It could be useful and fun, yes, but it didn’t need to dominate my entire life. Where astrology was once an omnipresent and all-encompassing lens for me, I began to view it as a lens I could hold up or put aside, like a telescope. I can be decisive when I need to be (Libras are stereotypically indecisive), and now that I’m past my 20s, I don’t feel the urge to “people please” so much (another classic Libra trait). Yes, I am a Libra, but I am lots of other things too. Moreover, I began to feel restricted by old ideas of myself. ‘I read my tarot every few months, as opposed to every day.’ Photograph: Alexthq/Getty Images/iStockphoto I noticed the ways my go-to astrology apps began to negatively affect my thinking: if you open one first thing in the morning that says “you will find yourself at the centre of a betrayal today”, you’re probably going to feel a little suspicious of people. I’d shuffle and reshuffle my tarot cards, anxiously hoping for a different answer, or panic when I saw one of the more negative cards (“failure”, “cruelty”, “ruin”). And, at times, that’s how I started to feel. It prompts you to check in on yourself: what’s going on with me and why am I feeling this way? But if astrology isn’t serving that purpose, and is instead clouding your view, it can feel a bit like engaging in an unhelpful crutch, or avoiding the real issue in favour of an external, uncontrollable explanation. Like praying, or any spiritual ritual, astrology is more about gaining a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you. But that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of astrology’s purpose for many. ![]() There’s a misconception, I think, that those who are into astrology believe in it like an evidence-based science (smug detractors love to roll their eyes at the notion of stars “predicting the future”). In later years, I’d find myself scanning horoscope websites and checking astrology apps such as Co-Star and The Pattern daily.īut at times, my obsession gave rise to confusion rather than clarity. And my conception of myself became hugely shaped by my own astrological makeup (a double Libra: charming when necessary, persuasive, more than a little flaky). Life choices would be explained by the planets (no one goes out during Cancer season). Potential relationships would be vetted via star signs (I date Sagittariuses, not Capricorns). And I had my own private relationship with astrology, too. Growing up, my grandma often read our tarot, the cards spread out on her soft, flowery bed, a vehicle for an unspoken closeness. The instant I was born, at 6.36am, my mum wrote down the time so that I’d have an accurate birth chart (an insight into my character based on the alignment of the planets at my time of birth). ![]() My astrology obsession may have reached new levels that year, but it’s always been there. Thank you Jupiter, I remember thinking to myself. Every day I woke up curious and excited, the bright, expansive presence of Jupiter floating right above me like a 61.42bn km² talisman. The planet was hurtling towards my sign, Libra, which, in astrology terms, meant that I would feel the influence of the “luckiest” planet in the sky for as long as it remained in that position (a year). In early 2017, I became completely fixated on the movements of Jupiter.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |