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Appendix 1

The Dual Zodiac Problem: Just Who Is—or Isn't—an “Aquarius”?

About every ten years or so, a researcher comes forth with the startling claim that astrology has been “disproven” once and for all. How? By pointing out that astrologers have failed to take into account the “sliding zodiac” problem. This has to do with precession, an astronomical phenomenon that causes the visible constellations to slowly move out of sync with the zodiacal “signs” we normally associate with astrology.

For example, when we say someone is a Cancer or a Gemini, this generally has nothing to do with the stars, surprisingly enough, but is based on a twelvefold division of the sky arising out of the four seasonal points. According to this system (referred to as the tropical zodiac), the first degree of Aries is established by the first day of Spring; the first degree of Cancer is determined from the first day of Summer; the first degree of Libra from the first day of Fall; and the first degree of Capricorn from the first day of Winter.

Roughly two thousand years ago, this tropical zodiac was precisely aligned with the zodiacal band of the twelve constellations that are visible in the night sky. This latter grouping is conventionally referred to as the sidereal zodiac. But because of the slow drift of the Earth's axis, these two have drifted apart at the rate of one degree every seventy-two years, and are now out of sync with each other by roughly twenty-three degrees. This means someone born on the first day of Summer may be a sun-sign Cancer by tropical standards, yet, according to the sidereal (star based) zodiac, they would be classified a Gemini. As a rule, only those people born during the last seven or so degrees of a sign will tend have their sun in the same sign as described by both systems.

The fact of the matter is, most serious astrologers are aware of this predicament. For many, it is taken to mean there are two frameworks, each with its value and meaning. An analogous situation is found in modern physics, which also features different models of the cosmos, such as Einstein's and Newton's, which somehow manage to coexist, each valid in its own context. Another example is in health and healing. Western medicine operates along radically different theoretical lines from Oriental medicine, with the latter's concern for “meridians,” “elements,” and energy imbalances. Yet experience indicates that both systems can work, using different philosophies to address the same ailments. For example, a migraine headache might be soothed using acupuncture or aspirin. How can this be?

Archetypally speaking, we could say that there are many different ways to slice the same cake. That is, when dealing with the profundities of our world, the same phenomenon might lend itself to multiple interpretations, which in the end prove to be complementary rather than contradictory. The same applies to our understanding of the skies; one can draw different kinds of knowledge from the varied patterns of the stars without ever exhausting all the possible meanings encoded there. Hence, an astrological chart drawn up by a Vedic astrologer from India might extract one kind of information from a person's horoscope while a chart drawn up by a Western, tropical astrologer might extract another.

Yet that doesn't mean there aren't some knotty problems raised by this situation for astrologers. Indeed, one of these bears on the discussions in this book. I have cited certain figures from history as exemplars of Aquarian-Age themes or trends because of the way their horoscopes contain key planets in the (tropical) sign Aquarius. For example, Jules Verne was a sun-sign Aquarius (using the tropical system), and represents a “prophet” of certain Aquarian trends. However, according to the sidereal (star-based) zodiac, Verne was a sun-sign Capricorn. Why is this a problem? Because it is upon this sidereal method of interpreting the sky that we base our theory of the Great Ages! So how can we speak of someone who is an Aquarius wt the one zodiacal system as being relevant to Aquarian themes or meanings as determined by the other zodiacal system (according to which Verne isn't an Aquarian)?

I have also referred to major planetary lineups in the sign of Aquarius, such as the great configuration of early February 1962, suggesting that these point the way to certain Aquarian-Age trends. Yet when converted to the sidereal zodiac, many of these same planets are found to be in Capricorn. Isn't this mixing apples and oranges in a way that is archetypally and practically unsound? Can we point to people or events positioned in tropical Aquarius as being in any way omens of trends related to the essentially sidereal Aquarian Age?

To highlight just how ludicrous a proposition this seems to some, it is sometimes noted that many thousands of years from now, these two versions of Aquarius (tropical and sidereal) will eventually be at opposite ends of the sky. So how can we say things taking place in one version of that sign will have relevance for the precessional phenomenon related to the other?

Based on my studies, I believe that, despite the seeming discrepancy between these two signs, there is always a symbolic link between the tropical and sidereal forms of any sign, however far apart they may be. I say this for several reasons.

