So you’re a Libran, let’s say. (Hey, me too. Go equinox babies!) How come you’re not like all the other Librans on the planet? Sure, you’ve got all those other planets and the Moon and the ascendant coloring the picture, that’s true. But there’s an even deeper layer we need to study first, before we pile all your birth planets on top.

That deeper layer is temperament, the essential stuff you’re made of, the horizon note to every other melody and harmony you lay on top of it. As I’m learning in the natal astrology course I’m taking, there are four of these. And, how conveeeeeenient, I’m finding it easier to remember the four temperaments by thinking of… the Fantastic Four! (Yes, the comic book heroes.)

Choleric: this is the soldier or warrior type. All about action. Shoot first and ask questions later. Start building the bookshelf without reading the directions. My way or the highway. Fantastic Four mnemonic: Johnny Storm, the Human Torch.

Sanguine: the scholar or scribe type. The record-keeper, the analyst. Approaches everything from a purely mental standpoint. (As my teacher points out, that doesn’t necessarily mean the mind is sound; only that the mind is their primary tool for interacting with the world.) Can dissect your position six ways to Sunday. Fantastic Four mnemonic: Mr. Fantastic, Reed Richards, the scientific genius of the quartet.

Melancholic: the farmer or contemplative type. Hangs on with both hands to what it’s got. The strong, silent type. Tradition! Finders, keepers. Fantastic Four mnemonic: Ben Grimm, The Thing, a big stony guy with superhuman strength and endurance.

Phlegmatic: the slave, ruled by desires. Goes with the flow. Like water, conforms to the shape of the vessel its in; wears down its path by pure habit and persistence. Sure, I could exert myself… if I have to… I guess. Fantastic Four mnemonic: Sue Storm, The Invisible Woman, who blends effortlessly into the background.

Which temperament is at the root of your personality? That’s another blog post. The method I’m learning involves studying factors such as Ascendant and its ruler, Moon phase, Sun season, and Lord of the Geniture. It is a bit like fiddling with the dials on a shortwave radio to get the clearest signal you can; and some charts signal more strongly than others. But in this old-school astrology, you would no more start talking about the person’s chart without considering their temperament than you would call them on the phone without knowing what language they speak.

Some horary questions you receive, you read, and you just know they won’t come with happy answers. In my in-box yesterday, I found a complex situation from a woman hoping her love will be requited one day. I’m working on the answer to her – but first I baked some sugar cookies, made a long-overdue doctor’s appointment, and called four gutter cleaning services to request estimates. (Amazing what I can get done when I’m avoiding doing something else.)

Somewhere in either The Real Astrology or The Horary Textbook, John Frawley says something to the effect that horary astrology is about the universe dumping an icy bucket of water over your hopes and dreams. Not that that’s its entire point, of course. The entire point is more about connecting us with the wonder of this marvelously intricate and endlessly beautiful cosmic system. But in its day-to-day expression, and to a client who just needs an answer so she can either sleep better or kick the bum out or both, horary astrology’s knack for showing the truth and nothing but the truth can seriously disappoint the querent hoping the universe might somehow shift in her favor and bring her prince to his knees before her. It can be harder to admire the glory of the cosmos through that icy waterfall of reality.

So I’m working on that answer, but I’m trying to see it her way. I’m second-guessing my plain words and wondering if I should tone them down, leave more room for hope. Do I break it to her gently? Do I simply “answer the question and then stop”? I’ll go back to it soon.

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Meanwhile, an interesting quotation from The Discarded Image by C.S. Lewis, in which he is discussing astronomy as explained by a 4th century writer/translator called Chalcidius:

[Chalcidius] also holds that ‘the diverse and multiple motion of the planets is the real source (auctoritatem dedit) of all the effects that now come to pass.’ All that is suffered (cunctae passiones) in this mutable world below the Moon has its origin from them. But he is careful to add that such influence upon us is not in any sense the purpose for which they exist. It is a mere by-product. They run the course appropriate to their beatitude, and our contingent affairs imitate that felicity in such halting fashion as they can.