Consciousness, Metaphysics, Science and the (Shhh) Possible Overlap

"There are certain pillars which have been established as the unshakeable supports of the Faith of God. The mightiest of these is learning and the use of the mind, the expansion of consciousness, and insight into the realities of the universe and the hidden mysteries of Almighty God. To promote knowledge is thus an inescapable duty imposed on every one of the friends of God."

Taken from: Selections from the Writings of`Abdu'l-Bahá (more can be found on this topic here).

It's interesting that in the perceived 'clash' between religion and science, we've heard far more reasoned, eloquent arguments regarding how the former should engage with and be regulated by the latter than truly convincing arguments to the contrary.

In our day and age, it is easy to disparage anything faith-based or esoteric, and yet we are, progressively, hearing about the 'grey' areas at the periphery of scientific investigation, which have brought up paradoxes surprisingly better explained by a more numinous or 'spiritual' or estoric approach than a materialist one.

Forefront in the geography of such grey and enigmatic areas is the realm of physics, chaos theory, quantum mechanics, cosmology.

A highly intriguing article along this vein appeared in The New York Times today under the headline: Big Brain Theory: Have Cosmologists Lost Theirs? by Dennis Overbye, in which the opening paragraphs run thus:

"It could be the weirdest and most embarrassing prediction in the history of cosmology, if not science.

"If true, it would mean that you yourself reading this article are more likely to be some momentary fluctuation in a field of matter and energy out in space than a person with a real past born through billions of years of evolution in an orderly star-spangled cosmos. Your memories and the world you think you see around you are illusions.

"This bizarre picture is the outcome of a recent series of calculations that take some of the bedrock theories and discoveries of modern cosmology to the limit. Nobody in the field believes that this is the way things really work, however. And so there in the last couple of years there has been a growing stream of debate and dueling papers, replete with references to such esoteric subjects as reincarnation, multiple universes and even the death of spacetime, as cosmologists try to square the predictions of their cherished theories with their convictions that we and the universe are real. The basic problem is that across the eons of time, the standard theories suggest, the universe can recur over and over again in an endless cycle of big bangs, but it’s hard for nature to make a whole universe. It’s much easier to make fragments of one, like planets, yourself maybe in a spacesuit or even — in the most absurd and troubling example — a naked brain floating in space. Nature tends to do what is easiest, from the standpoint of energy and probability. And so these fragments — in particular the brains — would appear far more frequently than real full-fledged universes, or than us. Or they might be us."

The rest of the article is a must for those, like myself, intrigued by how our material and esoteric understanding is, as I believe, inexorably heading to overlap.

And isn't it interesting that "the death of space-time" shows up in a mainstream newspaper when the New Age community has been abuzz with expectations of an end to 'linear time' and a multidimensional consciousness as we count down to December 21, 2012?

Når Vi Døde Vågner...

... better known in English as, When We Dead Awaken, is the last play written by the great Norwegian dramatist Henrik Ibsen.

I have yet to read it, but have been fascinated by the title ever since I first heard of the play, given my own consuming need to engage with death, transformation and meaning.

Just for fun, here are some quick facts about When We Dead Awaken.

• It was published in 1899 and first peformed in 1900 in Sttutgart.


• Some have attacked the play as being a mere 'echo' of Ibsen's earlier, superior works, due to the lack of realism of its characters and its exaggerated symbolism - something he had apparently rejected as an approach in his writing.


• It is also said to be Ibsen's most dream-like play, suffused with existential yearning, regret and, perhaps, transcendence - though the work apparently does not answer its seemingly most urgent question: how can we 'awaken' in this life, in which we are encouraged, in so many ways, to remain in a state akin to death?

Borrowing from Wikipedia's synopsis of the play:

"Arnold Rubek, a celebrated sculptor and his wife, Maia, find themselves tense and ill at ease while traveling. Maia finds herself drawn to Ulfheim, a brutal hunter who contrasts sharply with her cold, withdrawn husband. Rubek, for his part, encounters Irene, a beautiful woman from his past. Awakening memories, desires, and an acute existential crisis in Rubek, Irene leads him to a mountaintop. As they approach the summit, both are killed in an avalanche. From the valley below, we hear Maia singing exultantly."

