Screaming Even Now

How should one feel if they’ve brought prophecy upon themselves? Are we supposed to find comfort in our ability to forecast such things, safety in fate and destiny? I suppose there is a sense of comfort in it, regardless of how twisted a visage this comfort may possess. A sense of security, knowing that there is a foreseeable design. At least, foreseeable to those who can read such patterns. Surely, there is a sense of pride and accomplishment in a job well done. Look at me. I predicted this correctly, or I proved this was possible. You know how that goes. However, there is a flip-side. Not all predictions are good and not all prophecies offer hope. Some are just downright depressing. How are we supposed to fee when these come true? Glad that we were able to predict it, or saddened that it happened, especially if it was a personal loss. I suppose, then, all we see is the negative in that we lost something and we knew it was going to happen. Then comes disappointment and further states of depression. I saw it, and yet I did nothing to stop it. Brilliant stance to take.

Ever since I was little, I’ve always enjoyed the image and power of a warrior, a soldier, a fighter, a knight, whatever you call them; someone who can take care of themselves and be this sort of pillar of strength for others when they need it, a shoulder to cry on, if you will. The inherent strength a person of this position holds, and the confidence they exude. A kind of flawless every little boy yearns to be. Strong, determined, deadly, yet compassionate and caring, loving even. In time, I think I eventually became something like this. Emotionally strong, mentally competent, and physically able, or at least I could pretend to be. Hehe. I could fight depression, sadness, parents, idiots, and even the law to a degree, but it seems the one thing I couldn’t beat was the thing I always that I could; fate. To me it seemed simple, to work against what was supposed to happen that I didn’t like. However, time and time again, whenever I think I’ve got a game plan going, the rug gets pulled out from under my feet, and the ball falls in the basket regardless of how I attempt to block it. Worthlessness and the futility of a soldier, no matter the skill. I had always believed that having people to assist me in my battles would increase my odds of victory under the simple occult rule of ‘the more power invested, the more likely the desired outcome can be obtained’, however, more often than not I’ve found myself tripped up by these comrades I’ve picked up. Either for a lack of interest and desire to see the goal accomplished, or accidental miscommunication, mistakes that were made just because of dumb luck and really no one’s fault at all, it would fail and blow up in my face as this partner of mine failed to meet the requirements of success and fate would win again.

Thinking about fate and prophecy, I do remember a tale I heard once, about two women being born on the same night. The midwife said that it was a bad night to be born (for one reason or another) and that the girls would both die before they reached their twenty-first year. It seems that these two were cursed from birth. Eventually the day before their twenty-first birthday came, unfortunately, one of the two girls had been killed in a drunk driving accident some years before, so for her, the prophecy came true. The second girl heard of this accident, and soon came to fear for her life. She checked herself into a hospital so that the medical staff could keep an eye on her through the night, and even though the staff told her she was completely healthy and had nothing to worry about, she still fretted and stayed. Midnight drew closer, and the young woman grew restless, worried, scared, and anxious for it to pass. As the minutes ticked on, her breath grew shorter and quicker. She began to pant as if she had been running, and before the stroke of midnight, the young woman hyperventilated to death, the staff unable to calm her of her seemingly irrational fear. This is a story of prophecy self-fulfillment; believing in something so hard that you force it to come true, regardless of the likelihood of it happening otherwise. Now, how often do everyday people do this? Do we give up on things because they seem so difficult or so believable? Hard to tell until it’s too late, isn’t it? Personally, I have a crappy solar return this year as far as romance goes. I mean, it’s going to be great, and it has been – so to speak – but what I really wanted I wasn’t going to get. Damn Saturn. Initially I disregarded the self-reading and thought it was strange. Though I did start dating under the influence of the solar return, I did find someone I cared about and thought “Ha! Saturn’s not going to get the best of me!” but he did. The relationship didn’t last and I did things I’m not too proud of, all in the name of that solar return chart. Whether they would have happened or not without the initial interpretation of the solar return chart, I cannot say. Regardless, these events did occur. Now that I’ve found myself someone else to care about, the same old fears pop back up surrounding the SR, wondering what’s going to happen, and how I’m going to mess up this time. The SR stated that my relationships wouldn’t work out, and it’d be my fault (detrimented lord of the Seventh in the First and disposited by the Ascendant lord; weakened relationships at the fault of the native), so I’ve unfortunately started to become very aware of things, and I don’t appreciate it and I don’t feel it’s fair. Why does this happen? Perhaps because as a soldier I’m worried about keeping myself cushioned from the blow of what I fear may come. It doesn’t help that particular things are the way they are, and it’s not right for me to demand the extinguishing of these factors, talk about being controlling and paranoid. It doesn’t help that I’ve been told things that threw up red flags, I appreciate the honesty, but it’s just going to make me paranoid and concerned.

Perhaps this is the fate of an astrologer, to constantly look over one’s shoulder. The fate of a soldier to birth the mistakes he attempts to destroy. Perhaps it’s futile. Perhaps it will all end the same no matter. Perhaps – just perhaps – I’m making it occur faster with more force. I’m not sure, but I’ll tell you when I find out. Maybe it is all futile, but that doesn’t make the resistance to it worthless. Sometimes the existence of such a desire to resist is enough to matter. Enough to show that we care…that we didn’t want it to end that way…even if it does.

“I’m a solider born to stand. In this waking hell I am witnessing more than I can compute. Pray myself to not forget lies, betrayed, and the oppressed. Please give me the strength to be the truth. People facing the fire together. If we don’t, we’ll lose all we’ve found.”