In her 1951 cult classic Esoteric Astrology, Alice A. Bailey describes Gemini as one of the most important signs of the zodiac. If you took a survey, most people would probably not say this. It's not Aquarius, of Age of Aquarius fame. It's not Aries, of Aries Point fame. It's not the ever-infamous Scorpio, and it's not Capricorn, the Moon sign that Augustus Caesar proudly revealed about himself to assert how powerful he was, had stamped into coins, then tried to hide.
I think that A.A.B. knew what she was talking about, and that it's more relevant now than ever.
The astrological year begins at equinox, when the Sun enters Aries, represented by a ram. Aries is a high-initiative fire sign, which is a good way to get things started. Aries, ruled by Mars, describes the competitive nature of humanity, seemingly a necessity of survival.
The story continues when the Sun enters Taurus, represented by a cow or bull, which implies resources. Not so long ago, if you owned a cow, you had an assured supply of food: You had milk and you could plow the fields. Taurus, ruled by Venus, also emphasizes the human obsession with beauty.
Then comes Gemini. It's taken 60 days traveling through the zodiac before anything human shows up. And when it does, there's not one person, but two of them. And they are not adults; they are kids.
Gemini, ruled by Mercury in traditional astrology, is the first sign associated with thought. I would propose that the first human image or concept in the zodiac is presented in a pair because it represents self-awareness. It is the human consciousness aware of itself as the other. If you talk to yourself, who is doing the talking and who is doing the listening? When you have the feeling of observing yourself, who exactly is doing that observing, if it's you? There is a quality of reflexivity to the human mind, and that is Gemini.
It can manifest as self-consciousness, self-awareness, self-criticism, and any number of other facets of relationship to oneself, including in modern terms: the self and its shadow partner. Twin consciousness can also be a symbol of sentience.
But usually this quality is projected outward (for example, seeking validation of our existence from others). That outward projection is known as dualism—something that contains two essential parts, in this case "self" and "other."
We live with a lot of dualism in our dimension of existence. Just about everything we see bifurcates, or splits in two. The most significant splits are probably the divide between all that is human vs. all that is not human, and within humanity, male and female.
The essence of Gemini is dualism, and this property has a way of finding its way around. If the mind is dualistic, everything will seem that way. One thing that A.A.B. notes is that many signs of the zodiac depict dualism. There are the two horns of the ram in Aries, the horns of the bull in Taurus (which doubles as the crescent Moon, the Moon being exalted in Taurus), there are the twins of Gemini, and the apparent yin-yang of Cancer. There are the scales of Libra, the double wavy lines of Aquarius, and the two fish of Pisces.
What she is suggesting is that at our time in history, the concept of Gemini is underlying all of these seemingly different forms or expressions of dualism.
Whatever the inner split may be, it's a crucial part of the story of humanity, and we see it illustrated in Gemini. I have found that on a number of levels, the question to ask when strong Gemini is present is: Do the twins get along? What is their relationship? Are they aware of one another? Does each of those hemispheres of consciousness know that the other one exists?
That does seem to be the question.
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