"Warning: If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned." - Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

According to WHO stats, crimes have generally gone down while suicide rates have gone up in the young adult demographic (18-24) since 1990, seeing particularly sharp rises in North America, South America, Japan, United Kingdom, Ireland, several countries in Europe such as Poland, Romania, Portugal and Russia. In essence, rage against the system had turned into a war against the self - defining the mood of an entire generation.
I can personally attest to this. How often I've come close, and with what fervour I yearned for my own end - how wishing for death became synonymous with freedom, peace, mercy and justice all at once. Sometimes I even saw it as an ideological act, since it's one less consumer in the world. I felt like a sick animal needing to be put down. It's not about what I did, necessarily. It's what I failed to do - and what I continue to fail at. And I just know that this sense of being a failure, broken or worthless trash is a shared experience between those of us who couldn't face another fucking day of oppression. An oppression that shouldn't exist - right? We have freedom of speech. Democracy. We are not at war. We eat decent food, have access to clean water (still). We have infinite knowledge at our fingertips. Be grateful and do something with your life. If you're not happy then change, stop complaining. Hetero men adopt stoicism and pledge to the grind, hetero women obsess over their vessels and frivolous consumerism. Now procreate and let a computer raise your offspring while the planet suffocates from human greed. Repress feelings, purify the body. For what? For fucking what?
As far as I'm concerned, suicidal people are the only humans alive who are actually sane in a profoundly sick society. If you never seriously contemplated or actually attempted suicide, I have nothing in common with you. You are an alien species to me. You disturb me and fascinate me in equal measure. Are you for real?
Youth culture is fractured, tribalistic, with nothing to stand for but plenty to stand against. It's a culture of exhaustion and rampant escapism. To permit ourselves boredom - stillness - is anguish. God forbid we're unproductive. We do everything to avoid being alone with our thoughts - because those thoughts are often evil and conflicting, not helpful, and our technologies are designed to feed off of this fear of our own introspection. In fact, our attention is the new oil for capitalism. We all know this.
It used to be we'd rebel against our elders, parents, religion, social norms, actual patriarchy. The mainstream... Now what? We yell at capitalism, porn, influencers, AI etc. when the real fucking enemy is within. So close it's blinding, terrifying and overwhelming.
It's not just me that sees what's happening to us, right? And I'm mostly addressing the youngest millennials (if you were born before 1995 this literally does not concern you) and the whole of Gen Z. Because this is a generational thing. We witnessed the incomprehensible speed with which communication technology has evolved before we even reached puberty. We were promised global connection and unlimited creativity. Instead we became aware of how fucked we are as a species - more aware than any generation that came before us. We are rawdogging a revelation without any comprehension of it because we're still trying to figure out how to survive the constant awareness while also trying to function in society. Going to school, paying bills. Turn it off, turn it down. Pause.
This is where gods and demons and angels and delusions come in. Where language fails, ancient symbols are adequate replacements for explaining psychologically uncomfortable truths: I believe in God because I must. I believe in God because it's the only thing that helps me stay alive in this overwhelming awareness of suffering, this digital vertigo, the needle point of human history I was thrown into. Daily life may have a way of making things seem empty, but really we live in extraordinary times in the evolution of our species. That's why everything is so fucking weird. Why my own life sounds like something from a novel or a story told by a schizophrenic patient.
At this point, I no longer see myself as special or chosen. Nor my life as meaningless. Because, quite clearly, this is the spirit of the age. It's not just me, it's us. We are the chosen ones, the wanted ones. I swear, we are. I see it in my closest friends, though my circle is very small, I keep in touch with them because I believe in them the way I believe in God. Whatever God sees in me, I see in them. Whatever fear I have about myself, I have for them also. I don't want them to go unseen and unknown when they deserve the world's adoration and admiration. If one of us goes down in history, does something huge, transforms themselves or become the start of something that outlives them, my own purpose will be clearer for it. Someone needs to be brave enough to devote themselves to an ideal, a vision. A vision of a better future, whatever that means. Not to save the world - only Jesus can do that. To rebel against it. To defy its psychological and psychic machinations. To inject soul into soulless things.
It's you and I, and the insane faith we have in each other despite the state of our lives. Destruction is a form of creation and I think we should set everything on fire - without delay.

