Remembering Ollie Olsen: 20 February 1958 to 16 October 2024

It’s been a while – seven years to be exact – since the last issue of Astrobabble (#15/Aquarius) and an Astrobabylon entry. At the time, I was in two minds about continuing both because their left brain treatment requires commitment – reading, researching, writing and analysing an individual’s cosmic blueprint with the limited understanding I have of the ocean that is astrology. Placing distance between Astrobabble/Astrobabylon and myself has given me time to reflect on a few things: why I started zine and blog, what my aims were, and what I wanted readers to take away. All interesting questions that writers usually ask themselves, and to that, I can answer that they are exercises in getting inside a creative’s astrological DNA, to examine what makes them exceptional. With the help of astrology, I attempt to crack the fame code, if such a thing exists, and search for the x factor that elevates luminaries like Nick Cave and David Bowie from the rest of us. I can’t say that my investigations have always been fruitful but it has been one of the most fascinating rabbit holes I’ve toppled into. 

This special issue of Astrobabble is dedicated to Ollie Olsen, a legend in Melbourne’s underground music scene and a triple Piscean (Sun/Moon/Ascendant) who died in October 2024 after a long illness. It’s fitting that I return to Astrobabble with such a creative and sensitive character to unpack, given Ollie’s pivotal connection with the subject of my last issue (Michael Hutchence). 

If you’d like a copy, please get in touch at this blogspot or m_zarro@hotmail.com. Alternatively, you can pick up a copy at Repressed Records and Red Eye Records in Sydney, and at The Sticky Institute in Melbourne. Below is an excerpt:

Sun, Moon and Ascendant in Pisces – the Ocean
Tom Waits once called Bob Dylan ‘a planet everyone should explore’. If Dylan is the planet up for exploration, then Ollie Olsen is the ocean worthy of a deep dive. Born with the Sun, Moon and Ascendant in Pisces, Olsen’s character was emotionally deep, overly sensitive and movingly empathetic. Drummer Peter Luscombe said of Olsen that he openly and unashamedly displayed tenderness, sometimes at inappropriate times. Olsen admitted in an interview with Jane Gazzo that he cried every day and even during movie trailers! 

Pisceans are old souls, embodying the qualities of every sign of the zodiac. Pisceans are not here to seek external validation but to share their wisdom. Olsen was a mentor to many (Saturn in the tenth house). He encouraged and supported emerging artists, was generous with his comprehensive musical knowledge and agreed to interviews or performances, usually for little or no money to support young creatives.

Both Neptune and Jupiter are Pisces’ ruling planets. They are important in Olsen’s chart because they form a Stellium with the North Node in Scorpio in the ninth house of the higher mind, philosophy, travel, and scientific and religious pursuits. Recognising the value of a guiding belief system or philosophy is crucial with Jupiter as chart ruler in the ninth. Olsen remained open to exploring possibilities and expanding his mental horizons (usually with the use of illicit substances). For example, during the Max Q period, a particularly intense acid trip, where Olsen claimed to be 'off' for two days, became a pivotal moment in his life. He described it as having died and been reborn. It changed him completely. The incident sparked a deep fascination with spiritual and psychic realms that stayed with him for the rest of his life. He explored Tibetan philosophy, various Vedic texts on Samsara (the cycle of rebirth) and Maya (the idea of the external world being an illusion), and Jean Baudrillard’s philosophical treatise Simulacra and Simulation (1981) about the relationship of reality, symbols and society. He developed a love of Norse culture and philosophy after spending four months in Norway (his father’s birthplace) with his family in 1969, as a 10-year-old. The experience was so profound that he returned to the country in his early twenties and worked in a fish factory (how Piscean). Some years later, he legally changed his birth name to Ollie Jngbert Christian to better reflect his heritage.

Favourable aspects from Jupiter to the Sun and Ascendant create what I call the ‘Santa Claus persona’- a ‘jolly’ and good-natured individual, generous and well-liked, with a positive outlook regardless of what life throws at them. You just need to cruise the many social media posts dedicated to Ollie to feel the love. 

Born on the New Moon, exited at the Full Moon - Ollie Jngbert Christian Olsen fulfilled his purpose and was ‘called home' on 16 October 2024 at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. He is survived by his sister Marie-Ann and his wife Jayne, who dedicated herself to his care during his final years. His extensive contribution leaves an enduring legacy in Australian music. Bless you, Ols, see you in Valhalla.

Michael Hutchence

During the 1980s, when women swooned over INXS’ charismatic front man, Michael Hutchence, I wasn’t paying attention. Silly me. I missed what became Australia’s greatest musical export since Bon Scott and AC/DC. In the early 1980s when I was in my early teens, INXS were still developing as a band. I recall an interview on the kid’s television show Simon Townsend’s Wonder World in 1980, and then later that year, a video for Just Keep Walking, which aired on Sounds, the Saturday morning music show hosted by Donnie Sutherland. Yet, nothing registered. Even Michael Hutchence-as-sex-on-a-stick flew under my radar. Music writer Toby Creswell states that whatever you think of INXS’ style or music, you can’t deny the charisma of Michael Hutchence in his prime. It’s taken me nearly forty years to realise this. Slow or what? I am making up for it with the new issue of Astrobabble (#15), which is dedicated to the sexy Water Bearer and all things Aquarian.

