Holy Moly, Ms. Marvel!

I'm away on a secret mission! See you soonish.

Back soon!

We've been working
on two new scripts.

The Shape of Our Souls

I recently received another thoughtful missive from my internet buddy, Trust the Process, and the topic reminded me of the poem below that I wrote 20+ years ago. I'm including them both:


Toni, I do not know if what someone does really tells you about who they are, unless it's true that some folks' personalities do match their job description. There are 10 or 20 questions people ask, as if interviewing you, to decide something about you in their minds. I'm not sure what or why.

You have never asked me about work. Never asked what I do, where I live, what kind of car I drive. You've never asked me anything that would result in a one or two word answer, thereby shutting down conversation. You do not decide whether or not a person has merit based on bank account, job title or their neighborhood's zip code. I have found that the people I enjoy most never talk about these subjects. Of course, it sometimes comes out naturally in conversation but it is not a deciding factor.

Some people never talk about their thoughts or dreams or belief in things that speak of who they really are, yet, they talk a lot. A whole lot. I find that when you remove external trappings, the zip codes, the cars, the titles, people let you in. And, it is usually not a bad place to be.


THE SHAPE OF MY SOUL
by Toni Siegel

Once upon a time, I had a six pack
You could bounce quarters off...
Though I forget now why I ever wanted to.
I measured everyone by how they looked
By what they drove.
By how they dressed.
But not by what they thought
Or where they were heading.
Or how they behaved.

Over the years I changed and grew...
Emotionally, physically and spiritually.
And now I am one of the people
I used to judge.
And you know what?
With my soul wearing rose-colored glasses,
I see things in a very different way.
I discovered that clothes may fake the image
But they don’t make the hu-man.

Before I was desired...
Now I am respected.
I was constantly being watched...
Now I am listened to.
My physical “perfection” was always being weighed and measured...
Now the wisdom of my words is weighed and measured.
I used to think that others liked me
Depending on what I thought about them.
Now I know it’s how I think about me.

I once believed that I and everyone I knew
Were victims of circumstance
Prey to every ill wind that blew.
Now I realize that the only ill-winds that blow
Are the negative thoughts I allow into my life.
I once believed that if you want something you have to take it...
Now I know that if I give it away it will come back to me.
I used to think I was alone in my beliefs...
But now I know there are many others out there.

Sometimes I wonder about
All those people who still think
That image is the only thing that matters.
What happens when they begin to lose their looks...
Not reaching the realizations that I have.
What will be left in its place when physical “perfection” is gone?

Now that I have found my balance point
I may appear physically flawed...
But you should see the shape of my soul!

Invasion of the Multi-Slackers Part 1

Forget the invasion from space, our spaces are being invaded every day and we don't even notice!

That's right... THEY are all around us, with their music/noise, their lackadaisical attitudes, and their weird language. If you're a Boomer or even a Young'un, you may have guessed who I'm talking about. It's the Younglings. That strange in-between group of multi-slackers that feed off their families and offer little to society but scorn and spending dollars. Oddly enough, this is also the prime demographic to which most movies, television shows and advertisements are geared.

But to be fair, most of these Younglings have only known life as viewed through the lenses of Pluto in Sagittarius. They don't realize that kids don't really "rule" like the Kool-Aid pitcher insists in his frighteningly youth-oriented commercials. Many of these priveleged children know only how to float through an endless sea of indulgent excess, relying on daddy's money and mommy's long-suffering nature to slide them through life, instead of absorbing on-the-fly wisdom through overcoming personal challenges.

(We interrupt this tirade for a side comment. A new friend/client sent an email after reading this entry that she was concerned it might appear as if I'm being negative about kids instead of positive regarding the coming transformations. Well, I had to think about it long and hard; she's a clever woman with a sensitive soul, and I can be a bit... abrasive at times.

And then I realized I'm just the messenger, the herald, the Klaxon horn of change, if you will. Remember the scene in the movie Network, where everyone all over the city throws open their windows and screams, "I'm fed up and I'm not going to stand for it anymore!" Well, I'm merely the New Age equivalent of that newscaster who was the first to flip out, throw open his window, and bray it to the moon.

So... that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Truly, it's not so much that I'm being negative as reporting on a temporarily negative phenomenon... one that will make huge ripples in the lake of change before it appears positive again.

