Okay, maybe not all astrologers, but most of us, I think.
Okay, some of us. At least once.
Here’s a uniquely astrological problem, and don’t even try to tell me that this has never happened to you at least once, because if you’re an astrologer, whether you’re an amateur or a professional, whether you’ve been at this for one year or twenty years, you’ve done this very thing:
Falling in love with a birth chart.
And a lot of us do this before we even meet the person in real life, before we even know anything about them, their story, the particular paths they’ve chosen to express and use their inborn cosmic energies? But then we create a narrative in our heads of varying intricacy and intimacy depending on the strengths of our imaginations and our capacities for obsession, as well the story we need to tell ourselves at the moment.
And a lot of times, the narrative we tell ourselves when we create a love affair with a chart has nothing to do with actual personhood, but everything to do with the story we want to have come true.
Trust me. I am going somewhere with this.
Do you ever notice how parables and stories that are meant to teach a lesson somehow depart from actual human behavior?
If you’re familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, these were apparently cities that were full of perversion and bad things that Yahweh didn’t like, such as fun. The only righteous man living in Sodom was Lot, a huge square with a wife and two daughters. Now, Yahweh wasn’t yet on the whole big forgiveness track as Jesus was just a glimmer in his eye (or was the Word, and the Word was always with God, and the Word was God, but the Jesus narrative, as you may have noticed, requires a lot of retrofitting into the origin canon to make it work), so he decided he wanted destroy the cities and all the fun.
However, he decided to save Lot and his family because Lot was so fucking righteous, and not in a Bill-and-Ted type of righteousness way, but in the way that there’s always the lone hold out in Bible stories that always somehow gets shafted in the end with the remote possibility of being paid back for all the selfless suffering (hello, Abel, Job, Jacob, David, John the Baptist, Paul…)
As a sidenote, there is no mention in the Bible of how bad Sodom and Gomorrah actually were, or what they actually did other than condone homosexuality. It’s really improbable that both cities were just full of homosexuals, because somebody had to keep making Sodomites and Gomorrahans, and statistically, even if they were the ancient world’s oases of homosexuality, given travel restrictions, early deaths, poor nutrition, lack of medical advances, the slow spread of information, and the fact that homosexuals are vastly outnumbered by heterosexuals in any given population, I can’t see how these twin cities could have seen anything but a steady decline in population until they became the east-and-west arts district of a much larger city. But anyway. The god decided to send two of his angels down to tell Lot that the city was going to be destroyed and that they would lead him out. Cool, right?
However, when they arrived, apparently the streets flooded with homosexuals who demanded Lot turn his guests over so they could all get a turn fucking them.
Like, not two guys. Not ten. Not even like a club-full of gay men: a full-on horny horde of homosexuals flooding the streets and nearly breaking down Lot’s door to get at two dudes they haven’t even seen yet.
So this is around the time you should be questioning the veracity of this tale, because I honestly cannot think of a more looks-oriented demographic that is also very picky about what it likes than gay men. Now, unless these angels were so hot that, sight unseen, a bunch of guys were going to commit to standing in a long line for the remote possibility to fuck one of them because they were universally irresistible to ALL gay men – twink and bear, otter and wolf, chubby and chicken, drag queens and theater queens – I just don’t see it. Unless of course, the god specifically sent these two universally hot angels down to Sodom and Gommorrah to fuck with all the guy’s heads so they would run up to Lot’s place like horny zombies, which is just a weird thing to do when your intention is just to get one guy and his family out of the city, right? I mean, why intentionally attract so much attention if you’re not actually just looking for attention in the first place, you know? Wouldn’t it be easier to sneak Lot out if the angels looked like Ben Shapiro and Charlie Kirk?
So this is where it kind of gets even weirder, but if I can get in the heads of the Sodomites here, I do believe these guys were just totally fucking with Lot because Lot doesn’t know how to take a joke and literally thought all the guys in the street were not joking when they asked him to send his friends out so they could fuck them. And that itself is kind of fucked up; it reads like bad erotica if it’s true. I mean, you know, it’s not the nicest thing to shout at your neighbor, and it IS sexual harassment, but this kind of sounds like something drunk people may yell at their self-righteous neighbor who is always giving them dirty looks and acting like they’re all holier-than-thou even though they married a local girl and shit in the same alley as you.
