO33 2HY(Tel: 01983 616497)
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