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Gaza_childrenNo field of dreams

The tears streamed down Jim’s face in the white-hot, Central, Texas Sun in small rivers, not rivulets. It was a flash flood, reminiscent of the torrential downpours in these parts. Texas is a Capricorn state with a Capricorn Moon. When it rains (Cancer) it pours, both within and without.

Mixed with sweat, it was a co-mingling of the essential, emotional fluids that run through everything, from Cacti and geckos to frustrated athletes. He’s a stoic-type, a Taurus, and not given to even mild displays of emotion.

Jim is just ten.

This happened on Saturday.

His saline flush was caused by the fact that he had dropped not one, but three balls in the span of one inning during a game. He was benched, but there was something deeper going on, something disturbing his field and he wasn’t the only boy on my son’s team who exploded into some sort emotional blister pop. My own son was decidedly heavy. Gone was the fire from the past games where he battled on every pitch and for a few, brief weeks, became the heart and soul of the team.

Sometimes we take for granted that people, especially children are limited frames of reference for non-local consciousness. Halfway around the world, children their age are losing life and limbs in places like Afghanistan and Palestine thanks to mortars, shells and drones. Jupiter in Leo will bring us the celebration of the child, but also show us where their tears bleed into the Sun.

Chaos theory presupposes that a butterfly fluttering it’s wings in China leads to a thunderstorm in Kenya. If we are truly connected, we can feel the anguish and the pain of people we have never met or ever will. Children might be the most accessible actually when it comes to this. As I watched Jim’s uncontrollable unleashing of his sadness and grief, he seemed to be tapping into something bigger, like the wonderful lies we love to tell ourselves.

We played at a complex called, “The Field Of Dreams” one of many outposts of semi-rural baseball that have been built by entrepreneurs capitalizing on the powers of emotion and memory, with the advent of tournament season where they operate like a small ballpark. We pay to get in. We pay to have our kids play. We pay $3.00 for Gatorade. They’re all over the place out here.

We have the luxury of telling ourselves that this matters or is meaningful in some way. Maybe our kids have fun—maybe they don’t’. When it’s close to 100 degrees, not even oceanic amounts of sports drinks will beat back the brutality of the mid-day-Sun. Back in the old days, The Field Of Dreams was where vagabond cattle came to die. Late July and August isn’t kind in Texas.

But here we are sitting in our plastic chairs, cheering our kids on, putting up with the usual and expected vagaries of teams and events such as these, keeping our mouths shut and doing our best to be awkwardly and conspicuously polite., because I know that in Texas, you can’t trust people. I know it’s a very broad, Texas –sized generalization, but it’s true. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person and there’s a very good chance it will get back and even distorted to the person one is talking about. Its how discussing issues gets turned into gossip, which in turn gets real toxic, real fast. So people keep their mouths shut—not out of respect—but out of fear.

In Gaza, it’s a lot more serious. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person and you could find yourself in an IDF cell under the threat of suspicion and terror. The stakes are higher, a lot, but the results are similar; a prison of the mind forged out of mistrust masquerading as etiquette or political protocol. Whatever the case, as the Field Of Dreams’ astroturf is a simulacra for the Agrarian Age of America, a synthetic splotch of geometry and proportion, it is also a replicant of what once was and never will be again, our innocence lost and repackaged as a network of polymers that are vacuumed, not cut. Our sentimentality is an obscene luxury at times, especially now. How can we celebrate our own progeny while other children not too unlike our own are being bombed back into the Stone Age. Hopefully, this Jupiter run will bring it to light and not in some kind of fucked up way where children are being moved around and pushed to borders to grab headlines and fat ass tax dollars. The real children there are pawns in a cynical game of community organizing at a global level, paid in full by your tax dollars, just like the death from the skies in Palestine, printed by US and then BORROWED from the same people, at interest. Yeah, sit with that one for a while. It’s not the literal price we pay for our freedom, but the high cost of manufacturing the illusion to keep it on life-support.

I’ll be posting more frequently. It’s time.

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11thhouseradiositeRetrograde return

Back in the nineties, I managed an apartment building in Oakland on the edge of the hood. Most of my tenants were black and it was during the days when Tupac was doing time and Ice-T was rapping about killing cops, versus playing one on TV. Crack was as common as Comet and the Gumby fade was considered a legit look. Bill Hicks was still alive or wasn’t Alex Jones quite yet. OJ rode a pale white horse into the apocalypse, down the LA Freeway.. His buddy, the late Bobby Kardashian was siring big-assed-distractions for the future. My first day on the job, the Simi Valley cops went free and Reginald Denny was beaten within an inch of his life.

I saw a lot shit go down in that building. I heard the moans of ancient desires and the cries of modern-day-frustrations. My neighbor was a teen stripper with a six-month-old and who knows what else. I played ball in West Oakland and at the JCC, where a guy went to his car one day one day to fetch a piece and take care of some business. One day, one of my pregnant tenants started gushing blood in her apartment and then the hallway. I cleaned the dried blood in her bathroom while she was in the hospital. Down the street, a guy was shot dead in a garage.

Never a dull moment.

And while things weren’t easy for anyone, myself included, there was never a sense of blame being passed around like a filthy bong. I never got the feeling that I or my gene pool was responsible for the dire state of the world and the shitty conditions of peoples drama filled lives. If that was the case, it was never brought to my attention. When I walked down the street, I looked the other guy in the eye and acknowledged them. This was one of the most powerful things I learned from my time there. There was no hiding. You either had the respect to do it or be sniffed out in a hurry as someone that couldn’t be trusted. When I moved to Marin County, three-years-later, no one looked me in the eye and dipped their head in acknowledgement. There might have been a hint of desperation in the hood, but there wasn’t any fear.

Fast forward, it’s 2014 and everyone is looking for a target, because we’re all waking up and when that occurs, people begin to realize that not only has their cheese been moved, but they’ve been eating fake cheddar laced with low levels of strychnine all along. It’s enough to make you weak enough and barely able work, but never strong enough to resist. When the walls come tumbling down, everyone is on the prowl for blame.

In 2009, when Pluto went into Capricorn, it set the rise of titanic, monolithic structures in motion. The corporacratic state was born. It took a few years and a couple of dual agents acting as president to get it rolling, but right now, here it is, a troubling sense of vendetta and blood lust, masquerading as some form of social justice, poetic or otherwise.

George Bush and his neocon cronies, the ones that invaded Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan, in that order, played the role of the contemptible, rich, white, fat-cat males, who could take a dump anywhere they wanted, at any time, without any regard to whose backyard they were crapping in. As long as those suitcases filled with Federal Reserve notes passed through the hands of “contractors” to the local chieftains or corrupt officials, no one said a damned thing. Bush, both of him, mugged his way through eight-years of inflicting pain, alternately acting like a brain addled fool and a bone chilling psychopath. He reminded me of that Star Trek episode where Capt. Kirk experienced a transporter malfunction and came back as two Kirks, one passive, the other, dangerously violent. Bush was exactly the same except that he had some kind of weird thing attached to his back, like a servo motor that controlled his speech.