My message especially concerns the millions of kids all over the country whose parents' fortunes just nose-dived. They are just not equipped to deal with the material "losses" that will accompany this shift. As for the parents themselves, they will not only be dealing with the end of their world as they know it, they will also be forced to create a new family paradigm, a new ground floor from which these new, relevant "family team" values can blossom.

Blossom? Huh? Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn't it? It can be. The reality is: just like the aftermath of any disaster, adjustments must be made. How? Attitude is everything. "What does not kill me makes me stronger," is a perfect example of the outlook we must embrace.

The deck is being shuffled right now. What will your hand look like and where will you stand in the emerging game of life?)

Now back to the rant:

These kids don't understand that their recent elevation to sainthood is the side effect of many Baby Boomers' wild goose chase for everlasting youth in the face of impending mortality. Sure, folks have always tried to look good, but this adoration of the "Youngling culture"—including the obsession with the Lindsay Lohans and Paris Hiltons of the planet—is nothing more than our desire to look young, at whatever the cost, even if we have to fake an interest in Youngling music, fashion, and slang. "Are you down with that?"

Oddly enough, this youth-centered aberration has only been around in very recent history. Throughout the ages, the Wisdom of the Elders has always been considered cherished information from highly respected sources. Those with experience were naturally placed in charge and were very satisfied with their rightful place in the scheme of things. Everyone under 30 was considered a kid, and kids were not considered at all. (Oddly enough, in Astrology, a child becomes an adult at 30, after the completion of something called a Saturn return. Coincidence? I don't think so.)

Let's take a look at the passage of Pluto over the years as it relates to our fascination with youth. It all started in 1966... Pluto was halfway through Virgo and gender-non-specific Mercurial types were just becoming the rage. Think David Bowie. Suddenly Twiggy happened.

Everything about Twiggy contradicted everything that had been cool for Boomers' entire lives! As the golden Pluto in Leo generation, we grew up with curvaceous feline goddesses like Raquel Welch, Brigitte Bardot, and Sophia Loren. Samantha Stevens on Bewitched was one hot witch, and don't even get me started on that trollop Genie. Even as babies we'd drooled over the Pluto in Cancer hot mommas like Marilyn, Jayne, and Maureen O'Hara with their DD boobs and size 16 butts. All of them were real women.

In America, land of plenty, there seemed to be no excuse for a starvling Brit like Twiggy. Boomers just weren't used to androgynous, big-eyed, innocent waifs. Washboard bodies had not been popular since the Roaring 20s and... and well... weren't they in a depression back then? Wasn't everybody starving? Yccck. Who wanted to look like that?

We tried to withstand Twiggy. We did. And yet, much like the Beatles and their long hair, something about Twiggy grabbed hold of our imaginations and just wouldn't let us go. So we had to adjust. That adjustment began the era of the flat chest. Whacked-off hair and strange diets were the latest teen trends that concerned parents, in stages ranging from humor to horror. Weirdly enough, my 90 pound pixie-haired girlfriend Malcom was suddenly IN and our previously popular 42DD pal, Elaine, was OUT.

Then in 1980 when Pluto was in Libra getting ready to burst into Scorpio, Brooke Shields—with her perfectly balanced features—portrayed a 12 year old hottee in Pretty Baby and then a sexy teen in Blue Lagoon. Just like that, all the illusions of sexless androgeny were ripped away. Children were not big-eyed, innocent waifs with Raggedy Ann eyelashes anymore. Brooke had thick, expressive eyebrows, a voluptuous mouth, and her body was curvy, sensual and ready for action! Just give the girl a deserted island with a cute blonde teenager and watch 'em breed like bunnies.

As the rest of the 80s rolled on we moved into a grim period. Now we really became obsessed with Younglings, and we wanted them to be sexy and urban and ethnic. Not only does Scorpio rule transformation, it handles all the scary stuff, like the underworld, gangs and gangsters, forbidden sex. Out pop wildly independent directors like Spike Lee to give us movies like New Jack City giving us a look at a subculture most of us knew nothing about. Of course, just as Twiggy captured the Boomers, Pluto Scorpio soon had everyone under 25 wearing scary clothes big enough to hide weapons and drugs in.

Glitch, regroup, blood sugar low... that's the rant for now!