In true Aquarian fashion, Michael Hutchence was an intriguing individual who sort recognition as an underground artist of the Nick Cave variety. Having fallen short of that ambition due to his commitment to INXS and an early death (he died aged thirty-seven), it’s this aspect of the man I find fascinating. Creating this issue has been an inquisitive voyage; my research confirms that all things are connected. INXS was formed in the Farriss brothers’ family home – in the garage of a house not dissimilar to my own family home, in a suburb not dissimilar to that of my adolescence - in Sydney’s north. Michael’s memorial in the grounds of the Northern Suburbs Crematorium in North Ryde is within the vicinity of my parent’s house. Both the Hutch and I have our Ascendant at twenty-eight degrees Capricorn. I can safely say that the similarities end here. Since creating this issue, I have taken to visiting Michael’s memorial regularly (on the way to mum and dad’s place), bringing gifts of flowers, candles and books. Each visit is coloured by an unexpected event, such as the time I was mistaken for Michael’s step-mother, Susie Hutchence, by the crematorium’s manager. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to fame and fortune.

The following is an extract from Astrobabble (#15), which is available at the following Sydney venues - Manly Zine Fair on 22 September, Red Eye Records, Repressed Records, Paddington Book Exchange, and Alfalfa House Street Library in Enmore:

INXS’ 1987 album Kick marks the band’s imperial phase for which they are celebrated. The now-familiar tunes Mystify and Need You Tonight reflect the sonic template the band would use from this point onwards to generate international hit singles and platinum record sales. It deviated from Michael’s original vision of what it meant to be an artist. He reached a point where he wanted to explore other areas, glimpses of which surfaced as early as 1981 when he collaborated with Cold Chisel’s Don Walker on the raucous Speed Kills from the soundtrack to Scott Hicks’ film Freedom.

By 1989, aged twenty-nine, the very Saturnian Michael Hutchence began feeling the inklings of his first (and only) Saturn Return linking into the beginnings of the major planetary aspect of Uranus conjunct Neptune in Capricorn. Michael would have experienced a profound internal shift that mirrored events in his outer world. On a global level, it was a time of revolution – the Tiananmen Square massacres, the dismantling of apartheid in South Africa, the fall of the Berlin Wall in Germany and the creation of the world wide web. The stirrings caused by this waxing aspect would have urged the Hutch to revise his inner values. The paradox contained deep within him began to emerge. In Western astrology, the Return at age twenty-nine is the individual’s separation from the parental mould; it’s a coming home to our innate autonomy and authenticity. By this stage, Michael was residing mostly in Hong Kong (for tax purposes), having finally severed his long-term relationship with Michele Bennett (although they remained friends until the end of his life). It became obvious to those around him that he was outgrowing the INXS family and needed a break from its sound, which had become safe and ubiquitous. Craving the space to unleash his inner-Nick Cave, the musician he always aspired to be, the Hutch called underground luminary Ollie Olsen and suggested they make music together.

Ollie Olsen emerged from the Little Bands scene of inner Melbourne in the late 1970s, forming, among other groups, the Young Charlatans with Rowland S Howard (later of Boys Next Door/Birthday Party fame). Olsen’s electronic unit, Whirlywirld, was revered by Richard Lowenstein who asked him to be musical director on Dogs In Space (1986), a feature-length movie set in Melbourne’s post-punk era of which both Olsen and Lowenstein were an integral part. Michael was cast in the lead role as a thinly disguised Sam Sejavka from new wave group the Ears (and later, Beargarden). The closing credits of Dogs In Space feature a song Olsen wrote for Whirlywirld – Rooms for the Memory – that Michael sang with such conviction and edge that it unnerved some members of the INXS camp:

‘… we all listened to the finished song … everyone was speechless. It really was a turning point – the band [INXS] heard what Michael could do without INXS’ – Michael’s friend, Bruce Butler

Max Q was a psychedelic-electronic-dance-rock band comprised of musicians interconnected within Melbourne underground bands like the Reals, No, and Orchestra of Skin and Bone. Michael wanted to make an alternative record and Olsen wanted to make a pop record. They met somewhere in the middle. Max Q’s only album release meshes funk, rock and industrial trance with an anti-establishment flavour. It was in keeping with Michael’s Aquarian ideals. Olsen impelled him to explore places he left dormant:

‘I got back my lust for music through Max Q. I had to realise that there are other people I can play with and there are other songs that can be written. When I sat down and did that with Max Q, it renewed it all’ – Michael Hutchence

Melbourne experienced a golden period in the 1980s, producing a dynamic and eclectic music scene that embraced electronic/dance music and nightclub culture. It suited Michael’s innovative Aquarian nature. It was important for him to be accepted and respected by Melbourne’s underground:

‘He [Michael] was absolutely smitten with the Melbourne scene and the bands that came out of it … he loved the Birthday Party and early Hunters and Collectors … he maintained lifelong friendships with the people he met from that scene, including myself, Sean Kelly, Richard Lowenstein, Ollie Olsen … and eventually Nick Cave’ – former Hunters and Collectors percussionist, Greg Perano

Max Q represented a special peak, professionally and personally, for Michael Hutchence: the band blitzed the 1989 Rolling Stone Australian readers and critics’ poll, Way of the World reached number eight on the singles chart, and the album peaked at number thirteen. The road already travelled and the virgin track stretching ahead intersect at the Saturn Return. Max Q could have taken the Hutch down an obscure but authentic path, leading to a more radical and fulfilling life. But INXS management had other plans. Chris Murphy didn’t want his main cash cow squandering himself on these underground types, taking musical risks and having a good time doing it. He felt Michael’s creative projects outside of INXS threatened the band’s future. Murphy regulated any serious publicity for Max Q, restricting Michael from giving interviews to promote the album, and limiting single releases in the US and Japan where INXS had sizeable followings. The Hutch’s frustration and anger festered. By the time INXS reassembled for the album X in 1990, the momentum was lost; it would never reach the levels of the pre-Kick era. It marked a dark phase where Michael grew increasingly bitter, bitchy and cynical (negative expression of Sun square Moon) and from which he would never return:

‘He wanted to deconstruct what he was. He wanted to be taken more seriously as an artist and he was more than INXS and more than the sex symbol image. He wanted to be more respected by critics and not seen as a fluffy pop star. Michael had a hell of a lot more to him than people realise. We were just on the cusp of something’ – Ollie Olsen

Vivienne Westwood

It's International Women's Day. I haven't written on my blog for some time but figure that today is a good day to pay homage to one of my all-time fave female persons, Vivienne Westwood, with an extract from the latest issue of my zine Astrobabble. Happy IWD, girlfriends!
 