On an empirical level, I have witnessed countless examples where planetary configurations taking place in tropical Aquarius give rise to Aquarian events or trends in society, rather than being Capricornian in nature as the sidereal system would suggest. A good example of this was that other significant Aquarian lineup during February of 1997. Beforehand, many of us in the astrology community predicted there might be important developments in science and technology during that period and with a “futuristic” flavor. As it turned out, this was when news of the cloning breakthrough involving Dolly the sheep in Scotland was released. I have often been astonished at how many of the historical figures involved in spearheading Aquarian trends have been sun-sign Aquarians or possessed key planets in this sign as determined by tropical standards (e.g., James Joyce, Thomas Edison, Jules Verne, Oprah Winfrey, Charles Lindbergh). Such findings have consistently reinforced my sense that there is indeed a significant link between the tropical and sidereal forms of Aquarius.

On a theoretical level, this possibility is also suggested by traditional astrology, where seemingly indirect correspondences of this sort are accepted as a matter of daily practice. For example, nearly all astrologers accept that the planet Mars is the symbolic “ruler” of the zodiacal sign Aries. As such, Mars is said to be in its “home” position when found in this sign. Yet as every astrologer knows, Mars can be positioned anywhere within the horoscope, in any of the twelve zodiacal signs, including the sign directly opposite it, Libra.

Yet, however far away it may be from that “home” point in Aries, there is always a certain correspondence or resonance between these factors, such that the condition of the Mars in someone's horoscope (by aspect, sign, or House placement) will always “feed back” to whatever house Aries is positioned on, and influence the fortunes of that House.

How can this be, skeptics ask, when Mars isn't anywhere near Aries? We can point to no “concrete” force linking these two areas; yet for astrologers, the link exists nonetheless, due to the power of correspondence and analogy whereby diverse objects or phenomena are attuned to the same archetypal vibration. In the same way, I argue that the tropical and sidereal forms of a sign are always harmonically linked, however far apart they may be in the sky

This doesn't mean we should ignore the complex layers of meaning that result from such displacements. As the tropical sign Aquarius continues its slow glide through the background constellations, one can imagine that it assumes new “sub-tones” of meaning as befit those juxtaposed signs (just as Mars positioned in Libra will confer radically different qualities on that Mars than when found in its “natural” state).

For example, when the tropical and sidereal zodiacs were aligned two thousand years ago, Aquarius possessed a quality of pure Aquarius, without added layers of meaning. But now this sign is becoming transposed over the constellation of Capricorn, suggesting a hybrid symbolism that might be called Aquarius/Capricorn. When precession moves this sign all the way into the constellation of Leo, we can similarly expect a juxtaposition of those archetypal principles.

Appendix 2

The Varieties of Aquarian “Holism”

“Whatever befalls the earth, befalls the children of the earth. We did not weave the web of life, we are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.”

This famed statement, widely (and probably mistakenly) attributed to the nineteenth-century Suquamish Indian Chief Seattle,¹ sums up an essential concern of the sign Aquarius: an awareness of interconnections. As we've seen, Aquarius is intimately associated with the principle of decentralization, and is thus involved with the complex relationships among parts in any system, be that a society, organism, or telecommunications network. We are indeed all elements within life's great web, with everything connected to everything else; and more than any other sign, Aquarius helps to make this realization possible.

Yet it is important to realize that there are many different kinds of systems in our world, not just one; each variation reflects a different facet of the Aquarian principle. For example, on a political level, a totalitarian state represents a type of system quite different from a society overrun by anarchy; both these are very different from the system found in a democracy.

So where do we begin to grasp the varieties of Aquarian systems for the coming Age? One simple approach is to reduce this discussion to the most fundamental components involved in any system: the relationship of the part to the whole. Every system, no matter how complex or simple, consists of a relationship between its component parts and the larger system which contains them. With this as a starting point, we can construct a spectrum of systems that characterize the styles of Aquarian holism. What follows is a fivefold arc of possibilities, ranging from those in which the system is dominant over its parts, to those where the parts are dominant over the system. Though this model doesn't exhaust all the possible dynamics and systemic nuances that can arise, it complements the ideas in this book.

Stage I: We find a system-dominant model where the larger network overrides the individual parts to an extreme degree; I call this the “totalitarian” model. In political terms, this is comparable to a society where the state holds complete sway over its citizenry, as in Nazi Germany, or Star Trek's depiction of the Borg, a hive-mind race of aliens who operate as a collective. This stage is equivalent to a culture with only one government-run TV station, with no options or choices available to viewers aside from that channel.