Great Thoughts for 2009

Our lives are not determined by what happens to us but by how we react to what happens. Not by what life brings to us, but by the attitude we bring to life. A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events, and outcomes. It is a catalyst, a spark that creates extraordinary results.

Age of Aquarius... Here at Last!

It was November 30, 2008, and another perfect Sedona day was just merging into another perfect Sedona sunset. Inside our car, however, tension was building after tedious bumper-to-bumper miles through the Highway 179 roadwork. Spectacular as our red rocks are, even they pale after sunset, and who can look at them anyway for having to watch out for all the freakin' potholes? There are penalities for trying to pave paradise. Added to the existing chaos, muddy slush was hubcap high from a water main that burst earlier.

Little jets of steam were rising from Larry's ears as we ascended the hill where the guy sells Oak Creek apples over on the right. Lar white-knuckled the car to a crawl as the line of cars ahead of us almost stopped. As we approached the spot where the cliffside abruptly drops off and the road swings to the left, there was no further doubt what the holdup had been. Hanging in the blue-black sky in front of us, just above the cliffside, was the crescent Moon with her benevolent pals Jupiter and Venus riding above her.

Well... Larry and I have been married for 30 years, but never, at no time, has he ever heard the AstroBrat entirely silent—even when I'm sleeping I grind my teeth! But this was the night. For a few minutes at least. And then I started singing. Yep, singing. The Age of Aquarius to be exact. Remember? (Oh sure, I know it was "just a song" but I believe that certain people download certain information from the collective unconscious that become reality.)

"When the Moon is in the 7th House and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planet and love will steer the stars. This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius..."

(WARNING! FLASHBACK: I don't mind admitting that I am more than partial to that song, as well as the entire soundtrack of the Broadway show Hair. When I was 18 years old, it was my first show ever—even if it was only the touring cast appearing for two nights in Augusta, Georgia. Luckily, the Brat made it to the Friday performance! The Augusta "pigs", as I called them then, burst onto the stage during the famous nude scene Saturday night and arrested everyone involved for indecency. Of course, the arresting officers were unfamiliar with the workings of a dark stage and stumbled and bumbled the bust so badly, they became a laughingstock by the next day. Hair departed Augusta immediately upon their release, with that Golden City of the South being the one and only city un-cool enough to ever bust Hair.)

Meanwhile back in Sedona, 2008:

The second we got home I ran to throw the chart of the Jupiter Venus conjunction. Would you believe I was not at all surprised to find what I did. (Okay, all you non-astro-talkers are welcome to move straight past the next two paragraphs if you want, it's getting complicated!)

The Moon really was in the seventh house, Jupiter was aligned with Mars and Venus by a tricky little archaic aspect called "transmission of light." Jupiter made a lucky sextile to Uranus which opposed Saturn, and also collected the light from Jupiter to hit Pluto with a square, and Mars with a T-square.

Notice that Pluto in early Capricorn squares Saturn but not Uranus, which means that the old days and the old ways of the Piscean Age are transforming at last, and the long-awaited Aquarian Age is charging in. Call me a wide-eyed optimist, but to me, these aspects are a signal that the building of the Aquarian Age will be much easier than living through the downfall of the Piscean Age.

Whew! Free at last. Okay, I've spoken about as much astrologese as I intend to right now, no sense in provoking non-astrologers needlessly. I will explain even more techno-babble later on down the line to those of you who are interested in my skew on astro-details.

Keep in mind that, unless I specify a source, all my astrological conclusions are "according to me." There are zillions of astrologers out there who may not a) know this; b) agree with this; c) care about this. So I'm covering all bases.

Peace! Over and out... for now.

PlanetStarship Welcomes Non-Boomers!

So, I hear that my "Up the Baby Boomer" platform may seem as if I'm not welcoming the Young'uns'—perhaps even discriminating against them. For those unfamiliar with the term, Young'uns are an up and coming group of responsible, self-aware, non-slacker, non-boomerang "kids" committed to the environment, humans and animals. It is they who will carry our torch when we are gone.

Often they are the children of Baby Boomers so they already have plenty of practice with our slang, music and psychedelic stylings, and are devoted to the same causes we are because they lived through it too.

