Welcome to the Ophiuchus Show


January 14, 2011

Zodiac news: we have a new house in the house. As above, so below – so, on behalf of our generation: Welcome to the Ophiuchus Show.

Astrology and society mirror each other brilliantly: stars dictating lower astral elements’ every move, pulling pieces to and fro in the midst of suspense, battling with rival orbs’ gravitational forces, and universal supremacy held by the number of other bodies revolving around the ruling luminary.

Amidst the universe sat twelve dignitaries, the twelve signs of the zodiac – astrological designations, and a cosmic culture. Today we ushered in Ophiuchus – the thirteenth house.

The twelve signs dictate and reflect eras and individuals here on Earth. The behaviors, beliefs, habits, and identity of an Aries person, are the same traits and characteristics of the Age of Aries. Throughout history, we have witnessed astrology present itself through cultural revolutions, coups, subservience, times of peril and prominence, of innovation and insulation, of turmoil and tranquility; and so we have seen leaders equally diverse and significant: charismatic, assertive, accessible, visionary, acquiescent, militaristic, communal, dogmatic, egocentric… the list continues, until it trickles down into the masses: a collection of diverse individuals who react to the times and the leaders to create a whole age and era. Jesus’ birth marked the beginning of the Age of Pisces, as he was the forward-thinking Fisher of Men to hearken in a new era, who washed into the social consciousness after the Great Flood washed away the past. 2000 years later, give or take some change, was to mark the beginning of the Age of Aquarius – a heralded golden age of enlightenment, man and machine, humanitarianism through innovation and unprecedented access and universal awareness. Something happened though, something shifted, something went amiss; instead of 2000 as nature intended, we got Y2K – the man-made interruption.

America is a powerhouse that came to prominence in its relative youth. Compared to empires of old – England, China, Egypt, Rome, Mongolia, Greece – with historical tapestries rich with centuries of rivalries, revelry, rebellion, and revival; America was the lucky trust-fund baby with no past, an ever-present future, no time for antiquities, nary an eye on eternity, and somehow towering over the world powers of old with dime-a-dozen dreams in the face of priceless histories. What we have done in 300 years to the world, the world citizen, and the stratospheric layer that sits above us all is unprecedented: we robbed the king’s footstool and called it a throne – and for some reason the court let it happen. We weren’t really of the royals, we were among them; we were the tolerated stepchild; we were so used to getting presents from our parents and their friends – a doll from Uncle Paris, a tea set from Mother England, a darling floral arrangement from Old Man Japan from across the bay, a pet from Old Lady Africa down the street – that when someone said no, we straight jacked it and put them on timeout: we’re always the natives, but we’ll let you be our neighbors – do you know who my father is?

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As we rose to prominence, so did our influence on the greater plane; where we soared to infinity… and beyond – belief. We drained civilization for the instant creation of a makeshift monarch. We reign on a throne of shredded tapestries rehashed in California and the Capitol, reconfigured in China, and released to the global village – and hey, act now because we got it cheap. We injected ourselves into a place we didn’t belong, and the world obliged; we burned a hole in everything from the Amazon to the Ozone layer, but the Universe obliged; the world obliged because, like a virus, we too shall pass, though our effects will linger forever; Mother Nature obliged because she has mended far worse in the course of pre-human events – this American tale is but a cigarette burn on her finger, surely to be healed soon enough.

Yet our influence, though transient in the tapestry of history, is undeniably dominant now – if only because of the instantaneous happening of it all. Moreover it was not creative, it was not progressive, it was not an instant flash of enlightenment – it was a mirage and a monstrous catastrophe that blindsided the known world at whiplash speed. Progress is a slow process, and we need our profit now; what the world spent a modern eternity making, we spent a postmodern minute breaking. We are the greatest generation that generated the least – because it wasn’t good enough. We are here though, and we’ve been here for years, decades, eons, longer than anyone cares to acknowledge. The Universe knows this is temporary, the world continues to give us toys to occupy our time while they sneak out the back and maintain business as usual; but the societal stalemate has gone on longer than expected, and at some point it needs to be noted – at this crucial point it needs to be stated.