He was the darling of the Mega-Church-goers, most of whom hated Islam, because, well, it wasn’t Christian (or white) and they liked the Jews better, because John Hagee, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson told them too. But it was their last hurrah, the last call for latest incarnation of the crusades. BTW, Pope Urban issued the first crusade in 1095, when Uranus was in Aries, roughly 17-19 degrees, which we will hit next year. As we approach those degrees, we can hear the ancient clash of northern steel versus crescent scimitars. ISIS rises in Iraq and the ghosts of Palestine stir in Solomon’s temple. Baphomet roams the Earth masquerading as a hundred scapegoats. It’s the whites, the blacks, the browns, the yellows, the reds, the pinks and the rainbows. It’s the 1% or the Tea Party. It’s fembot bitches in framed glasses and knee high leather boots. It’s the pissy blondes that won’t give it up. It’s the Jews.

Pluto in Capricorn is the sign of the times, the celestial sacrifice and everyone has a group at the top of their hit list. What’s sad for me though, is that I grew up in San Jose, Ca, in the 1970′s with kids of every color and stripe. We played ball together, smoked J’s together, fought over rock versus disco together and it was all good. There wasn’t the underlying tension of these times. It wasn’t perfect, but we got along and mostly dug each other. Now, there’s a serious fucking witch hunt taking place on Terra and it’s dangerous–very dangerous.

Instead of Bushes “white privilege” and his Caucasus enablers, we’re dealing with Obama and the shifting terror threat, from names unpronounceable, dark skinned and turban wrapped, to guys named Jerad, Adam, Elliot and James. It’s no longer the jihadist extremist, it’s the Anglo American who is the naked prey, which automatically ups the level of suspicion considerably, since there’s a lot more versions of Jerad Miller, running around, at least superficially.

But here’s the problem with the musky scent of blood lust lingering in the air of Summer, 2014; With everyone looking for someone to pay the price of their psychic bondage, it takes us further and further away from true, unity consciousness. This is a Babylonian death trip with Hammurabi on meth and social media’s gallery of rogues. It does us no good. Cheek turning Christians might actually be to blame as they somehow crossed forgiveness with denial once they got two weeks paid and full dental, but we’re past the point of spearing the heart of the beast. The beast is ubiquitous and floating through at least six dimensions of consciousness. But We cannot let it tear us apart, because that’s the plan. Slag Christianity all you want, but in the realm of divine, all inclusive consciousness, we are one. This is what Sananda Emmanuel taught. We don’t need a fat bank account or a fraternity of helpers currying favors when we fall into error.

Beyond the judgement, in the realm of pure love, we are one and in the flesh, we are being split asunder by the dark lords of resentment and revenge. Our only chance to survive the days ahead lies in our ability to see past the divisive game that most of us are merely pawns in. Perhaps it’s the Neptunian dissolve into the mystic as one, psychically integrated and psychologically sophisticated species versus revolt that will save our asses, but to get there, we have to love fearlessly and forgive repeatedly. Perhaps that’s asking a lot for right now, but I’ll tell you what the resolution is, if we can’t or won’t go there; “The Singularity.” The Singularity is when machine intelligence surpasses human intelligence and there is a sort synthesis between the two. Carbon and silicon become one, with silicon on top of course. If we can’t get it together, then the machines and Ray Kurzweil will do it for us. Who do you trust; the fallible humans or the robotic other?

I’ll be back on the air again, doing a radio show/podcast every Monday, at 12 NOON, CST on BlogTalk Radio. It’s called, Eleventh House Radio” and it will be two hours of astrology, tarot, teaching, current events and live reading. I’m really looking forward to this next chapter, incorporating other traditions in a truer, eleventh houser fashion. Catch me with my first (new) show tomorrow.

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Going, going, gone.

The synthetic blood has barely dried and we’re of to another shooting, then another, then another. Elliot Rodger, we were just getting to know you and whaddya know, your fifteen minutes of infamy were stolen by the infinitely scarier Jerad Miller in Las Vegas via Lafayette, Indiana, where he had a Wiccan wedding with his dead-eyed bride, Amanda. Poor girl, every one of her Facebook pictures is marked by a grim melancholia that suggests that bad things had been happening to her most of her life. In the post below, she poses mournfully with two copies of LaVey’s satanic bible. Did I ever mention that I went to junior high with LaVey’s niece? She was pretty damned cute and carried around a paperback copy of LaVey’s book. In art class, she was always drawing funny looking symbols. But I digress.

Elliot is going down, down, down, the memory hole, supplanted by some freedom spouting, meth-snorting, joker from the Midwest. I’m sure his parents are well pleased. The super villain arrived just in time to make Elliot yesterday’s news, fading to gray.

Our attention has been abducted yet again and this time, it’s serious. Jerad Miller must have spouted every major, anti-government touch point in the SPLC manual. Chemtrails; Check. Fluoride; Check. Vaccines; Check. Gun Control; Check. New World Order; Check. Barack Obama; Check. Cops; Check. I’m surprised he didn’t throw in Montauk, The Philadelphia Experiment, Roswell, Hitler in Argentina, and Paul McCartney while he was at it. He even managed to make a cameo at the Bundy place. Puts the whole Bundy operation in a slightly different light–doesn’t it? It’s all there and fully fleshed out. From his FB profile, to his youtube channel, he’s the ultimate patsy. And whatever went down in Las Vegas, it will be remembered as the day that they drove a stake right through the solar plexus of America.

It’s important, again, to take note, that this and the other, satellite events such as Portland and Seattle, along with Isla Vista, have all taken place during the month of Gemini. It’s a sad time, dragging us further into the irreconcilable duality of what America was and has become. It used to be just a left/right divide, but that split has cracked and fissured into a mass fragmentation; men vs women, white vs black, left vs right, red vs blue, and straight vs gay.

Facebook is the news crawl for the front screen projection of glamour and I sit back and stare as I watch friends post articles on how the internet is dominated by freaks posting articles on chemtrails and 911. It’s all due to the sick and twisted minds of the people that support these deadly lies–all thanks to Jerad Miller and his trauma bride.