Well Lot did not offer his friends, the angels. He had quite a few choices other than that though, and the one he decided on was something completely and wholly unnecessary: he offered his virgin daughters. Now, he either knew that the guys wouldn’t want to fuck his daughters, or that his God would be happier to let these two perfectly innocent teen girls be raped by a horde than for his angels to be put into any position to defend themselves swiftly and easily as angels obviously could because of all their god-given superpowers and shit.
And apparently that makes Lot a righteous man. In a pinch, the righteous man offers his tween daughters to men in the street in case any of them start shouting about wanting to fuck his friends. Gotcha.
Now, imagine if that happened anywhere in real life. Imagine say, going to Boystown, wearing your “god hates fags” sandwich board that you like to wear, and then two of your friends come over to you. Imagine that some drunk guys then make jokes about how you’re closested and that they want to fuck your friends.
So, instead of ignoring them, instead of locking yourself in the car, or running away, you grab your 11 and 12 year old daughters, turn to the guys and say “don’t fuck my friends, gay dudes! Here! Fuck my kids instead. Fuck them to your heart’s delight. Take them and pass them around to your friends. Pass them through the entire neighborhood, but guys: I went to college with these guys, alright? We have a bond. They’re my bros.”
If qanon was a thing back then, they would all be reposting the gay dudes’ Twitter feeds and vaguely threatening to take them down and voting for Lot as President of the United States of America.
But mercifully for those little girls, the guys were pretty much all Kinsey sixes and just fixated on Lot’s bros, banging on the door and trying to push passed both Lot and his daughters to get to that hot ethereal angel ass.
Well, the party never got started, because before the men were able to get into the house, the angels blind them all. Like made all of them suddenly unable to see anything at all whatsoever.
And yet, bizarrely enough, the Sodomites still were trying to find the door because they still wanted to fuck Lot’s friends.
Let’s just say, hypothetically that this was true, and 1000 horny gay men were all vying for a chance at one of two guys they 1) never saw and 2) would never get a chance to see anyway, and when those guys blinded them, but they still keep coming, because the blinding was somehow not a deterrent, like that was not a big enough hint that they were barking up the wrong tree.
I don’t know about you, but even if I was part of a big horny horde, completely succumbing to both lust and mob mentality, the minute the anyone blinded me, I’m turning right the fuck around. It’s game over. My libido is gone. And I sincerely doubt that even a gay man, on Viagra during Pride with the vanilla Stoli flowing like a river, is still going to go for it when he’s fucking blind all of a sudden. I mean, that is pretty much the harshest way to turn someone down for sex. The angels didn’t tell them to go away, nor did they barricade the door, nor did they kick them all in the balls at once. They fucking blinded them. Even those of us with the thickest skin will take the fucking hint and go away.
So that’s probably your first indication of the story is completely made up by someone who doesn’t understand human sexuality or human minds, someone like an ancient version of Ben Shapiro.
And speaking of wives who have it tough:
I also think that the Bible was way too harsh on Lot’s wife. That was her hometown, a place where she spent her entire life, not even allowed to look back one last time before it was completely destroyed, while she’s being led out by two creepy, apparently super uber-fuckable strangers because her husband’s god wants them to go die in the wilderness instead of in a fire with all their friends? Harsh.
But moreover, is it really fair to tell someone to just walk away from a complete and total shit show and not even look? Telling them not to look is pretty much telling them to go ahead and look. Yet, strangely enough, instead of letting the angels just go ahead and blind her for looking since they apparently already had the green light for doing that AND it would seem like a more natural consequence, which would’ve totally solve the problem at its root so she couldn’t do that specific bad thing again, she’s turned into a pillar of salt. What the fuck? Okay, blinding a guy because you don’t want to have sex with him, blinding thousands of guys you don’t want to have sex with them, okay. That’s reasonable on this particular spectrum that is exclusive to this bizarro universe. But turning a human being into a pillar of salt, taking their very personhood from them because they took a little peep at two cities burning? That doesn’t even make sense.
How could it possibly be that the mere nostalgia of one innocent woman is a bigger sin than attempted angel gang rape by an entire city?
Do you really think that’s a stretch? Now, this is the point where, had you never heard this story or had you never heard of Yahweh or any of the Abrahamic religions that you might say “this is fucked up, and this god sucks,” but my guess is that this wasn’t the story the missionaries told to seal the deal.
And then, to prove that maybe Lot was really all by himself in his piety, the story goes on to say that his virgin daughters get him drunk and fuck him so they can make babies, and the Greatest Story Ever Told goes on.