Sad fact is, many Young'uns are not the most conscious parents. Perhaps it was because of the permissive society we ourselves created to counterbalance the repression we found everywhere. Perhaps it was that radical 180 turn we took, away from our own parents' techniques. Perhaps it was the experimental methods in which we raised our own kids. Whatever it was, the Young'uns never learned how to handle all these high-maintenance kids of today.

Okay, I confess, I was a holy terror myself, and in the strangest damn environment you can imagine. As a military brat, I lived with my family in Post-War Europe where Hitler's negative energy field was still shimmering on the very near horizon. In this highly restrictive Pluto Cancer society, local children up to five years old were trotted around on torso harnesses with leashes. It's true, I swear it, I saw it. I even experienced it for about 2 minutes... once.

Here's the story. One day after this four year old had had just about enough shopping in a Heidelburg store with my dysfunctional dad, I scurried away with my Superman comic book and hid beneath a rack of shirts... for an hour or so. Once I finished reading, I strolled out and made my way over to the typewriter section. (Remember that? A line of typewriters with stools in front and pieces of paper in the rollers for testing the keys.)

I climbed onto a stool and examined the typewriter. Someone had been there before me and typed: "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country."

I was electrified. I knew that I was reading a message written especially for me. Call it a Superhero psycho-flash, whatever, but suddenly I had a vision of a man who looked like Jor-el, someone who could be a "real" father to me—not this surrogate stranger who was trying to run my world. I realized it was urgent that I come to the aid of my country and I was certain that if I pecked out my own message back to him, he would take me away from this weird existence.

My little fingers pressed each key. "Come get me, Daddy." (Yes, I could read and write at four. Peculiar, huh?)

Just then long arms circled me from behind and snatched me off the stool and into the air. "I'm not finished!" I screamed. "Let me go!"

My father was hysterical. He'd thought his little precious had been kidnapped, and he was freaked to the max. Lacking any understanding of my true nature and deficient in any and all successful parenting skills, he continued to restrain me against him, kissing and hugging me tearfully.

As for me, all I knew was that I was being kept from my task. I HAD to finish my note back to my "real dad" so we could run off to aid Krypton from certain doom. Still shrieking and struggling as only a true brat can, I told Dad and everyone for miles around, "Turn me loose! My real father is coming for me!" and I kicked him in the balls.

OOF! He hit the floor. I climbed casually back onto the stool and continued my hunt and peck typing.

Security ran from all corners of the building and grabbed my father where he lay, clutching his crotch and moaning.

I typed on.

Somewhere between Security slapping cuffs on Dad for kidnapping and them finding his military ID and my passport, I finished that note. But my real father did not come. I was crushed.

Matter of fact, as soon as Dad recovered from his hysterical breakdown he decided he'd try "controlling" me the way the German moms did their wandering offspring. Well, the Achtung routine bit him in the butt.

Like an obstinate mule, I simply sat down on the floor and refused to move. No tears, no argument, I just folded my legs like a broken chair and wouldn't budge. He realized quickly that if he was forced to drag me across the store he would quickly become an even worse spectacle—from kidnapper to abuser. So he wiped his tears away, sighed and removed my harness. He didn't say a word all the way home... but in my head, I kept hearing "uncle". And I never saw that harness again.

So it's true. I have more than a little nerve being disgruntled by the way Young'un parents have dropped the reins with their kids, pardon the pun. But c'mon! It's not like I'm asking for kids to be seen and not heard, like we were told. What especially bugs me are the little things, like table manners. At a restaurant recently, I overheard a father tell his screeching son who was banging on the table with a knife, "Let's try using our inside voice, honey."

Ooooh, did the gleam in that kid's eye and the shame on that dad's face take me back to the weird old days. So remember, guys, you are building the adults of tomorrow. Start now to help them "Wake up, Find out, Jump in!"

Funny, as a Capricorn child, I had no patience with controlling adults. As a Capricorn adult, I have no patience with ill-behaved children. As a Leo Rising, I want to do a drive-by butt-smack on all of them, kids and parents, to wake them up! And so I write.

But I digress. What I've been trying to say is: Welcome to PlanetStarship, Young'uns. Let's take the best parts of the 50s, the 60s, and the 70s with us into the now. Try to imagine yourself as a child buying a shorty Coke for a nickel, a phone call for a dime, and a pack of cigarettes for 35 cents. Ooops. Did I say cigarettes? Oh well, I told ya I was a brat.

