In Defense of a Creative Cosmos: Astrological Ramblings and a Short Analysis Of A Spiritual Event

In a previous essay, I wrote about how the archetypal energy of Saturn may have played a role in the quality and type of spiritual awakening I had during my Saturn Return. It is not the goal of this essay to go into all the details of that awakening once again, though I will of course be touching on it briefly before I attempt a more nuanced discussion of the archetypal energies at work during that time. Rather, the goal of this essay is to put myself into the shoes of a professional astrologer and attempt a more technical and intuitive analysis of the different archetypal energies at work during the time of that event. Now that I am graduating with my master’s degree in Philosophy, Cosmology, and Consciousness, I owe it to myself and others to refine my archetypal eye and use my creative and intellectual capacities to read into the essence of the archetypes at work during that time, however complex and daunting they seem to be from a distance.

The guiding light for this essay will be my intuition, alongside curiosity, as I attempt to unravel the full picture of a week that was transformative, to say the least. I make no definitive claims here about why the event happened, nor do I pretend that I am a professional astrologer of some sort. In fact, I am as novice as a novice can get when it comes to astrology. But in many ways, I feel like that is to my advantage. Not only does it make the exploration far more invigorating (like you, reader, I have no idea where this paper is going to end up), but it also honors the art of astrology itself, which does not treat the universe as a mechanistic, unpoetic, and disenchanted glob resembling the rigidity of our boring minds. In short, it honors its wiggly nature and works with an epistemological framework that isn’t solely devoted to scientific objectivity and facts that carry no beauty.  Astrology tells us a cosmic story that is unfolding in a creative way, in a way that is more like a piece of art than it is a scientific experiment with known procedures and expected results. Like the concept of divine play in Hinduism, Lila, astrology treats the cosmos like it is a cosmic drama where events unfold that point to a story with patterns, endings, beginnings, and revelations. Yes, there are archetypal energies at work that carry distinct qualities, but the context in which they play out, and the complimenting or oppositional archetypal energies that interact with them, make for an extraordinarily nuanced and complex process that cannot be pinned down by mere analysis and systematic rigor. Astrologers must feel, see, intuit, and decode certain patterns that are not perceivable to the eye (Tarnas 2007). For this reason, their emotions are just as important as their intuition, and their intellectual capacity is just as important as their curiosity. In other words, they must inhabit the cosmos from an embodied and enchanted place within themselves.Only when this occurs, only when there is a fine and delicate balance between intellect, curiosity, and intuition, can someone become an astrologer, truly speaking. But even when this fine and delicate balance has been discovered, an astrologer cannot afford to read a chart with an arrogant sensibility, because every chart and every event in time can only reveal their deepest secrets when we are in humility, openness, and a state of receptivity. Would we dare to hypothesize that an intelligent universe like ours would reveal its secrets to someone who is not humble and receptive and open to it? Could a materialistic scientist like Richard Dawkins possibly know how grandiose the cosmos is after writing it off as some type of accident? Is it a smart idea to project the limitations of a finite mind onto a world where no one can possibly say what definitively happens after death? What in our right minds has convinced us that it is a good idea to look out into a world of such mystery, and in a hubristic manner, point to it and call it “ordinary” or “unmiraculous,” a “mistake” that is “meaningless” and “disenchanted?” These labels might be, as I pointed out, mere projections of the postmodern mind, which is uniquely situated in a historical period where the distinction between “subject” and “object” runs rampant. Lest we forget that such a distinction may very well be the result of the structure of our subjectivity. As Richard Tarnas points out in his magnum Opus, Cosmos and Psyche: “If we have learned anything from the many disciplines that have contributed to postmodern thought, it is that what we believe to be objective knowledge of the world is radically affected and even constituted by a complex multitude of subjective factors, most of which are altogether unconscious.”(Tarnas 2007) Inquisitive readers would do well to ask themselves if their worldview would be different if they lived before the late modern post-Copernican, post-Nietzschean cosmos when there was no such distinction between “self” and “world.”While pondering this question, it is of great importance to acknowledge the scientific progress that has been made and place it in the correct historical context, of course. Science has dramatically improved our understanding of the world and practically improved almost every facet of life, but it has also acted as a double-edged sword: as soon as we became highly efficient in the practice of science, we also became less humble, less receptive, and less open to awe and wonder. By discovering more of the minutiae of the universe, its many parts and cogs, the ego grew, and as a result, isolated itself in a subtle process of disenchantment that put itself in a position above the universe. Now, instead of the universe being a place to participate in and receive wisdom from, it became a tool to control. We become highly advanced at using and dissecting the parts, and in many ways, forgot about the whole.  