 
One of the main features of Vivienne Westwood’s natal chart is the placement of the Sun (Aries), Moon (Leo) and Rising sign (Sagittarius) in fire signs, so we expect her to make a dramatic impact. The spontaneity of her temperament and penchant for innovation (Moon square Uranus) raised street fashion to haute couture. Vanity is a potential fault (four planets and Ascendant in fire element). Westwood once boasted that she gains undivided male attention in a room full of beautiful women. Fashion entrepreneur, Gene Krell, said of Westwood as punk rock catalyst in the 1970s that ‘her attitude, her body language, her look was striking – it took your breath away’. Aspects to Uranus (Moon square Uranus, Mercury sextile Uranus, and Saturn conjunct Uranus) point towards flamboyancy and exhibitionism, enabling Westwood to seize opportunities and take risks. Eccentricity is a feature (Moon square Uranus):

 

‘…I am unorthodox … I’m never satisfied to do things the way other people do them … I am proudly eccentric’

 

 

She is attracted to ingenuity and novelty, but may also be perverse, finding herself at odds with the establishment and taking the law into her own hands (Mars opposite Pluto). Westwood has shown courage against the ‘taste dictatorship of the masses’ (her words). This is compatible with her involvement with Malcolm McLaren and the punk movement. Fashion as a threat to society in the form of Teddy Boys, Mods and Rockers, and the jeans/t-shirt look of James Dean and Marlon Brando are the foundations of Westwood’s work as a fashion designer, but more than that, Westwood created acceptance through alternative fashion trends because these were the uniforms of society’s social rejects. Misfits, minority groups, the unemployed and disabled felt relevant through her clothes. Her designs gave women a license to dress assertively and to own the tools of subjection, usually reserved for men, like whips, razor blades and chains. This had not been the case with previous music cults.

 

 

Westwood said of Malcolm McLaren, ‘I felt there were so many doors to open, and he had the key to all of them’. They became involved after meeting in 1965 through Westwood’s brother, Gordon. Together they sought new forms of expression (McLaren’s Aquarian Sun conjunct Westwood’s Aquarian Mars). The relationship had a strong Uranian signature. Ideas were important to them. McLaren’s Uranus trining her Midheaven signified mutual career goals that involved nonconformity and purpose. A student at Croydon Art School, McLaren had his finger on the pulse where contemporary culture was concerned and enjoyed the idea of using art as a way of creating chaos (Moon conjunct Neptune in Libra). Westwood held the technical ability to translate his ideas into clothing (Saturn in the sixth house). So began the evolving vision of Westwood and McLaren that was to change the cultural climate of Britain in the 1970s, the effects of which still prevail.

 

This extract is taken from Astrobabble, issue 14, available through Red Eye Records, Repressed Records and the zine fairs of Sydney and east coast Oz

Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals

 

I’m prone to thinking that I’m alone in the zine universe. Very few DIY publications celebrating the unlikely marriage of astrology and contemporary culture come my way. Perhaps they are created on a sizeable scale all over the planet and I just don’t have the skills to trace them. When I occasionally do make a discovery, my insecurities kick in and it becomes a cause for both celebration and trepidation as I now have a yardstick with which to compare my work. Yikes.

 

Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals is one such yardstick. A cute and simple hand written-hand drawn zine, it’s the creation of American zinester and astrology enthusiast, Elizabeth Thompson. She describes it as ‘a guide to celebrating rock n roll and all the planets in our solar system’, a description I could easily assign to my own zine, Astrobabble. And like my zine, Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals celebrates the colossal culture-shapers of our age – Jimi Hendrix, Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, Siouxsie Sioux, Chuck Berry, Brian Wilson and Kurt Cobain –  and pairs them with a planet whose characteristics they share. Here’s Elizabeth’s list:

Mercury - Jimi Hendrix

Mars - Freddy Mercury
Earth - Billie Holiday
Jupiter - David Bowie
Venus - Siouxsie Sioux

Saturn - Chuck Berry

Neptune - Brian Wilson

Uranus - Kurt Cobain

Pluto - Tupac Shakur

Ceres - Patsy Cline

They are interesting pairings, don’t you think? I surmised from my first reading of Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals that different planets can represent some musicians better, but what do I know? I discussed the pairings with an astro-buddy. After much mulling and debating during a week day lunch, we derived the following list:

Jupiter - Jimi Hendrix
Mercury - Freddy Mercury
Saturn - Billie Holiday
Uranus - David Bowie
Pluto - Siouxsie Sioux
Saturn - Chuck Berry
Neptune - Brian Wilson
Neptune - Kurt Cobain
Mars - Tupac Shakur
Ceres - Patsy Cline

The pairing of planet and musician is fluid. If we are to follow the first rule of Astro Club – that is, an astrologer can make any chart work with the information available (even dirty data) – then any combination of musician and planet is ‘correct’. Despite this, I question Elizabeth’s choice of planet for some of the musicians, possibly because each musician’s work and life speak to us in personal ways.

 

Take Siouxsie Sioux, for example. Aesthetically, the singer of British post-punk band Siouxsie and the Banshees embodies the qualities of Venus. Stylishly dressed with heavy make-up applied meticulously, Siouxsie is appealing in a feminine way, but she is not submissive or girly. On the contrary, her guise is detached and foreboding - the original Goth. When I first saw Siouxsie and the Banshees’ video for Spellbound in the early 1980s on SBS music program Rock Around the World, I was spellbound by Siouxsie’s appearance. For me, her persona redefined what a ‘rock chick’ could look like (at that stage, I thought female musicians had to look like Suzi Quatro).