So, you may ask, what am I getting at? Why is this play on my mind and why am I blogging about it this evening?

Put simply: I was thinking about Awakening with a capital 'A' and how, in a myriad of different forms - and from a truly diverse set of sources - there is more and more talk of it.

Indeed, whether we like it or not, humankind seems to be rapidly reaching some kind of turning point in its collective history.

And if we tune in to the slightly-less-mainstream news analyses and reportage of day-to-day events, gussied up by the usual number crunching and token quotes, we find that people are heralding a dramatic shift in how we are to experience each other, time, our planet, our understanding of the universe and even, for those open to it, God.

Time, itself, is apparently changing. I say 'changing' to cover the various claims that is speeding up or slowing down or due to stop altogether. Linear time, that is. Once it does - and depending on whom you read or listen to, it could be October 28, 2011 or December 21, 2012 - the world's 'time' counter restarts from 'zero' or we enter a multidimensional, 'timeless' state or both or neither.

And this comes about either through a cataclysm such as pole shift, or a catastrophic global economic recession (eg. when Peak Oil is reached or Global Warming speeds up to such an extent we have to discontinue unclean energy even before we have the necessary technologies in place to continue our way of life), which sets of WWIII (Armageddon) for resources, or wave upon wave of different energy vibrations (which affect us and, hence, the earth - which is an extension of our consciousness).

Or all of the above.

What most seem to agree on, though, despite disagreements on how the 'awakening' will manifest, is that a grand paradigm shift is on its way - a breakdown of the dualistic, left-brain perceptions of the world, and a rise of a feminine, diversity-embracing perspective and a new awareness of the staggering interconnectedness of life.

And it makes sense that religions such as Baha'i, which stress the dawn of a new unity, knitting together our diversity, are growing steadily.

Awakening.

I wonder how this will all shape up. Lately, nothing at all seems certain. Life seems very fragile, and things I took for granted regarding the future seem like dreams.

Perhaps this is all a dream we are dreaming collectively, and we're about to be (rudely?) awakened.

Will those now alive - my parents' generation, my generation, and all those younger and still being born - have to live through a global conflagration? A physical, economic and societal breakdown (and hopefully rebirth)?

And will our awakening - that we are all one and interconnected and interdependent - be born from an ultimate calamity, or arise in spite of it, or merely concurrent with it?

Or will we awaken and avert or ameliorate a calamity?

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

I have just finished reading a non-fiction book: The Psychology of Spirituality by Baha'i author and psychiatrist and lecturer H. B. Danesh (http://www.amazon.com/Psychology-Spirituality-H-B-Danesh/dp/1895456053/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1199044724&sr=8-1) that was a little dense, though interesting and well-written nonetheless.

One of the things he talked about a lot was how humankind was beginning to enter the age of maturity after going through a rebellious, individualist and self-centred stage. When I say interesting, I mean from the point of view that so many writers from different camps are, today, talking about a new paradigm shift that's very close to coming to pass.

The New Age community is abuzz with the energy and conciousness changes that are apparently affecting earth and humankind, and the potential for a new, enhanced, creative and loving existence for all beings. Scientists, environmentalists and economists are predicting a dramatic shift in world infrastructure - the breakdown of an unsustainable model of living the world over and a possible return to an earlier, agricultural society. And now, I stumble on this psychiatrist talking about our spiritual maturity to come.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." 1 Corinthians 13:11

If we are truly on the verge of new understanding, a new walk with God, with fellow human beings and with all of creation - as I believe more and more that we are - why am I so scared?

Well, I'm scared because the 'shift' can mean anything. Change is in the air, and I'm terrified. Will there be dire world poverty and woe as economies on a mass-scale collapse? Will there be wars over scant resources and pandemics and crippling waves of immigration?

These are certainly some of the scourges of climate change predicted by scientists today.

Will there be pole shift in 2012 and wipe most of us out?

And if any or all of this comes to pass, will that truly prompt a spiritual breakthrough?

I dream of a world where problems are dealt with in true cooperation. I dream of a world where everything is powered by clean, renewable energy; where natural spaces are protected and revered; where war is unheard of - as is any kind of violence; where children are always wanted and brought up in the midst of a loving, wise community in which young and old are both respected and represented.

