MURDERING ZODIAC MYTHS
A SERIES from DAR ALEXANDER
Sagittarius KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Uh, wrong track.
Ah, the saaaaage — accepting, generous, easy-going and wonderfully OPEN…
…The bleep is that tape yapping on about? Oh, a zodiac zealot dropped it in for daily keyword-prayers. TWANK!
Harsher and more judgmental than her wrongfully reviled predecessor, Scorpio… the trite tapes paint her as a superhero. If you’ve been caught by the brutalizations of Sagittarius, y’know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.
“Super-Sag” IS a giver to man… but in the final showdown, she’s given the most ruthless task of all.
In honor of this epic journey, I’m pulling a Sag à trois… uh, deux. (Flip back to Gemini if you’re into threesomes).
You’ll swoop through Sag to the thunder of the great MONOMYTH of Joseph Campbell, distilled into the Hero’s Journey by Chris Vogler. (A ménage à trois after all, in a dirty mouthful).
If that’s a smack annoying, basically, the Sag saga gets fancy titles along with — gasp — TWO EXTRA myths! Yeah, yeah, caught Sag-handed for expanding boundaries, fi fie fo fum.
Ripe and rowdy heroes, RIDE with me on a WILD and WONDERFUL journey to the WORLD’S END… literally. What? A Sag never jokes.
MYTH #!: Thunder be praised! Sagittarius, a sign of the GODS, is here to deliver us all!
…And yes, you’re seeing an exclamation mark. Welcome to the SIGN of EXCLAMATION!
But it’s not the sign of VENERATION it’s made out to be.
I’ll shoot straight to the point:
Sagittarius is about HUNGER and the HUNT.
The crazy thing is, the more Sag satisfies the need to tackle the big, the bad, the broad and bombastic questions, the more it takes her to the physical and tangible…
…to the animal.
Cookbooks love to spout sonnets about the archer shooting arrows into HEAVEN, but let’s not forget what arrows are really for — hunting, and killing.
While Gemini’s patron Hermes kills beasts to fulfill a restless creative urge, Sagittarius is about ruthless focus. At nine degrees of the ninth sign (meaningful much?), the HEART of the Scorpion beats hot and heavy. This is symbolized by a red star seven HUNDRED times the size of the Sun (you read right).
The big, bloody celestial organ ain’t in Scorpio. It’s in Sag.
The archer takes Scorpio’s lesson in focus to THE WILD — to the hunt. The impulse of Sag to demand answers to the enormous questions is the same instinct used to kill, and fulfill the hunger of the body.
Meaning or mayhem, hell or horse fodder, any false faction and juicy meat alike is fair game for Sag’s killer blow.
True to a fire sign, Sag is a lesson in self-fulfillment. The teacher teaches, by example, that the pursuit of the self is not a bad thing. In fact, it’s essential. Your help isn’t undermined if it achieves a personal desire or need… It empowers its thunder.
MEAT #!: Sagittarius is a sign of the HUNT to feed your Hunger.
CALL TO ADVENTURE
MYTH #2: Sagittarius is born wild.
Sagittarius IS wild. But a Sagittarius is made, not born.
The misguided fairy tale about the godly and goodly sag… starts with the gods.
Sagittarius is a Jupiter sign, making people believe she’s synonymous with the King of the Gods. But Jupiter the planet isn’t like the other immortals. To start with, he’s way, way bigger. So big, you can call him a giant…
…or a Devourer, as the wild Vikings called their titans.
The adventure starts here, with a HOWWWL from up high. A ferocious beast wants you to break his chains.
This howling wolf is named Fenrir. From the sprawling World Tree of Norse myth, I’m digging out the heart of Sagittarius.
Fenrir lives with the gods who fear his fangs. When he proves too big and too brazen to tame, these divine rulers try to chain him up. No chains can hold him down, so the gods create one with a little oomph.
The giant dares the gods put a hand in his mouth, if they’re sincere about not using magic against him. His own guardian, Tyr, god of war steps up. Fenrir trusts his ferocious master and is tricked into chains.
Sag might have been raised by society’s gods, but she is far from their orderly realm. She is not from the Innangard — from the organized world “inside the fence.”
You’ll find Sag’s scent not in the branches, but in the tangle of roots.
She emerges from the ÚTGAROAR — simply called the Utgard, meaning “OUTyards.” The dangerous world beyond the enclosure. The dance of chaos and upheaval. Her world slurps with reptiles, roars with crashing waves. It’s a volcanic eruption and the flow of its red-hot blood.