Notice that they didn’t drink anything in the story. They came to their dad, in the desert, after the trauma of losing their home, knowing their father pimped them out hours before to every dude in town, and that their father’s god took from them the one parent who probably gave a shit about them and their dad did nothing about it, and then they, virgins, fucked that piece of shit drunk-ass dad of theirs completely sober.
So yeah, the story was obviously written by someone who didn’t know anything about the female anatomy, or what it’s like to actually be drunk, or what it’s like to actually have a soul. Like Ben Shapiro. Truly, if a man is righteous, it would take a lot of fucking wine to get him drunk enough to not only want to fuck his own daughter, but to keep it up in order to finish and impregnate her.
And seriously: out of all the things, of all the things they were bringing with them out of Sodom and Gomorrah, they just happen to bring enough wine to get their Dad rip-roaring drunk so he could impregnate them? And, it somehow worked on the first shot?
This story wants you to believe that Lot just happened to leave home when both his daughters were ovulating AND was immune to whiskey dick AND apparently forgot all about the wife that the god just killed not long before AND that he nearly died escaping a city that that god destroyed because that god is weird about sex.
None of that got in his way.
Lot was a fucking grade A piece of shit and all-around garbage human, but apparently, his saving grace was that he didn’t like the bussy.
So, Jehovah hates two consenting men having sex, but he loves Dad rape and Dads handing their kids to horny strangers.
And yeah, apparently we are all descendants from this bizarre act of incest that Yahweh orchestrated.
And you know what? I bet those daughters, who could have only been teens at the time, wanted to punch themselves in the faces the day that they learned that there were other cities in the world full of men who weren’t their dad, and they didn’t have to sell themselves short and settle for the guy who pretty much ruined every fucking thing in their lives forever.
And imagine how awkward it was when they would meet those new people, and those people heard their heroic tale of escaping the burning city with only their father surviving, thinking he was surely the only man left alive in the world, and then watching as people’s smiles turned to furrowed brows and looks of confusion then horror when they glance at the children and started doing the math in their heads.
Maybe they just lied and told everyone that it was the two angels who did it. I would. I would lie the fuck out of that until I died.
But that makes me wonder: if the Sodomites were willing to take the virgins, and they all raped the two girls to death, would that have been enough to satisfy Yahweh and earn his mercy because at the very least, the guys were bi-flexible?
The religious will use the story to illustrate how the god feels about homosexuality, but I think it does a better job illustrating that homosexuals aren’t pedophiles and that we have known this since antiquity.
And that’s the real moral of the story of Sodom and Gommorrah: gay dudes won’t the fuck kids, so their dads have to do it instead. God wants it that way or he will kill your mama.
Where is Alex Jones when you need him?!
But back in the day, when we didn’t know anything about science, or nature, or reason because we were all just trying to survive, if somebody had heard the story, they were totally fucking going believe in Jehovah, and they would worship him. Why? Because he’s clearly a fucking narrow-minded capricious psycho who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything but has both a terrifying power and taste for destruction that far exceeds his capacity for discretion.
But that doesn’t mean that we still have to worship this god now. In fact, He still lives this way, apparently, because the whole Bible is supposed to be the word of God, no matter how much it contradicts with the Jesus story and the new law that Jesus brought. It’s like Jesus is always Jehovah’s designated driver: when Jehovah is drunk and angry and wants to beat up a bunch of homosexuals, Jesus steps in the way and takes the hit every time, via the crucifixion, and just like with every other co-dependent relationship, Jesus is the quickest to defend his abuser and put him on a pedestal when anyone so much as questions Jehovah’s craziness.
So just looking at the story from this point of you, it really doesn’t make any sense does it? It’s not what you would think it would be despite the way the parts were arranged and what we expected to get from the story.
All stories, wherever and however they exist, are always open to interpretation. The story is always there. The elements are always there. The rest is up to the narrator and to the reader, so hopefully you have a reliable narrator and an attentive reader if a story is to survive.
So when we’re reading an astrological chart, we’re reading a story based on our own expectations, based on what we’re looking for. The chart is limited to the symbolic and the intuition of the reader as well as the reader’s hopes, fears, prejudices, knowledge and information at the time of reading. Most of us will never be 100% objective in a reading, but most of us will do our best to try and to learn from how the reading hits so as to augment our perception and perfect our analyses. This is a long-winded way of saying we’re all trying to be objective because we want to be good at this, and to be good at this, we have to be able to be as correct as possible, and just like facts and WAPs, charts don’t care about your feelings.
But then you use your powers for very subjective reasons. Even if you do this for a living full-time, you still apply your astrological insights to yourself and your relationships. You read your own charts, you determine how transits will affect you personally, and you also (yes you do!) look at charts and compare them with your own.