I dream of a time where the planet will be blessed by the commonplace awareness on the part of all living beings of the interconnectedness of everything.

I dream of a world that is motivated and run by love. And yes, I know that, right now, such a place can only exist in my imagination. But that's what keeps me going to reach beyond my fear of the unknown, deprivation, pain, sorrow and death.

"Après moi, le déluge" or "After me, let the floods come" is a quote attributed to the French King Louis XV who preferred, in his reign, not to tackle the serious problems he saw affecting the monarchy, allowing them to proliferate and fall on the lap of his successor.

World government-wise, this is where we seem to be at right now - and how I wish the US elections were done with and that we didn't have a year to go.

But this is where we're at. Waiting. And on almost the eve of the New Year, I know that change and the unknown are very, very ordinary, common things. Change is the one constant and the best way to embrace it is with hope, faith and love.

I guess the Christian take on things filters through whenever I least expect it...

The Danesh book was lent to me by my former teacher; I returned it today to him on the occasion of a gathering he and his wife were holding at their village home to mark the Baha'i feast day of Sharaf.

After a tasty lunch, we set off for a walk in the countryside along a path that followed the river. Along the way, we were each asked to reflect on a quote from the Baha'i writings. Mine was as follows:

"The gift of God to this enlightened age is the knowledge of the oneness of mankind and of the fundamental oneness of religion. Wars shall cease between nations, and by the will of God the Most Great Peace shall come; the world will be seen as a new world, and all men will live as brothers."

As we continued on our way, we came to a place where there were dignified olive trees, laden with fruit. And I gazed at their beauty, and the heavy, ripe olives, ready to be picked and pressed to oil, and the richness of the mud and water and stones and rocks around me. And I marvelled at how the natural world somehow manages to keep its purity, despite the indiscriminate garbage dumping and pollution that abounds. I guess some places are still sacred.

This is all rather strange and new in terms of outlook. I never used to be such a green freak before. I was always respectful of nature, but didn't think about it as intensely as I do now. I guess the thought that it might be ruined beyond all measure - and to wake up to how much we are dependent on the natural world to sustain us - has changed my view on things entirely.

Actually, my life has never before been so focused on survival, death and resurrection as it is now. The death of a beloved biology teacher when I was in my early twenties took years to get over, but the drastic life-or-death scenario that I believe the world is confronting today is something altogether different.

But then, I'm also older. My parents are older. My life has no particular shape or direction and, for the first time, I realise I have no real claim on the future - only an expectation.

For so many, that is a fact of life they live each day.

How many in Bangladesh or Indonesia or Africa or Pakistan or Afghanistan or Iraq or Kurdistan or Gaza really feel like they have a future?

Their best hope is for tomorrow. Not ten or twenty years. Just tomorrow. Or, perhaps, just getting to the end of the day.

I have never lived that way, and have no idea whether I could. I suppose if I had no other choice...

Sometimes I wish I could switch off my brain. Mercury in Aquarius, Virgo-rising, Moon within five degrees of the Sixth house and Cancer Saturn squaring Pluto and Venus do little to curb my ability to dream up horrors.

Tomorrow is the last day of 2007.

May the new year bring us understanding, peace, goodwill, wisdom, compassion and cooperation. Our future depends on it as never before.

Of Myths and Babies

As a child, when the advent of video tape and watching films in the comfort of one's own home was still relatively new, I remember being fascinated by the fairytale world of George Cukor's The Blue Bird (1976) starring Elizabeth Taylor and Jane Fonda. It was a sort of a fantasy precursor to Jim Henson's wildly popular cult hit Labyrinth (1986) starring David Bowie and a young Jennifer Connelly.

In both movies, young people must travel through magical, often dangerous kingdoms where none of the ordinary rules of life they have learned, apply. Time bends, places shift, ultimate fears are confronted and, at the end of the quest, the treasure 'found' is home, family and our deepest identity.

The plot structure of each is, in other words, a good example of the Hero's Journey - or Myth - that is such a well-learned template for budding screenwriters.

Not a bad astrological analogy that: we journey through the Twelve Houses throughout our lives, but life symbolically begins (and ends) in the Fourth House of roots, identity, home, family and clan.