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This was supposed to be our enlightenment, but something happened. We stalled at “the almost.” We were given everything we needed to cross that brink, except the want; we were given a car with no drive – but at least we look good in the parking lot. That’s what we are: good-looking in the parking lot of life – Ophiuchus is the neutral Lamborghini in the astral valet space. Instead of progressing forward, we stayed posted; where other civilizations pulled barrows and steamrolled trains across transcontinental planes, we couldn’t even rest our foot on the gas pedal. Time waits for no one though, and so while we were predicted to cross that bridge into the new age – we didn’t quite make that deadline, because deadlines are subjective and what does history know anyway – it can’t even keep its own stories straight on Wikipedia, why should we care? We’ll get to it, when we get to it; so, get off my back Mother Nature – planets just don’t understand.

Now the world has accommodated us – just as our parents did with we the individuals, and as the ancient empires did with America; just as we were given land, militaristic support, political and economic fundamentals, language, cultural direction – with glue and scissors included, because when authentic creation fails: there’s always collaging – yay “kind of” culture! Just as we were given trust-funds, fun stuff, idle time, effortless success, and a place at the table; so the Universe grants us our own age – Ophiuchus: Astrological Pre-First because Kindergarten is a play grade, so don’t get your hopes up about First just yet. The Universe gave us a niche to call our own. The time where it didn’t make sense, it didn’t work with the Natural Order – Hell, it didn’t work period – it made a mess, but instead of chaos leading to creation, it was a tantrum stuck in stagnation.

The ancients didn’t know what we would do with our resources, but they assumed the best of us. They assumed we would find our way eventually, and when presented with such vast wells of knowledge, access, and innovation, that we would be the perfect public, the golden generation that embodied the wisdom of the past with the keen curiosity towards the future, all wrapped in the gifted present.

Aquarius traditionally “rules” electricity, computers, flight, democracy, freedom, humanitarianism, idealists, modernization, astrology, nervous disorders, rebels and rebellion.Other keywords and ideas believed associated with Aquarius are nonconformity, philanthropy, veracity, perseverance, humanity and irresolution.

The ancients couldn’t prophesize the destruction of so-called development, the ruining and draining of seemingly unlimited resources, the incessant need to have all everything now, the bartering of common sense for mere pennies, the voracious appetite for dominion over anything present, the endless void of this. We aren’t starting anything new, we’re just posted at the brink – causing a ruckus, meddling among the meteors, pushing Pisces back to dwell with the ancients and Aquarius further ahead into the future – while we remain in suspended isolation. Ophiuchus doesn’t affect those born before 2009, and our relevance doesn’t reach much further beyond 1999 or “whenever the Internets were invented, that was like in the olden days – 1988? I think Betsey Ross wove the first modem or something – she’s like Bill Gates’ mom I heard: super-old… so yeah, wait – what we’re we talking about again?” Our greater purpose and significance plunges like a stone into the abyss of outer space, but the ripple effect loses its impact against the staid shores of the twelve traditional signs.

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Jesus came at a time of rebirth, enlightenment, and the renaissance of civilization; and he came along with his twelve apostles to tell the tale and blueprint the future; after Pisces came us… Ophiuchus: the thirteenth stepostle, the black cat on your astrological block – and the generation who finally found a name that couldn’t be Wikipediaed back to someone else, a hipster-approved ethnic-ish name that screams “you’re saying it wrong; oh what’s it mean? um, y’know, like – actually, don’t worry about it… it’s like super-obscure, you probably wouldn’t get it,” over the sapient silence of lasting luminary lineages.

So here we find ourselves in a brand new home among the stars… crafted, cultivated, and created for us, in the midst of, in spite of, and in disbelief of us… Ophiuchus: the house that daddy bought, when Mother Nature said no.

Watch this space

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