Last week before the eclipse of the moon, we had a client who we did a tax return for and she was quite excited for this upcoming event.
She then wanted to pursue a line of questioning by asking when my boss' date of birth was, and then asked what mine was; so that she could do an astrological reading. That would involve charting the positions of the stars and planets on the day that someone was born; before applying a set of rules, to invent some kind of narrative; with the air of semi-legitimacy. My boss wouldn't tell her his birthday but I was asked what my birthday is.
"33rd of Undecimber. I was born in the year of the Cat." was my reply
Immediately she knew that she wasn't going to get an answer because if you know anything about the legend of the Chinese Zodiac, the Rat tricked the Cat into thinking that they the animals were supposed to present themselves to the Jade Emperor on a different day. The Rat who rode on top of the Ox, is at the front of the list but the Cat who was having a nap, slept for the whole day. When the Cat did show up, it was the wrong day. Consequently, there is no year of the Cat. 33rd of Undecimber exists in some accounting packages as the 13th period in which to make adjustments in. The accounting package that we use at work, has 40 days available in every month and 20 months in the calendar year. 40/20/2021 is a legitimate date in our accounting system.
Forty days hath September,
April, June, and November.
All the rest have forty as well.
Which makes this rhyme, a pointless spell.
I absolutely think that astrology did provide a useful service to science back in the day. In order to come up with their charts, astrologers needed maps of the heavens. I do not think that astrology provides a useful service today, given that the planets are probably dead pieces of rock and gas, which are subordinate to the laws of physics.
That isn't to say that science hasn't also thought of its own kind of self-referential circular naval gazing logic. While I can see some value in categorising personality types and developing policy based on observable and repeatable experiment, the way in which some personality exams are administered is no more useful than horoscopes. The Meyer-Briggs Personality Test which generates 16 types based upon a series of yes/no if/then logic gates, pens people into 16 types which look all the world like the various Zodiac signs of both western and eastern mythology.
The problem with the Meyer-Briggs Personality Test is that under the cover of pseudo credibility, it basically pulls the same broad tricks as most horoscope readings. By using a series of established rules, a definitive outcome is achieved; which is then useful for generating what amounts to a confidence trick.
Because the centre of the observable universe is roughly 19mm behind someone's corneas, not only is everyone's experience of the universe unique but they are justified in believing that are the centre of the universe, for it is literally impossible to view anything from any other perspective. When you attach by means of electro-biomechanical hardware and software, a fully functioning ego, superego, and id, to that unique perspective, then the only possible consequence is that everyone thus becomes the hero of the narrative which that series of systems must invent. Specificity is the soul of narrative; narrative is a story constructed from aggregate points of specificity. You can not get more specific than the singular point of observations which are uniquely available to any given individual.
When you apply a given set of rules to points of data in order to derive some cohesive narrative, then people can very easily make the leap to apply that narrative to themselves. The western horoscope sets out 12 little pots into which simple colours can be poured. The eastern horoscope sets out a different set of 12 little pots into which colours are poured and then adds five textures. The Meyer-Briggs Personality Test contains a list of ingredients on the side of the bottle which sound more credible but really it's just 16: little pots of colour.
Humans love to paint the world in the colours provided, and horoscopes and personality tests if used recreationally, are no more useful at creating a picture than a child's finger painting set. Yet because humans are pattern seeking machines which are driven by a single point of perspective, we are very good at making those pictures, however terrible that they might be, about ourselves.
We are keen to apply labels to ourselves because that's useful in defining our identity and whereas horoscopes were an appeal to authority in order to justify a hokey story, personality tests like the Meyer-Briggs Personality Test is also an appeal to authority but happens to be an appeal to a more scientific authority. The story is still hokey.
Horoscopes and the Meyer-Briggs Personality Test have so much traction, not because they are necessarily true but because self-interested, self-seeking, self-important individuals who are the heroes of their own story. There is probably a correlation with people who like these sorts of things and whether or not someone believes that they have an internal or external locus of control in life. If people think that external factors or forces beyond their influence have a greater bearing on what happens to them, as opposed to peoplewho think that they are controllers and directors of their own narrative, then I suspect that people are more likely to pay attention to astrology. It seems to be a defence against uncertainty, in a very uncertain and chaotic kosmos.
For the record, my Meyer-Briggs Personality is an Undecided Seeking Systematic Repairer (USSR); which means that my superpower is sending rockets into space. Then again, as someone who was born in the year of the Cat and whose zodiac sign is Ferrero Rocher, you should have already known that. See? I can invent hokey stories as well.
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