In Hollywood screenwriting guru John Truby's breakdown of the myth genre, the 'opponents' that the hero or protagonist encounters are often made up of cameo characters - people met along the way who do not necessarily make a reappearance, with or without an ultimate antagonist.

Such a model is, thus, particularly resonant because it has such a powerful correlation with everyone's everyday, real life. It is no wonder that lead characters we are supposed to identify with in films are called the tale's 'heroes'. We are all heroes, living out the journey to home - to our true self, to our destiny. In the myth template, once you've gone through death and been resurrected, you get to return home with an 'elixir' or some special knowledge - and often you recognise 'home' was with you or within you, wherever you went.

Most of us know what such 'deaths' and resurrections mean. In astro-speak they're known as Pluto transits.

Two more movies that followed this myth structure to cinematic (and Box Office) gold are The Wizard of Oz (1939), directed by Victor Fleming and starring Judy Garland and The Neverending Story (1984), directed by Wolfgang Petersen, starring Noah Hathaway.

Personally, myths have always resonated very powerfully with me. When I was a child, I devoured any book on mythology I could get my hands on. The worlds of gods, monsters, dragons, demons, spirits, wise men and women and heroes of every colour were so real - and the liminal, numinous world was even real-er.

And it was so creative.

But I began this post talking about The Blue Bird, mostly because I've been thinking of young people a lot lately. Specifically toddlers and babies. Everyone around me seems to be having kids, and I find myself wondering what it would be like to have little ones to care for, guide and love of my own.

I'm not romanticising parenthood, but I think in our present age we have demonised the thought of having children - as if it were a fate worse than death. The end of one's individuality, time, leisure and freedom to pursue more ambitious, career-oriented ends.

We've also demonised children. They're meant to be out of control, disrespectful, attention-deficient, materially-obsessed, prone to every manner of distraction, temptation and addiction, and even, at times, down-right criminal.

Let me be honest: I have, in the past, entertained such thoughts myself.

But life has brought me to the point where I feel that, in a world described by every media outlet and information source as sick, dysfunctional, depraved and lost, how could we not look to children as a source of love and hope for a better future?

More to the point: who better than children to motivate us to join together across barriers of wealth, culture, religion and geography to unite to heal the Earth, end wars, curb out-of-control economic growth and live in harmony with nature and each other?

I should say, here, that, despite my intense sensitivity to the despair experienced by the human collective, I know in my heart of hearts that the world is not lost. It is still beautiful, and we can all help to heal it.

Children are not born the monsters we seem to have made them. They may come with different health problems, sure, but their characters - as full of their own individual promise as they are - are shaped, nurtured and supported by us who are parents. So, if we don't like what we see, we bear a lot of the responsibility.

Which isn't to say I can speak from experience yet. But I love the idea of one day being a 'loving gardener' to the fresh new 'garden' that is a child. That's not my original thought by the way - it's taken from a course in "Positive Parenting", now in its fourth year of being led in Cyprus by, among others, my former teacher who is a Baha'i.

The course formerly kicks off on January 16th, and I have every intention of attending.

Parenthood is such a great - and joyous! - responsibility that I want to make every effort to know how to do it right. And in my opinion, there's noone better than my ex-teacher to learn from in the area of raising children - he and his wife have raised six of their own.

Goodbye to All That, or 2012 and the End of Time

I may as well confess that one of the reasons I've made a commitment to keep writing this blog is a profound fear of death.

I'm not quite as unhinged as when Tennyson undertook the mammoth 17-year task of writing In Memoriam A. H. H to come to grips with the passing of a very dear friend of his - and to keep from going mad from grief - but the sheer, animal fear on the bad days, and the duller-but-still-persistent existential malaise at the thought of annihilation, has fallen like a shockingly effective sound blanket - heh, couldn't resist the filmmaker allusion - on the buzz and hum that was my former drive for living.

It's rather hard to live well and to feel strong enough to tap whatever wit, passion or courage for adventure and growth one has if one is busy struggling, every day, with the idea that time is running out.

And it seems to be running out very quickly. And I go back and forth on this doom-laden stance, sometimes retreating to a more hopeful position, other times swinging back to preparing for the end.