But as soon as she leaves the throb of the womb, she’s fenced in with society. This is fine, until the system and family she puts her faith in deceives her.
It is only then that the wild seed rages open.
Wildness is not something nature calls itself. It’s something people removed from nature call what’s close to the source.
If the source conjures some koom-bah-YAWN picture (I clearly have a bone to pick) for ya, let’s paint over it with the grrrr-rah-RAWR colors of hunger.
Sag is not a savage beast, but she is a defender of primal instincts.
Because Sag grapples with some emotional denial or volatility, she grows up looking in from the UTGARD… from the outside.
At the root, Sagittarius hungers for the power she was once denied. The wolf’s chains aren’t the true source of his suffering — every member of human culture is “in chains” of some kind.
For Sagittarius, the chains groan deeper: a struggling single parent, a violent or volatile household, an early life that didn’t let her make a connection to humanity or experience the simple joys of childhood. Her confinement is emotional.
The Sag lesson is as crushing as it is necessary. The deep, aching part of the story is, Fenrir bites down on his own master’s hand.
The bite is the wolf’s natural response to provocation.
When your maker betrays you — or especially so — don’t expect the wolf not to retaliate.
Wildness is the cagey impulse to tear down what’s caging you. But of course, this is the Jupiter sign. The GIANT doesn’t care about some cave-confined quest for personal revenge, like Scorpio. The time for grappling with your enemy is over…
…and the GAME is ON.
Sag and Gemini play different roles in The Game (and sometimes switch it up to keep you guessin’). In a world of deceptive leaders and gods, false friends and foes, Gemini flips your cheating cards in your face while Sag deals you a dangerous new set.
Gemini is the TRICK and Sagittarius is the TREAT.
…Didn’t see that one comin’, did ya? #holygrin
MEAT #2: Sagittarius is made wild with desire to rattle her false cage. (Ie. shake up the holier-than-thou institutions).
REFUSAL OF THE CALL
MYTH #3: Wooohoo! Let’s hear it for FREEDOM!
Let’s hear from a titan from a whole different side of the world (yep, you’re going places)…
…and I’m not talking about Sag-o-saurus (see what I did there?) Steven Spielberg, who changed the world with his blockbusting-beasts.
Aries is the impulse for self-awareness, the angry drive to separate. Leo is personal fulfillment, embodied in the almighty Sun. So what’s left for the third Fire sign to achieve?
To f-cking take that light and RUN.
Sag is the torch-bearer, the one with the energy to run the distance to bring fire to man. If this sounds Promethean, it is.
Another giant in the vein of Fenrir, the brazen maker-of-man is tied up (what’s with gods and beast-binding-to-rocks?) But Prometheus don’t give a thyrsos what the consequences of his actions are. The action needs to be taken.
Here’s the deal with the roaming Sag. She can’t roam in her own little cubicle. Sorry, new ageists. Yoga is good as yadda. Meditation is murder. I repeat: m-u-r-d-e-r.
She has to unleash the wildfire.
Toss the mats and musings. Spielberg’s thundering dinos are more up to speed.
Sag has CRAZY ASS ENERGY to burn. Aries ignites the fire, Leo holds onto it, and Sag LIBERATES it.
The torch of Sagittarius is no good to anyone if it doesn’t have a strong and steady fire. So grab your torches and run jurassic with me up the mountain! Well, somethin’ like that.
The Sag “spirit” isn’t free — it’s restless (needing release). No nut wants to bottle up that energy. It’ll just explode into shards of glass in his poor misguided face. On second thought, that might be a hoot.
Like the liver, the fire-blazer needs to release the bile.
Sunday school talks about the Sag/Gemini pole as if these people are free of the “burden” of feeling, when these people are emotionally charged… with the volatile need to GET IT OUT.
(And to all you Gemini/Sag trick-or-treaters, you’d better f-in get it out, ’cause I don’t want to be lashed by your chains if you don’t).
MEAT #3: The soaring sucka needs to unleash her energy. It’s “yee-HAW!” with a bit of “RAW-ur!”
THE SAGE — I mean, THE MENTOR
MYTH #4: She’s a HERMIT CRAB (ie. pursuer of worldly truth).
Just because Sun-in-Sag Ben Stiller was a Hermit Crab in Zoolander 2, doesn’t mean Sag is the cliched mountain-monk.
Hear that? There’s a deep, roiling rumble down below.
Sag is not a sage.
