MURDERING ZODIAC MYTHS: Libra, part 1 of 2
A series from Dar Alexander
Since we’re on the issue of JUSTICE this week, I say chaos is the balm for an unhealthy sense of order. So I’m even turning the order of the signs over on its happy head.
In the mission to ignite a real sense of connection, I’m exploring signs via their opposite. Much like the lesson of Libra, understanding of the self happens only through the opposite.
Opposites, in fact, often don’t look opposite at all.
I’m also taking the helmets off my enemies so we can see ’em eye-to-eye in combat: I’m naming and numbering ’em.
Here’s the statement for this battle: While Aries’s responsibility is to serve others by honoring the passion of his heart, Libra’s responsibility is to make himself the first priority.
Let the zodiac wars continue.
If you saw this Sunday’s Game of Thrones installation, The Queen’s Justice, I dare you to claim Cersei (Libra Lena Headey) didn’t deliver one hell of a revenge. You couldn’t pry my smile off with pincers, ’cause this scene beautifully depicts why I believe the real patron of Libra is not Venus, goddess of love — it’s Nemesis, goddess of retribution.
Ya know. Vengeance.
Libras, your kiss-of-death secret is out. Recognizably morose and cool-headed, Lena may just be my picture-perfect Libra these days. Casting off the chafing limits of her gender, she dons a very dark, no less complex leather-on-silver-brocade. The chain between her exacting, hard-edged shoulder plates is displayed with pride — symbolizing the harsh yoke of Libra that ties man and beast together.
A mash-up of the slashing air element and the touchy-feeliness of Venus, meet the one and only Queen of swords.
Those suggestive curves you and the ancient Romans innocently call “scales” are in reality a part of the scorpion. Balance? My butt. You can stop hiding what those hooks really are: claws.
Libra, my sweets, is the true master of a throne forged by the sharp metal blades of the vanquished.
MYTH #1: Libra is pretty.
Let’s not kid ourselves: You’re more lovely than lilacs. In a minute, you’ll see why, despite your outer charm, you have more ugly-consciousness than pretty. And if you wore it like you really felt it, you wouldn’t be swaying around in flowing gowns and long golden hair.
Libra, let’s strip your silk and dress you right.
In honor of Libra’s elegance, I’m gonna pick on the symbolic relevance of Cersei’s coronation attire.
The decidedly masculine silhouette recalls Cersei’s late father — she’s stepping into his hardline role to assert her true strength. Libra can play up to femininity well, but this is a masculine (assertive) sign.
The squareness of the Queen’s shoulder armor refers to taskmaster planet Saturn’s joy in this sign. Libra — or Nemesis — earnestly enjoys calling upon the exacting force of discipline.
The Queen’s feet are visible in this outfit, showing the weight carried between them. And if scales are to be considered here at all, the scaly texture of Cersei’s black brocade recalls the reptile.
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Libra’s claws hold prey down so the scorpion can deliver its killer blow. The dark side of “love goddess” Venus is that she has the grip to draw you in — for whatever purpose.
Symbolic of Libra’s detachment and self-protection, the claws attack from a distance, defending the important parts. Those crazy arms directly defend the most important part of all: the neck and chest which holds the heart.
I love Cersei’s high neck cuff. When she presents herself to the world this way, it’s a statement of her fierce boundary, her societal parentage, as well as her distance and defense against you. The neck, the vessel of self-expression, is shielded. Libra, the master communicator, will tell you everything but what’s inside. You can’t touch the woman in this outfit, because she won’t let you. You’ve gotta prove yourself, and good luck with that.
The billion-dollar question you should be asking is: Why the fortress? The answer is worth its weight in Libra’s late-night, blood-drenched tears — and nowhere else, because she doesn’t cry anywhere else. She doesn’t cry because she doesn’t trust you to know the pain she suffers, and how it weighs and drains her.
Often, Libra has endured an epic disappointment from someone closest, if not the very person all was given to.
When other signs are hurt, you know about it, sooner or later. Libra buries pains small and large — all under the good hard mound of reason.
Reason is the reason for those sharp edges on Cersei’s shoulder armor.
In times of distress, mayhem and pain, reason serves Libra well. Libra becomes convinced reason is the best ally. And it’s reason that decides when retribution is called for.
As if it couldn’t become any jucier, (spoiler alert) Cersei’s revenge (successfully giving even worse pain to her enemy than was given her, by forcing the foe to watch her own daughter literally rot) ends with a killer line straight from Nemesis: “…all the while contemplating the choices you’ve made.”
Cersei had to say this. You can bet she relished saying this, more than the revenge itself.
The purpose of it all is to get your wrongdoer to see their wrongs.
So again, pretty? Mental-judge Libra has more consideration for what’s dark than appreciation for the roses. If roses on the table are beautiful, the people around the table are not or the tablecloth is wanting.
This ugly-consciousness — this darkness of Libra — is reflected in Libra as the beginning of Fall. Libra is the loss of light. It’s the one true sign of loss. Scorpio is life after death, or the underworld. Libra is the first experience of loss and the pain that comes from it.
While in Aries the sun rises and gains power, Libra is the sun’s depressing descent into the underworld.
Libra doesn’t stay clean to be pretty — it’s to stay distant. He knows those dark waters all too well. After all, that’s the cost of diplomacy — of judging and servicing everyone’s unspoken, internal emotions. It’s a deadly game Libra plays, while moppin’ up the bloodshed.
Libra chooses not to get up close and personal with his demons. This makes Libra his own worst demon.
Libra’s preference not to talk about sh*t lets sh*t dominate his consciousness. The ugly in his life piles up. Because Libra prefers not to get in close, more blood is shed. Love irony? You should.
If the difference between living-with-loss versus living-with-death isn’t vivid enough for you, just remember that in Titanic, Rose lived while Jack, Scorpio Leonardo DiCaprio, uh, died. A bit macabre, but Scorpio, while urgent and impatient, is in a much more peaceful state of being than anxiety-ridden Libra. Scorpio knows death well. Libra knows pain even better.
My top three Libra players can attest to this Pain of Loss: Spartacus (Andy Whitfield), Rose (Kate Winslet) and Cersei. The meat of their stories is losing the ones they love most utterly, most deeply (for Cersei, her children, which were always what she lived and fought for). All that fighting. All that clawing. And more sh*t.
It’s not fair. Why else do you think Libra — who is dealing with the darkness comin’ in — has to pick up the torch of Nemesis?
Sometimes vengeance is the only way to see the way forward.
Not vengeance. Justice.
In the name of JUSTICE, MEAT #1: Libra is dark.
Dar Alexander is a creator of and advocate for Emotional Freedom.