But how did all this begin? Well, some months ago, I had finally signed up for a correspondence course on Astrology. The problem is, the course is offered by a mystery school whose founder and supporters are, as I write this, preparing for a cataclysmic disaster the like of which will render 90 percent of life on the planet dead. To wit: they're preparing for pole shift - as in the shifting of the earth's axis, not to be confused with a shift of the planet's magnetic poles - and are warning those who visit the site and are open to the thought of the end of life as we know it, to resettle in latitudes greater than 65 degrees North.

Effectively, that means within the present Arctic circle.

As I have understood it, this planetary event is meant to occur on December 21, 2012, at the end of the Mayan long count or 'calendar', after which 'life' will continue, but only those evolved enough to survive the energy shift - which is apparently the true cause of the pole shift - and who, presumably, have relocated to the Arctic circle in time - will be around to experience it. The rest of sentient life will physically perish and be reincarnated into other worlds of a lower energy vibration - suited to their level of spiritual evolution.

In this scenario, what I fear most is dying of fear or somehow surviving to find people closest to me dead and a new stone age beginning.

Now, there are other sites in the New Age blogosphere that argue the labours of 'lightworkers' of every kind from around the world has 'ameliorated' the prophesied changes to the lesser (though still deadly to many) natural disasters we are currently dealing with, and that the earth's changes are a mirror of the true transition - the heightening in spiritual consciousness - that all of life - including humankind - is experiencing.

Some also argue that the material world is not what we think it is, but a common dream/illusion we are choosing to participate in.

Still others believe we are living in the 'end times' apparently foretold in the sacred writings of several religions and faith traditions, not least those of indigenous peoples, the Bible, and those who claim to be in touch with the earth's spiritual masters - the mysterious Heirarchy.

This camp believes that, on December 21, 2012, those who are evolved enough to endure living in the fifth dimension - or, at any rate, on some sort of multidimensional plane where linear time no longer exists - will be taken up to other levels of existence, some versions have the process aided by far more evolved aliens in spacecraft (the New Age version of the Biblical 'rapture') - while the rest of humanity will undergo the dreaded Tribulation mentioned in the Bible's Book of Revelations - which apparently entails physical phenomena such as land masses disappearing (eg. much of Southern California and New York) extreme volcanicity, earthquakes and ultra-powerful winds. Meanwhile, the moon will disappear temporarily and all will be pitch darkness.

After the end of these terrors - which in some versions last about a week, but the timing is sketchy - those fortunate few who 'ascended' before the calamity will be returned to rebuild the earth and usher in a new golden age.

Now, ordinarily, a sceptic like myself would have rejoiced at the mention of aliens - not because I don't believe there aren't other inhabited worlds out there - but because my mind just sort of shuts down at such a quasi-comical, Sci-Fi B-movie-plot-sounding scenario.

I might also have taken heart from all the New Age blogs writing about the apparent new generations of spiritually-evolved and highly-gifted kids (the Indigo, Crystal and Rainbow children) being born to assist this incredibly powerful transition to a new Earth and new spiritual plane.

And then there's the fact that several discount the idea of the Mayan long count being an actual numerical calendar - arguing that it was meant to be symbolic, and not actually chronologically linear, not to mention that many such folks also believe the 'true' Mayan count comes to an end on October 28, 2011.

However.

Somehow, deep, deep within, I fear our collective annihilation just the same. It could be just that I am supremely sensitive to suppressed Collective fears (actually, I am - no doubt about it) and that we're all experiencing the despair borne of the enormously impulsive, savage, fundamentalist and commercially greedy era of Pluto (bringer of death and transformation) in the sign of Sagittarius (the Higher Mind, religion, Truth with a capital 'T', philosophy, higher learning, restless travelling and reckless optimism).

It could be all of the above and the fact that I have desperate-for-security Saturn in Cancer, which has also recently been rattled by the transit of Mars in Cancer (currently retrograde and heading back into Gemini) opposing Pluto at the end of Sadge and about to enter Capricorn towards the end of January 2008 AND the fact that my growing interest in Baha'i has led me to learn of Abdu'l-Baha's prediction of a calamity such as "to make the limbs of men quake" that must be endured before a new age of unity and peace can begin.

At any rate, even if we're not going to be wiped out by pole shift in 2012, as of now, we're sure as hell plunged up to the neck in crisis with the mounting danger of climate change and the potential collapse of civilisation as we know it, given the increasing demand on shrinking resources. Can we all work together to stop the grim countdown that the eco-crisis seems to portend?