 

While Venus represents Siouxsie’s visual appeal, dwarf planet Pluto best symbolises the woman known for her complexity, controlling nature and aloofness, not to mention her profound influence on a generation of female musicians. In the post-punk music scene of the late 1970s to mid-1980s, Siouxsie and the Banshees were no lightweights. Their songs dealt with subjects that were taboo even in the late twentieth century - mental illness, paedophilia, sexual and emotional abuse, esotericism, and urban discontent. Many of Siouxsie’s songs stem from the psychological damage she experienced when she was sexually assaulted as child. Pluto stuff, indeed.
 

Putting my two cents aside, Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals is a little nugget of a zine and a reminder for me to honour other people’s astrological analyses. I enjoy the checklists for each planet/rock star where Elizabeth invites us to do something noble in the spirit of the planet in question. The spec for Venus/Siouxsie Sioux includes:

*telling someone that you love them*

*reaching out to someone new*

*making amends with yourself or someone else*

Nice.

 

 

Rock n Roll Astrology & Rituals is available at pioneerspress.com/

Neptune in Pisces and the Submerged Museum

Reading ‘The Changing Sea Scape of our Times’ by Antonia Case in Womankind magazine (#7, February-April 2016) prompted me to examine the current Neptune transit and its place in the zeitgeist. More specifically, it got me thinking how Neptune and Pisces relate to the artwork of English artist and naturalist, Jason deCaires Taylor, the article’s intriguing subject.

Jason deCaires Taylor is a British born underwater sculptor who has gained worldwide recognition as one of the first artists to integrate contemporary art with the conservation of marine life. His artificial coral reefs installations divert tourists away from endangered natural coral reefs, providing these systems the opportunity to regenerate.

One impressive example is Vicissitudes, meaning changeability. Submerged in the Caribbean Sea in Molinere Bay, in the world’s first public underwater sculpture park, stands a circle of Taylor’s cement figures. With defying postures, they face outward, holding hands in an unbreakable link while algae and other marine life slowly alter their bodies over time. Within years, these sunken artworks will be transformed. Taylor’s work is a commentary on humanity’s relationship with the natural world and the need for conservation, decay and rebirth. Works such as Vicissitudes portray how human interaction with nature can be positive and sustainable, and that living in a symbiotic relationship with nature is possible.

 

The connection to Neptune in Pisces is discernible (to me, anyway). Planet Neptune transits the constellation of Pisces between 2012 and 2025. Neptune is Pisces’ ruling planet. Both are synonymous with water, especially the depths of the ocean, and both have a comprehensive understanding that all life is interconnected. As a gaseous and nebulous planet, Neptune’s boundaries are elusive; we are unsure of where the planet begins and ends. Neptune acts as one of the planetary gateways to a consciousness that is free from the limitations of Saturn and all planets inside Saturn’s orbital path (that is, the planets that are visible from Earth). Neptune symbolises the urge to dissolve a rigid sense of individuality and separateness in order to reconnect to the underlying unity of all life, qualities synonymous with Taylor’s work. His underwater sculptures plug into something primal - the ocean is too boundless and overwhelming for us mortals to comprehend. Once these manmade figures are submerged, they cease to belong to the material realm. Instead, they become part of the mystery that is the sea and, ultimately, life.

One critic described Taylor’s installations as ‘enigmatic, haunting and colorful commentaries about our transient existence, the sacredness of the ocean and its breathtaking power of regeneration’, but you can make up your own mind:

Neptune and Pisces rule museums, art galleries, and libraries. For Taylor, the ocean is an exhibition space and museum, embodying unlimited room, natural lighting, and infinite visitors at all times. It acts as a sacred place to conserve and protect objects of value for posterity. Taylor bemoans the fact that many of us don’t regard our oceans as sacred – we don’t see the sea.

 

The Neptune-Pisces cycle signals the importance of compassion and empathy. Global issues associated with Pisces are surfacing, such as rising sea levels and growing concerns over the availability of fresh water in parts of the world. Both Neptune and Pisces rule art and culture, and artists such as Jason deCaires Taylor have a role to play in engaging people on an emotional level. On writing, Taylor had placed approximately seven hundred underwater sculptures around the globe, generating masses of robust marine systems. His largest underwater sculpture to date, Ocean Atlas, located on the western coastline of New Providence in the Bahamas, is a metaphor for modern times: Ocean Atlas is burdened by the weight of the ocean pressing down on her shoulders. It symbolises global warming and the load that will be carried by future generations if we don’t take action. Ambiguity, confusion and passivity are hazards to growth and healing during a Neptune-Pisces cycle. We drift along with the oceans current at our peril. Only with self-actualisation we get to see the sea.

Remembering Bowie

 

It’s been seven months since David Bowie’s death - 11 January 2016 - and the outpouring of feeling is ongoing, the evidence of which can be found on social media and in the various cultural events held in his honour throughout the world. It’s difficult to pigeonhole David Bowie as an artist and as an individual; he represents many things to many people. His natal chart reflects his multi-faceted and contradictory nature, where layers of personality and talent seemingly clash, causing internal frustration but manifesting outwardly creatively, sometimes brilliantly, sometimes not. Here, the Air element is powerful. In the early stages of Bowie’s career at least, this airy quality overshadowed his more subdued and traditional Sun in Capricorn, which hid away in the twelfth house, the horoscope’s sanctuary. Bowie’s story reflects what some astrologers call ‘growing into our Sun signs’, the mythology for which Capricorn as tenacious goat climbing the proverbial mountain to reach its pinnacle is noted for.

