Pop Introspection

“What’s your moon?”

“My what?”

“Your moon sign? Don’t you have a natal chart?” 

When my date asked me this question, I wondered whether there was a page missing from my birth certificate that you are supposed to know by heart. I thought it was one of those things that was standard in the U.S. but not anywhere else. You know, like a love for peanut butter and circumcisions. 

This happened a few years back. Ever since, Astrology has become more prominent in daily conversation. A poll this year showed that 1 in 4 Americans believe in Astrology, and the number creeps up to 37% when looking at adults under 30. 

I don’t mind that people spend time and money figuring out their chart, or getting their tarot cards read. After all, we have an entire holiday built around a fat dude that delivers presents to billions of homes in hours, dressed in red, riding reindeers through the clouds (and that isn’t event the original point of the holiday!). If we teach children to believe this, we should also hold space for the mystical, methinks. There is so much we don’t know about the world. 

I’ve also read horoscopes as gospel and go down rabbit holes when Instagram shows me posts about Libras. I get it. We like Astrology because we believe it offers a window to our true selves. In the worst case they don’t don’t lead to spiritual awakenings or changed behavior, I don’t mind as long as no one is getting hurt. No harm no foul, right? 

There is a problem though.

Our obsession for Astrology is creating a sort of Pop Introspection: Mass produced, ambiguous enough to make everyone feel validated, spreading through social media like wildfire. It reminds me of Andy Warhol’s Pop Art, or most songs by your favorite pop artist. 

This Pop Introspection is hurting our ability to see people as they are. In an era of growing loneliness and eroding discourse, it draws us apart more than it brings us together. It’s become trendy to put ourselves, and others, into the boxes Astrology has created for us. If you are a Leo, you are self-centered. If you are Aries, you are stubborn. If you are a Gemini, you are more likely to be a serial killer. 

I’ve seen the rise of this type of language in how my friends refer to other people. They’ve said things like “he’s a water sign and I’m a fire sign, so we are not compatible.” Really? Because if we are talking about Avatar: The Last Airbender, you have a point. Beyond that, I’m not sure how you could conclude compatibility based on an immutable characteristic (their birthdate).

Pop Introspection also prevents us from seeing life events as they are. If Mercury is in retrograde we brace ourselves for the worst, inadvertently contradicting other esoteric concepts like The Law of Attraction. Things happen to us for a reason, and that reason is baked in celestial bodies millions of miles away. Jupiter has me on puppet strings, but I swear I’m not Pinnochio. 

*****

At its core, I believe the popularity of Astrology is centered on our desire for certainty. Our minds crave certainty. It’s why we hate ghosting (“Did I say something wrong?”), or why a last minute Friday afternoon meeting with your Director with no title or agenda can be terrifying. Under uncertainty, we default to the negative, or worse, catastrophizing.

We want to know ourselves better. We want to easily figure other people out—pick out the red flags faster. Eventually, this is not only exhausting, but it may close us off from the serendipity that makes life so interesting. It may also lead you to creating limiting beliefs based on who you think you are, growth mindset be damned. 

It doesn’t have to be this way. You can indulge in learning the meaning behind “The High Priestess,” or explore the supposed traits of all Air signs. But do not fall into the trap of thinking that you can “figure out” people based on these, that all your life events are preset, and that most of your personality can be explained by the time you were born. 

Also, do not fall into the trap that you can figure yourself out just through Astrology. There is no replacement or shortcut for true introspection. And that work happens by 1) asking ourselves the hard questions constantly—practicing radical self-inquiry—and by truly connecting with others. Introspection is not a single-player game.

May you use all these things to feel powerful, worthy of being seen, heard, and loved. But don’t use it as a barrier, a roadblock against serendipity and the magic that is here on earth everyday, yours for the taking. 

This was such a Libra essay to write.