Back in Black

So, shit is pretty fuckin' messed up right about now. According to my astrologer friend, this whole Pluto/Moon combo is set to last until November 2018. So good old Percy finally has less than a year for this kind of Hades walk, supposedly, although Percy's astrological natal chart has Saturn conjunct Moon (so it's been a threesome of symbolically heavy, heavy shit my friends) and then Jupiter on the exit of all transits. And I guess the Saturn/Pluto conjunction doesn't even go exact until 2020. I don't have a 21st century ephemeris, so I'm not sure. A rough estimate for the amount of time it takes for Pluto to move through 8 degrees of the zodiac is 6 years. 

Good old Percy's lower midheaven, 8 continuous degrees of heaviness from the Moon through jovial Jupiter

The point is, well, even without regard to the ancient mantic arts, the long slog through the Underworld continues. It's dark down here. Hard to see. Nothing is particularly definite or delineated. Completely not attached to the concrete, daylight world of the solidness of real objects and real structures. Indeterminate, eerie. And even when one lights a match, the shadows are very long indeed. 

The Persephone theme is also resonant. I'm reminded of a weird concept Percy had back in 2008 or so, of doing a completely improvised opera (well, the storyboard was mapped out from ancient myth) of the whole Persephone story. Said opera was performed in a high mountain arts town and I think there might even be video. But the real idea behind the project was about the agency of women. The agency of what Jungians would call "the feminine." 

Proserpina by Rossetti, 1870

Because of course it's not just abduction in that myth— it's complete dislocation to Hades, half the year (or, in the older versions of the myth, a more generous one third of the year). And the weird bargain of a portion of the year above ground, in the warmth, life and light. 

Of course, the ancient agrarian origins of the myth, the vegetative symbolism, the weird way she is abducted, the stupid little trick of the pomegranate seeds, and her relationship with her mother are all...fertile? Ripe? And a good Jungian would point out that, the less definite the archetype, the more powerful it is— and, as streamlined and almost silly as the myth became via the clod-like anthropomorphizing Romans, both Demeter and Persephone go way, way back and have dozens of names in many cultures. 

Anyway, look, flatly speaking, for long stretches of time, Persephone ain't available. Married, in fact. It doesn't even matter that she's married to Hades. That seems almost trivial. There are even interesting facets of the mythology that suggest she loves that part of the year down there in the dark, doling out the curses of the living on the dead, hanging with her fairly badass husband. Queen of the fuckin' Underworld, bro. In a way, it's the best of both worlds. 

Anonymous 19th century oil painting of Hades abducting Persephone while she's out picking flowers and being all maidenly n shit

Anyway, the point is, well, huh, I am now not exactly sure what the point is. I guess I am just saying that the weird journey continues to unfold in weird ways through weird days. Last night's dreams involved tidal waves wiping out entire skylines of huge cities, the kind of dreams that Percy has when everything seems to be completely and totally out of control. Lots of dreams lately have been dark, disturbed, roiled, foreboding, sad and tormented. Cold abandonment, being lost, wandering, running with shithead people who can't be trusted, murder and mayhem, fires, floods and so on. 

So how to end a rambling multivalent polysemic blog post that doesn't even really have a red thread.

Happy holidays! I guess.