 

Outwardly, David Bowie embodied the qualities normally associated with the air sign Aquarius – scientific, futuristic, progressive, prophetic - despite his Sun’s placement in pragmatic Capricorn. With Aquarius rising, the planet Uranus becomes chart ruler, giving Bowie an alternative edge. Uranus’ glyph resembles a satellite designed to explore the far reaches of time and space, a theme often repeated in Bowie’s early work. His 1969 breakthrough single Space Oddity, released close to the moon landing, covers cosmonaut Major Tom’s existential space journey. Through classics such as Space Oddity, Ziggy Stardust, Life on Mars, Starman, Moonage Daydream, and Loving the Alien, we learn of the visions and possibilities forgotten on the earthly plane.

 

His chart ruler, Uranus in Gemini, in the fifth house of romance sextile Pluto in the seventh house of relationships alludes to Bowie’s experimental and transformative sex life. He was magnetised by the gay scene, which was still underground in the early 1970s, and became a camp icon in an era when homosexuals lived in fear of discovery. Critics such as the queer writer John Gill condemned Bowie for using and betraying gay culture for his own commercial gain. Nevertheless, Bowie set a precedent that heralded in a new generation of androgynous stars who were successful in the 1980s: Gary Numan, Boy George (Culture Club), Marilyn, Phil Oakey (Human League), George Michael (Wham!), Morrissey (The Smiths), Pete Burns (Dead or Alive), and Steve Strange (Visage) who appears in the Ashes to Ashes promotional video:

 

Bowie was aware of his role as an interpretative performer and the fact that his personas only had a short life span (one or two albums). He found it easier to write for his characters than for himself (twelfth house Mercury) and wasn’t sentimental about them; he could move on (Aquarius rising). Bowie's image developed as time progressed, earning him the moniker of ‘pop chameleon’ (chart ruler Uranus in Gemini):

 

‘… I wanted to be the instigator of new ideas. I wanted to turn people on to new things and new perspectives … I decided to use the easiest medium, which was rock n roll, and then add bits and pieces … so that by the end of it I would be my own medium’

 

Occultism flavoured Bowie’s life and work up to his last recording. His twelfth house Stellium (Sun, Mars, and Mercury) indicates a rich inner world and psychic possibilities. The Sun and Mercury in this sector of the chart function as mediums for the expression of mythic or archetypal images in the collective unconscious through art or some form of psychic work. Bowie had the capacity to bridge the conscious and unconscious, and communicate to an audience what was operating in the murky depths of the psyche:

 

‘All I knew was that there was this otherness, this other world, an alternative reality, and one that I wanted to embrace’

 

The above is a extract from the next issue of Astrobabble, copies of which I will be flogging at Manly Zine Fair in September. See you there.

Going Home

I guess it’s a cliché to revisit your childhood home and get all heavy-hearted for the good ol’ days of youth. With rose-coloured glasses on, some of us insist that our formative years were magical, innocent and simpler than life is today. I am certainly guilty of this. True to my Cancerian nature, roaming around in the past is something I do regularly. Recently I had the opportunity to savour this fetish in a real way when I revisited the house I lived in from birth to twelve years of age when it came up for sale.

The experience was strangely consoling. The house is a three bedroom, red-brown brick American bungalow built in the 1920s. Curiosity drew me along with my mother and niece to have a peek when the property was open for inspection in September. Aesthetically, not a lot had changed except for the garden, which had been developed and maintained in a thoughtful way and included a well and picnic table. I noted that the front door with its stained glass of oversized red roses and green petals remained unchanged, more polished and fresher than I remembered. The wallpaper in the hallway had been replaced with a pattern similar to the one I’d known in the 1970s. The fact that these features remained unchanged or altered slightly to resemble what was there before gave me a strong feeling of de-ja-vu. I recall how straightforward and liberal life was then. As children, we drank wine diluted with lemonade at dinner, allowed to puff on our grandfather’s cigarette, encouraged to read books that grabbed our attention, and permitted to watch hours of television without ‘recommended parental guidance’. More importantly, we were let loose in the neighbourhood to run around, play cricket with other kids in the middle of the road, ride bikes or skateboards streets away, and let off steam in a healthy, physical way. There wasn’t much that was regulated in my childhood.

 

I don’t want to give away the entire address out of respect for the residents, but I do have to mention how significant the house number and street name are on a cosmic level - 40 Fourth Avenue. The prominence of the number four reveals a stable and traditional home, a stronghold well-shielded from the anguishes of the outside world. Occupants of number four dwellings tend to live there long term and are often entrenched in routine. My family lived there for fifteen years (1965 to 1980) before selling it to the couple who recently put it on the market (1980 to 2015). Our next-door neighbours also lived at 40 Fourth Avenue for a couple of decades prior to my parents purchasing the property, and before our neighbours owned the home, their own parents had lived there for some decades from the 1920s when the house was built! I find all this refreshing and comforting in our wobbly times where the status of ‘the home’ is demoted to nothing more than a box where workers go to be watered, fed and rested between long intervals of productivity at the office. It was gratifying to see the place lovingly refurbished to look, feel, and function like a ‘family home’, not an airbrushed real estate brochure. The current Black Plague of overdevelopment spoiling Sydney's suburbs means that houses like Fourth Avenue are an endangered species. Such properties are often targeted for demolition by developers to make way for depressing tower blocks of small cubicles marketed as 'luxury apartments'. On writing, Fourth Avenue would have sold for a ridiculous amount of money, probably to an overseas investor. I don’t know what is in store has for the property, but I hope the Gods are kind.

