Why should the “queer art of failure” be applied to astrology?
Well, before I jump into that ambitious question, I should start by saying failure itself is remarkably queer.
Before I can dive into the “definition” of failure, I have to dive into the “definition” of queer. I am using the quotations because I really don’t believe queerness, or failure for that matter, can be defined. I do, however, think they can be described. It’s here—in the whirling weather of description—that we can find something rather extraordinary about these two vibrant, humming words. So, without further ado, let’s dive into the shape of queerness and failure.
Queerness, according to the divine Preciado, is not so much an identity as much as it is a movement, which is to say, ever on-going. It’s a marching, thriving, stomping, grieving, rejoicing, gathering that centers “gender and sexuality dissidents” who have their heads and hearts set on survival. They courageously “resist the norms imposed by the dominant heterosexual society” while staying vigilant against the “process of normalization and exclusion internal to gay culture”. By employing critique, curating rejection, and participating in negation, “queers” not only march, they create alternatives to the homo-hetero status quo.
Now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t inspired by this, these ideas. It’s rather compelling don’t you think? The idea of using negativity and critique to craft and create alternatives. Like Halberstam, I think queer folks have been doing this and doing it well. It would seem they’ve learned to walk down failure’s “unconventional paths” in order to rely on “failure as a way of life”. It’s how they—we—learn to survive and survive and survive. Like children, we “resist mastery” by playing make believe, “privilege the nonsensical” by playing the villain, and “suspect memorialization” by choosing to forget. This, in a nutshell, is how I approach my astrological practice.
So, what happens to the astrology if we apply these ideas to it?
Nothing.
We, however, start using astrology queerly.
This is the kind of astrology I’m interested in.
It’s so unbelievably enchanting to me. Like a metaphor, it scoops us up, holds us close, takes us here, plops us there, and unpacks the heartbeat of being human. I’m sure you can see why it’s unbelievably challenging too. I think, this kind of marriage, asks us to sit with ourselves and be mindful of stop-and-go motion. Wherever we are, this kind of sky-watching encourages us to rise and rest and fall into our own becoming and unbecoming. That’s not always pleasant but it is restorative. Here, the sky beckons us to take a drink and do something. It seems to encourage us to take our “do” and put it into the gerund: doing, trying, failing, resisting, creating, and maybe even surviving. I do not and cannot practice this alone. In fact, I’d like to practice this with you.
How to Fail Considerably Well While Practicing Astrology Together:
Swap the idea of mastery for collaboration.
I believe the idea of mastery ensures we stay indebted to lofty, superior minds. I take umbrage with that because it implies we must be inferior and to some extent inadequate. I’m curious what would happen if we swapped out mastery for collaboration. I think it would turn a ¨reading¨ into a meaningful exchange. I’m convinced we’d drink in the grit and gleam of our experience thereby partaking in mutual, collaborative learning.
3. Muffle the thunderous trumpets of history.
I tend to enjoy music thoroughly. If I don’t, there’s usually a decent reason accompanying my convictions. In that vein, I’d like to say this. I don’t particularly enjoy the trumpeting blows of history. I find the classy brass is far too loud. Its presence maintains an uproar. Its phrasing leaves some erased and lambasted. I think that’s the point. Their intent is to overpower the undertones of the marginalized. I propose we muffle the trumpets and bring those undertones right on out.
2. Play around with ignorance, unknowing and whimsy.
I find myself caught up—and caged in— by stricture, structure, form, and order. I’ve learned that if I stay trapped there too long I become over reliant on it. I disconnect from my sense of wonder, curiosity. It’s tragic until I remember how to break out of it. Simply put, I reach down deep and play. I mess around with ignorance, toy around with whimsy, wielding forgetfulness like a play thing. Then, all of a sudden, I come across astounding ways of being, imaginative ways of knowing.
4. World build with utopia in mind.
I think we should collaborate. I have experience with astrology, you have experience with life. I think we should bring them together in order to learn. We could implore a bit of play and whimsy when we do. I believe that would encourage us to find new ways of engaging with that experience. It may not be easy or glamorous, but it would be yours undeniably. I hope we can uncover buried undertones, dust them off, and let them resound as rich overtones. I imagine the music we uncover will be something worth embodying.