On Friday’s show, I talked about the war of perception that was taking place and (this was pre-Vegas) and how the battle was being waged on psychological terms, to create the conditions for broad, sweeping changes, while also drastically altering minds through mass programming. It’s a truly sad state of affairs, when brothers and sisters are inches from one another’s throats with dangerously sharp objects. I travel into the forbidden zone at times and am witnessing hate at the highest levels. There are so called enlightened people out there, ones who think they possess a higher, moral perspective and they would be just fine if anyone that’s white, Christian, gun-owning, or government questioning would wind up in a prison camp and then leave the living to the “sane” and “rational” rest of the populace. Yes, it’s that bad. We are trending towards a social conflict, the likes we have never seen and the goat footed balloon man whistles far and wee.

In the subtle realms of dark angels and astral vampires, energy is the manna of their existence and the angrier, more hateful and divisive, the better. Since Sunday, they’ve been lapping up etheric smoothies, supercharged with vitriol and contempt, growing larger and more powerful with every condemnation and curse. Maybe this is why the white magician, Butler-Yeats said, “The worst are filled with passionate intensity, while the best lack all conviction.”

In the days that followed the Vegas event, I found myself questioning my life, my path and my colleagues in the realms of consciousness, liberation, art and magic, those of us who came here expressly for this time. I’ve given great thought about what appears to be the nexus of our callings and the meat of our missions. We have arrived, finally at the cultural Rubicon and now, uncomfortably, fit the costume-ready profile of the extremist, the flesh and blood markers of society, the Brahmin of extreme belief. We have become the heretics of our time, and in an ironic twist, the new Jews. June 8th, 2014, will go down in history as the day the world split and fractured into a divide so deep, that it would take even more chaos and of course a superman to save the day. We’re not that far off from that by the way.

Time and history leave their own clues, patterns of novelty and synchronous events that can be shockingly epiphantic (Yep, I made that up). Back in 1861, on June 8th, Tennessee, seceded from the Union. Yeah, redneck, trouble-making, white-trash, motherfucking-devils! On June 8th, 1949, a guy by the name of George Orwell had a little book called, “1984″ published. In 1967, The USS Liberty was attacked by the Israelis, three days into the six-day-war. A year later, on June 8th, 1968, Bobby Kennedy was lowered into his grave. Interesting events eh?

On Friday, we’ll have the Sagittarian Full Moon staring down upon us. It’s a Moon of brazen emotionality and not well suited for compromise or denial. It can range from positively enthusiastic, to rabidly zealous. In trine with Uranus, sextiling Mars, most people will be convinced they’re right and that their version of truth is the truest. Look for frothy mouthed-pundits foaming and fulminating all over their points of view like red-eyed and rabid beasts. Shit goes down on Fridays too–especially things they want to bury over the weekend with all those important games. For the likes of me and you, don’t sleep on this Full Moon–it’s got some juice. If you can laugh and crack a really good joke in the face of all of this plastic chaos and emotional cannibalism, well, you might just pass a very serious, spiritual test. Sometimes you can sneak a sparkler into the dark night of the soul.

I don’t have a prescription beyond that. The days to come are sure to be weird, something like a cross between The Wiemar Republic, Nero’s Rome, Nimrod’s Babylon and Lincoln’s America. But if I were pressed, I would suggest that you do not get drawn into debates and certainly don’t try to convince people that you’re right. If you want to continue to awaken and enlighten, you’d better be sharp, use some humor and a helluva lot of creativity. Steer clear of being didactic and threatening, because there’s a quantum slipstream of grace that you can travel on without having to directly engage. Remember, the “other side” needs push back in order to be validated. How can that happen when you are there and then you’re not?

It almost seems like we are up against some type of alien intelligence or mastermind machine that has either traveled ahead in time and is sculpting reality in reverse or has so many variables plotted out, that everything is just a reduction of the most common potential events to occur. If that’s the case, well, it’s going to take something we’ve never done before on this or any other world and the crazy thing is, is that none of us really know what it is–yet.

In astrology, the sextile is activated when action takes place. You get the gift of the sextile, but it doesn’t come easy like the trine. The sextile takes courage to initiate and activate. When Mars FINALLY moves into Scorpio, on the 27th of July, it will sextile Pluto and offer up scenarios of both courage and faith on the collective level. Mars in Scorpio is deeply regenerative. Individual acts of courage, facing down the tyrants in your own life, of your own creation, can be the holographic playground where we can re-shape the explicate order. The real battle won’t take place with slogans or guns, but your own mind and consciousness–now we’re talking next level.

Don’t let it get you too down, remember, it’s Gemini. Be unpredictable, have some fun and mess with the machine.

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Surreality reflected

Gemini is here, a dazzling hall of mirrors and like clockwork, we’re dealing with the reflection and amplification of duality right on schedule. On the twentieth of May, the 9/11 Memorial Museum opened and the Sun was at 0 degrees Gemini. Fitting since the Twin Towers were a symbolic representation of the sign of the twins. If you’ve followed this blog and my shows on GaiamTV, you are probably also aware of the fact that Uncle Larry, Larry Silverstein, happens to be a Gemini.

What makes Gemini, so fascinating, important, perverse and even deadly? First off, it’s exactly opposite the Galactic Center in the sign of Sagittarius. The GC in Sag represents a type of cosmic consciousness that is constantly pulsed in the form of neutrinos. Earth, along with all of the other planets in our solar system, and even in others solar systems wheeling through our galaxy are the recipient of this celestial gnosis.

The expression of Sag energy in it’s prime dispersal is the manifestation of truth, freedom, justice, wisdom, higher knowledge and the gateway to the upper room. As we move through the final degrees of the GC in Sag, these energies become more fleshed out, more accentuated. People of Earth, even in what seems like a terminal state of denial, crave the truth. Even though the fat middle of humanity, especially in the USA is close-to-brain dead, thanks to Sodium Fluoride, heavy metal chemtrails, GMOs and EMFs, you can’t chemically or electrically alter the soul, the divine seat of truth. Beneath the calcified portal of the pineal gland, below the ossified chambers of the human heart, there is a gateway to God. Think of the GC as the soul of the galaxy itself. The cosmic pulsations are like Morse Code, the timeless call to return home and I am not talking about some other planet or world. Home is our authentic dwelling place in divine concordance. Home is where truth dwells. Home is where the intention of creation manifests as love. We all crave it, even if we project it onto different and perhaps more sentimental forms. Jupiter direct in Cancer amplifies this call for home and if we truly honor it, illusion, denial, distortion and desecration have no place there. They cannot exist at the higher vibrations of love’s sacred altitude.

Conversely, the backside of the GC is of course Gemini. Gemini isn’t interested in the truth all that much. It’s much more interested in complexity and multiplicity. One of the buzzwords of Gemini in the current vox populi is “diversity.” Sag wants to evolve everything into a higher order, one that is an overarching system that unifies faith, belief and the individual’s expression for it. Gemini doesn’t give a shit. It would rather have some sort of randomness, disorder and even chaos. Gemini also has a really short attention span. But we love Gemini don’t we? It’s always playful, mischievous, upsetting the apple cart (just to see which way the apples will roll). Geminis are great at parties and ringers for your trivial pursuits pub team. But there’s the dark side that exists on the meta-level and with Mercury in Gemini in the US chart, it’s trickster-like energies get played out in the collective in all-too-manipulative ways.