So what happens next? Where can a philosophy or religion of love truly carry us beyond pretty words and vague promises? What does love look like in an age such as this, in a generation which has lost something ineffable?
I feel visceral, uncontrollable aversion to mainstream culture. I'm not talking about some kind elitism, or searching for underground/obscure things for the sake if it. I'm talking about values. Trends. Opinions. What shows up in your algorithm. What they're selling to you. What they're telling you to think or feel, what they tell you will solve your problems or get you laid with whoever you want or give you the worldly success you're craving for. How everyone seems to have an answer to every question, leaving no room for you to have your own unique journey to discovery or forming ideas.
Now that the mainstream has migrated to the internet in the past two decades or so, the internet has itself become the masses and going offline is impossible without obstructing the machinery of civilised life.

While studying the lives of Orthodox monks and Christian saints before the Schism, I noticed they weren't merely ascetics for Christ - they actively rejected the world, criticised modern civilization (Orthodox priests still do this), and refused to participate in its activities. Glendalough, the historical pilgrimage site in Ireland, was founded by St. Kevin who meditated in a cave, made his own clothes from fur and leather, and was known to live on a plant-based diet by choice. He was hailed as one of the greatest preachers of his time, admired by many. People came from all over Christendom to meet him.
In Buddhism, I was impressed by Siddhartha Gautama's royal roots. How he rejected all the power and wealth and beauty of the palace because his worldview was transformed after witnessing the widespread suffering, disease and ugliness in the kingdom. That too was a rebellion - against who he was supposed to be, against caste systems, against what society normalised - what it was numb to.
I don't see cult leaders and zealots here. Not when you go back to the roots and realise Christ disturbed the system. He wasn't just a preacher in some backwater territory of the Roman Empire - there were plenty of those already - he threatened the system. Not just the political system but also the ideological one. And he died for what he believed in - the martyr of all martyrs. That's why his historicity is uncontested, because he was a revolutionary who was worth writing about even by those who did not believe in him.

In my own life, I have rejected or thwarted essentially every normal rite of passage a modern woman is supposed to have, whether it's the timing or the way I went about doing things. And the way I processed my experiences falls outside every manual.
I stopped taking prozac out of spite and because I was tired of managing myself like a defective machine. I decided that before I die I want to feel alive, not well-adjusted. But how to do this? What does that mean?
The only answer I have for now is something along the lines of what St. Isaac the Syrian said, and what aligns with oldschool punk and trad goth perspectives - death to the world. Reject everything that does not align with the ideal, the inner vision. Embrace fears - be they social or existential. Stop feeding the beast with attention. Stop being a goddamn consumer. Stop being a participant and become an agent. Meditate on death and love. These are merely words I'm trying to catch but I sincerely believe that the world is thick with poisonous lies telling you that you're nothing on your own or that you should become somebody else to deserve love. I believe the truth about ourselves lies in our personal extremes. We should stop holding back - particularly the love. Especially love. Take that leap of faith, face the destruction or salvation but face it with some courage.
Every decision is more important than the last. I could take the credit and say I am saving myself. That I will save myself. That I am all I ever had. But somewhere inside me I know that would be dishonest, because I always believed I was blessed by God. I always felt myself being guided towards something important - maybe even someone. God's love was the rock I found at the bottom, and I couldn't believe it, ironically.

There are dark forces - real evil - working to devalue human existence completely. Separating the worthy from the unworthy, lions from sheep. They allow you to practice your beliefs, read your philosophy, study your sciences - for now. But gradually, these will feel empty. Absolutely void, lifeless pursuits that will still keep bringing you back to the same sense of dread and dissatisfaction. When that time comes, The Devil will make an offer you won't be able to refuse - because everything has been designed to lead you to there. You know in your gut what those steps are, how they frighten you and distract you from who you really are and why you are really here. Something is very wrong. Turn to face God's bleeding compassion and start crawling towards His eternal light, crawling on the same dirt your flesh will join at the end of all things.

"You shall not remain on earth among the dead; you shall ascend into heaven among the imperishable stars." -
Pyramid Texts, 2400-2300 BC

Beta Cygni - Albireo - ἐρύσιμον

2nd century AD. Egypt.

In his candlelit study, the famed astronomer Claudius Ptolemy of Alexandria scribbled down the names and celestial coordinates of forty-eight constellations: Cepheus, Draco, Pegasus, Lyra and Cygnus were among the most prominent.
For thousands of years, human beings have been gazing up at the firmament, connecting the bone-white dots, and inventing stories beneath their infinities. Meanwhile, in the verdant Vedic world, the stars were believed to be a cosmic ocean upon which the god Vishnu floated while Brahman dreamed reality into existence. The night sky wasn't just empty space - it was the source of universal consciousness itself, a reminder of where all life on Earth truly came from.

