Authentic Astrology

I’ve read and reread The Authenticity Principle by Ritu Bhasin, which has, quite frankly, has transformed my life. Sounds dramatic, I know. But guess what? I’m rather dramatic; that’s part of my Authentic Self. I tend to react to things with big, bold emotions and responses. I also tend to take everything personally, as if the entire world revolves around me, which is, in and of itself, a rather dramatic idea.

Do you know what else is dramatic though? What the world is actually doing. The Earth spins on its axis, which is then rotating around the Sun, which is then rotating around the center of the galaxy, which is then rotating around the center of the local galaxy cluster, which is then speeding away from the center of the universe as it all rapidly expands, with no end in sight.

So really, what does it matter if I burst into tears when someone raises their voice at me? You think I’m dramatic, check out the universe.

Talking about space is also part of my Authentic Self. Since I was old enough to identify the Big Dipper, spot Orion in the summer, or watch as Cassiopeia moves across the great blackness each night, I have loved the stars. While I love living in cities, and even now in a small city I miss the big city I used to live in, my biggest complaint about cities is that I can’t see the stars clearly. I don’t want to live in the middle of nowhere, but I wish I had nowhere’s sky darkness so that on cloudless nights , I could watch the most beautiful dance ever: the dance of the stars, slowly waltzing across the sky.

Ritu Bhasin identifies three forms of Self in her book: the Authentic Self, the Adapted Self, and the Performing Self. The Authentic Self is who you truly are. It’s the you that laughs too loudly at your own jokes, and the you that stomps your foot when you’re angry. The Adapted self is who you are when you’re filtering yourself for yourself. It’s the you that chooses to not punch that asshole, and the you that chooses to go to the networking event instead of staying home with sweatpants, a bottle of wine, and Netflix. The Performing Self is who you are when are being forced to conform. It’s the you who smiles at off-color jokes told by a coworker, and the you that hides your background and your differences, pretending to be just like everyone else.

It’s easy to understand the difference between the Authentic Self and the other two selves, but it can be a challenge to understand the difference between the Adapted Self and the Performing Self. So here’s the big key: being the Adapted Self is a choice.

You choose to adapt your personality, presentation, desires, etc. because you can see the benefit of doing so, and you want to. It’s taking a deep breath and voicing your opinion at the meeting because you know you’ll benefit from doing it; even if public speaking isn’t your thing, you choose to do so, because you want the good stuff that will happen if you do.

The Performing Self is when you hide, pretend, perform because you’re being forced to, for safety reasons, to not be shunned, out of fear of the consequences, etc. When you perform, you feel queasy and unhappy. It’s forcing out a chuckle when that big, bald, white man leans on your desk and comments about minorities, and you know he’s sexist, racist, homophobic, antisemitic, and everything else that’s bad and wrong in the world, and you’re afraid of him, afraid of meeting him alone in the hallway by the janitor's closet, afraid of walking out to your car at the same time as him, afraid of going out to drinks with other coworkers if you know he’ll be there, so you chuckle at his joke and go, “haha yeah” even if that joke about minorities intersects with you or you family or your friends, because maybe, maybe, maybe, he won’t seek you out, follow you home, hurt you if you don’t upset him, but also don’t make eye contact, don’t smile too big, don’t do anything that he could use to say that you lead him on, that he could say you flirted with him, that he could say you wanted it too, so try to be invisible, try to laugh when he makes jokes that make you sick, but don’t laugh so much that he likes you, figure out how to make him not think of you at all, pray to every god there is or was or might be that he goes away and never comes back.

That’s performing. That’s your Performing Self. The more intersections of minority you are, the more you likely perform.

When you’re adapting, you’re still in control. You can choose to put on slacks and a blazer instead of sweatpants and that t-shirt you’ve had since high school when you go to work, because yeah, okay, gotta look professional or whatever. But performing is when you lock yourself in the bathroom to say your prayers because you’re afraid of the repercussions if everyone found out your religion.

One of the questions Ritu Bhasin asks her readers to consider is What would you do if there were no negative consequences for your actions?