You see, after dispelling one of the biggest myths of all—that of the sun revolving around the earth—we threw the baby out with the bathwater and decided it would be a good idea to dispel every single myth out there, including the idea of there existing a mystery at all. And yet, none of us know what the next minute holds in store for us. None of us know what paradigm shift will shake us out of the rut we find ourselves in. And none of us know what’s really going on here (unless, of course, you have reached enlightenment, in which case you are stabilized in the state of unknowing and  merged with the mystery itself; and of what use is the claim to objective knowledge there?)

What astrology can teach us, above everything else, is that we do not live in a world of “irreducible and stubborn facts,” as William James once quipped, but a world “of creative intelligence, purpose, and meaning expressed through constant complex correspondence between astronomical patterns and human experience.” (Tarnas 2007) If we can all agree on this fact, or even inch our way toward this fact with a certain amount of healthy skepticism, we can proceed in a fruitful manner. But if we cannot even inch our way there, it is probably time to be skeptical of our own worldview and ask ourselves whether we are truly open-minded or openly ideological.

One last word before I continue: astrology is undoubtedly controversial, and some readers here might even go so far as to call it a form of esoteric nonsense, something irrational people indulge in. If you are one of those people, welcome! I was in the same position you were in a couple of years ago before reading Cosmos and Psyche and investigating astrology with an open mind and an archetypal eye (something that takes time and effort to develop). You see, in much the same way that an archetype has the potential to possess emotions, bedazzle consciousness, and make it blind to its own stance, the disenchanted, post-modern mind has the potential to be possessed by its own limitations and inhabit a world that is reflective of such limitations. I would even go so far as to say that the postmodern mind is an archetype very much reflective of Saturn with its emphasis on rigidity, limitation, and responsibility. Even though the rigidity might be serving a meaningful purpose in the grand unfolding of the cosmos, it is very important to acknowledge that most of us are captivated by this state of consciousness that is contracted and limited. As a result of this, we are not trapped in the world but trapped in a state of consciousness that is misperceiving the world. But many of us don’t know this because we are inhabiting that state of consciousness.

The growing sense of malaise, the business-as-usual mentality, an exhausting nine-to-five life, boredom at the doctor’s office, unhealthy discipline, the constant desire to keep and take, a feeling of scarcity, being stuck, feeling trapped, having nowhere to go, and even the belief that the universe is a mechanistic and meaningless glob of matter—all of this is indicative of a state of consciousness that has blinded us to the infinite. We are—most of us—bedazzled by the capacity of consciousness to hide its true nature by inhabiting the world in its various archetypal forms. For this very reason, we cannot see reality, but perhaps worse, we ridicule those who have experienced reality in a different light, opened the doors of perception, and glimpsed into the nature of the eternal. This might all be, of course, part of the divine’s plan, a game it plays to teach us the art of acceptance, forgiveness, and humility. After all, there’s nothing quite like receiving passionate criticism from someone you love about the stance you have taken. Being told that you are insane for believing that the cosmos is anything but the miracle it seems to be can put us in a good position to practice non-defensiveness and acceptance of someone else’s path. And perhaps that is what this cosmic game is all about. Can we inhabit an enchanted cosmos without making such a big deal about it? Can we draw back on the egoic pride that can sometimes arise from having a powerful and noetic mystical experience? Can we allow others to walk on their path without forcing them to hurry up? Can we accept the fact that people are always going to inhabit a different subjective reality than ours—and not make ours better than theirs? Even though it may appear to be the case that some people are more spiritually advanced than others, we should remember that many spiritual breakthroughs happen spontaneously, without the desire of personal will (Taylor 2017) The fact of the matter is: most of us didn’t choose the spiritual path. It chose us. And it will continue to choose many others, including those we imagine to be ‘lost,’ when it feels it is time to do so. For this reason, it is a mistake to assume that we are more important than others. You might be better equipped in this lifetime and a little closer to the finish line, but everyone will reach the finish line. And that is worth remembering. To quote Ram Dass: “If you think you’re enlightened, go visit your family.” Truer words could not have been spoken, especially now as we begin the holidays. So, whether you are a skeptic or a devout devotee, an astrologer, or a philosopher, I urge you to always proceed into an inquiry with an open mind, one that is not adamant about proving a theory wrong as much as it is adamant about approaching the cosmos in a receptive, curious, and attentive style. Is there really a better alternative to this?