Just days after the opening of the 9/11 Memorial Museum, another event was in place, all the way across the country in Isla Vista, Santa Barbara.

The Elliot Rodger show, really got under at 9:22 on the 23rd of June. The chart for that moment in time has, at the ASC, yep, you guessed it, Sag, which means it’s opposite is in Gemini. Sag ASC 22 is in wide conjunction with the GC at 28. Mercury in Gemini is at 25 degrees, getting closer in opposition with a three-degree-orb.

What’s fascinating about this Gemini-type event is how it parallels not only the profile of the 2001 Isla Vista killing spree, but the actual path itself. The 2001 event was literally driven by David Attias, who, like Elliot Rodger, is also the the son of a Hollywood director. That’s the first double, the first parallel. Both were deemed mentally unstable and Attias was institutionalized for eleven years and released in 2012. But here’s the kicker. According to Wikipedia; Turning north on Camino del Sur, Rodger shot and wounded three people at Sabado Tarde. He turned east on Sabado Tarde, following the same route used by the assailant in the 2001 Isla Vista killings. On Sabado Tarde, he struck a skateboarder and shot another person at the intersection with Camino Pescadero. On Sabado Tarde near Little Acorn Park, site of the memorial to victims of the 2001 Isla Vista killings, he once again exchanged gunfire with Sheriff’s deputies, and was wounded in the left hip. He turned south a second time on El Embarcadero, then west again on Del Playa. He struck another bicyclist, then crashed on the north sidewalk just east of the intersection of Del Playa and Camino Pescadero.

Double the trouble

From a pure, astrological perspective, we can see Mars at the MC. Mars is force, will, and even violence. In the sign of Libra, it’s in it’s fall. The masculine energy of Mars strikes a strident chord with the feminine energy of Venus. Mars/Libra war of the sexes? The violent balancing of the scales? This is what the aspect would indicate on some level. Pulling back, we can see the version of the Cardinal Cross being reenacted, this time with the Moon standing in for Uranus, closer, more directly. The Moon/Mars opposition is yet more violence. Now, with the Moon in Aries, the whole issue with guns would come up, especially as it relates to the sentimentality (Moon) played upon by one, Richard, Martinez.

(Notice Mar(s) embedded in Martinez). Again, from Wikipedia; “It is also used sometimes as a component word of a multi-word surname such as Martínez del Río. Martínez comes from the personal name “Martin”, itself derived from the Latin Martinus, whose root is Mars, the name of the Roman god of fertility and war. And what do we see highly aspected at the apex of this chart? Mars. There’s a war going on here people. The Grand Cross in this configuration is like a hammer, especially with Pluto in the first. Pluto takes no prisoners and is on the transformational point, like an attack dog. Uranus in the fourth is deeply destabilizing, not necessarily to the people of Santa Barbara, though I am sure this wasn’t anything close to being a progressive dinner party, but to the root and core of the family in general. Richard Martinez, in true, Mars-like fashion, went on the offensive just hours after the shootings/stabbings. Martinez throws a flaming Uranian cocktail through the LED screens of America by basically telling everyone who has kids that it could happen to them (while strangely and inappropriately smiling on occasion). In fact, Martinez has become the new, Santa Claus-friendly-face behind gun control. Within mere hours of the event, it was politicized, almost like a finely tuned, marketing campaign, which brings us to Simon Astaire.

Simon Astaire has it all. He’s a best-selling author (Private Privilege), rich, shags the lovely babies, comes from a powerful, British/Jewish family. He’s also a master marketer and what’s known in the biz as a fixer. A fixer is a guy that can solve problems, thanks mostly to a network of high powered influencers. Some of Astaire’s most notable clients come from the Royal Family. He’s also a friend of Peter Rodger’s and he is, get ready for it . . . . a Gemini!!!! Ding, ding, ding. Astaire was born on June 3rd, 1961. There are also some striking parallels between Astaire’s life and one, Elliot Rodger’s. Here are some fascinating snippets about Astaire’s life and book from the “The Jewish Chronicle Online”; “Astaire, London-born, is the son of stockbroker Edgar Astaire, who is chairman of the Jewish Memorial Council, and interior designer Lesley Jacklin. He was educated at Wellesley House in Kent and Harrow School – two pillars of the English public school system. And the experience of being a lonely Jewish schoolboy at his prep school and then at Harrow has, he believes, led to his present dissatisfaction with his life, and – more importantly – his inability to commit to relationships with a series of beautiful women. As he and the therapist began to explore his experiences at school, Astaire began to write things down.”

Elliot Rodger was seeing a therapist as well and of course, he also wrote a few things down too. Then there’s this final paragraph from the JC Online piece; “Since the publication of the book, Astaire has received scores of emails from contemporaries at Harrow who shared the misery and loneliness of being a public schoolboy. It was not something, he says, which could ever have been talked about when they were actually at school – it would have been seen as a sign of weakness. Whether it means anything at all to this narrative, Mr. Astaire has Mars in Libra, at 10 degrees, right on the event’s MC.

Is there anything in this chart that should at the very least question, if not outright doubt the official story? The answer is a “hell yeah.” Looking at the 3rd House, ruled by of course, Gemini, what do we see there? Neptune and Chiron in Pisces. Astrology 101; Neptune and Chiron in Pisces offer up everything from distortion to a sense of false pathos. Chiron in Pisces in the 3rd is crying sans tears. It’s the approximation of emotion. It’s the simulacra other, tear ducts abandoned and dry. Not only that, but the Gemini Sun is Squaring Neptune. Sun square Neptune ALWAYS causes us to reevaluate any person or situation due to layers of confusion and illusion. Getting beneath the surface of the Sun/Neptune square isn’t easy, because, well, coming up with an alternate POV, can often be classified as crazy.

Saturn is the most well aspected planet in the chart, having a grand time of it up in the 11th House. That’s the house of media, social and otherwise. It’s in a fixed sign, aka Scorpio, that means whatever message is broadcast as a result f this event is rubber stamped as the official story. Pluto, in mutual reception adds corporate juice and some status quo mojo. Jupiter in trine expands the message. The Bi-Quintile to Mercury adds authoritative voices that likely go unchallenged.

