This is very interesting but whatever you do turn down your speakers before you click.

Finding your predominant Archetype

Here is a sample:

Pallas Athena…businesswoman in a man’s world (Aries)

Athena, Minerva in Latin, is Daddy’s girl. You adopted his values and are still trying to prove yourself to him. You can cut it in a man’s world but using a woman’s strategies and tactics. Feminists criticise you for selling out to the patriarchy but if they ever want to win a war they will come to you.

Looks like the writer is Bill Kennick - Check it out

You know it’s bad out there when Jess the Sagittarian goes down. Jess is a Jupiter archetype who goes to my gym. He’s a big, storytelling, philosophizing black man from Wyoming of all places and he’s always, always, always grinning. His perspective is broad, he unfailingly optimistic and whenever he’s next to me on the crosstrainer, time flies.

But today he had an ick story. He had a heart attack scare over the weekend and it was purely induced by anxiety. Not that he is not at risk of heart attack because as a black man in his fifties he surely is. But he describes how this came on… he was at home taking his blood pressure and watching it rise. Check it again and it had risen some more and pretty soon he got to thinking he better get to the hospital.

Turned out he was okay… anxiety can raise your blood pressure for sure but this got me to thinking.

First the Mars / Saturn / Neptune can really stir up some hologram fear. And if Jess can fall prey, well most of us are not nearly as fortified. And it reinforced my current reality - I don’t know anyone who is not struggling right now and most I know are struggling mightily. What about you?

Having a hard time? Pissed off, maybe? What?

We were in the doctor’s office waiting for my daughter to have her EKG. She was sitting on the exam table, I was sitting in a chair. It had been awhile so deciding to relax, I kicked off my sandals, and propped my feet on the table. My daughter laughed and started rubbing them which she never does.

“Does the soldier rub your feet like this, Mom?”

“No, I rub his.”

“You do?” she said with her eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“Ooooh. Are they blown up and scorched from the war?” she asked.

“What?”

“Are his feet blown up and scorched from the war, I asked you.”

I stared at her. “You’re too fast for me, honey. I don’t even know if you’re kidding but no. His feet are normal with no scorch marks or missing bits that I’ve noticed.”

“Okay, good. Whew!” she said with a devilish grin.

I am pretty sure she was jerking my chain but you never know.

“I don’t wear polyester, I’m a Taurus.”

So says my son.

I don’t know a Taurus who does, do you?

Melody wrote on the Mary Poppins blog:

“I don’t get it…”

I felt bad about this but I was too distracted last night to try to clarify. I thought my point was made in the dialogue but realized I might be just a little over-sensitized with the Pluto Moon going. But today I found out what I imagined took place in those few sentences, actually did take place. Because I never got to talk to cf last night. Right after I called, her life blew up.

And I think this is in the dialogue. Here she is an airy fairy riding around California on her bicycle when BAM. Pluto Moon shows up… things drop a degree, and then two, then four, then ten and by the time she got home intending to call me back, she was in depths of hell.

And I didn’t do it of course. I was just her early warning system. I was the entity to call her on her bike and tell her there was to be a change of plans. It’s comical, really at least we laughed about it this morning. She was riding around all oblivious and Pluto calls up and says, ‘Uh, uh. This is not a conversation you can have on your bike…” And that was it. cf went flying.

Just picture a double Gemini riding around with a care in the world… hair in the breeze and then whoops! Right over the cliff! And I’d apologize but hey. As she would tell you, if you understand these archetypes… we’re just living and this is how life is.

But anyway, Melody, if you go back and read with this in mind perhaps (?) you’ll see it there between the lines. Poor cf got snatched. All the sudden a new energy came up and BAM. Winds shift and priorities change. And if you like this life (and she does) then you’re damned happy about it.

“Whatcha doin’ P?” the soldier asked. We were on the phone.

“Oh, I’m suffering through another episode of The Unit. This one is about SERE school,” I said. SERE is where they teach you to withstand torture. “I like watching it though. You told me about this and now I’m watching it.”

“Yeah, they put you in a tube in that school and leave you there for days. Days! You have to stand in this narrow tube, it barely accommodates your body and then they take a hose and fill it with water up to your mouth.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah. And you have to stand on your tippy toes too. With the water up to your mouth, standing on your tip toes in a tube all day, otherwise if you stand flat on your feet the water covers part of your face.”

“Claustrophobia.”

“Yeah.”

“So what were you thinking in there?” I asked.

“Oh well you know me, P. I’m thinking you can’t kill me. I’m not going to die over a little bit of water. There’s no way. And guess what they feed you while you’re in there? For weeks, this is. The give you the same thing over and over.’

“What?’

“Little bit of rice and some fish heads. Just the heads only,” he said.

“Yecch.”

“Yep. And you have to eat them because they’re protein. And the eyes are looking right at you when you do.”

“Gah. Yuck.”

“Breakfast of champions,” he said with a chuckle. “I cleaned my plate. I ain’t dyin’ over a fish head either. They can kiss my…”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice in the desert, P,” the soldier said. We can get out there and build ourselves some machine gun nests.”

“Some what?”

“Machine gun nests. Nests to hide your machine gun,” he explained.

I was pretty sure he was kidding but you never know.

“I don’t have a machine gun so I won’t be building a nest of any kind. No. You’re going to be on you own if you want to do that. I’ll fix you lunch though,” I said. “You can come in from the sun and have some lunch if you want. It’s up to you.”

“Now that sounds great.”

“And maybe some Sangria in the evening,” I said. “Why not? Sangria in the desert, I’d like some.”

“That does sound good. Because the field of fire in the desert is incredible, P. It’s hard not to exploit it.”

“Fields of Fire? Some people think Field Of Dreams, do you know that?”

“Yeah, I do know that. But they don’t know what they’re missin’.”

“And then you tell me how they remove hair. Those black strips of cloth,” he said.

“No they’re not black,” I said with a chuckle. “They’re white. Well, they’re neutral colored typically. So you can have the right picture of this. They paint the wax on in the direction the hair grows in then lay the linen on top. It adheres to the wax and then they rip the cloth up against the grain of the hair and this works.”

“Oh my God. My God, P, that’s sounds horrifying. I’d rather have mortar fire raining down around me. I’d rather be shot at. This reminds me of the delousing at concentration camps. That’s how bad this sounds to me. Hair removal. They send you in and have you come out looking like a woman. I can think of nothing worse that could possibly happen.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I’m gone for 20 years, come back and they want me to be hairless. Leave for another 20, come back and I suppose they’ll want me to have a pussy.”

I snorted. ‘You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can keep your hair.”

“Good. I will fight to the death before I let someone take the hair off my body. And that people do this voluntarily is beyond my comprehension. As far as I am concerned, this whole world has gone to hell.”

Today I took my daughter to the pediatrician for a routine physical. My son had his physical last month and apparently has not forgotten. The doctor walked in and he looked her right in the face:

“I don’t you looking in my pants ever again. Next time I’m having a boy doctor,” he said.

She just stared.

“You’re to never do that again,” he said. “You shouldn’t have done it last time…”

My daughter and I burst out laughing.

Now tell me there are not parent-child themes in relationships of Saturn types… ha ha ha.