I get lost. My head starts to feel heavier and heavier as I struggle to maintain its position, but I can’t take my eyes off of the sky. It's majestic and tantalizing, and in an odd sense a bit comforting given its immensity. But I can’t take my eyes away. The sand is cold, and I could probably use a shirt, but the complexity of current thought removes any consideration of a cotton t-shirt. I was watching a show.
Not just the grand show performed by several hundred billion stars each and every night, but a steady and consistent lapping of the ocean, a natural hymn created by the wind and palm’s divine collaboration, what I was watching was an impressive show perfected after several billion years of practice. One of the greatest things about travel is it’s a forced meditation. Your mind is free to wonder and to explore. Of course meditation itself is achievable in any location under any circumstance, but its complexity and difficulty is often underestimated. It takes months and even years of practice to train your mind. But with travel, that commitment and responsibility so “duly” required of the many actors in your life is forced to dissipate, autopilot shuts off, and your mind exhales. That extroverted effort of responsibility and commitment become an introverted one, a responsibility and full commitment to thyself, a concentration inward.
My mind continued to wonder although I had adjusted my position and was now dependent on the support of my elbows. Fixated on the moon, I examined her pushing and pulling on the tide, essentially “playing” with what we consider the most powerful natural source on earth. My mind wandered further; if the moon has the divine ability and finesse to provide constistency to something as massive as the tides around every corner of the globe, then is it possible that the moon, or other arrangements of stars and planets, can influence the chemistry of our bodies and/or makeup of our minds? An American astrologist by the name of Marc Edmund Jones theorized about mental chemistry and divided people into one of four groups, dependent on two things; the speed of the moon at the day of birth (fast or slow) as well as the position of Mercury relative to the sun. My mind wanted to venture farther however, into the zodiacs all the way back to the beginnings of recorded astrology. It facinates me that through instense examination, pattern recognition, and recordings of notable events, et cetera these people, nearly 2,000 years ago were able to characterize individuals based on an astrological sequence of patterns. Furthermore, they personafied the constellations with familiar creatures possessing similar behavioral characteristics. The constellations were and still are indicators of consistent reoccurrence which allow for a certain set of (or lack thereof) traits to be attributed based on the presence of a certain astrological pattern. Even today we find our daily horoscopes in the local or national newspaper. Even though we may pride ourselves as totally unique individuals, beneath the exterior we find ourselves part of this celestial pattern masterminded by what may very well be incomprehensible to us apart from basic recognition. As the tide inches itself closer and closer to my barefeet, my mind shoots back to the relationship between this ocean and the moon. Staring into the illuminated portion of the pacific, I can’t help but think of how subtle this relationship is, but how many millions of people depend on it. How it has provided for, and essentially is, life.
The relationship between the moon and the ocean is a majestic one. We see the tide change two times a day, everyday, every year. However, the formation of our personality traits is quite another, more complex story. Taking into account the effects of such a subtle relationship between moon and ocean, one can only begin to wonder what kind of patterns are integrated in each one of the zodiacs. We do know that these cosmic relationships are cyclical. And thanks to the work of the ancient Chinese, Egyptian, and Roman astrologers (as well as contributions from several other early cultures) we know that these patterns repeat themselves twelve times annually. But what is the biological reason for such reoccurances? If the moon pushes and pulls on the ocean twice daily, then the relationship between planets, stars, et cetera must be doing their fair share of pushing and pulling as well. Could it be that as a miniscule lifeform taking shape within the whomb of your mother this pushing and pulling is even having a slight effect on the placement and development of your cells, tissues, etc? Interlinking of the brain’s neurons begins at around six months of whomb confinement and at around seven months, the rudimentary brain waves indicating consciousness can be detected. During this developmental process, is it possible the relationship between certain planets, stars, or cosmos can influence the final resting place for cells, nuerons, organs, et cetera within something as tiny as a fetus? Perhaps.