While Gemini is the prankster of the zodiac, as we have mentioned, it also rules the mind. Mercury squaring Chiron, in Pisces reverberates with messaging regarding mental (Mercury) and Chiron (Health). So we are being inundated with stories about how sick Elliot and yet, this was a kid who was said to live a life on the couch, visiting therapists from a very young age, all the way up through college. It’s certainly not a ringing endorsement for the psychiatric community if this is the case. However, instead of questioning whether or not it played a role in Rodger’s supposed attacks, the dialog is about more psychiatric testing and more meds.

In a perfect, brave, new, world, people would be mandatorily tested for mental health issues and then be given a strict, treatment program, which would include SSRI’s and other mental health industry goodies. This isn’t far off BTW. If there are 2-3 more (and there will be) events such as this, neatly tucked into the folds of Obamacare is mandatory psych testing. Want a job? Take the test. Want to go to university? Take the test. Going from middle school to high school? Take the test. If I were you, I’d start buying shares in Merck and Bayer. Mercury square Chiron also brings us back to the validity of the event itself. When Saturn eventually moves into Sag and squares Chiron at 20 degrees on December 23rd, 2016, there’s going to be some splainin’ to do around these parts. Saturn will also square Neptune much earlier. I’ll be writing about that in more detail later on.

There’s other tasty tidbits in here as well, like Santa Barbara is at the 34th parallel, just above the famed 33rd degree parallel. It’s close to Los Angeles (34) (Dallas (32), Memphis (35), Oklahoma City, Atlanta (33) and Phoenix (33) where they had the Bobby Kennedy, John Kennedy, MLK slayings, The Murrah Building bombings, Olympic village bombing and the Gabby Giffords shootings/events. As a sidetone, Raytheon, a long time, government contractor and newly announced tech partner of DARPA also has an outpost in Santa Barbara. Not far from Santa Barbara, in the town of of Castaic, Raytheon contracted out to the local jail, where they tested their Active Denial technology on inmates. It’s essentially a death ray that uses microwave technology to fry you just beneath skin level, where all of your nerve endings are. Raytheon built the microwave oven back in 1945.

When Gemini is in the air, reality and assorted variations of it are a kaleidoscopic fractal where nothing is as it seems. The only thing that makes sense is patterns, clues and the deconstructed narrative.

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Sam as it ever was?

On Saturday afternoon, as the NFL draft began to drag to it’s conclusion, where the last man chosen is given the title of “Mr. Irrelevant” ESPN started it’s hyper-hyping of Michael Sam, the first openly gay player to enter into the NFL draft. Sam’s confession was a man knowing the value of the cultural moment. Enough momentum and court rulings had been put into place, where a player of Sam’s mediocre talents could not only have a soft landing in the NFL, but even a celebrated and protected one. What’s happened since then has been a fascinating look at a country at odds with what is deemed “appropriate.” For the most part, it’s breaking down along age lines. The older generation doesn’t dig it, let alone understand it. The younger generation, as all younger generations do, are reveling in the rights of Sam to kiss another man, passionately, in public. Yes, this is the same generation that fetes the likes of Brooke Candy and her “Opulence” video as “edgy art.” It’s the same generation that also has Lucien Greaves taking on the first amendment and the right for prayer as an inclusive, religious freedom for “The Satanic Temple. Greaves has also been pushing for and just might get his statue of Satan at the courthouse in Oklahoma, based on the fact that a statue of the Ten Commandments with Moses was placed there. Here is a version of the statue and a symbol for what I talk about later, “Childhood’s End.”

This is almost always the function of youth, since their genetic dispersion from roughly 16-28 is based on differentiation and separation, so that they will be able to stand apart and be on their own. This chemical alignment is laced with rebellion, since rebellion is what differentiates and separates. Anger, which is a modal sub-theme of rebellion cleaves. Love, not the direct opposite of anger, binds. So youth, must be compelled towards some kind of revolt, since it is in their bio-circuitry to do so. While they are engaged in the act of separation from their home and family, their signal has been played like a harp since the 1950′s, when James Dean and Marlon Brando became iconic symbols of teen angst. In the case of Dean and his character Jim Stark, in “Rebel Without A Cause” it didn’t even matter what he was rebelling against. Perhaps, not-so-ironically, Dean was an Aquarius (2/8/31). Aquarians are deeply invested in personal and cultural revolution. That is one of the main themes of Aquarius, which is to break up and destroy form. The Aquarian Age has been an ongoing exercise in this shattering of societies mantle of foundation and continuity. There is a time when our assumptions need to be challenged, for we are not static beings trapped in amber, but there is also the fact that a system can be overtaxed and overamped, causing it to fail or even collapse. We are in the midst of that system overload. Some might applaud it as there would be casualties no doubt and those casualties would be the status quo as we know it, which would be the white, middle class.

We are reaching a point of over-saturation as the externalization of the hierarchy is in full swing.

For those of you not familiar with that term, it comes out of Theosophy, thanks to Madame Blavatsky. It essentially means that the spiritual guts of the esoteric elect will be revealed to all. But in order to do so, the public must be put through a crash course of mystery school symbolism and ritual, which we have been seeing ever since the fall of the Twin Towers, which symbolized the rise of the unifying monolith, the massive, telluric, wand, penetrating the skies above Manhattan. Here is how Blavatsky put it;

“”The old rituals must be revived and brought up to date (in the esoteric sense of the word) and the religious students of the world must be graduated into a higher school, given the occult interpretations, and taught that, after all, the truth has been present all the time, but hidden and misinterpreted”

We’ve seen this education of the masses in music videos, movies. tv shows, comics, ads, you name it. This generation, comprised mostly of Pluto in Scorpio are often referred to as Crowley’s Kids as his sayings and symbols, fronted and promoted by the likes of Jay-Z, Tyler The Creator and others.

They are inching closer and closer to mainstream acceptance. Jay Weidner and I have talked about this generation being the one that was birthed by Arthur C. Clarke, in “Childhood’s End” where a supposedly benign super being named, “Karellan” eventually takes command of the Earth’s children and their spirits, turning them into a super-psychic, planetary, killing machine.

Speaking of Clarke and Stanley Kubrick, Mad Men had one more, 2001 scene and a Shining reference I didn’t get. In last night’s episode, “The Runaways,” Ginsberg spied on Lou Avery and Jim Cutler having a private conference in the computer room. Much like Hal 4000 in 2001, Ginsberg was trying to read their lips. He came away with the luniest conspiracy, that the computer was turning them into homos, this on the weekend of the Michael Sam event.

