Personality
Oh No!—I Thought I Was a Libra
When astronomy overturns astrology, personality beliefs take a hit.
Posted May 9, 2020 Reviewed by Hara Estroff Marano
By Mary L. Hagy
As the beneficiary of many life lessons, few things truly surprise me. But a recent astronomy lecture unexpectedly demolished a belief I’d never before realized was important. The jolt was interesting—and disconcerting.
I’d thought a person’s astrological sign was one of those cards in the deck we're all dealt. At 5:22 a.m. on October 5th of a certain year, my ace slid across the table after a spank and a yelp. Thus, I was born a Libra.
Not one to closely follow astrology, I have nevertheless indulged in an entertaining online reading on the first of every month for the past, oh, 20 years. This history netted a data-empty yet anecdotal-filled set of experiences that somehow kept me reading every month, including this one.
Over time, the astrologist predicted some things that did appear to unfold. When certain major life circumstances befell her, however, and she reported them with surprise, I read them with interest, because I'd come to care about this person who landed on my phone the first of every month. And then I'd think, shouldn’t she have seen that coming?
Deep questioning might have undermined my decisions about whether to buy electronics or sign a contract or travel on important business while Mercury was in retrograde. So, like suspending disbelief while enjoying a good movie, I accepted that I was a Libra. I’d seen my birth certificate. I was comfortable that the sign’s attributes of balance, peace, and tranquility were somehow innate to who I am as a person. Certainly seemed harmless enough.
And then some guy comes along and tells me a belief of a lifetime—underscored by two decades of monthly readings and decisions based on when to do or not to do something because the planet closest to the sun was momentarily changing its rotation—just isn't true.
I didn’t like it so much. Turns out, I’m not the only one.
Why would I care?
Neil F. Comins, Ph.D., is an astrophysicist professor and author of 21 books on the cosmos, including his most recent, The Traveler’s Guide to Space, published by Columbia University Press. I was confident I was learning from an expert, in this case, concerning misconceptions we have about the universe.
When least expected during this otherwise enjoyable event, Dr. Comins revealed the misconception that there are not 12, but 13, astrology signs. I felt my eyebrows knit and my eyes blink as I saw the list. Nestled between Scorpius and Saggitarius sat Ophiuchus, resting with the insidious smile of a fourth Queen revealed on the river in a hand of Texas Hold ‘Em.
In that instant, I became a Virgo. No longer a Libra.
I stared at the word, so repulsed that I didn’t even want to know how to pronounce it: Ophiuchus.
The bigger question was, why would I care? But I did. I felt like I’d lost my all-in, four-jacks, game-winning hand; that my strategy and tactics had been all wrong, not only in this game, but from the beginning. I’d been working from the wrong playbook all my life.
So few yet so many choices
People get downright indignant when their astrological sign is challenged. When I conducted a completely unscientific survey of people who assumed they had been born under a particular sign, and I suggested that they were another, based on scientific fact, the response was startlingly universal.
As humans, we have few, if any, certainties. Those that we believe, whether or not scientific, are precious, even to the point where we make safe-side decisions about when to buy a new computer, because electronics could possibly be fritzed by predictable planetary orbits.
When these precious few “certainties” are questioned, the reactions can be seismic. Though I’d thought that certainty was related to life aspects I can’t change, turns out I was incorrect. For example: I am a woman. I am a parent. I am an individual. I am a family member.
What if I was a woman, in all the ways that are important to me? What if I was a parent even though I didn’t give birth to my daughter? What if I welcomed people around me in order to understand and grow my individual gifts? What if my family was by love as well as by birth?
Well then, I’d be me, blessed to live all those wonderful things, by choice.
I’ll still check out that astrological reading on the first of every month, because, like a good game of poker, I enjoy the experience.
Maybe I’ll push my comfort zone and start reading Virgo. After all, it’s my choice.
Mary L. Hagy is the Founder and CEO of Moon Mark, an entertainment and education company that creates and captures unique experiences for young people and distributes the content for global broadcast, digital, streaming, and mobile audiences. Moon Mark's young people will compete to become members of two teams who will design, build, and race vehicles that will land on the Moon in 2021. Hagy's non-fiction has appeared in national and regional publications. She is a produced playwright and documentarian.
Website: www.moonmark.space