And when you find something that connects, you take notice.
Fact: I have strong synastry and (usually) karmic connections to all my clients. This makes sense because something about me must resonate with them or they wouldn’t hire me. Sometimes it’s plain uncanny. But it’s helpful for me because it makes it easier to be sympathetic much more quickly. I have a lot of clients with a Pisces Moon conjunct my descendant or my South Node. It’s a good place for wanting to help someone. I actually also have clients with planets aspecting my Eros and Psyche, which I found helps with sympathy, even though I can’t say I’ve wanted to fuck any of them, because never have I ever fallen in love with a client’s chart.
I just can’t.
Maybe it’s the Sagittarius Sun in me that has to feel like she’s doing the chasing in some way. Maybe it’s the Aries Moon who needs physical attraction first. Maybe it’s the Venus in Capricorn who is terrified to shit where she eats, lest the world find out all her secrets (seriously. When I was in high school, I wouldn’t even date guys in high school or in my high school for fear that if/when we broke up, everyone would end up knowing everything about me. And I also figured something was surely wrong with them for liking me. Anyway.).
But I have become smitten with the charts of men I have just met. I have obsessed over the charts of men I have never met and may never meet because while I was working on something else, I just happened to notice how — amazingly — his chart resonates with mine in one way or another, and he also just happens to seem like the thing I want for myself right at that time.
Uncanny, right? Sure it is. Not my own machination, right?
And this type of thing I know other astrologers have done.
And sometimes we take this to a scary degree, depending on our capacity for idealism/delusion, and base a relationship on our own self-serving analysis of romantic compatibility.
There’s a reason Indian matchmakers hire outside counsel to do the astrological analysis. It’s really a similar thing to being a lawyer, because like a lawyer, the astrologer who represents herself has a fool for a client.
So I got that going for me on both sides.
The best case scenario is when there are objectively a lot of reasons to think that this is a loveable person, someone you can be in a relationship with because there’s some things that are pretty simple, pretty obvious, like conjunctions or house overlays.
The worst is when we are hunting for something in the chart that just isn’t there in reality because you’re put yourself into a shoe (a chart) that doesn’t fit. Sometimes, we misinterpret or a misread a chart (screwing up the birth time). Often though, we cling to one or two things, strong or tenuous, and try to make the rest work. We also usually ignore big giant red flags that, if it was a client asking about synastry or a composite aspect or placement between the charts, we’d tell them to run, not look back, lest we have to turn them into pillars of salt.
But we do this anyway.
When you wish upon a star…
One of the things you learn as an astrologer is that shit’s just gonna happen anyway. I don’t read my daily horoscope anymore. To be fair, I don’t write them any more either, but I don’t read them either, because the day is going to happen anyway, and now my days happen with such urgency that I don’t have time to wonder what fate will bring my way. I already know these days: lots of little fires to put out from my computer at home, and my possibly not doing my hair, and me definitely not wearing actual pants. When something odd happens, I’ll go back and check for interesting transits, but I don’t bothering planning around astrology, even during Mercury retrograde.
I don’t think that, when I’m going to attempt dating again, or whatever I will do that substitutes for those job-interviews-for-sex-partner events that I generally don’t like, that I’m going to want to see a birth chart right away.
I don’t want to substitute the chart for the person.
The person you vibe with is someone you probably already have pretty good synastry with, probably a good composite chart with. too. The person you find yourself smitten with definitely has some planets conjunct your angles or planets. If it’s mutual, then it will show up in the synastry.
Now, this is not to say that if I happen to get a hold of a really great birth chart that I won’t make a fool of myself in front of someone who has no idea why I suddenly have interest, because that is guaranteed to happen because by nature, I am a foolish person. I am an incredibly foolish person who wants things to work out just as I thought they would.
No different from any other fool, I guess, and astrology takes all types, even clowns like me.
Why we fall in love with astrological charts
The good news is that if you’ve done this, you’re a decent enough astrologer to read around an entire natal chart and synthesize it. You understand what an entire chart does, how it works, and the foundation it creates for a personality.
But what a chart cannot tell you is anything about the other really important stuff, like the culture they grew up in, the socioeconomic circumstances that gave them more or less options and opportunities to become who they actually are, what they actually, truly look like (and you may not actually know this at all from social media), and all the baggage they’re bringing into the present. Sure, you could, if you have the time and interest, look at their progressions and transits from birth until this moment to figure out what may have happened to them, their blessings and losses, their traumas and their triumphs, but I really don’t think anyone can tell for certain.