Another piece I overlooked was the name “Lloyd,” the computer leasing agent. Lloyd of course is the name of the dead and demonic bartender in the Shining. The Mad Men’s Lloyd looked just a little like Jack Nicholson. By the way, in a famous scene where Nicholson is berating Shelley Duvall, he uses the “Ok” finger symbol three times (666×3), which is 1998. In 1998, Google officially became a company. Some other interesting things also happened during that year. Ramsi Yousef, Ted Kacynski and Eric Rudolph were all arrested. It was also the year that Matthew Sheppard was killed and can in some ways be seen as the genesis moment for the modern LGBT movement. Sheppard was murdered and and hanged upon fence post in Wyoming, becoming a Christ figure of sorts, even with his own passion play, “The Laramie Project” which is based on his life and death. What’s fascinating about Sheppard’s death are the details versus the myth. It is claimed that he was the victim of bullying, abuse and murder, which kick-started hate crime legislation and laws. However, Steven Jimenez, author of “The Book Of Matt” came up with enough anecdotal evidence to flip the official story on it’s head. Sheppard was apparently a meth dealer and one of the men that beat him was his lover. Rumor has it that Sheppard had come into a large quantity of meth and wouldn’t part with it. Even The Advocate, has weighed in on the side of Jimenez and asked serious questions about what people will feel if they know that facts and history have been distorted. Jimenez has his detractors, and his methods called into question, but it is interesting to note, that Michael Sam is in some ways an extension of Matthew Sheppard. So we digress just slightly.

From 1989 through 1991, the True Node was in Aquarius. Sam’s is at 16 degrees, which squares his natal Pluto in Scorpio, in the first house at 17 degrees. Squares offer up hard angles and sometimes, even harder truths. Michael Sam’s past is a fairly tragic one and he’s lucky to be alive quite frankly, however, with the TN/Pluto square, his quest to become a football player is more than just a dream, he is politically motivated and wants to draw as much attention to himself as possible. With his Chiron in Cancer in the 9th House, the house of sports, couple of things are taking place. The first is that Jupiter has been conjuncting it, giving Sam protection and support in this very vulnerable area of his chart, because quite frankly, that is what he is looking for. With transiting Jupiter set to cross his MC later this Summer and then settle into his 10th House until next year, we’ve only begun to hear about Michael Sam. Leo on the MC BTW, is a publicity seeker of sorts. Chiron occupies the highest part of his chart and will get the most attention. The USA is a Cancer country and his Chiron is pushing it’s Cancerian limits

While Eric Francis has dubbed Sam’s stellium in Capricorn, enduring, one could also get the feeling that he is socially cagey and highly motivated to find friends and allies in high places, such as Howard Bragman.

Pluto will oppose his natal Chiron once more, at the end of December as the season is winding down. If the Rams make the playoffs (think they will) then we will get a Sam redux right about then.

Next year, Pluto will cross his Sun and I will go on record by saying that he will flip another switch and change his position or even adjust his sexuality. And when Pluto crosses his Sun, this is when it will occur, since this is the nature of duality at play in the third and with Pluto, comes death of a particular aspect of his personality. Who knows, maybe he’ll become Michelle Sam?.

Sam also has his Venus in Aquarius, also in the third house, which adds another, outside the mainstream aspect. In fact, the only air planets that Sam has are both in Aquarius, so they of course would be highlighted in some way, shape or fashion.

We are on the cusp of a planetary change. The youth of the planet have in some ways, dogmatically claimed their right to feel or do or fuck or burn down anything they want.

It’s the culmination of sixty-four-years of think tank opposition. Did you know that the term, “teenagers” was coined by Tavistock? Youth was a burgeoning demographic, especially with the numbers of baby boomers that were about to hit the circuit and they could be used in a number of ways by social engineers, looking to exploit the rush of hormones that is both novel and complex during those 16-28 years.

The problem or challenge, depending on how euphemistically PC one wants to be, is that we have no rites of passage for our boys and girls. It used to be war, now it’s football and college, where one can join a frat or a sorority and take part in some watered down, free-masonic ritual hazing. That’s it. All of those hormones have only the most basic neuro-receptors waiting for them. More, complex, interlocking possibilities lie dormant or even atrophied due to years of playing video games, drinking carbonated frankencorn and pecking out text messages that resemble language skills of the mentally challenged. No wonder they want to “Do As Thou Wilt.”

Saturn will return to Sam’s natal Pluto for one, final, pass through. It will start on the 9th of June and end on the 30th of August. His identity and even his life, will be on display, very publicly, for all to see, with all of it’s Plutonian associations. Sam will no doubt be a rallying point for his generation, with Pluto in his house of self, but outside of it, Pluto can repel as much as it can attract. Some would liken him to being the next, Jackie Robinson, but Robinson had spectacular talent. It’s not even clear if Sam can be an everyday player at this point.

Ironically, the Rams drafted him and when Uranus in Aries (Rams) squares his natal Sun, next year, we could see the relationship between Sam and the Rams hit a rough patch.

I;m just waiting for the 2023 draft where a selected player starts making out with his thirteeen-year-old lover, because we never want to appear hateful or judgmental towards any group that is just wanting social acceptance and love. Karellen is having a good off world chuckle.

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Looks totally believable to me!

Breaking down Mad Men has become a national past time of sorts as the show’s creator, Matt Weiner has shown a propensity to layer the show with symbols and esoterica, ranging from the Kaballa, to gnosticism and even the zodiac. The symbol for Weiner’s production company is “The Sun” card from the Rider-Waite deck.

Last week on Mad Men, as the closing credits rolled, Jimi Hendrixes, “If Six Was Nine” dominated the ear space. It serves as a signifier of time, alerting the viewer that the year is 1969. Astrologically, 69 is also the symbol of Cancer, which will have a much prominent role in this week’s episode, “The Monolith.”

Mad Men itself is an exercise in Cancerian retrospection as the show bathes in nostalgia, surfacing businesses and brands that have long gone by the wayside. As a Cancerian vehicle for time travel, it also celebrates an important era in America’s (Cancerian country) evolution and development and in some ways is a poetic eulogy for the country itself as we see our collective past unspooled through the eyes of Madison Avenue, two hour lunches, ubiquitous atmospheres of nicotine clouds and ad campaigns that made us buy into the American dream with a full-fledged-abandon; our birthright to consume and court leisure and luxury like lesser deities to do our bidding.

Don is back at the bottom, where he started from, having agreed to harsh guidelines for his return, such as no drinking in his office and no solo meetings with clients. Don is on such a short leash, he may as well be hanging by a rope. In some ways, he is. Gone is his spacious office with the staggering skyline view of Manhattan. That belongs to Lou Avery, a cardigan wearing, dullard of a demi-urge who courts mediocrity at every turn, but has no problems displaying his fangs whenever Don is within pissing range.

Lou is Salieri to Don’s Mozart and Lou knows it.

Don’s half brother, Adam (first man) hanged himself as a blood sacrifice in some ways to protect Don’s identity, since Adam knew him as Dick, the whore mother’s son. Don is literally and figuratively a bastard.