 

Alpha Cygni - Deneb - ذنب الدجاجة

24th century AD. Lyra.

I want to tell you about the first time I woke up.
I was eight months old, suspended in warm water and peaceful darkness. I couldn't yet open my eyes but I knew I was awake because I sensed another presence moving beyond the power of my dreams. I remember the way the vibrations of their voices entered my cosy little space. I couldn't know what they were saying, of course. Some might say I shouldn't have even been able to process their tones or the meaning behind them as it pertained to me, but there was no mistaking how I felt in my body - and contrary to popular assumption, I did feel. This has since been verified by modern science.
They were curious voices. Not cold, maybe a little proud. Their voices were low, gentle and melodic. They soon lulled me back into blissful unconsciousness, in which I remained for another month.

Back in my day, ectogenes like me still had names given to us by our guardians. Names which carried legacy and meanings that echoed throughout the history books. In legends, poems, songs, stories, in heroes and villains. Names were torches shining in the dark shadows of corporate domination gone galactic, they were little reminders that we were more than this once.

My name is Silas, by the way. I never had a mother, nor a father - I developed inside an artificial womb and took my first breath in 2402, aboard the mothership GENETRIX, whose main purpose was to serve the rapid colonisation of the planet Amunet. I was raised in the military wing. My genetic ancestry is primarily Nilotic. Every sinew of my physical vessel is designed for athletic perfection, woven with efficiency, pride, and even aesthetics. Lithe, tall, melanistic - mine was the body of an Olympic marathon runner.
Normally, a biological organism is at the mercy of nature's chance machinations; but I was carefully designed by a team of world-renowned scientists, doctors, industrialists, psychologists and even artists. Artificial intelligence had no hand in my creation, only my incubation period. I was one of hundreds - and thus, I have hundreds of brothers and sisters, all taken from the same gene pool with some variations. I belong to the collective of the present, not an ancestral lineage of the past. So, why did they name me Silas?


 

Gamma Cygni - Sadr - صدر

"You're not allowed to vape in here, ectogene." A self-important teenage boy's voice penetrated through the narration inside his airpods.

In response; long, dark fingers lifted the vape up to a pair of thick lips, through which a deep inhale produced a cherry-cola flavoured mist upon exhale; it momentarily obscured the smug boy that decided to pester the passenger. Begone, the man mentally banished him, but when the smoke cleared he saw that two new kids appeared instead. Meanwhile, the pleasant female narrator continued speaking in his ears.

"... Waves of dusky light pierce its atmosphere, like copper arrows saturated with infrared, filtered through the canopy of the alien planet's charcoal-blue vegetation..."

The boy swiped hard at the passenger's hand, knocking his vape down to the metallic ground with a dull clank. The man did not react.

A girl with a blonde braided hairstyle spat on his right eye which was ice blue with indifference. The boy and his other friend laughed, complimenting the punk girl's aim.

A skinhead boy tapped on his smart-watch screen. "You're reported now." He announced gleefully. "Enjoy the clink, ectogene."

Satisfied with their good deed for the day, the youths walked away, their happy voices fading out.

"... about how terrestrial astrology finally fell apart when the first cry of an infant was heard on Luna's surface, how that event chased away the prehistoric shadows of humanity's cosmic uncertainties - and awakened new ones. Chapter Two, Ectogenesis-"

He shut the audiobook off with a tap-and-hold at his audio ear-insert. Sighing quietly, he leaned forward and focused on the slimy texture of cooling spit slowly sliding down his cheek. It could be worse, he reminded himself. There are planets he was banned from entering. There was even a whole colony that actively hunted his kind like stray animals who are caught, transported and auctioned off as cheap labour across the galaxy. If Amunet was a danger to him, his contractor wouldn't have sent him here. He was safe; his rights are protected.

Regardless of the facts - panic simmered somewhere deep within his psyche, like magma churning underneath the hard crust.

He hadn't noticed the little girl who had approached him, white tissue in her extended hand, waiting for his acceptance.

"Here you go, mister." She encouraged the man when she sensed his hesitation. She couldn't have been more than nine years old; small, almond-eyed, with silky black hair gathered up in several bouncy pigtails. The man flicked his gaze behind her where an elderly passenger nodded at him with aproval.

He opened his palm and the little girl placed the tissue on it - along with his vape.

