Belonging
THE AQUARIUS NEW MOON
Sunday, January 22, 2012 at 11:39 pm PST
The Moon and Sun Conjoined at 2.42 degrees Aquarius
At the beginning of my sophomore year of high school — when transiting Saturn was sitting right on top of my natal Cancer Moon — to my absolute amazement I was invited to join the cool girls' clique. A coterie of eight or so of the super popular, the girls congregated each morning in the school library — not to study, but to be seen.
The library functioned, in our open floor-plan school, as a main artery for students to cut from one side of the building to the other. So each morning, I joined the girls at their post in the second floor library, each of us fully preened and on alert for the cute boys to stroll by on their way to homeroom. And it was fun for a while until I learned of the group's other, darker purpose.
A couple of the girls I soon noticed had a special function, and that was to identify the various fashion and skin-care crimes in the steady stream of students that flowed by. A mean-girl gauntlet. Spotting some unfortunate student with weird pants, horrid acne, or some other fatal flaw, they would pull that classic nasty-girl move: whispering to each other and laughing, loud enough for their victims to notice. When I saw what they were up to, I quietly slipped away from this "Mount Olympus" of school popularity to rejoin my fellow, mortal classmates. Even though I really wanted that social connection and coveted status, I did realize "there but for the grace" went little, definitely imperfect, I.
The need to belong is a fundamental human necessity — as basic as food and shelter — but it is also, as they say, a double-edged sword, one that cuts both ways. While positive social connections are central to a happy life, the wrong ones can lead us down a pretty troubled path, one that can undermine our life. The cost of membership with some of these groups can be your soul.
The astrological correlate to this human conundrum of belonging — ideally finding a positive circle of associates — is Aquarius, its associated Eleventh house, and the combined function of its two planetary rulers, Saturn and Uranus — two planets that could not be more different in drive and purpose.
At its highest level, Aquarius represents the urge to transcend the narrowness and limitations of the ego, and to join with others with whom we have something in common — ideally some shared purpose worthy of our time and attention. Aquarius represents the act of joining with others to become something greater than you could ever be on your own. A string quartet is a good example: each member a virtuoso, but together they form a greater, more sublime entity.
Still, there is that darker side to the human need to belong, and astrologically this is shown through the interplay of Aquarius's two contrasting rulers, Saturn and Uranus. Saturn, the traditional ruler of Aquarius, is primarily concerned with security. Its collective function in Aquarius's Eleventh house is towards a more solid sense of identity through group affiliation, often through conformity to group values. Group membership is seen as "safety-in-numbers" and utilized to bolster one's personal power. The more negative side to Saturn's influence here is seen in groups that are overly concerned with being "right." Having the right friends, being noticed in the right places, wearing the right clothes, and adhering to the right set of values and beliefs. These are the groups that can be quite antagonistic to those who do not reflect their definition of acceptable, who are different in some way. We see this dynamic operating in certain social, religious and political organizations, and even professional affiliations that define "appropriate practice" — to the more extreme case of the street gang.
"Group conformity scares the pants off me because it's so often a prelude to cruelty towards anyone who doesn't want to — or can't — join the Big Parade."
— Bette Midler
On the other hand, the more Uranian side of Aquarius's Eleventh house, represents an elevated group consciousness that is inclusive, rather than exclusive. Group participation that supports variety and diversity: the collective goals, wishes and dreams of all of its members, which to utopian, idealistic Uranian Aquarius includes everyone.
Last weekend, my Aquarius-rising daughter and I watched, what has become one of our favorite movies, Strictly Ballroom. Australian filmmaker Baz Luhrmann's cinematic nod to the very Aquarian "Ugly Duckling"-misfit theme.
In the movie, plain, timid Franny, an awkward beginning dancer, screws up the courage to tell hunky, championship dancer Scott Hastings that she wants to be his dance partner. And immediately we see there is much more to "mousey" Fran than meets the eye. It is hard not to cringe watching her stick her odd-duck neck out like that, but Fran is a fighter and a fiery Spanish one at that:
Scott: Look, a beginner has no right to approach an Open Amateur.
Fran: Yeah, well an Open Amateur has no right to dance non-Federation steps, but you did, didn't you?
Scott: But that's different.
Fran: How is it different? You're just like the rest of them! You think you're different, but you're not, because you're just, you're just really scared! You're really scared to give someone new a go, because you think, you know, they might just be better than you are! Well, you're just pathetic, and you're gutless. You're a gutless wonder! Vivir con miedo, es como vivir a medias!