Lane Pryce, one of the partners, also hanged himself and Don played a role in his demise as well. Now Don is occupying Lane’s old office, the place where Lane killed himself and he has become the Scapegoat of Cooper Sterling. Everyone from Burt, to Joan, to Peggy, to Lou, to Jim Cutler are ready to blame something on Don or direct their scorn in his general direction. Don is the hanged man.

This recent episode, is easily this season’s best and might be one of Weiner’s better offerings over the past few seasons, for reasons that are both sly and highly entertaining.

The year is 1969, it’s the same year that the Amazing Mets will stun the sporting world and capture the World Series. Of course, Don has pinned a Mets pennant to the wall, one that Lane had tacked up before him. The Mets were the underdog story of the 1960′s, that was until the New York Jets came along a few months later and did the same thing for New York and football when they stunned the heavily favored Colts. But we are getting way ahead of ourselves.

The Mets and Don were at that time, both losers, but if his narrative arc mirrors that of the Mets, by the end of this last season, Don, will be back on top.

He enters SCP and as the door of the elevator opens, he sees and notices the ominous looking, black elevator door opposite him. It’s a dead ringer for the Monolith that plays a central role in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001, A Space Odyssey, which had opened a year earlier, on 1/1/68.

This is just one, sly reference to not just 2001, but perhaps a nod to Jay Weidner’s work on Kubrick, The Shining and 2001, as we shall see.

The Monolith is also a reference to the IBM 360, a super computer that is brought in by Harry Crane. It serves as a sub-anchor to the 2001 theme as their version of Hal 4000, the super intelligent agent within the agency.

As Weiner often does, he’ll have a contrasting sub-plot snaking around the main theme. In this episode, it’s Roger Sterling’s daughter who has abandoned her husband and young child to live on a hippie commune in upstate New York, where they don’t even have electricity. The arrival of the IBM 360 is in direct opposition to Margaret’s retreat from both civilization and technology where she can live on a farm, pick fruit, smoke pot and screw. It’s not very far from Roger’s activities as of late. In a weird, art imitates life imitates art trip, Roger Sterling has been spending lots of time hanging out with his young GF who brings guys (and girls) home, where Roger can cut loose in an occasional orgy. It’s not that far off from another Sterling (Donald) who has had his own, Roger-esque issues as of late. But back to our story.

One third of 2001 takes place on the Moon and the Moon is like a member of the cast in this episode. As Roger spends the night at hippyville, he lays out under the stars with Margaret and she asks him about the Moon and putting a man on it.

Roger says, “We can put one on the roof.” Is this some sort of reference about the validity of the Moon landing in and of itself?

The journey to spring Margaret and return her to husband and son starts at SCP, where Roger’s secretary is chased down by Roger’s grandson, sporting red overalls and a blue shirt. I believe that this is a reference to The Shining, where Danny Torrance roamed the halls of The Stanley Hotel (note Kubrick’s first name and the same name as SCP’s art director) wearing blue overalls and a red shirt. Is Weiner hinting at Weidner’s research that The Shining is all show and tell and that the Moon landing never occurred?

Paintings, lights, furniture and sculpture all play a significant role in the underlying symbolism of Mad Men. Phallic symbolism plays a part in this episode as well. Here is Don in his office, throwing the one, modern convenience he has at his window; the typewriter. Just like the human, it too is an endangered species.

Notice Don’s lamp, which looks like a large, semi-erect cock, attached to a light. This is pure, uncut, illuminated symbolism. Is Weiner making a connection to the phallic worshipping cults and tribes of Central Asia and their new identity as bringers of the light, the illuminated ones?

In one scene, Roger is telling the partners at the SCP partners meeting that Don hasn’t clubbed anyone on the head yet like some gorilla. Again, this is a reference to 2001 and the first part of the epic trinity, where primal blood is shed in the shadow of the Monolith.

Don has a conversation with Lloyd, about not just the computer, but what it means. Lloyd is the head of the leasing company installing the computer. He calls the computer “a cosmic disturbance” and likens it to a god in the making. It’s here where we learn that it’s the IBM 360.

Of course, 360 is the number of degrees in the astrological wheel. It’s also a reference to the carousel, Don’s first, major campaign for Kodak and the slide projector. It’s what he is synonymous with. The carousel exists as a time machine, which can move backwards and forwards in time as light is projected through the color stained cells, which manifest as memories.

The carousel also turns up in 2001.

It is the famous wheel in the sky, the Moon orbiting Hilton. At the end of the episode, “On A Carousel” by The Hollies is the song that is matched with the closing credits.

Weiner is playing with other themes here as well, like the fall of man and the rise of the new man; The IBM 360 and AI. Staying with the 6 was 9 thread, Roger’s son-in-law, Brooks, was arrested while trying to spring his ex-wife from the hippy commune (hello Manson family and Megan as Sharon Tate). His bail was $180, exactly half of 360. 180 adds up to 9 as does 360. Flip one of the nines and you get 6 and 9. In the novel version of 2001, Hal 4000 was activated in 1996 or 96.

Here is Roger’s secretary eating an apple (taking a bite from the forbidden fruit and tree of knowledge. Don makes a reference to the apple as well, which serves as an analogy for the computer and the ripeness of it’s business potential, but also a nod to Apple, the company which would come to dominate personal computing in the next century.

There are always strange items floating in the background of Mad Men. Here is a Peter Max like painting, hanging in the background of Roger’s office. Notice the “Eye Of Horus” and the magus’s wand.

One of the other story lines from this episode is the courting of Burger Chef as a potential client. Again, we’re knee deep in Cancerian nostalgia as Weiner resurrects another lost and faded, American institution. At one point, Burger Chef was second only to McDonald’s when it came to burger franchises. Burger Chef, unlike McDonald’s flame broiled their burgers and allowed their diners to build them at a condiments bar.

With Jupiter, retrograde in Cancer, these road trips down memory lane are both poignant and a little unsettling as we realize that the innocence of those times is long past, a chapter forever closed in the rapidly mutating, story of America. In fact even Don himself is a ghost of a man from another time. He wears suits, ties and hats. He’s a hard drinking ladies man, with more than a dash of macho. Don can only exist in Weiner’s symbolic universe and the echoes from another time.

Drunk and macho Don lights into Lloyd from the computer leasing company, basically telling him that he knows who he is, inferring that Lloyd is the devil and has been doing this since “The dawn of time” which is another 2001 reference, referring to the ape section of Clarke’s trinity. Is Weiner also inferring that the Moon landing was nothing more than marketing and a sophisticated form of advertising while also being fully staged?

As we move outward from the Cardinal Cross and it’s intense, interpersonal fury, Mad Men, Kubrick, the Moon, are like Cancer’s distant signals, beaming back to us through time, giving us one, last gulp of what was and hoping that it will last us through the wasteland of what might be.

