INTROSPECT RISING

From the days of Babylon, to Victorian literature and Instagram meme accounts we have long been obsessed with the possibility that the position of the planets might affect the people we become or, as astrology suggests, always have been. Astrology was originally created by the Babylonians as a means of resolving the chaos on earth through understanding the stars. And, with the pandemic and cultural tensions threatening instability to our identities and outcomes it is understandable that, just as the Babylonians did, we would turn to them again to regain order over this contemporary chaos. 

In recent history you would typically come across astrology in the form of horoscopes; you might have stumbled upon these while lost on your way to the sudoku in the back of a newspaper or glimpsed an Instagram post revealing how much of a Leo you truly are. These whimsical snippets not only make predictions for the week ahead but declarations about our love lives, financial troubles and destinies all based on the very specific time and place we came into being.  The Zodiac began when Babylonians started to notice that in each season certain constellations took over the night sky, 12 of which would become our star signs. But, despite its foundations being rooted in the physical relationship between the stars and planets, astrology has long run counter to science. In fact, when it was discovered the rest of the planets did not - as it was long thought - rotate around the earth, astrologists simply said no thank you to the science and continued with their own theory of the universe's entanglement with our identities. As a consequence of its pseudoscientific nature, astrology understandably finds its credibility hotly debated; usually mocked across pub tables and on first dates. Yet despite the berating and contention there is a mysticism and omniscient magic that draws even the most sceptical of people into discourse on the stars. So what if astrology’s plausibility was put aside for a moment and the focus shifted instead on to the benefits of the introspection it welcomes. 

It comes as no surprise that Astrology has been having a recent surge in popularity. It comes in the form of an identity shorthand: a way to categorise and make sense of the world in a language that comes naturally to a proportion of (typically Gen Z) internet users. These younger users also seem to have a greater propensity towards self-contemplation, examination and even self-diagnosis, habits that fit comfortably into the contemplative embrace of astrology. But this language isn’t one that comes naturally to most. Perhaps this preoccupation with identity and the self is a contemporary phenomenon but it seems that typically older adults and men aren’t so comfortable with this method of communication. And while each demographic might have their own pseudoscientific outlet (forums that focus on male alpha/beta personality traits or simply misinformation spread on Facebook.) There is a hesitancy when it comes to the introspection astrology requires: reflecting on patterns of behaviour in love and life and excavating the darkest, deepest corners of our self. 

There are of course risks to a reliance and commitment to astrology as it could lead to a dangerous deflection of accountability; putting our unhealthy behaviour down to our star signs seems a toxic stepping stone to an increasingly solipsistic society. Yet, there is beneficial introspection to be gained by simply dipping a toe into the murky waters of astrology. And, as our divided society drives a wedge between ourselves and others, a lack of self-reflection can only result in further fear, anger and judgement. By engaging with star signs, even if it’s to dispute the alignment of the traits of your sign to the person you believe yourself to be, a conversation has been started. A conversation that is fueled by our relative orientation to universal truths. A conversation that allows access to the often inaccessible things we believe to be true about ourselves and the world we inhibit. 

Astrology provides a vehicle for talking about who we are and how we relate to others. It also speaks to the problem I covered all too thoroughly in my introductory column: that our separating out of thought and feeling leads us to dismiss insight into ourselves and others that doesn’t fall neatly into the categories, based on a lack of quantitative data and an aversion to mysticism. No, astrology is not a science and there are dangers to committing your identity to the stars but the two shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. Astrology can bridge that gap. When we suspend our disbelief there can be therapeutic benefits to reflecting and engaging in conversations with others about the people we are or believe ourselves to be.  It is a worthless tool without the meaning our experiences imbue it with.


Astrology is a framework that presents the opportunity to escape your reality and travel through time and space; see your place in it all, or at least to believe you are. And whether on the surface level it’s all baseless, you’ve already inadvertently taken a closer inspection of your inner world than you would have otherwise. It is a healing language to communicate with; a powerful social tool that provides a gateway into talking to each other and perhaps even understanding one another better. We can’t pretend that astrology can begin to explain the complexities of human nature but that doesn’t discredit its paradoxical but very real ability to get under our skin, push around a little bit and reveal the entangled roots of our being. 


Lucy Carless

Upland contributor and Thinking, Feeling columnist studying English at University of Sussex. Interested in the complexity of identity, cultural politics and the repercussions of our increasingly online world. Often overwhelmed, always interested.

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thinking, feeling: an introduction