I am three years away from my number four pinnacle and turning the milestone age of fifty. It worries me when I think about this combination – a middle age where hard work and financial management are at the forefront of my life. How boring is that? I had hoped that by this stage I would be breaking off the shackles of conventional work. The visit to my old family home shifted my perspective. Having Saturn in the fourth house of my natal chart proved restrictive in my adolescence for many reasons, but I now witness the pearl forming inside the gritty shell.  The positive aspect of a fourth house Saturn is symbolised by 40 Fourth Avenue – stability, security, reliability of the people around you, and the certainty of knowing your place in that space. I can take these qualities with me into my number four pinnacle and believe that such a solid base is the perfect springboard for jumping into the activities I want to develop.

As a kid, I was madly creative. Bursting with ideas for plays, films, writing fiction, drawing, painting, and song writing, I knew who I was and what my talents were.  That knowing got lost on the way to adulthood, as it does with some of us. I believe my early development was a result of great schooling and a solid home base. It’s taken me many years to discover the gem hidden within the number four vibration and fourth house Saturn. I have 40 Fourth Avenue to thank for that.

Life according to Keefe

 

I am currently producing this year’s issue of Astrobabble, the first in a new cycle where I rehash the astrological signs and planets in my revered and unparalleled style (yeah, right). Anyway, I decided to revisit all things (some things) Sagittarius since I had covered the sign in one of the earlier issues about a million years ago (yeah, right) and felt it needed refreshing, given the current Saturn-Sagittarius cycle.

To get motivated, I began the year with the challenging goal of ploughing through Keith Richards’ autobiography Life - which is the size of a house brick - before my birthday in July. It was effortless. What an engaging tale! At over six hundred pages, this epic work captures the Sagittarian spirit of ‘the journey’ through the well-worn themes of rock n roll, illicit drug taking, and intrepid travel. What elevates this story above the usual rock star dross is Keefe’s unique and unfettered voice, and his profound insight. For the Centaur, the real sport of life is to make ‘the journey’ stimulating, varied, and as expansive as possible. The goal is insignificant. This has been the undisputed path for Keith Richards since the mid-1950s (when he discovered rock n roll), leading to the formation of the Rolling Stones with Mick Jagger in 1962. What followed was a smorgasbord of life experiences spanning decades that would leave more sober astrological signs breathless.

You could argue that it’s difficult to dislike Keefe the man, even if you’re not a fan of the Rolling Stones’ music. While Mick Jagger has the air of a manipulative prima donna, by contrast, Keith appears accessible and genial (Sun in Sagittarius / Moon and Jupiter on Midheaven / Moon sextile Venus). A stellium of planets in the tenth house (Chiron, Moon, and Jupiter) is indicative of popularity and success on a large scale. Shrugging off the clichéd junkie image is a challenge (Scorpio rising / Pluto as chart ruler semi-squaring Saturn in opposition to the Sun / Chiron square Sun), however, the public graciously forgives Keith for his shortcomings and recognises him as one of the ultimate rock star icons (Uranus square Moon on Midheaven / chart ruler Pluto conjunct node in Leo).

A strict Virgo Moon on the Midheaven reflects the need to perfect his craft (blues guitar) with discipline. The Virgo Moon individual finds it difficult to express feelings and can be out of touch with their emotional side altogether if the Moon isn’t supported by meaningful factors in the birth chart. One of the more surprising revelations in Life is Keith’s inherent shyness with women. He claims that when it comes to approaching the opposite sex, he holds back (Moon in Virgo square Mars in Gemini) and waits for the object of his desire to make the first move. An eighth house Saturn in opposition to his Sun indicates his insecurity in intimate situations and the fear of being swamped by feelings that his Virgo Moon works hard at controlling. As a young single guy, Keith struggled with pick-up lines and had a preoccupation with finding the right line or one that hadn’t been used before.

‘I just never had that thing with women … “hey, baby” is just not my come-on’

The life of the mind is important to Sagittarius and Virgo. Both signs travel on a mental level. Intellectuals of the zodiac, they devour books and absorb all forms of knowledge. Another unexpected admission is that Keith is an avid reader who takes pride in developing libraries inside his homes in West Sussex, England and Weston, Connecticut. It's alleged that he attempted to classify his collection using the Dewey Decimal classification system but found it too overwhelming. Moon in Virgo, indeed!

'When you are growing up, there are two institutional places that affect you most powerfully - the church (Sagittarius) ... and the public library (Virgo) ... the public library is a great equaliser'
On writing, Keefe at seventy-one shows no signs of slowing down. He says that he is still partial to beginning the day by smoking a joint. With the imminent release of his new solo album Crosseyed Heart next month, fellow Sagittarian Tom Waits has penned a interminable poem to celebrate the Rolling Stones guitarist’s legendary status. Part homage to Keith’s questionable physical attributes such as pissing blue urine and smelling like a campfire, the following lines are endearing:

Hands like a woodworker

Arms like a swabby

A back like a soldier

A mind like a detective

Shoulders like a boxer

A voice like a choirboy

And a country-western face

Keith Richards is testament to the Sagittarian adage that if you create your own luck, the road can go on forever. Read more in the new issue of Astrobabble, available at the Manly Zine Fair in September.

Saturn in Sagittarius and the Consequence of Progress

 

‘As far as your self-control goes, as far goes your freedom’ – Marie Ebner Eschenbach, writer

 

The contradictory forces of Idealism (Neptune) and Realism (Saturn) butt heads this year, thanks to Saturn’s entry into the constellation of Sagittarius on 23 December 2014, squaring Neptune in Pisces. Fortunately, the volatile Uranus-Pluto transit has moved into a separating phase, offering us Earthlings an opportunity to observe the interplay of Neptune’s nebulous idealism with Saturn’s blatant reality check.

