I’ve encountered a number of people my age who feel militant about astrology. Anyone with a Taurus moon is “cancelled, sis!” Those who slightly misinterpret a reading are ostracised without warning.
You can see it in astrology meme accounts on Twitter, where fierce debates rage in the replies. Considering it’s much loved by a burgeoning wave of enthusiastic millennials, this isn’t so surprising - but in this context, the people in question will plan mass imprisonment of anyone at any given time on discovering they were born in July (season of the much-aligned Gemini).
Clearly, the practice of astrology with millenials is not always executed so well. Like any belief system, there’s always going to be people who take it too far and miss the point. These devout astrology fans are like fascists if they wore snap pants and used Pinterest. But as a whole, it’s harmless - these neurotic people who take it too seriously would probably do the same with any social phenomenon they grow personally attached to.
Astrology helps me to accept the inevitable.
Astrology forms a deep part of Indian vedic religion. It has has also been commodified and commercialised in some sectors. But for me personally, astrology is about retaining all the more holistic and ritualistic elements of organised religion without the piousness or rigidity. It works best for me when it can be irreverent, non-serious, and easy to opt-in to, depending on our varied relationship styles.
The way my friends and I connect with astrology is often more coy, and pretty lighthearted. While the notorious nature of some signs is good cause for humour, the appeal of astrology for me lies in its refusal of modern day “improvement” fixations and competitive one-upmanship encouraged by consumer culture.
Not only does it lie outside that world of constant productivity and maintenance, but it is also - in effect - colour blind, usually not taking into account sexuality, gender or race.
Astrology can describe personality traits and behavioural patterns without referring to our traumas, and the identities we’ve (sometimes necessarily) built from them.
I like the notion that the idea of the “self” isn’t immutable.
In circles where we need to be constantly listing our oppression, and sometimes over-identifying with them to feel a sense of personhood, this feels like a much needed relief. I can use natal chart readings to entertain what is possible for myself on any given day, and to allow myself five minutes a day to be introspective in the metaphysical world before being launched out into the highly structured material one.
It’s hard to walk down the street (or open Instagram) without being scolded by advertisements or influencers for not being in shape, or not using the right brand of make-up, or eating the right food. Consumer trends have always been at the core of capitalism, to give it meaning and momentum and to echo cultural shifts, but they’re feeling increasingly unavoidable. Memes come and go within a week. Sub-cultures collapse after three months; lingo feels dated even more quickly. It’s exhausting staying on top of it all, to feel “relevant.” It makes me want to - as Arrested Development’s Lucille Bluth said - “set myself on fire!”
Astrology neutralises that, for me, by tapping into my most self-absorbed instincts without demanding a cash deposit. It makes calculated guesses about my divine destiny and my future - and I’m not obliged to take that info to heart, because I haven’t paid for it.
That’s sort of the point. Astrology helps to moralise in moderation, without having any set agenda. It also leaves room for possibility and opportunity, to allow a healthy degree of introspection and even caution, so that we can live more deliberately.
The appeal of astrology for me lies in its refusal of modern day “improvement” fixations.
Astrology helps me to accept the inevitable, and to see myself as a whole, messy, sometimes delirious chaotic hodgepodge of potential personalities instead of an assortment of attractive traits shown to the world selectively on Instagram.
I like the notion that the idea of the “self” isn’t immutable, and shifts even depending on the sign of the person I’m talking to. Everyone has different love languages (Venus) and confrontation styles (Mars) and communication styles (Mercury).
Knowing all the ins and outs of astrology has given me a device with which to rationalise these different quirks without feeling like they’re abnormal or pathologised by the bad things that have happened to me - it’s just what it is.
These are simplifications, but you get the point: astrology brings the focus back on our actual human qualities, instead of our shiny public personas, or alternatively, our hurts. It is judgement-free.
As western society becomes more alienating, individualistic and digital, devoid of communal languages and communities, I’m interested in finding ways to counter that and root myself in something that orients my place in the world - at least until we can build something more substantial to carry us through.
Jonno Revanche is a writer/editor, cultural critic and multidisciplinary artist originally from Adelaide/Kaurna land. You can follow Jonno on Twitter .
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