"Oh?" The man blinked with surprise. "Thank you. I appreciate the kindness."

"You're welcome." The girl politely responded and turned on her heel to return to her seat next to her grandfather. Or great-grabdfather, by the looks of it.

He wiped his face with the tissue, focusing on its moist texture and antiseptic smell. His skin cooled, purified.

The elder across from him didn't seem like an ordinary traveller; on his lap he cradled a glass box inside of which was a miniature Japanese maple tree - a bonsai with russet leaves. The old man himself had long, silver hair and a smooth beard, and he wore an intricately decorated pearlescent robe made from colours that seemed to shift depending on the light. The subtly purplish tone of his pale skin and the rudimentary breathing apparatus hanging unused around his neck could only mean one thing - he was an Amn native, and therefore very likely an ectogene himself along with the little girl. Why else would there be such kindness from a stranger?

The muffled internal humming of the drifter's engine was slowing down to a distinct whirring and the scenery outside had become dark and murky, as though they were moving underwater. Not navy blue, but like the waters of the womb; fleshy and warm, as is typical for this solar system.

The man had retreated back into the solace of his mind - he reined in his heart that had awakened like a startled bird, he breathed in the sterile oxygen and exhaled imagined cortisol - all filtered through the discreet apparatus plugged into his nose. The tribal tattoos on his exposed scalp glistened with beads of perspiration; white serpents coiled on black flesh, entangled like jungle vines.

"Welcome to New Luxor." The robotic intercom announced. "This is the final stop. Please ensure your equipment is activate before exiting the drifter. Thank you for traveling with IC-Line."

The drifter cabin was almost empty - all that remained was the dark ectogene, the elder, the little girl, and the three youths on the far end, who had already stepped outside one of the doors without a second glance.

The man sighed heavily, knowing his short reverie was coming to a close - his mission awaits outside, and possibly the auxilliary patrol too.

The colourful advertisements lining the cabin ceiling flickered and paused. The man narrowed his eyes at the small anomaly, hesitating to leave for the moment. He heard the elder and the little girl shuffling to the exit doors behind him, followed by a beep for opening doors.

"Welcome to New Luxor," the intercom repeated. "This is the final stop-"

Suddenly a deafening roar reverberated all around - chaos of noise, wind, heat and flying metal. The ectogene immediately fell to the floor, covering his head and ears from the sudden explosion. The ground beneath him vibrated in tandem with his disturbed nerves, and he could just make out the shrill sound of alarms pushing through the fallen debris. He stayed lying still for a while, playing dead, for whatever had happened might happen again. Then a call signal came through his X-COSMO gear. He slowly and carefully moved his hand around his neck, searching for his pair of yellow Kepler glasses. He affixed them around his eyes - the left lens was cracked, but he could still make out the called on the screen; a woman with a mane of red hair and wide, bloodshot eyes.

"Silas! Thank God you're alive," Jude's worried voice flooded into his ringing ears. "What the hell happened out there? Are you hurt?"

"Give me a second, will you?" Silas groaned. Adrenaline was pumping throughout his body, obscuring whatever pain he should have been feeling. Slowly, he pushed himself to sit up and examine himself for injuries.

"Well?" Jude prodded impatiently, "what do you see?"

"My limbs appear to be intact." He responded dryly. "There's a tear on my left shin but I don't think it pierced the skin. My ears are ringing as well - I can barely hear you even on full volume."

"What do you see?" She asked again, more clearly.

Silas stood up, hoping to get a better view of his surroundings. The ground was broken and uneven - metal was torn like flesh and there were neon shards of self-sustaining purple lights peeking from the rubble. All the rest was obscured by grey and black smoke and pockets of fire.

"Not much." Silas coughed, cautiously moving towards a ray of copper light, assuming it to be an exit or at least a lookout. "Debris, smoke. Something is on fire, I'm going to check it out."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jude responded quietly. "You know there's only one thing that's flammable around there."

Silas didn't hear exactly what she said but her sombre tone did manage to reach him. Of course, he already knew what he'd see as he stepped through the bent doors of the damaged drifter.

There on the ground, not two feet away and beyond, were the burning corpses of innocent civilians. The little girl lay dead next to her grandfather, her legs crushed by a fallen plasma screen which was sparking with electric charge. Her eyes were open - soulless and doll-like - staring ahead into nothing. Her grandfather was almost entirely trapped underneath the screen. The only thing that survived them both was the potted bonsai, sequestered a few feet away inside its thick glass cube. Silas felt nothing about the scene - he was utterly desensitised to tragedy, though he knew that the images will come back to haunt him sooner or later, in his nightmares.

