Shadows and Silhouettes: The Rhetoric of Power
There are mornings where the news does not just report the world; it seems to rhyme with it. On January 22, as I sat with my coffee, the BBC Global News Podcast carried two phrases that struck me with the precision of a well-placed set of cards on the table. They were lunar references—cold and heavy with a certain "upside-down" gravity.
As someone who watches the sky, I couldn't help but notice the timing. The Moon is currently making its way toward a heavy meeting with Saturn and Neptune, and we are standing on the threshold of a year threatened with intense eclipses, the last of the outer planets moving into air and fire signs, and Saturn soon to follow. The air feels charged.
The Words Cast Like Spells
Before the world turned its eyes to the snowy peaks of Davos, where influential leaders meet behind closed doors to discuss our future, the rhetoric was divisive. I think back to January 8, when Vice President JD Vance stood at the White House to speak on the unrest in Minneapolis following the tragic death of Renee Nicole Good.
He didn't just disagree with the protesters; he labeled them. He called them a "lunatic fringe."
As readers of cards, stars, candles, (and books for that matter), we know the power of a name. "Lunatic" comes from luna—the moon. It’s an old, dusty word used to suggest that a person’s mind has been pulled out of bounds like unchecked tides. By using it, the state does something not-so-subtle and very old: it suggests that if you are heartbroken over violence, you aren't a citizen with a grievance; you are simply "mad." It pushes the dissenter into the dark, where they don't have to be heard.
To Eclipse the World
Then, the international metaphor arrived. We hear of Trump intensifying his campaign to force himself on Greenland—a move that feels like something out of a history book from the 1800’s. Reporters have begun using a specific word for his strategy toward the United Nations: to "eclipse."
Historically, an eclipse was a terrifying omen for a king—a moment where his solar authority was blotted out by something he couldn't control. But here, we see an administration trying to be the eclipse. They seek to overshadow international consensus with a single, unilateral will.
It feels a bit like a Saturn-Neptune fever dream, don’t you think? We are watching the firm boundaries of the world dissolve in hallucinatory gas. It’s an old trick: acting like a monarch while claiming to speak for the masses. This particular blend of 'the structure meeting the dream' is heading toward the heat of Aries soon. I’m sure setting fire to it will go perfectly well. Sigh.
Finding the Light in the Upside-Down
I am not a political scientist. I am just a person living in a weird, wild, and often unsettling world. I look at these rhetorical mirrors—the "lunatic" label and the "eclipse" tactic— they are playing with potent archetypes, unaware that their lack of respect for the powers they represent is way over their heads. They are capitalizing on how cheap and easy it is to spark an eruption of fear and blame.
In this landscape, where everything feels flipped—where the "fringe" is actually those calling for human rights—it is so easy to feel small. But then, I look up.
I see Jupiter, shining with such a steady, beautiful strength, exalted in the sign of Cancer. Jupiter is often referred to as a great mediator. It is the light that supports the visibility of those who gather in the streets. It is about faith—not the blind kind, but the panoramic kind that believes there is still a tremendous potential for good in this world.
We are in the midst of something historically massive. I feel it in my bones, and perhaps you do too. But as long as we keep our eyes open and our hearts curious, we aren't lost in the shadow. We are observing the turning.
Up and up, always.
