barefootwisdom

(Geomantic Practice, and Astrological Correspondence)

In geomancy, the figures of Puer and Rubeus are traditionally assigned to the planet Mars. In my experience, each of them presents a different side of that Martial energy.

The figure of Puer is active in the elements of fire, air, and earth—everything except water. Consider the image of the young man (perhaps in early adolescence) for whom the figure is named: all kinds of hot, flowing, even raging energy, being flung in so many (often conflicting and incompatible) directions at once. This can manifest as chaotic panic, as flailing about wildly, as beginning so many different activities and projects that it’s impossible (or quite unlikely) that all or even most of them will ever be completed. There’s something brash about this energy of beginnings, of setting out, which is likely one of the reasons why Greer’s Art and Practice of Geomancy revises the traditional order of the geomantic figures to place Puer first, in a position analogous to the Fool in the Tarot. Yet unlike the Fool, the emotional, feeling qualities of water are, for the figure of Puer, the most subdued and under-expressed. (Or maybe that lack of water is there in the Fool as well? I’ve not given the Tarot the time and attention it deserves…)

At its best, adding Puer to a situation can shake things up, get moving what was stuck in a rut or mired in inertia. But if we’re not simply to be worn out and uselessly exhausted, Puer usually needs to be balanced by some other figure with a complementary quality: whether that quality is stability or emotional maturity, or some sort of focus or limitation, setting boundaries to accomplish this, strongly and forcefully, while laying aside (at least for the time being) competing concerns or demands on our time, energy, and attention.

Rubeus, on the other hand, has a driving focus that Puer lacks. Where Puer was the brash young man, armed with a shiny new sword that he is eager to use, ready to take on the whole world, all at once, Rubeus has a certain kind of maturity: not in the sense of being worn out or past his prime, nor having the wisdom of the sage, but the bloom of adulthood. Rubeus has left behind childish things, but is still full of strength and vigor, ready to get down to business and get done what needs to happen. Rubeus is the river coming to a narrow defile, where the steep sides of the watercourse draw together all the strength of the flowing torrent, and we find the strong, concentrated, constant energy to turn a mill wheel and accomplish some needful work. Unlike Puer, there’s nothing frantic about Rubeus. A careless observer might easily mistake Rubeus’ single-minded, tireless, unyielding devotion to his task for a kind of franticness. But that would all be in the mind of the observer, misled by the simple fact that the observer does not share Rubeus’ goal, or his devotion to that goal.

At its best, then, bringing Rubeus into a situation means things are going to get done. The time for deliberating about our goals has passed (though his active air element means that, far from being flung about passively by outside circumstances, careful choice can still be made, in each moment, about the means of action). And the time of open-ended sampling, of trying anything and everything, the attitude of a young person who has yet to really confront the limits of human mortality—the time of Puer—that too has passed.

This puts an interesting spin on the traditional admonition, that a chart with Rubeus in the first house (representing the querent) cannot be interpreted, and that such a chart should even be destroyed in fire! Why can’t (or shouldn’t) such a chart be interpreted? Because the querent has already made up his or her mind about what to do: the time for choosing—and for all outside or extraneous factors, including the divination itself!—is over.

Traditionally, while both these figures are associated with Mars, Puer is given to Mars in direct motion, while Rubeus is given to Mars in retrograde motion. My personal experience during the Mars’s recent retrograde motion, through his home of Aries, confirms this powerfully. At least for me, the retrograde period was a time of incredible focus and accomplishment, and it was non-stop. I just kept going, and going, and achieving, and achieving, and really just unable to stop moving, in a way that was unusual and quite startling to me, even while it was happening. It was Rubeus at his best, his most helpful, his most welcome. And in these particular astrological circumstances we should expect the best side of retrograde Mars, given how comfortable and at home Mars always feels in Aries.

What was life like for others during this latest Mars retrograde (9 September–13 November)? Does this picture of Rubeus help to make sense of the energy and impulses of that time?

(Reposted from my main blog.)

In The Art and Practice of Geomancy, John Michael Greer presents a useful technique for judging the geomantic house chart in questions involving conflict or competition. He outlines the basic format beginning on page 135: the querent (or the side/party favored by the querent) is in the first house, the opposing individual/side/party is directly opposite, in the seventh house, and the object for which the are competing is located in the house appropriate to that item. Examples: in a literal war for the control of territory or a battlefield the goal is in house IV; victory in an election or political contest is in X; etc. Whichever of the first two signifiers (the querent or the opponent) perfects to the goal will be successful. In my experience, this has proven to be an effective technique.