"Can you determine the source of the explosion? I want to send our guys to get you out but I need you to start a private stream first. The official reports don't know jack shit right now, all they can do is assume it's another AFR terror attack. Yeah, right..."

"Hold that thought, Jude, somethin' ain't right." Silas began scanning the area for signs of life when a warning message popped up inside the screen of his glasses. "Well, shit."

"What's wrong? Spit it out."

"I just got a radiation warning. This was some kind of RDD explosion."

"RDD? That makes no sense, why..."

"Whatever, man. I'm getting the fuck out of here." Said Silas. "I've sent you the link to my livestream, see what you make of this yourself."

"Got it. Are you sure you can make it out on your own?"

"Remember who you're talking to, kid."

"I haven't forgotten, Silas." There was a tinge of warmth in her voice, and worry.

Before he could actually start leaving the scene there was something unexpected tugging at his heart; an unwanted splinter lodged inside him. Turn around, it said, go back and take it with you. Don't let it die.

Makes sense, Silas remembered as his eyes fixed on the glass cube sticking out of the rubble. Amunet was a planet that extolled organic matter, especially with Earth origins, even as trivial as a bonsai. It may be used as a ticket to get to places where ectogenes are otherwise unwelcome.

"That has to be a GMO, right?" Jude perked up with curiosity as she watched his live footage.

"Seems to be a real bonsai tree to me." Silas examined it up close as he picked it up. "These babies aren't genetically modified, despite their appearance. Look it up yourself."

"I will, actually. The red leaves are so beautiful. Suits my hair."

"It's yours if I make it through in one piece."

"Good idea - I bet it's worth a lot of credits."

Silas made no further comment - he saw something moving up ahead, dark ghostly figures emerging out of the smoke, quickly moving towards his direction then splitting up in a uniform fashion, their movements were smooth and silent. Then he heard them - their artificial voices interspersed with a wailing alarm - all familiar to Silas' ear.

He contracted his lips and whistled at them as if they were dogs. Four of them turned their heads in unison, lights flashed inside their shiny black heads. They decided that one among them will approach Silas.

The robot moved quietly and gracefully over the debris; smoke cleared and Silas noted the familiar logo stamped in the middle of the automaton's chrome chest.

"Hello, citizen." It waved three feet away. "This is a radioactive area, please follow me to a designated safe area."

"Lead the way." Silas shrugged calmly, holding fast to the glass box.

"Thank you for your co-operation." The robot replied, giving him a small bow. It slowly turned around and proceeded forward.

Kepler-168 was sinking down to the horizon, bruising the sky an ominous red. Deep, monstrous shadows were cast by skyscrapers and bridges - some of them toppled over, cracked like eggs, snapped in half - and smoking. They looked like fallen giants. Alarms wailed throughout the city, but there was no living human was to be seen. Beneath his feet, Silas felt vibration - an aftershock, no doubt, from the explosions and gunfire he could hear kicking off somewhere in the bowels of the fallen city. A fleet of fighter jets flew across the sky, above the buildings. It was all so eerie and apocalyptic.

Normally, the city's shadows would be lit by neon signs and flashing screens, advertisements, general reminders, news updates or even warnings, but now every screen and every light was snuffed out. There were vehicles toppled upside down like toys after a giant's rampage. However, the more he observed, the more suspicious Silas was becoming. There was simply too much damage around the place for it to have occurred just moments after his arrival. Did he fly right into a combat zone no one warned him about? He was not beyond questioning Jude herself, whom he had never even met in person.

Silas and the robot passed by a luxury car; behind the wheel was a man in a leopard-print suit and Kepler goggles. The man looked like he was passed out drunk - mouth agape. Silas might've thought he was alive, if it weren't for the blood rushing down his head, the glistening piece of brain matter peeking through the slicked-back hair, and the red smear on the front window.

Silas had several questions - none that he would waste on his artificial companion, of course.

"Help!" There was a man crying to the left, behind a pile of debris leading into a wide road under the shadow of a massive highway bridge. "Somebody please! Over here!"

The robot sped off without hesitation, while Silas stayed behind and watched what happened next.

The robot disappeared from view, muttering some reassuring words as it did so, then BANG! Its mechanical head shattered into a thousand glittering pieces, its limbs twitched with electrical discharge as it dropped on the ground with a dull clank.