Saving PlanetStarship

Hey y'all! AstroBrat here! Welcome to the first of my many rants and raves about Astrology, Awareness and Saving PlanetStarship—our Mother Earth. Sounds like a mixed bag, right? Not so much. The common ground is something I call "Wake up, Find out, Jump in."

Whether you were actually a Hippie or not, you Baby Boomers who lived through the 60s may be experiencing a flashback. But Timothy Leary's infamous "Tune in, Turn on, Drop out" theory was actually the reverse of what is needed now. Back then, we needed to take a step back from that pervasive Post-War mentality that oppressed our childhoods and our entire world. "What will the neighbors think?" was constantly drummed into (most of) us Boomers by our conservative Pluto Cancer parents. But their white-washed, extremely un-groovy version of such a restrictive reality just didn't work for the Pluto Leo crowd. (Remember the infamous slogan: Don't trust anyone over 30? I certainly didn't... until I turned 30, that is.)

What we needed was a new society, a place where we—the largest generation ever born—could remove ourselves from the myopic views of the "up-tight dudes" who were running and ruining the world at that time. We needed to open our minds—through whatever methods we chose—so we could make challenging decisions that created new options and moved us in different directions. We needed a new kind of art, a new kind of music, a new kind of drug if you will, that could crystallize our frustrated feelings into mystical images, musical notes and psychedelic slogans. They allowed us to realize that our world is a place of unlimited possibilities... and that we are all part of the Oneness.

Okay, I can hear you thinking, "So?" Here's the point of all this: the long awaited Age of Aquarius has finally arrived, according to me, anyway. Yes, I know you've all heard the song a million times, and, by now, you are probably tired of waiting for something, anything, to happen. Wait no more! We are experiencing first stage lift-off, Houston, even as we speak!

That's right, I've spent the last 20+years optimistically "preachifying" about these times to everyone, from the outcome of the presidential election, to the price of gas, to who would win the past 23 Superbowls. And now here they are at last. Was I right? Yep, from what my clients tell me, I have about a 99% outcome. Whoa! I hear you saying, that's some kind of percentage! Yeah, it is. But if I didn't have faith in my ability to understand what I'm doing and then do it in excellence, I would not do it. Period. I've got too many things going on in my life to pretend to be a freakin' false prophet. Not my job, man.

For the past two years, I have been eagerly waiting for Pluto to depart Sagittarius, while I watched the genesis of the true New Age (hush! that is not a bad word) and speculated as to what exactly would occur when the shift came. I was constantly delving into the future with my clients' astrological transits, sometimes up till the 2020s. I knew, generally speaking, what could happen, at least as viewed through my rose-colored glasses.

So bottom line, after 15+ difficult (I'm being kind here) years in Sagittarius, what is needed now is the Return to the Wisdom of the Elders. (Sounds like a movie, right? I have a script in development called Lunatic Fringe that deals with just this topic.) Pluto's movement into Capricorn is changing our ideas of what is cool. The focus is already shifting from the glorification of youth—Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton—and what's with the ludicrous pretense that Baby Boomers are not really over 40 yet and look great with mini-skirts, toxic injections, fake tans/boobs/butts!? Last but not least, the trend toward decadent disconnect and total disregard for the earth, ourselves, and others is declining at long last.

We are swiftly heading toward a transformation of ourselves and the planet, with the movement led by, you guessed it, the Baby Boomers. And why not? There are more of us (78+ million) than any other demographic, we control the majority of the $$$$$ (trillions, dude!), and we have the benefit of actually BEING THERE when Utopia was first being dreamed up by the revolutionary thinkers of our times.

It will be up to us to once again embrace those radical philosophies that we invented/embraced back in the 60s: vegetarianism and animal rights; vitamins and nutrition, socialized medicine, homeopathics and holistic healing; education that teaches individuals how to think, not learn; progressive transportation, solar power and alternate energy sources; recycling, saving the atmosphere/ozone/rainforests; and bringing honor and rewards to the courageous trailblazers who are leading the change.

How do we do it? Simply have faith in the knowledge that Peace, Love and Happiness really is the only way we can survive... together... here on PlanetStarship.

Okay, that’s the scoop for today... and you can take it to the bank... or not. Your choice.

AstroBrat signing off. Peace. Over and out.