I don't know.

What I do know is that I have to find a way of breaking through the sheer paralysis from fear when I contemplate famines, droughts, heightened earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, floods, hurricanes, savage wars over life-sustaining territory and a million different ways to die - or survive on a planet that could prove hostile in ways unimaginable to someone born and raised in the privileges of the Developed World.

At any rate, if this really is a countdown to some catastrophe from which few shall escape with their lives, I pray I may be used to help and heal people and be as creative as I can. I had great hopes for my life, but of late I have had to entertain, more and more, the idea that I am truly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. 'I' have, more and more, ceased to exist. At least the old me, that used to want fame and a successful film career and professional respect.

How can I be important when innocent babies are born to the torment of life in a Darfuri refugee camp or the open air concentration camp that is beseiged Gaza or the ravaged, war-torn Iraq or Afghanistan or a million other places where people live in poverty, anguish, hunger, suffering and despair.

I should rejoice in the knowledge, then, that I am truly insignificant. And yet, there is a part of me that wants to live. To live expressing my highest, most wise, most compassionate, most creative self, for however long or brief that might be. May I choose wisely as time thunders to 2012, and may I be receptive to being used by God in service to others, however it best pleases the Universe.

Funnily enough, having mulled over these thoughts as I took my walk today, Christmas day in the West, once at home, I stumbled on a poem I apparently wrote October 22, 1999, and had completely forgotten about. It's rather rough - a sonnet of all things (Petrarchan for those who care, though it slips up in the sestet to rhyme cdcdcc for some reason...) that I must have intended to return to and refine, but put out of my mind instead. A strange synchronicity, given that it reads:

Stopped Time

There are those words that are far better stored
within the heart than uttered by the tongue.
And if such occult hymns are muted sung
impatient ears must hearken to the bawd,
whose music both offends and pleases, poured
brazen from more wanton lips. For naught, young-
er and less experienced notes softly hang
in unrequited hush, to be ignored.

I may grow lean, grey-pallored, dull of eye,
abbreviate my steps, speak slower yet,
but age, which brings me greater wit, will play
not winter on these pipes. Still green, bereft
of voice, I wither on and on, to be
love’s stoppered vial, in dumb eternity.

If, beyond 2012, I am alive, I will have been reborn, indeed. Become 'immortal' one might say, since, as far I can make out, you can only die once in any given incarnation! Either way, it will be a very interesting countdown to my 37th year - particularly as Pluto inches towards my natal Moon in Capricorn.

A profound death and resurrection awaits.

Capricorn as Teacher

It really was a Capricornian sort of day, even though I had completely forgotten we'd run out of Sadge.

I had few expectations when I got up, other than a vague plan to get some exercise. Since my last job ended mid-November (note how my anxious, self-worth-associated-with-labour Virgo Ascendant and Cap moon specify how recently I became unemployed) I've had a lot of time to think and, frankly, it's been rather bad for my mental health.

Consequently, my usual penchant to be physically active whenever possible has been rather non-existent. You'd have thought the promise of endorphins would have made me keen to hop on the family's walking machine, but part of my battle with anxiety has been connected with the climate crisis, possible looming catastrophe and how much electricity we consume. So, I've been loath to use anything that has to be plugged into a power outlet.

But today, exercise was definitely on the schedule. It was the only thing on the schedule - other than blogging - so, by God, it was going to happen.

A perfect Capricorn day for it, it was, too. Cold and dry weather, the house freezing and a sort of reserved, unemotional series of exchanges among the fam. Also, a surprisingly more measured conversation between my younger brother (home for the holidays from London) and myself than we've had in years. Even the date seemed appropriate, 22 is a powerful irreduceable number - the master builder - and most fitting with the Saturn-ruled sign's energy.

I excused myself after lunch to head off on a "short walk". My plan was mostly to head to a nearby gym that I'd spotted, to see if it had membership rates I was prepared to pay and what the equipment looked like. Of course it was closed - though the nearby bike shop was open, so I enjoyed looking at the wares and scoping out possible cycles to buy.