A large man in a neon-coloured XCOSMO suit, Kepler goggles, and carrying a makeshift chromium pistol emerged to meet Silas.

"I'll never get tired of wasting them clankers." He chuckled and extended his arm towards Silas in a habitual greeting.

"Sorry, Isaac, my hands are full of precious cargo." Silas felt a little awkward at his inability to properly meet his colleague.

"So I see, brother." Isaac slapped Silas' shoulder amicably. "Let's get you out of here ASAP. My wheels right there."

"Did Jude send you?"

"I send myself, man, you ought to already know that! I'm not waiting for no green light and I sure as hell don't answer to her."

Silas hesitated a moment when they reached Isaac's two-seater motor car. "I assume you will explain everything later." It was not a request. The men locked eyes; the corner of Isaac's busted lip twitched.
"Yeah, you bet. There's a lot we need to cover." He responded seriously. "Now get your ass in the car before the clankers notice one of their own has been prematurely de-comissioned."
 

Delta Cygni - Fawaris - الفوارس

I want to talk about astrology. Rant about it, more like. It's something I know a fair amount about. I know about the zodiac signs and their traits. I know about the “houses” and what areas of life they govern. I know about the planets themselves, including asteroids, and what they mean. How different placements interact. I even know that the old symbol for Scorpio was actually an eagle, which even most astrologers are unaware of. Western astrology – the twelve zodiacs we are familiar with – are literally lifted from Greek mythology, which for some reason millions of people believe in without realising it. Continuing with the Scorpio story, just for the sake of it, it was a scorpion that was sent by Gaia – the ancient Greek personification of planet Earth – to stop the warrior Orion from killing a bull (no doubt a direct connection to Taurus, the opposing sign).

In China there are also twelve zodiacs, but they're not based on constellations. They're based on the lunar year and an ancient myth about some animals racing each other. They all have elements and they rotate every turn. 2026 is the year of the Fire Horse, apparently.

I have a longtime friend. Dear, dear soul sister. But there are things she does that really piss me off, things she has no idea irritate me so much. I don't judge her for it at all. When you love someone you let them have their fun, if it's harmless, even if you don't really want to join in or understand why they're doing it. So she's really into astrology.

According to the traditional Western zodiac she's a Sagittarius (her sun sign, the zodiac everyone says they are even though it's more complex than that... it basically represents your ego or your core identity, the source of gravity that everything else revolves around and ultimately answers to). Now, I've known her for years. Almost a decade. I know she doesn't (or didn't) relate to being a Sagittarius until we came across the concept of Sidereal zodiac. This is where it gets convoluted.

Unlike the traditional system, which hasn't changed in thousands of years, “Sidereal astrology is a system that uses the actual positions of the stars and constellations to determine zodiac signs, accounting for the Earth's axial precession. This contrasts with tropical astrology, which is based on the seasons and a fixed zodiac that does not adjust for these astronomical changes.”

This configuration means that the sign you were born in is technically the one before that. So if you're born a Virgo under the tropical system, you're actually a Leo in the “more accurate” sidereal. And so my friend forced herself into one box when she couldn't fit into the other - though I see her using the two systems interchangeably so I guess it's like an expanded box.

Yet no one gives a fuck. Everyone uses the old tropical method that isn't even reading what's physically actually in the sky. They're just fixated on specific dates forever. The planets they tell you were there in the sky when you were born weren't actually there!

There's also something called the Draconic chart, which is a type of astrology that tells you what your birthchart in your past life was somehow. It's calculated on your moon sign - the zodiac and house your natal moon is was apparently your main/sun sign in your past life. Because we are so sure reincarnation can not only be calculated but described... The moon's South Node also tells you about your past life, it's always the opposite of your North Node which is interpreted as your destiny in this life, which is also your main thematic challenge or karma...

Then there's Ophiucus, the proposed thirteenth sign, also known as the Serpent Bearer, apparently situated between Scorpio and Sagittarius, but not incorporated by most astrologers for some reason. And just to be clear, the zoduac signs actually represent constellations of stars. The idea is which constellation was situated behind the planet on the day of your birth. If they were lights, for example, the planets would be casting their shadows. The deeper spiritual idea is that the signs and houses and planets are placed for you to grow into them or develop them, carrying on lessons and challenges from a past life. Or something, it's really not an exact science. People just accept what they're told without delving deeper into the why behind the how.