Stage II: We have moved slightly beyond the anonymity of Stage I and see the first awakenings of individualism in the parts, but without any true differentiation. Symbolically, this stage could be illustrated by a media environment in which viewers have several channels to choose from, but still only a small amount of creative input, since the options for choice are limited.

Stage III: We find the individual elements now beginning to differentiate into autonomous, self-contained entities; there is a semblance of balance between the parts and the system in what I call the jazz model. In political terms, this is equivalent to a normal democracy: the citizens vote and are considered equals in essential rights.

At the same time, true individualism hasn't yet arisen; here, each unit is essentially similar in nature. In technological terms, this is comparable to a media environment where many choices are available to viewers (more channels or videocassettes) independent of what everyone else is watching. Yet the system is still not interactive since there is little creativity involved and the choices are predetermined by business interests. This is the weak jazz model.

Stage IV: Here the component parts have awakened into differentiated, autonomous entities, yet remain harmoniously coordinated among themselves. Unlike Stage III, those parts are not simply equal in status, but are now creative and participatory, free to pursue their own visions. In political terms, this is exemplified by a democracy in which citizens not only vote, but participate in the process through grassroots activism and/or creative involvement with their community.

Again using the symbolism of media technology, this stage could be illustrated by a culture where viewers not only watch whatever they want, but are involved in creating their own programming, or filming their own videos and films. In fact, the Internet offers a useful illustration of this stage, because of its striking element of interactivity through e-mail and the creation of personal websites.

I call this the strong jazz model, and it is related to kaleidoscopic holism. This stage includes any system where we see diverse elements joined together into a framework of meaning without compromising the integrity of the larger system. Examples include Disney's Fantasia, the Beatles' “white” album, the political melting pot of American society, the integral theoretical attempts to synthesize ideas by Jean Gebser, Roberto Assagioli, and Ken Wilber.

Stage V: The individual parts have become so differentiated that the system cannot withstand it; there is little (or no) coordination among the elements. This is not jazzlike autonomy but anarchy. Each entity in the system has awakened to its innate powers, but the system is unregulated and unbalanced. Politically, this is expressed by a society of anarchists or petty dictators. In technological terms, we might relate it to a system overrun by computer hackers.

This stage relates to what I call disintegrative kaleidoscopism, and can be associated with the cultural phenomenon of postmodernism in its negative form. This is the principle of the “fractured spectrum,” aptly symbolized by the Frankenstein monster, a creature comprised of widely diverse parts with little sense of unity.

It is important to note that none of these five stages is inherently better or worse than any other, since all of them have value in one context or another. On the surface, it is tempting to think of the middle, balanced stage (Stage III) as the most spiritual; it's true, in some situations balancing between the parts and the larger system is the ideal condition. Yet any of these stages can be applied in constructive or destructive ways.

It is tempting to think of a Stage I system as inherently constrictive, an oppressive government crushing the life out of individuals (e.g., Orwell's 1984 or Terry Gilliam's film Brazil). Yet there are times when it might be healthy for the social web to assert its dominance over individuals, as in the case of a society clamping down on a child molester, or when the cells of your immune system rally against an invading virus. This intriguing point was portrayed in that otherwise lackluster film The Postman (1997). This movie tells of a time in our future when the United States has become disunited and overrun by gun-toting militias, each defending its own turf. The federal system has broken down, and all its regions vie for control.

What was somewhat daring about this script (in the post-Waco mood of antifederalism) was how it featured a protagonist struggling not against the system, as has been the case in most films these days, but to restore it, to bring back the security and peace offered by a federal “grid.” The message here is paradoxical but important for the Aquarian Age: namely, for freedom, there must be a strong system in place.

On the other side of things, the type of system represented by Stage V holism can indeed result in anarchy or overblown individualism, with no coordinating structure at all. Yet there are times when this kind of energy can be a restorative force in the world, as when a system needs to break down to make way for a new one. Consider schoolchildren subjected to nothing but rules and regulations for months on end, with no chance for spontaneity and fun. For such individuals, being allowed to run free on the playground with few rules might be a therapeutic situation. Take a political system which has grown rigid and corrupt; such a system might benefit from revolution and chaos every now and then. We think of computer hackers as a negative phenomenon because they disrupt service for millions through a misapplication of their computer skills. Yet in Crypto: How the Code Rebels Beat the Government-Saving Privacy in the Digital Age, Steven Levy tells how a group of individualistic computer geeks combated federal efforts to compromise the personal privacy of computer users-and won. Here the seemingly disruptive influence of lone individuals can be the very thing which counterbalances an overly rigid system.