Again, my environmental anxiety has meant driving anywhere in our public-transport-almost-non-existent city is accompanied by deep concern at the amount of exhaust fumes I help pour into the atmosphere when I'm behind the wheel - even though I do love driving. Hence, thoughts of bike purchases. Also, it would be nice to cycle again as a way of keeping fit - though doing so in Nicosia is pretty much taking your life into your hands, given that most drivers consider cyclists an irritating inconvenience and there are no bikepaths to speak of.

No impulse-buyer I, my stringent Capricorn moon left the shop with information on price ranges, models, and useful accessories like helmets and locks. I'll be back, hopefully - once I've weighed up the benefits of owning a bike over the inconvenience of not having a great space to keep it in our building - and the 200 CYP I'd need to fork out for it when I'm not earning.

Then the walk began in earnest, and boy, with the exhaust fumes from the vehicles roaring past me and the patchy pavements that were often taken over by parked cars, it wasn't easy. Most of the time I felt queasy from the CO I was inhaling.

Still, I did pass by some unexpected little undeveloped plots of land with olive trees rising out of the clover. And I stopped to give thanks for nature's resilience. Even in our blindness and greed in expending earth's resources without giving it a second thought, plants and animals around us somehow survive. Not all do, of course. Many die - and too many become tragically extinct.

But if we open our eyes just a little along our familiar haunts, the natural world that is the realm of earthy Capricorn is hardier than we believe. And that filled me with gratitude, today.

I thanked the olive trees for gracing my path and picked up some of the garbage that was lying about.

Eventually, I ended up at an English-language bookstore (one of the few in Nicosia, in the predominantly Greek-speaking Republic of Cyprus) and headed for the New Age section. A rare treat - usually I can't get there during the store's normal hours of operation. But this being the countdown to Christmas, it was open far longer than usual.

In a bookstore, it doesn't take long for me to experience 'flow'. This particular afternoon, I became eventually engrossed in Kyriacos C. Markides' The Magus of Strovolos: The Extraordinary World of a Spiritual Healer (check it out here: http://www.amazon.com/Magus-Strovolos-Extraordinary-Spiritual-Healer/dp/0140190341/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1198356005&sr=1-1 ), recounting the wisdom and extraordinary life of the mystic and healer Spyros Sathi - the eponymous 'magus'.

Given his earthy humour, as well as his seeming mastery over matter, Capricorn seemed a good fit as the dominant sign in Sathi's birthchart, though I doubt I'll ever know for sure. Meanwhile, my own ache to understand universal and spiritual principles had me eagerly devouring chapters, seated in the middle of aisle traffic quite happily, with the vague hope that I wasn't proving to be too much of an inconvenience registering somewhere at the back of my head.

Eventually, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up to see my old teacher from secondary school amusedly peering down at me. Interestingly enough, he actually is a Capricorn and one of the most spiritual people I know. I have been learning from him since I was 12 years old, and since I moved back to Cyprus last year, I have spent much time with him - most recently in a Baha'i study group that he leads.

He had actually met the Magus, before the latter's death in the '90s, but had not been drawn to the metaphysical teaching Sathi offered beyond a certain point. My teacher, as a Baha'i, has always seemed more suited to the devotional path than the occult. Whereas I am torn between the two, trying to boost my knowledge/experience of both these days.

My teacher was picking out Christmas presents for his children and grandchildren - mostly books, since he has dedicated his life to education. As a child I had thought him the perfect parent, but realised as he delicately considered what reading material he should buy for his eldest child, that the very virtues that had always led me to admire him might have been a little rigorous or difficult to live up to - or live with - for some of his kids.

That's Capricorn for you. So often, in defiance of the bad Astro press they receive, Caps are surprisingly sensitive and savvy about others' feelings, despite the drive to find practical application to anything abstract, the reservation, the distrust of the emotional. There's far more subtlety to the Seagoat than we often are led to believe. The strict, exacting parent whose approval can be so hard to win transforms into the wise, playful teacher - or even spiritual master - if time and our own maturity allow us to change our perception.

Not that I even need to mention it, but Liz Greene says it all far, far better in her classic text, Saturn: A New Look at an Old Devil ( http://www.amazon.com/Saturn-New-Look-Old-Devil/dp/0877283060/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1198360126&sr=8-1 )