Later in the text (pp. 155–156), JMG suggests an application of the same technique to the decision about whether or not to move to a new home. On his telling, the querent is (of course) in house I, the current home is IV, and the potential new home is VII. Here, the last piece does not make sense. The potential new home belongs not in the VII, but in the X. Let me explain.

In the chart for a literal war, the opponent (VII) is opposed to the querent (I) and striving for control of the land. Thus, the signifiers of the two contending sides are configured by an opposition in their natural houses, while the goal is somewhere else in the chart. In the case of relocation, the goal is the querent himself, while the two homes are competing for him. Thus, the potential new home should have its natural house not opposite the querent, but opposite its “adversary” the old home. In other words, the old home is in IV, while the new home is in house X. Whichever of these perfects to the first house (of the querent) is the better choice. If both perfect, then the querent has two good options, and the further details of the chart may provide useful guidance as to why, exactly, he stands to benefit from each. If neither perfects, then perhaps it’s time to look for a third alternative: neither staying in the current location, nor moving to the proposed site, but finding somewhere else to go.

This technique can be extended to many other cases where the querent is deciding between two (groups of) options. For example, in deciding whether to leave one’s current job for a new position, the current job is in X, while the potential new job is opposite this in IV.

The technique is limited, of course, in that it will not work for questions involving the VII house, since the opposite house is I, already taken by the querent. (A parallel limitation occurs in JMG’s version.)

We thus have two techniques for what I have taken to calling “conflict charts”: The method described in the first paragraph here (and by JMG) is used when the querent himself is a party to a conflict or competition, or is emotionally invested in a competitor. The method I present in the third paragraph is used when the querent is trying to decide between opposing options for himself; that is, when the two options are the “competitors” and the querent is the prize.

Today (7th Thargelion) is the festival of Plato's birth. Here are two small poems in his honor.

For Plato, on his Natal Day

Sing, O Muse, pray sing this day
In honor of divine Plato,
Born this day to grace mankind
With wisdom and inspire words.

Ariston's son, Apollo's son,
The child of Perictione,
Whose infant mouth with honey flowed,
A sign of gifts on him bestowed.

He grammar learned, for reason's sake
And musically his spirit tamed.
For appetite as well he cared
By wrestling to a champion's place.

Yet when he met wise Socrates,
He burned his dithyrambic verse.
He cried unto Hephaestus, "Come!
For Plato now has need of thee."

He journeyed thrice to Sicily,
Enraged the tyrant with his words,
Was sold to slav'ry, sent away,
And ransomed by Anniceris.

In Egypt, hieratic art
He studied well, this noble soul.
The Persian Magi, too, he sought
To learn the skills of sacrifice.

In Athens, then, he made his school
In Academus' garden there.
Both men and women, all he taught
For Wisdom's love, his highest care.

We honor holy Plato now,
On this, his blest nativity,
In word and song, but most of all
By bearing on philosophy.


After a Song of Athens

This day, the Gods gave Plato to mankind
Who followed all the Muses in their train,
The holy fellow-worker with the swans,
Whose teachings still mellifluously flow.

Named first Aristocles, for his grandsire,
Called also Plato, thrice-deservedly:
Broad both in chest and brow the great man was,
Yet most of all, his holy words spread wide.

The night before he met wise Socrates,
That holy teacher dreamt a vision true:
A wingless swan alighted on his knees,
Then growing wings, it cried aloud and flew!

This day, as well, he left behind his flesh,
To journey home to his paternal source.
Therefore the men of Athens built his tomb,
Inscribing there, to honor him, this verse:

"Asclepius Apollo to us gave
To heal our bodies, caring for our flesh.
So too, the Delphic Lord bestowed on us
For health of soul, his son, divine Plato."

We honor, too, Apollo on this day.
With feast and song, your festival we keep.
We pray, look kindly on us, send your gifts
Of wisdom and inspired dreams in sleep.


Notes:

The Anonymous Prolegomena to Platonic Philosophy tells us that the Athenians used to honor Plato's birth with a hymn that began "On this day, the Gods gave Plato to mankind." Sadly, the rest is lost.

Both poems are my own. Share them, use them in commemmorations today, but please, include a link back here and acknowledgement of the source!