Even still, there’s reasons why we may over-identify with an astrological chart.
The Power of Astrology is a thing.
Even for those of us who are in the most denial of our basest instincts can’t ignore the fact that being able to gain insight into a person’s past, present, future, motivation, needs, desires, and longings isn’t powerful. We can learn a lot about the blueprint of a human being based on their astrological chart. Reading and astrological chart doesn’t require that you meet someone, that you be attractive or interesting to them, or that you even have a shot of catching their interests. All you need is their birth data (and even if that’s incomplete, if you’re patient/obsessive enough, you can cobble together an accurate-ish natal chart via rectification if you know enough about their life history and are willing to do the math).
There’s something very safe about reading an astrological chart and determining what you think of someone. It’s also very easy to be sympathetic to someone whose chart resonates with your own. It’s an entirely different thing to interact with those people. I tell you, doing readings for strangers can be a precarious thing, because as powerful as you are alone, behind the computer, you’re no longer the god once you’re working with the living, breathing human that is built up from the blueprint of the chart. That’s a scary thing, isn’t it? It can be. But if you consider that becoming obsessed with another person is about power (Pluto) and avoiding powerlessness (Pluto), yet succumbing to your own crushing desire (also Pluto), it makes sense that you may feel that you connect with a chart in a way that is normally reserved for real life people, especially when you’re doing this stuff quite often.
So, when you ask someone for their birthdate and time to see if you’re compatible, what you’re actually asking is if you can find out if you can be attracted to their birth chart.
But if you can fall in love with a chart, you’re a good astrologer.
Or at least have a crush on a chart or obsess over a chart. This only becomes possible once you’re able to synthesize a chart and understand enough of it to built a picture of the entire person in your head. It’s not enough to know that their Mars is conjunct your Venus, or that their ascendant is trine your ascendant or that your Moon is in their 5th house, etc., etc. That can be like “oh wow!” but not necessarily a reason to treat the chart as if it were a person.
It’s usually more, OR it’s a very specific, very certain aspect that gets you like a fish hook, because that’s the part of you that wants to be liked most.
But that is very much a part of it — you like them because they seem like they would very much like you, even if there’s no reason to think that in reality, it would work.
It’s not just the synastry, but the chart itself, that informs you of who the person is. It’s not just synastry or natal charts, but the composites. Granted, you may be simply picking and choosing things you like while ignoring obvious red flags, but you’d have to be able to find these things and figure out how important they are to you and to the other person in order to create in your head what is essentially a romance with a cut-up circle with symbols on it.
What are you learning about yourself?
Limerence is primarily a form of self-expression in just about any form, including when you become infatuated with an object attached to a person, even if it’s a theoretical object. Despite what we tend to say — that the astrological chart IS the person — it really isn’t. It’s the essence of a person, the blueprint. It does not inform you of all the other circumstances affecting a person that creates all the other stuff. For example, easy Venus/Saturn aspects can be myriad of things, from growing up with money to having one’s ambition supported early on. Or, it could be really nice bone structure. It doesn’t have to be all these things, though it can be all these things. We know that it’s easier to be successful with really nice bone structure, and that people tend to grow up prettier when they have more money because they’re less stressed, have better nutrition, more leisure time, better quality sleep, and cleaner, healthier living environments. We also know that teachers and adults tend to favor prettier children, which makes them feel supported and as if success is within reach. And we also know that if you’re rich, you can buy bone structure.
But it really depends on the adult a person becomes, because Venus trine Saturn can also be a useless person who lives off the bounty of their parents and ancestors, and Venus sextile Saturn can be someone who grows up to learn that they can use their good looks to their advantage but not necessarily have the ambition to match.
And these things you may not know from the birth chart alone.
And if you really want, you can do a progressed chart to see what has happened through someone’s life, and you may be right much of the time. You can look at all the transits and determine what sort of major life events have occurred. From there, you could very sculpt yourself an astrological Galatea of your own.
What you can’t do is create a real live, breathing person from the chart, and the older the chart owner is, the harder it is. Once you get to the age of 30, you can’t really create a human in your mind based entirely on a natal chart. But you do it anyway in the superlab of your brain because you’re adding parts.
Astrologers are not entirely objective, and no one is. It’s not a crime. It’s just that you can’t process something, laying stones without the mortar, and the only one you have is the one you create from itty bitty tiny bits of broken down stones from various thoughts, experiences, visions, and dreams. These are the actual things you use to make sense of the world.