Saturn’s once-in-thirty-year cycle in Sagittarius raises issues around freedom, growth, and humanity’s perpetual search for meaning. On the transit’s closure - 21 December 2017 - we will have endured a considerable test of faith, both personally and collectively. Saturn equals boundaries, discipline, responsibility, and mastery of skill. Sagittarius, on the other hand, represents expansion, belief systems, spirituality, and the call to adventure. Questions surface in regards to how we master our faith and freedom, and the way society currently manages growth fetish.

Saturn in Sagittarius argues that true freedom comes from discipline. With the square to Neptune in Pisces, the principles we currently live by need to be scrutinised in order to create valuable life experiences. Society needs to examine the ethics behind some (most) decisions made by the current political and corporate forces supporting uncapped economic growth. In the midst of overwhelming materialism, Neptune in Pisces asks benevolent questions: does success by society’s standards come from an honourable place? Is the human race functioning at a lower vibration and is concerned only with what it can get away with? And how long can we continue to function in this concentrated alpha state before we cannibalise? Saturn tells us that growth requires boundaries and responsibility if it is to continue and benefit the majority (as opposed to the ‘one percent’).

  

The last Saturn-Sagittarius transit - November 1985 to February 1988 – saw the Chernobyl nuclear power plant in Ukraine (then officially the Ukrainian SSR) destroyed by fire in April 1986, leading to long-term health, economic, and social difficulties for the region and parts of Western Europe and Britain. The Chernobyl disaster was a nuclear accident that released large quantities of radioactive particles into the atmosphere that diffused over western USSR and Europe. Classified as a level seven event (the maximum classification) on the International Nuclear Event Scale, it involved over five hundred thousand workers and cost an estimated eighteen billion rubles. The after-effects are expected to endure for at least a century. There was a substantial increase in human digestive, circulatory, nervous, respiratory and endocrine diseases and cancers in Belarus and Ukraine. The disaster became a key factor in the Soviet Union's eventual 1991 dissolution and a major influence in re-shaping Eastern Europe. Unsurprisingly, the cosmic lesson of tragedies like Chernobyl is that expansion beyond a responsible limit brings consequences.

 

It was around Saturn’s ingress into Sagittarius that I picked up a copy of issue six of New Philosopher magazine, the theme aptly titled The End of Growth. It opens with editor Zan Boag asking the rhetorical question of whether our unquestioning commitment to ‘progess’ is destroying all that sustains us. Boag makes the analogy that our society parallels the ancient Greek myth of Icarus flying into the sun. Soaring to great heights (Sagittarius) on wings made from wax, Icarus ignored his father’s (Saturn) warning of flying either too low or too high, and instead flew towards the sun where the blazing heat melted the wax on his wings causing him to plunge to his death. Likewise, we continue to soar in our quest for unlimited growth at any cost.

Saturn in Sagittarius exposes a broken economic model where perpetual growth results in the depletion of natural capital. It’s prudent to look to Pluto’s ingress in Aquarius (2023 - 2024) for clues on how to move forward sustainably. Transiting Pluto offers us the chance to let go of things that aren't working to rebirth and evolve. Pluto in Aquarius is symbolic of people power; the transference of power from an oligarchy to the masses begins at the ingress (the last Pluto-Aquarius transit in 1789 triggered the French Revolution). Possible experiences with transiting Pluto in Aquarius may include: robust reactions to duplicitous use of technology; a resurgence of egalitarian principles; people power gaining political clout; increasing unorthodox lifestyles as conventional forms of housing and employment become unobtainable; the mainstreaming of alternatives to money such as bit-coin and bartering; developing complex human relationships and an intolerance for superficiality; breakthroughs in psychology; progressing abstract thought through astrology, metaphysics and other higher forms of learning.

Bring it on.

It's Time: the Passing of Gough Whitlam

 

‘He was a man. Take him for all in all, I will not look upon his like again’ – Shakespeare (Hamlet)

‘Dying will happen sometime. As you know, I plan for the ages, not just for this life’ – Gough Whitlam, 11 July 1916 to 21 October 2014

The passing of Edward Gough Whitlam, on 21 October 2014 at the age of ninety-eight, has divided the nation into Gough enthusiasts and detractors while generating a tumult of emotions from both camps - an almost spooky re-enactment of the 1975 Dismissal. Whatever the triumphs or shortfalls of his government were, it’s difficult to dispute Whitlam’s role in our country’s development. Labor politician, Tanya Plibersek, stated that it was fitting that Whitlam was Australia’s twenty-first prime minister because it marked our nation’s coming of age. Under Whitlam, Australia changed the way it saw itself, helping to create an open, inclusive, and compassionate society.

In its three short years (1972 to 1975), the Labor government under Whitlam activated, with lightning speed, the policies that engineered social change, dragging Australia into the modern era. For those who remember a pre-Whitlam Australia will recall a dreary and insular period of the White Australia policy, protectionism, and social conservatism; a sleepy, cultural backwater wangled by the Menzies government in the 1950s. Australia bypassed the 1960s altogether. While hippies experienced free love and wore flowers in their hair in San Francisco and other parts of the world, Australia was comfortably slumbering in a social and cultural coma.

To give a clearer picture, 1960s Australia went something like this:

• left wing political movements were under routine surveillance
• James Joyce’s novel, Ulysses, was banned, as was Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
• there was no film industry to speak of
• the music scene was a joke
• talented Australians such as Germaine Greer, Clive James, Barry Humphries, Brett Whitley, and The Easybeats left the country to gain recognition elsewhere
• the contraceptive pill was only available to married women
• abortion was illegal
• single mothers, homosexuals, and lesbians were ostracised from mainstream society
• women and children abused in toxic nuclear families were invisible and lived lives of quiet desperation
• women in general were treated as second class citizens and were denied the social and financial opportunities gifted to men
• indigenous and new Australians (Italians, Greeks, and Lebanese) were low on the social and political rung (Aboriginal land rights were not recognised and indigenous people did not have the vote)

Need I go on?