She is a Devourer, her fervent rumble growing with each breath… her exhale, a lesson in human desire. Deep down, her insight is always the same.
It’s about hunger.
While in binds, Fenrir has a sword forced in his jaw to keep him from biting. The weapon is of paramount importance. The wolf craves meat, but his mouth is held open by the shining blade of wisdom.
Ah, the saucy smell of expansion. Toss your half-man-half-horsey myths. You no longer need ’em to make juice.
The wolf gives a more intimate picture of Sagittarius than the centaur. The cave of teeth, tongue and saliva that swallows sustenance… is the same orifice that exhales truth.
Sag’s impulse is to bite down. But instead of fulfilling this impulse, the emotional denials and faith-betrayals shove the sword of awareness into her jaw.
To unbind Sag, branching out isn’t enough. You have to swoop down into the tangle of roots.
The storm is not out in the world of Sagittarius. The storm of Sagittarius is inside.
This is why Prometheus has his liver chewed out.
The liver mirrors Sagittarius (and her juicy planet Jupiter). This MEATY organ, on the “right” side of the emotion-holding-stomach (symbolizing Sagittarius is always right — hah!) is what deals with the consequences of all the naked-torch-running… I mean, the toxic fumes of the world.
The fire-blazer doesn’t care to hide her chewed-up-organ-bits from you, like Scorpio, or smooth talk you out of finding them, like Gemini. Before you can get to it, Sag herself has to pick up the pieces.
Sag is always looking for a storm “out there” that is bigger than the one “in there.”
But a cruel joke awaits her. The hunter is no closer to the great encounter no matter where she travels… because — consciously or not — she’s hunting for her own organ-bits.
Sagittarius has a remarkable “ability” to skim over snowflakes and get right to the meat. What’s important goes back to the organ. Sage-awareness is emotional digestion in disguise.
Her travels, instead of fulfilling her intense desires, act more as a re-set for life. Sag lives out the furnace of Scorpio. Like the daily regeneration of the titan’s liver, her life is a constant confrontation with the blaze of upheaval (which she usually starts).
This roaring tumult is the secret to her freedom. She needs to do what fire does best — blaze. Instead of looking for a fantasy world, only to be disappointed when it doesn’t exist — she needs to express the fantasy, in a way that lets her (and mankind) experience the fullness.
Uh, the volatility. This might mean thunderin’ like a T-rex, but the real action that saves her is staying true to her desires.
The lie is that just because Sag ambitions to raze the world over, that it’s not intimate. Sag’s juice is no less intimate than her predecessor, Scorpio. Did I say juice? I meant justice.
In fact, the craving for intimacy is why she cares so damn much.
It’s like when MOON-in-Sagittarius Danny Elfman stops asking his Sun-in-Gemini “What’s this?” and starts demanding — yearning, IMPLORING — to know the answer to “What [the f-ck] DOES IT MEAN?”
(The song aptly has Obsession in the title).
There’s so many things I cannot grasp…
It [slips]… like a SNOWFLAKE in a FIERY grip.
There’s no denying it. Sag is obsessed.
For the fire-blazer, it’s no longer a quick and curious encounter, but a desire to KNOW a thing — inside, outside and beyond.
This swallow-you-whole connection is far more demanding than what you grappled with in Scorpio… which might be why Sag’s fiery grip is so intense. (Or she’s just crazeh. I’m kidding — that myth is next week’s sacrifice).
For a pithy piece of the Gemini/Sag shag, get your hallow-wheelz on tonight with the Burton flick. From meaty mouthfuls to a bright flare of ghosts and goblins, the Nightmare Before Xmas is Gemini-rific (no accident, with a Gemini Rising creator). But the trick is in the fanfare. The skinny, broken skeleton that has to loose it all to find it all in his own heart, is the real treat of the season.
For the Devourer, it has to matter. It’s all about the MEANING.
MEAT #4: Sagittarius is a DEVOURER (pursuer of personal meaning).
Next time on Sagittarius, we’re going TO WAR…
Join me for the BIGGEST, bloodiest BATTLE EVER… where ALL JOURNEYS climax loud and clear… only to come to a brutal END.
Discover JUST HOW MUCH of Sagittarius is caught in an epic battle. Hint: This war — this cycle —- has a name. It was given one eons ago by mythic storytellers.
(And if you’ve already figured it out, good for you. Here’s your Smart Card, courtesy of Sag-owned & operated Ego Enterprises).
For the rest — nun-ya. See ya at the BIG showdown.
…and some napkins, too.
Someone tell that Sag to bleep up.