After her impressive outburst, Franny bursts into tears and dashes off, but her words have struck a chord, and Scott, to his credit, reveals he has depth and does indeed have a heart. He agrees to give Fran a "go" after all, a one-hour, informal tryout. And the movie follows their unlikely partnership as it unfolds and transforms them both. Two misfits, she the more obvious in appearance, he a more subtle square peg in his nonconformist desire to dance his own way — and not just be "strictly ballroom."
Dance Like No One is Watching
Franny's outburst in Spanish sums up the essence of the movie's theme: a proverb which translates, "A life lived in fear is a life half lived." It is an equally good summation of the challenge inherent in Aquarius, the integration of its two rulers: Saturn, which often represents fears that can hold us back and stunt our growth; and Uranus, astrological wild man whose hallmark quality is fearlessness. This theme of nonconformity — pushing the envelope of what is considered beautiful and acceptable — is Aquarian functioning in its more Uranian expression.
We all have this sign encamped somewhere in our charts, where that awkward part of us wants so very much to break out in full kooky regalia. Having the cheeky audacity to be nothing other than 100% pure, organic YOU, to dance your dance, Napolen-Dynamite style — another awesome Aquarian movie — is Aquarius's finest gift to us.
Hans Christian Andersen, writer of the fairytale, "The Ugly Ducking," was born on April 2, 1805, with the Sun and Mercury conjunct in Aries and falling in opposition to Aquarius's rulers, Saturn and Uranus. The son of a cobbler and a washerwoman, Andersen grew up poor in the slums of Odense, Denmark.
His father loved literature and encouraged Hans to write tales and put on puppet shows. Throughout life, Andersen became skilled in many of the arts: visual, theatre and literary. The paper cut shown below is one of his, and is titled, "Solhovede" or "The Sun as a Face."
When Hans was just 11, his father died, and by necessity, he had to work to help support the family. He took a job in a tailor's shop where he was often bullied and cruelly teased about his appearance, his high soprano voice, and other qualities that were deemed odd and "effeminate." His co-workers even pulled his pants down in order to confirm his gender. After enduring this treatment for three years, he ran away to Copenhagen in hopes of a better life and opportunity. And the move proved advantageous.
From the start, 14-year old Andersen was able to attract the support of wealthy patrons in Copenhagen. He was soon taken up by well-connected benefactors who arranged for his formal education and financial support. One particular benefactor, Jonas Collin, brought Andersen into his own family circle and gave him — aside from financial support, room and board — the emotional security Andersen had not felt since his father's death.
"He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he had a fuller understanding of his own good fortune, and of beauty when he met with it. The great swans swam all around him and stroked him with their bills." — Hans Christian Anderson, The Ugly Duckling
Andersen began work on his famous story of the unloved misfit while a guest at the beautiful country estate of Bregentved on the Danish island of Zealand. The story was first published in Copenhagen on November 11, 1843 — just two days following an exact conjunction of Jupiter, the planet that rules publishing, and sensitive, soulful Neptune, planet of compassion and redemption, both falling in Aquarius. Andersen, whose natal chart contains strong Aquarian-Uranian themes, later revealed that the story was "a reflection of my own life." When the critic Georg Brandes asked Andersen if he had plans to write an autobiography, Andersen replied that it had already been written — "The Ugly Duckling."
"See," cried the youngest, "there is a new one;" and the rest were delighted, and ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands, and shouting joyously, "There is another swan come; a new one has arrived."
Then they threw more bread and cake into the water, and said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all; he is so young and pretty." And the old swans bowed their heads before him."
Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing; for he did not know what to do, he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He had been persecuted and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder-tree bent down its bows into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."
— Hans Christian Anderson, The Ugly Duckling
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Related Essays on the Aquarius Archetype:
References
The lovely painting of the winter scene at the beginning of this essay is a detail from one of the plates from a recent edition of The Ugly Duckling, illustrated by the amazing Thomas Locker.
Here is the full text, English translation of The Ugly Duckling by Jean Hersholt.
The Illustration of the swans at the end of Andersen's "The Ugly Duckling" is by Vilhelm Pedersen, Andersen's first illustrator
Hans Christian Andersen's papercuts "Solhoved" or "Solhovede" or "Sun as a Face" is one of Andersen's most famous. Photo credit: Lars Bjørnsten
I am entirely indebted to the insightful work of Howard Sasportas, in particular his book, The Twelves Houses, from which I have derived much of my own views about the workings of the astrological houses. The passage in this essay regarding how Aquarius's Eleventh house functions borrows heavily from the insights he shares in his book.
© 2012 Elaine Kalantarian, all rights reserved