We can also examine the balance point signified by Stages III and IV especially. While there are many situations where this can be a harmonious option, it may prove dangerous if applied in the wrong situations. Take a maximum security prison where democracy would signal disaster. Or take a large family of unruly kids, where a strong and constrictive system may be the only thing which keeps the family from breaking apart. Even on the political level, it may be naïve to think that democracy is always the preferable system for every nation. For example, Bhutan is a theocracy and seems to thrive in that kind of climate. There seems to be no pressing desire in its population to change that condition anytime soon.

So we need to be careful not to judge these various systems in simplistic, black-and-white ways; we must try to understand the applications of each, both constructive and destructive. Now let us turn our attention to further implications of this fivefold arc in terms of understanding history, past, present, and future.

One way to approach these stages is to see them as symbols for styles of Aquarian rationality. This fivefold framework can help us understand the evolution of the Western mind over the last few centuries. For example, during the era of the “Age of Reason” or “Enlightenment” (the 1700s), an era which I have proposed signifies the first noticeable wave of Aquarian consciousness, we see a form of rationality arising that expresses the qualities of Stage I holism, with its emphasis on universal truths and uniform meanings that ignore all particulars and differences. Ken Wilber writes about this era:

There thus arose a positive mania for the universal and “common truths” of humankind, truths that could speak to everybody, and thus truths that must be “truly true,” deeply true, for all peoples. All merely individual preferences and tastes, all peculiarities, all local differences, were dismissed as not being part of a common and universal humanity This search for a universal and unvarying set of codes and “natural law” (meaning universal law) swept through every branch of learning, science, political and social theory-and reached right down into the arts, into poetry, into painting, into architecture (Wilber 1995).

Yet it would not be long before this trend generated its opposite, in the counterbalancing trend of Romanticism. This form of rationality cherished differences and diversity, focusing on particulars rather than universal frameworks of meaning (Stages IV and V). This too, was a result of the emerging Aquarian rational movement, in that it extended far beyond any one cultural viewpoint to embrace a universal perspective, but it approached it from the other end of the spectrum. As Wilber points out, the romantic (he calls it “Eco-Romantic”) rebellion was not so much anti-rational in spirit as it was anti-uniformitarian. It arose out of the same decentralizing spirit of the times, but emphasized the individualized “branches” of this tree rather than its centralizing trunks.

This was an equally momentous development in the evolution of modern thought, in terms of an ability to step outside one's provincial frame-work and honor the uniquenesses and differences of the world. Yet when taken to extremes, this approach had its problems as well, since it tended to glorify differences at the expense of acknowledging unifying frameworks or universal values of any sort. This is a problem that still affects us today in the postmodern crisis, wherein all meanings and frames of reference are rejected as repressive or useless.

Indeed, the evolution of the Western mind in recent centuries can be viewed as the playing out of these types of Aquarian rationality. Take the field of comparative religion and mythology. In studying world myths, the Stage I model has been expressed through the more “universalist” approach to mythology as articulated by figures like Joseph Campbell and Mircea Eliade. This approach focuses on the commonalties and universal meanings that unite religions, and has less concern for variations and differences among the systems. By this standpoint, the Christ story is significant more for the way it mirrors the hero archetype through history.

At the other end of the spectrum, the Stage V model is shown in the “particularist” approach to world mythologies through figures like Wendy Doniger; this school of thought tends to focus its attention more on the unique differences among the different world myths rather than their commonalties. Christ shares similarities with other hero figures through history (Osiris or Dionysus), but ultimately it's the unique touches which Christianity brings to that archetypal motif that makes it important. After all, we don't appreciate DaVinci's Mona Lisa simply because of how it resembles all other depictions of women or the divine feminine through history, but for its nuances.

Taken to an extreme, this “particularist” approach can overlook the insights offered by the universalist viewpoint. In between these two extremes therefore lies the more “integrative” approach toward world mythology which blends these opposing styles of scholarship and respects both the similarities and the differences that characterize all mythologies. The point is that all approaches have their respective values, depending on the context or the subject.

This fivefold model has implications for other areas of modern life, including business. For example, on the international scale, Stage I equates to a globalized business environment in which regional interests and distinctions are overpowered by multinationals. On the other hand, the part-dominant model represented by Stage V is comparable to an isolationist environment in which every country has its own business interests, but little contact with outside markets. The parts are all “doing their own thing,” but there is little or no coordination or interaction among the various regional economies. The integrative or jazz-style approach represented by Stage III and IV is equivalent to a global environment where healthy trade exists between countries, but without sacrificing regional distinctions and creativity.

