November 2005
But the more we delve into the planets’ meanings, the more we see that every one these symbols is a veritable treasure trove of coded secrets, of which today’s pop astrology only scratches the surface. Mercury no less than the other planets is a cache of esoteric revelations.
It takes a special kind of curiosity and patience to apply an extraordinary perspective to an ordinary experience. Retrogradation helps, too: this phase of a planet’s cycle offers an ideal opportunity to look for profound lessons hidden within life situations we take for granted.
The invitation hidden within Mercury transits is to observe the workings of our minds.
Even if we go no further with the exercise than this, the transit has already paid off: it has made us notice something we’re conditioned to not notice. Just musing about the process of thinking — seeing it as a phenomenon that can be observed — liberates us from a limited use of Mercury. We become aware of a patently obvious but all-but-unquestioned assumption of Western civilization: that thinking is tantamount to consciousness.
Astrology, by contrast, maintains that the intellect is no more than one of ten basic components of the human psyche. Humanistic astrologers see the mind as a tool of the life purpose (which itself is a tool of the soul). Far from being the seat of consciousness, the mind is merely an apparatus, a marvelous piece of equipment, that serves (or doesn’t serve) the whole person. There is quite a gap between this view and the way most of us operate, and it is this gap that should be our focus if we want to dig more deeply into Mercury’s teachings.
Different astrologers use astrology for different purposes. Not all look to planetary archetypes to reveal the mysteries of humanness. But those who do will find in transits of Mercury, especially its retrograde cycles, an opportunity to challenge their own thinking not only in content but in form.
But there are also many secular schools of thought that teach distancing from the mind. It is a very old idea that in order to achieve excellence in any endeavor, from art and war to athletics, the mind must be disciplined into a concentrated state. The more practical of these traditions do not mention the lofty goal of enlightenment, but every one of them — from ancient martial-arts exercises to Silva Mind Control — proposes that our incessant internal yak-yak-yakking is an encumbrance to clarity and effectiveness.
Such systems teach control over not just the specific ideas being thought about, but over the thinking process itself. They presume the existence of a greater part of our selves — call it Chi, Willpower, or the Inner Observer — which is far greater than the sum of our thoughts.
The very fact that it presents such a dilemma should at least pique our curiosity. If the mind is in control of us, rather than the other way around, might this not signal a kind of addiction? Surely any kind of addiction is an impediment to full self-empowerment.
The esoteric dimension of Mercury offers a challenge to students of human consciousness: that of questioning the gaping abyss between our theories about the lower mind and the actual application of such theories to moment-to-moment experience. This abyss is evidence that there is much about Mercury that has escaped our understanding.
No other psychic function is so over-used yet so under-utilized.
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