We are said to live in the Age of Aquarius, or transitioning into it. It's been said by the likes of famed occultist Aleister Crowley since the 19^th century.

For my part, I could never find in my birth chart what everyone else was raving about. Neither in the tropical, nor sidereal, nor Chinese. I was more focused on what was different than what was relatable, I saw so many inaccuracies and generalisations. Even as I studied it out of curiosity, even as I got into the nuance of what it means to have a moon in this sign, or what the ascendant means for how people perceive me etc. I thought I was doing something wrong. So many of my friends were so into this, swore by it, dedicated study to it, some even charged money to interpret birthcharts and got glowing reviews. I started to see how astrology related to everyone else but not me, and so I felt left out, like maybe I was born under a different star. Where is my meaning and order? It's so satisfying to see your whole identity, your life, your destiny laid out in a literal detailed chart, every nuance explained, every layer dissected from the deepest levels to the most mundane. There's synergy charts, which lets you examine how your birth chart relates to your romantic interest. They're progressed charts – which I never got to fully grasp – which basically take into account how the current planetary alignments affect your birth chart, or how your own chart has changed over the course of time? There's dozens of systems, each one claiming to be more accurate or more relatable, and when you find one you think “ah, this is it! Now I can understand everything about myself.”

I tried this experiment from 2019 for the next couple of years.

I chose to relate myself to a different date as like my “spiritual” birth, if you will. I chose a specific date for this, which was actually very symbolic and meaningful, a few months after my birth. I do genuinely have an uncanny ability to vividly recall the earliest memories, and I remember that day.

I went to check the exact planetary chart for that day (tropical) along with the exact time of “birth” et voila! For the first time I saw a chart I could connect to. It was dynamic, passionate, idealistic, deep, full of intensity and the elements of water and fire battling between themselves, which I knew was literally me. From then on I interpreted every chart, every bit of astrological insights scattered throughout the web based on this fake birthday and thought “wow yes that is so me” and it went on and on and it was so fun, finally I could play with all the other girls (because, I'm sorry, way too many women take this shit seriously it's so embarrassing). I began to believe this was my order in chaos, my meaning. And it's kind of creepy how it creeps up on you, this programming. You truly begin to believe it's real, that it was always relatable and accurate, and you start to see it everywhere like a pattern over everything. To an outsider it sounds generalised but to you – it resonates, it makes sense, it feels right.

But it's not. It's like an NPC running a script. A system which is infused with the belief of millions, who are well aware it has nothing to do with science – nothing to do with astronomy or astrophysics. Objectively, astrology makes no sense whatsoever. Planets and stars and asteroids dictating human destiny based on the specific moment they were pushed out of their mother's womb sounds like someone in an insane asylum would come up with. Someone knowing what each planet does to the psychology of humanity.

I do believe in esoteric truths, such as the “As Above So Below” motto. The direct parallels between the microcosm and the macrocosm is undeniable and can be easily observable in science and mathematics. The fact that the spiral in your morning coffee reflects the shape of the Milky Way galaxy you live in is inherently mystical and awesome without ascribing any meaning to it. Nature is full of wonder and mystery even without meaning or answers, maybe that's precisely what makes them so beautiful. It's actually an extremely fascinating area of study once you start to look at it objectively. But we are indeed fools if we do not verify this for ourselves, with our own reason, common sense and gut instinct.

Astrology is a fable. They tell you “it's just for fun” until they start adjusting behaviour, following a pattern, subconsciously aligning themselves with what they've been told they are. This is how people become boring and predictable. Yet I sincerely understand the appeal. I needed it, just like so many other beliefs I've had and tried and discarded. When your life is full of chaos and uncertainty, and your pattern-recognition and creative problem solving skills are in overdrive, you cling to these symbols that were literally designed with you in mind. I know this because I actually chose to believe in it, against my better judgment, against what I knew to be true, I started to see what they saw in everything and everyone around me like putting on a new pair of glasses. To be the odd one out who cringes every time someone talks about astrology is an alienating experience, frustrating too. They think you're the weird one, because it's so widespread and to question it is rude. It's like trying to take away someone's favourite toy when you know they're too old for it. They know you're right, that there is no logic, but when you corner their delusions they insist it's just for fun.

