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Golden Days 31/07/2014

Posted by zoidion in Event, Hellenistic, Long Emergency.
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Twin Cities ephemera: The golden days of Sun-ruled Leo are here, have been here all week. Since Monday, at least.

Sunday was a dramatic day, beginning clear but clouding with impressive swiftness as northwest winds more typical of September and beyond swept through the region. The invasion of northern air–anticipated in the astro-forecast–was sufficient shock to the lingering Saturday mugginess for several brief, light showers to sprinkle small areas.

But the days since have begun with remarkable regularity: a golden hazy sun in a calm sky with a temperature of 62. Afternoon temperatures have been peaking in the low 80s, with comfortable dew points. 

Absolutely delightful. And conducive to a staycation mindset. I’ve been consistently ignoring my scribbled notes to investigate this or that, opting instead to spend much more time than usual sitting in the green light under the hops trellis as I sip experimental peppermint-and-black-raspberry sun tea and read a section from one book, then another.

About the only homestead work I’ve done has been to siphon the yeasty bubbling black raspberry wine-to-be from the bucket into two gallon-size glass jugs and attach airlocks. Like me, all they need to do right now is ferment.

But not all is sweetness.

To its considerable credit, the local Star Tribune newspaper–“The Strib” around here–marked Saturday’s New Moon with its two most prominent headline stories devoted to environmental health issues: the chronic tainting of groundwater and rivers by agricultural pesticide residues, and the oil train traffic not only through the Twin Cities but across the state, mostly northwest to southeast, coming out of North Dakota.

The pesticides are insidious, while the “tight oil” shipments are potentially explosive. Certainly one is tempted to call the exponential growth in the magnitude of oil shipments explosive: Nationwide, oil by rail has grown 4,100% since 2008, despite a comparably growing incidence of spills and near-disasters.

And the Twin Cities and Minnesota are ground zero, the epicenter of oil-by-rail traffic.

When I attended an open-air town-hall-style meeting, organized by MN350, on 30 July–within easy biking distance of my house–the danger was graphically illustrated: Four all-or-mostly-oil trains either passed through or sat idly on the tracks within sight, and within a half-mile of at least a hundred homes and a school.

The tracks are within a quarter-mile of Minneapolis’ emergency command center–a reminder of the brilliance of situating New York’s within one of the World Trade Center towers–and water works, and a similiar distance from a company closely involved in managing the U.S. electrical grid (itself frequently referred to as “antiquated” or “substandard”).

According to one of the speakers at the meeting, the chairman of the Minnesota House transportation finance committee, the oil trains are keeping emergency response teams awake at night. Another, a retired locomotive engineer, pointed to railroads’ history of minimizing expenditures on safety measures.

I’m awake more at night too. On what used to be a quiet spur line two blocks from my house, longer and more frequent trains, including oil cars, come rumbling through. And more often, the jolts along the chains of couplings boom through the dark lanes of “Shady Hollow.”

Several somber minutes marked the heart of that town-hall meeting: a reading of the names and display of photographs of the forty-seven victims of the oil-train disaster that befell Lac-Megantic, Quebec, a little over a year ago. There, early on a Saturday morning, a runaway train carrying oil from North Dakota (the Bakken field) derailed and exploded, enveloping a portion of the town in intense flames. The train had been parked on a side track seven miles outside of town and somehow began moving, accelerating until it reached Lac-Megantic traveling sixty-three miles per hour. The victims were unsuspecting regular folks, celebrating a birthday and celebrating surviving a week of work, or sleeping in second-floor apartments or small homes in their small town near the Maine border.

What were the planets “doing” to bring an accident decades in the making to fruition?

For one thing, the attention-deficit signature–Mercury in apparent retrograde motion–was at the lower meridian of the chart (below): the spot that is so often the most important one with reference to weather. It’s the point where something in motion, in development, finds a place to happen. In this case, the oil-train-without-a-driver came to a catastrophic stop.

Lac Megantic bomb train

The disconnect is even more emphatically represented: Mercury and Moon are in “mutual reception”: each in the sign ruled by the other. Usually, that is an indication that things turn out okay. But not in this case: Both Moon and Mercury are “in aversion”: each in the sign next to the one that the other rules. The significance of each planet–and that for the Moon includes common people engaged in common activities or non-activities–thus is in a major blind spot.

The Moon in this chart is an old Moon: two days away from New, symbolizing that the situation has been developing for some time. Its next planetary connection is with Mars: inconvenient at best, violent and destructive at worst, definitely a signal for a quickening of events. And Moon is within one day of reaching monthly maximum North declination: another heavy-weather factor.

Saturn just below the western horizon, and Venus exactly square to the horizon, are other factors pointing to an incident of significance–if confirmed by ingress and lunation charts.

The Cancer ingress chart–for the three months between solstice and equinox–also had Cancer (and the season’s Sun) on the lower meridian, with the ruling body Moon in a difficult place in Scorpio (along with out-of-sect Saturn) in the eighth house of death and terror. Dire symbolism. Uranus (surprises, disruption of normality) was potent on the eastern horizon, and in a close square to Pluto, the never-the-same-again signature for the decade of the twenty-teens.

Finally, the fourth-quarter lunation chart (30 June 2013, 12:53 a.m. EDT) has a very tight Sun-Pluto-Moon-Uranus configuration, with Sun once again–now tightly–on the lower meridian, and the Moon closing in on Uranus.

People within that belt of longitude–including Boston and Portland–could have been forewarned to be on the alert, to double-check their equipment, to possibly avert disaster, or at least be in greater readiness.

Where and when will be the next theatres of disaster? That is one of the many urgent tasks–including, especially, medical astrology in combination with herbal medicine–for practitioners of astrology in the Long Emergency.


P.S. The golden days lost much of their lustre for me this evening, as I began composing this post: I learned that David Roell–avid astrological researcher, thinker, writer, publisher and proprietor of Astrology Center of America–had died on 27 July. Though I never met him in person, I will miss him.

It was his reprinting of George J. McCormack’s Text-Book of Long-Range Weather Forecasting that instigated my efforts reflected in nearly all of these 93 (so far) articles. (He did the astrological community a great service by reprinting a number of classic and essential texts.) Over the past two years, I exchanged a number of emails with him; without fail, I was astounded with the extent of his knowledge and understanding of astrology. Each Monday–sometimes Sunday night–during this period, I would download and immediately read his feature article within his newsletter.

Though admittedly I breezed through the one this week, I noted no hint of any new health troubles. (He shared them in some detail in the newsletter, especially in early 2013.)

His Gemini ascendant with ruler Mercury in Aquarius came through so vividly: Both the volume and challenging quality of his thought were impressive, and often daunting. To me, he was consistently supportive and challenging.

His passing is a great loss to the astrological community which he championed so ardently. His voice amplifies mine.



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