Now that I am done with my rambling, I will attempt to read into the archetypal processes at play during the day of April 15th, 2021. Like I said at the beginning of the essay, I will not be going into a description of the events that took place during that week with as much detail as I did in my previous essay, Breakdowns and Breakthroughs: Saturn’s effects into the nature of spiritual awakening. I will just say here, very briefly, that this week consisted of a BPM 3 experience in which I felt constricted by heavy emotions, traumatic imprints, and extreme feelings of depression. On one day, when the suffering reached its tipping point, I broke down, and for some unfathomable reason, I broke through to another side resembling heaven (I use that word purposefully). Unlike the mystical experience I had in my early twenties—which was of the introvertive type—this one was far more stable and mature in nature. In fact, for this very reason, I hesitate to use the word, “experience,” because it didn’t come and go; nor did it resemble anything we would ordinarily consider to be mystical. Instead of being hurled into a mystical state of consciousness that was prophetic, temporary, and visionary in nature, I was stabilized as pure consciousness itself for an entire week that consisted of belly laughs so genuine that I put myself into tears, intimacy with all surroundings, and more importantly, an otherworldly sense of peace that was incredibly consistent and self-luminous. What was most startling during this week, however, was that the sense of individual will had completely vanished, and in its place, there was none other than God’s will. The sense of being the doer no longer existed, yet everything flowed like clockwork. I was in the backseat, watching an orchestral quality to the timing of all events and participating in the world from a place that was not bothered by the world whatsoever. And yet, I was closer to the world than I had ever been. It was everything I imagined enlightenment to be: peaceful, stable, effortless, all-encompassing, all-embracing, and whole. I died into ordinariness, sat when I sat, ate when I ate, and walked when I walked, without worrying about what the future held in store or what the past has to say.

When I analyze the archetypal patterns at play during this week, the romantic Aquarius inside of me jumps for glee. The Uranus-square-Saturn principle at work was the most noteworthy of all the planetary alignments during this time. Uranus, the archetype of change, rebellion, freedom, liberation, reform, and revolution squared with Saturn, the archetype of structure, necessity, limit, maturity, contraction, and the endings of things. When I sat with the essence of these two archetypes, my mind spun in a few different directions, but ultimately, it reached one thorough conclusion: these two archetypes at work during this time revealed my purpose. Of course, it wasn’t pretty. But when something needs to happen of necessity, it never is. When Saturn forms a square with Uranus, it is said that one’s desire for spontaneity and freedom clashes with the need for structure and stability. In the case of this spiritual event, my desire for freedom set the structure in place for my life’s purpose and formed a tremendous sense of stability, but it wasn’t the type of stability that is organized or centered around the biographical crystallization of the ego. It was a stability of the spirit, pure consciousness, loving awareness. Without the initial contraction and the desire to end the suffering encountered within it, my life’s purpose would not have been revealed. Indeed, the desire for freedom during this time opened a pathway into a life of spiritual purpose. Saturn sat me down and forced me to face my limitations. I was disciplined and put in my place, but this was all to prepare me for the culminating breakthrough. My soul had to be humbled before it could be glorified. The archetypes, who are likened to Gods, set the soul up for the next scene in the cosmic drama. What is seen as unbearable from the ego’s perspective is necessary from the soul’s point of view, and even perfect from the spirit’s standpoint.

What’s also interesting to note about the timing of the event was the placement of the moon, which was opposite to my Saturn, Sun, and Mercury signs. I like to think of the placement of the moon in this case as a silent instigator, a force working beneath the covers, like the invisible hand of God with the codes of destiny embedded in it. Richard Tarnas often thinks of the moon as “the impulse and capacity to gestate and bring forth.” (Tarnas 2007)  In my case, this is certainly true. With the moon being in the position it was during the time of this event, I believe it may have acted as the final kiss to wake me up from my slumber to bring me home. The Great Mother Goddess is at her best after you have been disciplined by the stern father. She brings reprieve and comfort, allowing one to feel a sense of belonging. She brings you home. After leaving my mother in Zimbabwe at the age of 18 and dealing with the fall of my family in many ways, I can tell you right now that I have never felt at home the way I did during this week. Without attributing this solely to the moon as an independent entity that is separate from the underlying and permeating existence of an ineffable God, I think it is only reasonable that I give it a pat on the back for playing a significant role as an extension of God’s cosmic body, a light whose graceful flair awakens us and opens us to the deepest yearnings of the unconscious psyche.

Finally, it is important to mention that, for some odd reason, this week of enlightenment was just that: a week. I think that the archetype of Saturn played a role in the eventual contraction that occurred afterward when I was hurled into a state of depression and grief that felt like the antithesis of enlightenment. Even though I struggle to come to grips with why the cloud cover seemed to have come back around, my devotion to the sacred is far more embodied and faithful than it has ever been. I feel more comfortable now with allowing the soul to unfold in its own time, for as Schopenhauer once remarked, “The nobler and more perfect a thing is, the later and more slowly does it come to maturity.” (Schopenhauer 1851)

Sources

Tarnas, Richard. 2007. Cosmos and Psyche : Intimations of a New World View. New York, N.Y.: Plume.

Schopenhauer, Arthur, and E F J Payne. 2000. Parerga and Paralipomena.

Taylor, Steve. 2017. The Leap : The Psychology of Spiritual Awakening. Novato, California: New World Library.