For example, if you see a clear blue sky, you may think “it’s a sunny day,” and you may also think “it will be warm” because it’s spring, or “it will be extra cold” because it’s winter. The fact that the sky is blue without clouds is just a fact; that it could be sunny or the temperature will be a certain way is based on your experiences with blue skies and your geographic location. So, when you see something like that someone’s Sun is conjunct your Venus, you may think “this person will like me because he/she embodies the things I find attractive.” And often, this one is true, depending on the sign, of course, and your own experiences, of course.
For example, I find that people with the Sun at 0 degrees Capricorn generally like me…after a while, because it’s Capricorn energy, or they’ll wait a long time to let me know, because it’s Capricorn energy. Me? Obviously it’s not that big of an issue for a Capricorn Venus to continue to quietly prove themselves useful or important to someone else over the long haul.
On the other hand, you may think “His/her Sun is conjunct my Moon, so I instinctually understand them, and they naturally seem to relate to my feelings.” Yet, I don’t often get along with people who have the Sun at 0 Aries. There is tension, and it may have to do with the harsh aspects to my Moon, but familiarity is not the first feeling between me and someone with the Sun in early Aries: it’s competition, and it’s not necessarily friendly, either. That is so Aries.
Because if I’m being honest with myself, that Venus wants to be loved without having to take down even one brick of her high walls, and that Moon just wants you to get the fuck out of the way, and neither a pure Capricornian Sun or pure Aries Sun respond positively to my lost-child, doesn’t-want-to-argue, probably-is-into-weird-shit-like-astrology Pisces rising expression when they first meet me.
This is what I have learned from expecting certain things from other people’s natal charts and not getting the thing I expected.
How long does it last? Or, what do you do when you find out you don’t actually like them IRL that much?
The interesting thing about limerence is that it really only lasts as long as you need it to last. If you remember Romeo and Juliet, Romeo began the play pining away for Rosaline as if his life was completely over because she didn’t return his affections. That was all out the window as soon as he saw a more forbidden fruit: Juliet. He certainly wasn’t in love with Rosaline, and it’s safe to say that he wasn’t really in love with Juliet, not in any real, enduring sense. His crush on Rosaline lasted only as long as he didn’t know about Juliet, and it’s safe to say that his crush on Juliet only lasted as long as it needed to last, too, because the play needed to end on a sad note because it’s a tragedy (although if, when he went to the crypt and discovered an even more forbidden fruit — Paris — and the two started going at it on Juliet’s tomb like it’s July on Fire Island, I would appreciate the play more, honestly).
The stages of hard, cruel reality setting in:
At first, it’s the cognitive dissonance. How could this person be such a dick? They must be very sweet on the inside. Nope, still a dick. Maybe there’s more I just don’t have an opportunity to see. I’ll wait. Oh God, it just gets worse. Surely, the more I get to know him/her, the more all this good stuff in the chart is going to shine through. Holy shit, I must be the world’s worst fucking astrologer.
After cognitive dissonance comes disappointment. Why can’t they show positive expressions of this placement/aspect/point? Why did I waste my time fucking around with this chart when I could have fucked around with a real person?
Why can’t I find someone to love me? I will be forever alone.
Then, after disappointment comes one of two things:
- distraction by a shinier, pretty natal chart, or (gasp!) a *real life person*
If you don’t get distracted by a real person or some other astrological chart that you find better suits you, you start doing forensics to figure out what went wrong. This is when you start actually looking at the harsh inter-chart aspects, house overlays, progressions, transits, and all the other things in a more neutral light to figure out what went wrong, as in, why couldn’t I make this thing work, or why is fate so cruel? Or why am I so crazy?
And then, after forensics, this, the finally thing happens:
You actually come out a better astrologer.
No, really. Now you understand something that you didn’t before, and the mortar of your mind is enriched with both the experience and the analysis, and you’re now much better informed the next time you decide to fall in love with a birth chart. I mean, come on: you’re not going to avoid doing this shit again, but you are going to be pickier about what you want in an ideal natal chart, so you have that going for you.
And that’s progress, growth, and evolution, right?
Okay great. Now what the fuck was the point of this essay, Miriam? Seriously.
Seriously? Just to let you know that you’re not alone, you weird little astrology nerd, sitting around creating and destroying relationships on your laptop and in your mind. That’s all, really.
Just to let you know you’re not alone in your weirdness.
Just to check and see if maybe I’m not alone in mine.
I’m not, right?
Questions? Email me.