Another part worth noting is the connection between something as colossal as the cosmos and something as minute as the cultivation and multipulcation of cell makeup. Eventually, we continually multiply (grow) until adulthood. An angelic relationship between the cosmos and ourselves? Perhaps there is an omnipresence of the cosmos that walks around in each and every one of us. A subtle reminder of our connection with that which lies above and beyond our understanding. A connection not only with these constellations, the moon and the stars but with each other, with the ocean, with the sand that finds its way to every crevice of my body, with those trees behind me, with my friends back at the hostel and my family back home, with everything. But what is this connection, and why? Could this connection be the answer to the many questions of our existence? An answer that is literally staring right back at me from the depths of the sky?
My mind continued to wonder although I had adjusted my position and was now dependent on the support of my elbows. Fixated on the moon, I examined her pushing and pulling on the tide, essentially “playing” with what we consider the most powerful natural source on earth. My mind wandered further; if the moon has the divine ability and finesse to provide constistency to something as massive as the tides around every corner of the globe, then is it possible that the moon, or other arrangements of stars and planets, can influence the chemistry of our bodies and/or makeup of our minds? An American astrologist by the name of Marc Edmund Jones theorized about mental chemistry and divided people into one of four groups, dependent on two things; the speed of the moon at the day of birth (fast or slow) as well as the position of Mercury relative to the sun. My mind wanted to venture farther however, into the zodiacs all the way back to the beginnings of recorded astrology. It facinates me that through instense examination, pattern recognition, and recordings of notable events, et cetera these people, nearly 2,000 years ago were able to characterize individuals based on an astrological sequence of patterns. Furthermore, they personafied the constellations with familiar creatures possessing similar behavioral characteristics. The constellations were and still are indicators of consistent reoccurrence which allow for a certain set of (or lack thereof) traits to be attributed based on the presence of a certain astrological pattern. Even today we find our daily horoscopes in the local or national newspaper. Even though we may pride ourselves as totally unique individuals, beneath the exterior we find ourselves part of this celestial pattern masterminded by what may very well be incomprehensible to us apart from basic recognition. As the tide inches itself closer and closer to my barefeet, my mind shoots back to the relationship between this ocean and the moon. Staring into the illuminated portion of the pacific, I can’t help but think of how subtle this relationship is, but how many millions of people depend on it. How it has provided for, and essentially is, life.
The relationship between the moon and the ocean is a majestic one. We see the tide change two times a day, everyday, every year. However, the formation of our personality traits is quite another, more complex story. Taking into account the effects of such a subtle relationship between moon and ocean, one can only begin to wonder what kind of patterns are integrated in each one of the zodiacs. We do know that these cosmic relationships are cyclical. And thanks to the work of the ancient Chinese, Egyptian, and Roman astrologers (as well as contributions from several other early cultures) we know that these patterns repeat themselves twelve times annually. But what is the biological reason for such reoccurances? If the moon pushes and pulls on the ocean twice daily, then the relationship between planets, stars, et cetera must be doing their fair share of pushing and pulling as well. Could it be that as a miniscule lifeform taking shape within the whomb of your mother this pushing and pulling is even having a slight effect on the placement and development of your cells, tissues, etc? Interlinking of the brain’s neurons begins at around six months of whomb confinement and at around seven months, the rudimentary brain waves indicating consciousness can be detected. During this developmental process, is it possible the relationship between certain planets, stars, or cosmos can influence the final resting place for cells, nuerons, organs, et cetera within something as tiny as a fetus? Perhaps.
Another part worth noting is the connection between something as colossal as the cosmos and something as minute as the cultivation and multipulcation of cell makeup. Eventually, we continually multiply (grow) until adulthood. An angelic relationship between the cosmos and ourselves? Perhaps there is an omnipresence of the cosmos that walks around in each and every one of us. A subtle reminder of our connection with that which lies above and beyond our understanding. A connection not only with these constellations, the moon and the stars but with each other, with the ocean, with the sand that finds its way to every crevice of my body, with those trees behind me, with my friends back at the hostel and my family back home, with everything. But what is this connection, and why? Could this connection be the answer to the many questions of our existence? An answer that is literally staring right back at me from the depths of the sky?