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Don Sterling’s dark angel of annihilation.

“It’s all energy. Use your conviction to the fullest and we might just snuff out these evil plans to herd us like Cliven Bundy’s cattle long enough until they show us the horrific and pitiful visages behind their ancient and cracking masks. The real disclosure has nothing to do with aliens or ET’s–it’s all about the parasitic virus that’s been living amongst us for eons, adopting new and different names, using philanthropy as a cover. This my friends will be the true disclosure and if we wait them out long enough and live by the peaceful commandments of the most universal and high, they will simply show themselves and in so doing, lose the power of spells and illusions cast upon us.” Well it didn’t take long for this to manifest, did it?

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m referring to the latest and greatest sports scandal, where LA Clippers owner, Donald Sterling (Tokowitz) was captured on a recorded conversation between him and his girlfriend/mistress, Vanessa Maria Perez aka V. Stiviano. It’s no surprise that this came out on Sterling’s solar return, when his Sun is the most prominent. He’s a Taurus (HELLO ECLIPSE!!!) born, April, 26th, 1933 or 1934, depending on what date you read. I checked out the ephemeris of both and they both have a compelling Mercury in Aries time stamp. The 1933 date has Mercury in Aries at 8 degrees, meaning it would still feel the heat of the hot cardinal cross, within a five-degree-orb of Uranus/Jupiter/Pluto/Mars and being that it was his solar return weekend, he would be in the public eye.

1933 chart also has Mars in Virgo at 1 degree, so the energy is based on a type of purity of sorts. LOL. Virgo is the sign of health/perfection/purity and Mars adds fire to the Virgoan need for order, bordering on obsession to some extent. This would be a great degree for a light energy healer or radical herbalist, but Sterling has a history of being less than clean and pure when it comes to his real estate holdings. Some have even labeled him a slumlord at times and his reaction to that? His strategy? Donate heavily to the United Black College Fund and the NAACP, who were ready to bestow an award upon him; “Using philanthropy as a cover.”

Now, while I am not condoning what Sterling said or did, but the femme fatale in all of this, his squeeze on the side, kept returning to the notion of race, over and over again. He wanted her to stop at one point; “Why are we still talking about this?” But he couldn’t. She just kept coming back to it and he kept on flapping his Aries jaw, again and again and again and it was all captured in a nicely, premeditated fashion since this is what Sterling himself has asked for. Apparently he requested that she record these conversations because he cannot remember everything he has said to her. Sterling’s Black Moon Lilith is in Gemini, which of course indicates that the dark feminine seeks out information and participates in a dangerous role play of duality. Here we have the black/white issue rearing it’s ugly head, brought to you courtesy of Lilith, the other bride hiding in the shadows.

Ms. V. Stiviano also happens to find herself locked into to a suit against Donald Sterling’s wife. Mrs. Sterling is claiming that Ms. Stiviano is a gold digger and is trying to regain possession of money and property given to her by Donald Sterling. Ironically, the new commissioner of the league is Adam Silver; Silver and Sterling, quite a pair. The Devil’s currency of course is silver–forty pieces–a small investment in the future of betrayal and delusion.

Saturn is the teacher of the chart. It brings discipline and a heavy hand when needed. Sterling has Saturn in Aquarius at 15 degrees, which is now in square with Saturn in Scorpio at 20 degrees and moving backwards, inching closer and closer to Sterling’s own karmic house of secrets. Scorpio is sex and all that’s hidden beneath the surface of things. It represents the taboo and complexes, and other peoples money. In addition to the supposedly one hundred hours of incriminating cell-phone-pillow-talk with Stiviano, Sterling has also recently talked about another mistress and in much more scandalous terms–hello Black Moon Lilith in Gemini–things come in twos.

Alexandra Castro was recently involved with Sterling as a $500 an hour prostitute, “a real freak” as Sterling exclaimed in his testimony. Apparently the estranged Mrs. Sterling is trying to get her money back from Castro as well.

The NBA has a significant crisis on it’s hands as one of their ownership group has essentially been outed for who he is. But there is something deeper going on here that must be noted. There is a serious breach in race relations on the horizon and it’s important that Mr. Sterling not just be tagged and classified as another, rich, old-white, fat cat. He’s not. He’s Jewish and in a rare moment of strange candor, Ms. Stiviano asked him about race relations between Blacks and Jews and here is how the exchange went;

Sterling: “It’s the world! You go to Israel, the blacks are just treated like dogs.”
Stiviano: “So you have to treat them like that too?”
Sterling: “The white Jews, there’s white Jews and black Jews, do you understand?”
Stiviano: “Are are the black Jews less than the white Jews?”
Sterling: “A hundred percent, fifty, a hundred percent.”
Stiviano: “And is that right?”
Sterling: “It isn’t a question – we don’t evaluate what’s right and wrong, we live in a society. We live in a culture. We have to live within that culture.”

Stiviano brings up the holocaust and if it’s any different;
Sterling: “Oh, it’s the same thing, right?”
Stiviano: “Isn’t it wrong? Wasn’t it wrong then? With the Holocaust? And you’re Jewish, you understand discrimination.”
Sterling: “You’re a mental case, you’re really a mental case. The Holocaust, we’re comparing with …”
Stiviano: “Racism! Discrimination.”
Sterling: “There’s no racism here. If you don’t want to be … walking … into a basketball game with a certain … person, is that racism?”

So why am I bringing this up? It’s to be on the public record that while I am sure that there are plenty of good-ole-boy, rich, fat-cat, white racists, Donald Sterling isn’t one of them. Today, Rednecks and Tea Partyers from around the US are hoisting a cold one in Donald’s general direction.

Is that really in everyone’s best interest though as the Solar Eclipse is about to hit us with yet another blast of astro intensity, right on the heels of the Lunar Eclipse and the Cardinal Cross? Probably not. Everyone is on edge, taking things personally, having to look into the cracked mirror of the soul, all trying to recognize something familiar. Maybe it was that kid from an easier time or a lover that was in the throes of love’s first bloom, when the jasmine perfume of the scented Spring winds carried with it the breeze of everything possible and new in Eden. We’re looking hard, searching for a glimmer of innocence in the corrupt days of rotting time.

Hang in there. This hard part, this blistering birth is almost over. We just have to get through this eclipse and Mars’ eventual tour through Scorpio, stopping at Saturn along the way, bringing with it enough judgment to take down countries, kings and presidents.

These are not easy times–know that and know that you are far from alone–don’t give in to your lesser nature. Do your best to hold your head high and live with dignity, compassion, patience and humility. This is my own personal subscription too. I don’t dole out medicine I can’t or won’t take. Speaking of medicine, have a little dose of “Waking Light” by Beck.

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