In terms of politics, the French Revolution illustrates Stage I holism. In reaction to the excesses of monarchy, the revolution went to the other extreme of emphasizing “the masses” so much that it eliminated personal rights. By contrast, the founders of the American Revolution realized the dangers of emphasizing “the system” over individuals, and took pains to make sure individuals (and states) retained certain rights; this revolution thereby expressed the balanced qualities of Stages III and IV. The recent history of democratic governments generally provides us illustrations of the tidal surges that can naturally occur between these extremes, as societies struggle to find the proper balance between the “parts” and the “wholes.”

Throughout the Aquarian Age, we will see a complex interplay of these system types, in different fields and areas of experience. In some contexts, we can even expect to see forms expressing the juxtaposition of these extremes within the same situation. As an example, consider the image of the American cowboy. A seeming embodiment of rugged individualism, the truth of the matter is that most cowboys were company employees on a long leash, hired to get the cattle to market for their bosses back east. Behind the facade of the isolated individual was a corporate board! A better example of the contradictions in Aquarius is your average movie star, whose personality enchants the world, yet whose success is directly connected to the PR machinery of multinationals.

On a different front, this spectrum of possibilities can shed light on another problem of interest to astrologers. This is the question of which mythic figure is appropriate to symbolize the planet Uranus, ruler of Aquarius.

Most astrologers accept that the mythic names assigned to celestial bodies are somehow appropriate to their synchronistic character. From this perspective, the Greek god Ouranos would be the logical one to study to better understand the archetypal meaning of this planet. The aloof and tyrannical qualities of this primordial sky-god help us see the role this planet has in the lives of individuals and societies.

Yet writers like Richard Tarnas and Stephen Arroyo have proposed that Prometheus may be more appropriate to symbolize the qualities of Uranus. Prometheus represented the forces of change and rebellion, and as Tarnas eloquently argues in Prometheus the Awakener, the tyrannical qualities of the old god Ouranos seem a poor match for the qualities often exhibited by this planet when it affects the lives of individuals or nations.

So which is it: Ouranos or Prometheus? Surely, these two mythic figures couldn't both express the qualities of Uranus—or could they?

My experience suggests that, as with Aquarius, Uranus features several faces. In this way, the seemingly contradictory qualities of Prometheus and Ouranos may be complementary aspects of the same astrological energy.

For example, consider the cases cited above of the cowboy or rock star, where something appears to be highly individualistic in nature (Stage V), yet is entwined with an anonymous collective (Stage I). Or consider historical manifestations which start out in one of these archetypal directions, yet eventually mutate into the opposite. Indeed, that is something that could be said about nearly any of the “Aquarian” developments explored in this book, including technology, science, capitalism, or America itself. Every one started out Promethean but mutated into Ouranean forms later.

Take modern technology, for instance. When the technological revolution began in earnest during the mid-eighteenth century, it was viewed as a “fire from the gods,” in the way it conferred new powers and freedoms to individuals and businessmen (Stage IV or V manifestations). Yet over time, that same development became more constrictive, nearly overpowering its human creators (à la Mary Shelley's Frankenstein). Think of such things as the assembly line and industrialization. Like yin and yang, one extreme gave birth to the other, both expressing different faces of the same archetypal energy

Much the same could be said about modern science. This began as a largely individualistic effort by amateur natural philosophers of the seven-teenth and eighteenth centuries (Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Edward Bromfield), but over time gave rise to a corporate approach to scientific exploration in which large companies and universities tended to discourage individual ingenuity and initiative.

The United States offers a third example of this Aquarian mutation, in that it initially embodied a Promethean energy with its rebellious spirit of unlimited possibility and a break from the past; yet over time it drifted from that revolutionary impulse to become a heavy-handed military-industrial superpower.

The Promethean spirit of revolutionary change and the Ouranean spirit of tyrannical order may be necessary opposites in the same system. After all, one cannot be a rebel without an oppressive system to buck up against! This will hold true for the Aquarian Age, too. The Aquarian Age will probably continually witness an interplay between these extremes, on the creative, religious, scientific, and social fronts. It is a dynamic that has begun surfacing in most futuristically oriented stories and pop mythologies (The Matrix, Terminator II, 2001: A Space Odyssey).