The Gnostics had it right. They openly blasphemed against Hellenic philosophy and religion. They considered astrology to be a prison – each planet was presided over by an archon or a lord, who ruled that planet and the destinies of humanity, nations and events (because, believe it or not, countries and events also have birth charts... USA is Cancer for example, its birth is equated with the signing of the Declaration of Independence. July 4 is Cancer season.). Each planet was a layer in the trap. They were to be defied, fought against, liberated from. The Hellenics, meanwhile, considered the cosmos to be perfect as clockwork, a harmony so exquisite that to defy it was the gravest sin one could commit. Astrology wasn't just a fashionable personality guide like it is today, it was a guide on a balanced and correct life in accordance to the cosmic order and it was taken to be as legitimate as any science or philosophical treatise. What does it mean today? When a myriad of different belief systems are wrestling for attention, where occultism is a soup of Western and Oriental traditions from chakras to Biblical angels? There are so many filters people use to experience reality in an inauthentic way. What is everyone so afraid of? Afraid of facing the unknown? Afraid of realising they have to make their own myth? That's what one of my favourite artists said, Salvador Dali. He said it was essential to mythologise your own life, your own birth. He didn't mean in it a sense of following a pre-established system which has already expired centuries ago. It's about looking deeper into your own life and starting to see patterns and symbols unique to you. That's why I never look to a dream intepreter to understand what my dreams mean, for example. Because my symbols are unique to me. They come from my waking life, and can mean something completely different to someone else's symbol. To weave your own myth, to bring your own chosen symbols into your life, that takes creativity and effort and a level of individualism that most people are incapable of. While everyone else is clinging to Greek or Chinese myths, running on neatly packaged systems, I choose to create my own archetypes, my own myths, my own stars which do not exist in the sky above me but the one within me. I seek a narrative, I enjoy patterns and things that are coherent and eventually aligned. There is a world in each one of us, so why are we always looking outward for meaning and harmony?

Yesterday Neptune entered the sign of Aries, according to mainstream astrology this is a “generational shift” now. People attribute popular disillusionment with social media on this. They point to how the last time Neptune was entered this sign there was a Civil War in the US, so they wonder if it's going to happen again. Which also reminds me how, despite the fact that the tropical astrological system runs on Greek myth, the planets themselves are named after Roman gods. Aries, for example, comes from Ares. Aries rules Mars. Ares was the Greek god of war, Mars is the Roman equivalent. So if you have Mars in Aries it's like. God of war rules god of war.

Oh, and let's not forget Pluto. Astrologers didn't even account for its existence until the 1930s yet they pretend like it was always there. Now it has the sign of Scorpio attached to it somehow (which is also associated with Mars somehow, like Aries) and Pluto rules generational shifts. So like Neptune. Yeah, the planets after Saturn are considered to have more “broad” effects, to be more social or spiritual in nature.

And you've probably heard about the Mercury retrograde craze. Every time that happens people swear every little problem is because of Mercury retrograde. They'll tell you don't travel because that's a riskier period. Watch your words because it's miscommunication season. Oh my god, shut up! What of the exceptions? What about us people who have a completely normal time? When you tell them “I don't relate to my zodiac” they'll insist it depends on the “rest of your chart” oh really? My mother and her childhood best friend were born on the same exact day in the same town yet they couldn't be more different as people. Astrologers would insist it depends on the exact hour and minute, like that can make a huge difference... my mother also dismissed astrology, it was too unrelatable even when generalised. How far are we willing to go? It's honestly Biblical at this point. Cherry-picking the Old Testament or misquoting the gospels or misinterpreting Jesus. It never ends, this cacophony of symbols and archetypes and everyone looking outward for meaning and depth. What is it costing us? Is it worth it?
The truth about astrology is that people choose to believe in it, they choose to filter their lives and live according to inherited and invented archetypes, myths and symbols. Who decided what Jupiter governs? Whoever decided the current state of astrology, there is no authority, no way to prove it like you can with the scientific method. It's a collective and they say that's proof enough, because it endured and people still believe. It boggles my mind, how in an age where the living universe is explained in detail along with the human body, where the wonders of scientific discovery are at the fingertips of every mind open to learning, people still choose to believe in made-up stories full of holes. Ancient dreams are borrowed from extinguished civilizations and passed off as spiritual truth. I am honestly so tired of "ancient wisdom" so often it's not even real.

I shall try a new experiment now. Make up my own mythos, my own seasons, my own zodiacs. It's whatever. I am already aware I have internal weather systems. Maybe one way to understand, predict and prepare for them is to turn them into symbols of my own. The only thing I worry is when is my patience with astrology gonna run out. It's so hard to avoid when your friends are into it. Ugh.