I’ve always felt that Pisces is the creepiest sign/archetype
in the Western zodiac. The reason is relatively simple: with Pisces, unlike the
other signs (including water signs Cancer and Scorpio), the action is all
underwater. The Piscean underwater-world is full of shadiness, darkness,
strange, magnetic beauty but also erosion, deterioration, and death.
Underwater, consciousness may bump into anything without knowing what it is:
friend or impostor, predator or prey. I bring this up because Neptune,
Pisces’ ruling planet, is doing a long-term transit in Pisces as of 2015, and
will be in Pisces for the foreseeable future. Which, if one were to take it
literally (I take it, as I take most occult/astrology lure, half-literally),
signifies a strange time in which inexplicable things happen, magnetic currents
create an underwater sensation for a large portion of Earth’s populace, and
there is a creepy evanescence to all the regular pastimes and pursuits with
which the human race passes its time or expends its energy.
When I was a teenager, I learned the basics of astrology
quite thoroughly. It took me fifteen years, into my thirties, to come to grips
with what for me became an obvious fact, hewn right into my birth chart: astrology
does not always literally work. The archetypes, however, are interesting: for me, the strongest are Pisces, Scorpio, Gemini, and Libra.
Virgo occupies its own second tier, and the rest are semi-scrubs. As for what
works in my own natal chart: Scorpio rising, Mercury in Capricorn in the third
house, and Mars in Gemini in the eighth. The rest is poppycock. If anyone
cares: my real sun sign in Scorpio (I’m a double Scorp), and my Venus is most
assuredly in Pisces, one reason this Neptune
transit is so interesting for me. Phenomenology is profoundly Piscean— the flow
of consciousness, its interiors and exteriors, has its own underwater
algorithms, especially in contexts like the Cheltenham Elegies. Underwater
consciousness is facilitated by Neptune transiting Pisces— as is the underwater
sense, in relation to language and textuality, that sudden shifts may be made
towards elucidating and incising new phenomenological possibilities between
sound and sense in major high art consonant poetry and art, Elegies, Odes, and the
rest; even if what data is uncovered has the sense of unsettling (creeping out)
readers with an underwater world which conflates essences of fecundity with
macabre signifiers of deterioration, decay, and death.
A quirk about Pisces as an archetype: the weird, wafflish
sense Pisces has of time itself, of temporality. When there are Piscean
energies around, time works in mysterious ways— twenty minutes can last an
excruciating five hours; or twelve hours can pass by pleasantly in twenty
minutes. Time becomes underwater time. The fluidity between moments with Pisces
is something which can be tapped into: through art, sex, intense intellectual
labors, or even time spent doing nothing, staring vacantly into space. Staring
vacantly into space, by the way, should be big during Neptune’s
transit through Pisces: all those little times, daily times, when we could
choose to either do something or nothing, will be touched by the creepish
underwater sense that we are being pushed back into lethargic, recumbent torpor. Yet,
when the graceful side of the fluidity manifests, our time spent doing nothing
will subtly shift our moods upwards, towards a greater sense of unity and
relaxed acceptance of the fluidity of whatever consciousness wavelengths are
flowing in.
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