Maybe you’d show at work in sweatpants, or not show up at all. Maybe you’d take a machete or a sawed off shotgun to the man who leans on your desk. Your Authentic Self isn’t always pretty or nice or even reasonable, and that’s okay. You adapt; you remind yourself it’s immoral, it’s against the law, it’s messy, it’s inconvenient--whatever it is that keeps you from murder on a Thursday afternoon.

Personally, when I ask myself what my authentic, raw, nitty-gritty, deep-down self wants to do, I don’t (typically) come up with murderous thoughts. It’s usually things like: own a bunch of cats, but never clean the litter box; only drink coffee and wine, but never be dehydrated; travel the world, in first class, but sleep in my own bed every night; have a garden to rivel Versailles; always sound like the smartest person in the room, but never be in a room filled with idiots. You know, all perfectly reasonable, achievable things.

But also, I want things like: more confidence; to speak my mind and stand up for myself; to challenge people when they hurt me; to challenge people when they hurt others; to not be affected by mental illness, learning disorders, traumatic past, or, at least, to not let them hold me back; to be financially independent, so I’m no longer a burden to my parents; being a good example for and mom to Finian; not being afraid to drive; not being afraid to make phone calls; maybe just not being afraid. Perhaps a little more reasonable and achievable, but these desires still often feel out of reach and depressing.

And then, there’s these ones: keep a potted plant alive for more than two weeks; go vegan; see friends regularly, and make friends to see regularly; be honest with myself and others; be my authentic self more often; don’t be afraid of people thinking you’re weird, disbelieving you, dismissing you, or otherwise pushing you aside for liking what you like; be an astrologer.

Yes, that’s one of my Authentic Self’s great wishes: talk about astrology without fear of negative repercussions.

I do, to be perfectly honest, talk about astrology a lot already. My close friends and family know that this already, and those who watch my stories on Instagram know that I often share astrology memes about Virgo. But I am still constantly worried about annoying people with this passion of mine, and I’m worried about being seen as silly or foolish or stupid for liking it so much.

I feel apologetic for liking astrology, for wanting it to be real, for spending my time reading, learning, writing, talking about something deemed so stupid by so many. I feel as though I’ve spent so much of my life attempting to be taken seriously, trying to get people to listen to me, trying to sound and seem and be smart, that this indulgence feels like a shameful secret.

Being the pretty little girl, with no real life experience, I’ve always been so easy to dismiss. Well, what do you know, really? Let the grownups talk, honey. At least you’re pretty. I’m just a dumb, pretty girl. A meme about pumpkin spice lattes, boy band crushes, and reading love horoscopes in fashion magazines.

Here’s my Truth, my Authentic Self: I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes, I’ve never screamed for a boy band or dreamt of marrying a Backstreet Boy, Jonas Brother, or Justin Bieber, and I don’t read love horoscopes in fashion magazines.

But I love astrology.

I love learning about Signs, Planets, Elements, Modalities, Aspects, Transits, Houses, Moon Phases, Nodes, Development, Dignities and Debilities, Synastry, and everything else I can possibly get my hands on.

When I said that talking about space is part of my Authentic Self, I really did mean it. I love space. But I don’t really care for all the physics, chemistry, and math that goes into Astronomy. Space is cool, space facts are cool. Astrology is better.

Astrology adds a spiritual element to space that I have always found when I’ve looked up at the sky. Instead of memorizing chemicals or impossible math formulas, I read advice on self-awareness, self-improvement, and developing interpersonal communication skills.

Maybe none of this is real, maybe none of it means anything, but it has brought me joy and made me and my life better. Maybe you’ll see me as the foolish, little girl I’m trying so hard to not be seen as. Maybe you’ll laugh at me. Maybe you like Astrology too, and my honesty and Authenticity will inspire you to be Authentic too. Maybe Maybe you’ll roll your eyes that I even think you care at all if I like Astrology, because maybe I’m being dramatic and taking everything personally, as if the world revolves around me. Maybe it does.

And so though Astrology has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say God bless it!

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And here’s my question to you, dear readers. Would you be interested in reading my considerations on Astrology? If so, would you want these Astrology essays to be on this blog, Considering Coffee, or would you rather I created another blog, specifically for Astrology?