Yin, yang, and Yang

I’m likely more of a nerd than the average person, but I always wonder why fiction authors name their characters the way they do. Except for Yang. To an extent that’s not true, I wonder if my idea of why is correct, but he’s one character that I look at and the reason is glaringly obvious.

Yang is a Chinese Mafia boss contending for power in the fictional Italian town of Burlone in the 1920s in the visual novel Piofiore, and he’s a Sagittarius. To go into much detail about whether he is an accurate depiction of a Sag would be a spoiler, and I’m sure you can find the info you seek on the Internet if you so desire. What inspired me to talk about him in this essay is the way he embodies a number of characteristics associated with the Divine Masculine, as well as others which are more proper of the Divine Feminine. Like in the symbol from Chinese philosophy, both yin and yang need elements of the other within themselves. Some would say that light and darkness are mutually exclusive, and yet as a photographer I can’t really buy into that: it’s with light that you have shadow. It’s only true in the case of complete darkness, which is not a state of existence that we have without something obstructing the light source, but the light source still exists out there in nature (although it’s hard to believe in Britain in November). It’s the natural state of the world that light will be found somewhere.

I think it’s beautiful and poetic that the Zodiac transitions through the elements and the signs the way it does, and we’re coming out from the depths of the ocean of Scorpio season into the warming fires of Sagittarius just as Mother Nature transitions into the cold, rainy, dreary winter outside my window. I’m writing this with the sound of the rain on the roof of my tiny loft on one side and the electric heater on the other, a cup of matcha latte waiting on my bedside table as I let the thoughts flow onto the page. It’s a Wednesday, Mercury's day, and incense smoke is rising like an offering, filling the space with the scent of Asian spices. It’s been 3 years since the fateful day that would change my life in ways that were not the ones the well-wishing friends and family had hoped for. I could write something corny about Heavens’ tears grieving for me, but I’m not that kind of spiritual teacher if I am a spiritual anything at all. Seeker, perhaps, but anything more than that feels like I’m trying on someone else’s clothes. There’s a podcast I found lately that’s named “Sort of spiritual” and that’s probably the best label for me too. Being raised Catholic I feel like what I really need in my life is to enjoy the material, as all I’ve done for 30 years was spirituality.

I’m a Scorpio Rising, so the season that just ended was the start of a new 12-months cycle for me. The Sun was in my First House of Self, and it’s a somewhat heavy burden when it falls in the sign of death (metaphorical), rebirth, and transformation. Your identity becomes intimately tied with this serpent-like ability to shed it, even though the world around you seems to keep putting you into boxes that have not fit you since 1995. If authenticity is the name of the game, how do you show up authentically when your core essence is a shapeshifter? Our society understands the idea that a tree remains a tree whether it’s covered in flowers and lush green leaves, or it’s barren with the last few red leaves floating around it in the wind. And, yet, we can’t seem to understand that a person can look outwardly different while remaining, at their core, them.

“You’ve changed”, I’m told, accusatorially. “Why can’t you just do this thing that you used to do years ago?”, I’m asked (you forgot “when you were a people-pleaser doing things because everyone else around them expected of you”). It’s like people have an idea of what “me” looks like, and anything that doesn’t fit that image can’t possibly be me, but from my point of view the person I am today is just a natural progression of the rhythm of life. I’m a tree, shedding the old leaves so that new ones can bloom come springtime. Perhaps it’s the pain of losing what that image of me meant in their lives, but I feel like I get so quickly accused of deception and a lack of integrity and loyalty when, really, I had to shed the old skin because of integrity and loyalty. My quest for truth lead me to see that truth wasn’t where I thought it was. I’m not sure I know where it is, but accepting this cycle of the Scorpio Rising means accepting that I may not be in the same place in a year’s time.

Astrology has been a beautiful meaning-making system over the months since I started studying it. It has given me a sense of a self underneath all the conditioning. It told me it’s okay if I don’t care about politics and don’t want to get sucked up in pointless debates online that I only got sucked into out of obligation, because I was told that was what it meant to bat for a specific team I was striving to belong to. Scorpio Risings are individualistic, and I have Mars in Aries to turn it up a notch. I’m also a Manifestor in Human Design, one of the remnants of the kings and queens of old age. It’s somewhat terrifying to look at my charts and see all that potential knowing that if these systems are right that was meant to be me all along. I was never meant to submit and comply, and do things that didn’t feel right in my conscience but were expected of a Good Catholic Girl. I was never meant to coddle a man’s feelings and let him emotionally manipulate me with threats he never carried out once I did, eventually, walk away.

I’m entering Sagittarius season expecting to carry with me the Taurus energy from the Eclipse portal axis, as a means of self-care and living in abundance. Happiness would be better, but I’d rather cry in luxury than cry in squalor, and it’s a season of life when crying happens a lot, even if the Eclipse portal has closed until May. I have a feeling I’ll be one of those people who are going to feel the effects for the 6 months until Taurus season and the next portal. It’s called a divorce, I don’t really need the planets to feel the grief. It’s an act of rebellion for me to want to pamper myself, as I come from a background of constant scarcity and I’m pretty much a bougie on a budget because I’m building a business from the ground up at a time when my energy ebbs and flows even more than usual. I’m not Annie Leibovitz (yet). I have Venus in Sag, so it’s unsurprising that I feel the pull to never let my material circumstances dictate how much I enjoy my life, taking pleasure in things out of a commitment to be as indulgent and leisurely as I possibly can. Would I rather drink the now cold matcha in a room at the Aman hotel in Tokyo after a spa treatment? Of course, but I’m not going to waste time and energy hating my present circumstances when I can get a cheap spa day off Groupon in London, or even just some k-beauty products at 20% off retail price at Tkmaxx and these 3 in 1 sachets from the Asian supermarket. My skin will glow anyway.

My favourite thing about Sagittarius energy is that it isn’t rebellious for the sake of it. It doesn’t seek freedom out of ego. Sag is ruled by Jupiter, the father figure of the gods, the planet of expansion and wisdom. It also rules the IX house of philosophy and higher learning. A recurring theme of Sag is travel, because travel expands our horizons and teaches things about ourselves we cannot see until we are looking at ourselves in a different light. Sag seeks freedom because it’s rooted in something deeper and more meaningful than the petty limitations and attachments we put on ourselves. Sag, like the Suit of Swords in the Tarot, teaches us that our biggest enemy and our greatest ally is our own mind. It’s our choice which. Scorpio season invites us to look at the conditioning we carry so that we can then shift it when the next new moon comes around (Nov 23rd at 22:57 GMT).

This Sag season, make a commitment to yourself to find your sense of adventure wherever you are, no matter how small and insignificant it all feels. It could be as simple as an indoors picnic on the floor of your bedroom, or wandering around parts of your neighbourhood you never go to all that much. Whatever it is, do something with yourself that is new, playful, exciting, and free. Look at your world with fresh eyes. The big manifestations all begin with planting the seed of seeing the world as it “could be”, not as it “should be”, and feeling the feelings we want to feel, letting the material circumstances follow from there.

Keep living in wonder,