By the early 1970s, social change was germinating. The Labor party's 1972 campaign’s catchphrase, It’s Time, adds up to 32/5, which signals a shift in consciousness. Whitlam was extolled as an Agent of Change (Uranus bi-quintile the Ascendant/Uranus quintile Jupiter on the Midheaven/Moon semi-square Pluto). A psychically loaded birthdate – 11 July – expresses Messiah-like qualities. Such was his persona that he was applauded for introducing reforms that were already in place (such as no-fault divorce and the removal of troops from Vietnam). A mythological figure with a penchant for cherishing ideals that weren’t always practical, Whitlam reached for a higher ground (first house Neptune square Jupiter on the Midheaven). An influential 26/8 life path denotes a visionary leader of Roman God proportions with the ability to direct the Australian Labor Party out of the wilderness of twenty-three years of conservative rule.

A Stellium of planets in Cancer (Sun, Mercury, Venus, Saturn, and Pluto) indicates a strong humanitarian streak. Whitlam was genuinely interested in and concerned about people. He cared deeply and intensely about his country, and had the ability to regenerate it (Scorpio Moon as chart ruler in the fourth house). A fourth house Scorpio Moon can dramatically end certain life phases, as illustrated by the dismissal of Whitlam’s government on 11 November 1975 (transiting Sun eclipsed his natal Moon). Altruism is expressed via the Jupiter conjunct Midheaven quintile Uranus aspect:

‘In spite of repeated disappointments, he never lost that faith in humanity. This, above all, made him such an attractive human being’ – Mungo MacCallum, political journalist

The Whitlam family’s own experience of living in the post war electorate of Werriwa highlighted the disadvantages in education, health, housing and infrastructure that were prevalent in Sydney’s western suburbs. Whitlam tried to correct the deficiencies that Australians in the new suburbs such as his were facing (even up to the 1970s, Sydney’s outer areas such as Blacktown and Penrith lacked sewerage systems, for example). For Whitlam, government was an instrument to improve life for all Australians. He took public service seriously (Sun conjunct Saturn sextile Jupiter on Midheaven).

As a politician, Whitlam was incorruptible (Jupiter conjunct Midheaven). He shaped public opinion and didn’t pander to focus groups or big business (Jupiter conjunct Midheaven quintile Uranus square Moon semi-square Pluto/Moon quintile North Node). Whitlam possessed an independent mind and a unique way of looking at the world. Quick witted and good with words, he had a wide variety of interests and an impressive body of general knowledge (Mercury sextile Jupiter/Mercury conjunct Pluto), qualities severely lacking in our current batch of political leaders. He also believed that education was the key to equal opportunity. A highly physical Taurus in Jupiter sits on the Midheaven. Liberal frontbencher, Malcolm Turnbull, states that what people remember most about Whitlam is ‘a bigness, a generosity, an enormous optimism’. Indeed, at 194 centremetres tall, he was an inescapable human tower of power and fortitude. Smugness is often associated with this aspect. Modesty was never Gough Whitlam’s strong point:

‘He was someone who, whether in a small room … or at a public event, everyone else seemed to fade to black and white, while this giant of a man – physically, intellectually – appeared in full colour and dominated wherever he was’ – Anthony Albanese, Labor politician.

To list and elaborate on the changes brought about by the Whitlam government would require a sizeable amount of blog space. I don’t need to regurgitate what is already (better) articulated across the internet and in modern history books. But I do want to mention Whitlam’s commitment to culture (Stellium in Cancer/Venus conjunct Pluto/Venus sextile Jupiter-Midheaven), because it’s one of those formative things that shaped me as a young person, especially the birth of one of his more exciting ventures, that of a youth radio station in 1975 - Double J (now Triple J). Idealistic young Australians in the late 1970s and 1980s enjoyed the opportunity to form bands and develop their craft free from exorbitant financial constraints. Punk rock, with its anti-establishment philosophy, gained momentum in the mid-1970s as both a musical genre and a lifestyle choice. This newly found DIY culture influenced kids from the suburbs to create some of Australia’s most innovative and experimental music. Double J was instrumental in giving this underground scene a voice. In retrospect, it’s difficult to believe that the following bands – some of them considered unlistenable – were given air time:

 

~ Severed Heads ~ Tactics ~ Boys Next Door ~ The Birthday Party ~ Radio Birdman ~ The Scientists ~ The Saints ~ SPK ~ The Riptides ~ Machinations ~ Laughing Clowns ~ The Triffids ~ The Go Betweens ~ David Virgin ~ Primitive Calculators ~ The Stems ~ Died Pretty ~ Sekret Sekret ~ Sardine ~ Do Re Mi ~ X ~ The Eastern Dark ~ Wet Taxis ~ The Celibate Rifles ~ The Sunnyboys ~ Cosmic Pyschos ~ The Hard-Ons ~ The Plunderers ~ Pel Mel ~ Mark of Cain ~ La Femme ~ The Riptides ~ Makers of the Dead Travel Fast ~ The Numbers ~ Toys Went Berserk ~ The Moodists ~ Box of Fish ~ Scared Cowboys ~ XL Capris ~ TISM ~ The Whitlams (of course) …

 

 

Love or hate him, it’s almost impossible to feel indifferent about Gough Whitlam. I’m not alone in my yearning for that era when politics was open, positive, and about governing citizens instead of managing the economy at the cost of civil liberties. The Whitlam government certainly had its flaws, but it always pushed the boundaries of stifling conservatism. Before fear and greed kicked in, vision was still considered an honourable quality in a leader. Gough envisioned that Australia could be a progressive, exciting, and benevolent society where equality of opportunity belonged to everyone. Oh, how far we have fallen. In the name of Edward Gough Whitlam, we need to maintain the rage.

Vale, Gough.