The Sky's Our Limit

I’ve often wondered whether our fascination with the celestial––with space, star signs, and galaxies far, far away––stems from an innate desire to return home.

We are all made of stars; I’m sure you’ve heard the expression before. That succinct, poetic phrase which hints at our interstellar origins. Residual galactic explosions and sizzling cosmic dust, that’s what lies at the heart of our bodies. It’s a beautiful and humbling thought, that when we gaze up at the likes of Cygnus and Cassiopeia, we are looking at our distant cousins, perhaps a thousand times removed. To paraphrase Mr. Whitman: we are large, we contain multitudes. We contain that which is infinite. Is it not a mistake then, to limit and label ourselves with finite categories?

In Veronica Roth’s Divergent and subsequent Insurgent (we shan’t acknowledge Allegiant here), protagonist Tris Prior is considered a danger to her dystopian society because she’s a multifaceted individual. Or, as Roth puts it, she’s ‘divergent’. In a world of extreme hierarchy and polarization, where only one personality trait is allowed per person, Tris’s well-rounded nature is lambasted by the government as criminally abnormal. Her varying talents, discordant likes and dislikes, and ordinary range of emotion make her difficult to predict and difficult to control, and thus, make her a threat.

Without wading into the weeds of how and why such a civilization sprang into being, I think it’s safe to say that the average reader is meant to understand it as absurd. Of course human beings are complex, fickle things. We can be at once clever and naïve, bookish and athletic, brave and afraid. You can be a dreamy Capricorn or a timid Aries, or even a messy, party-loving Virgo. The best leaders are not necessarily Leos, and for goodness’ sake, not all Geminis are secretly plotting to set the world on fire (most are, but not all).

Now, I admit that I’m no expert and I know astrology is a bit more complicated than that, but I’ve met far too many casual observers who feel uncomfortably at odds with their assigned traits. It’s wonderful if you identify with the attributes listed on your chart, but you also shouldn’t worry if you’re supposed to be an introverted artist and the thought of sitting alone with a paintbrush makes you shrivel up inside.

Given the dynamic beings that we are, I think each of us is a bit of everything, all the time. We have something of every sign, every ‘plicity’, and every ruling planet inside us. In more scientifically-oriented fields, personality is understood to be a spectrum of measurable, fundamental traits that we all possess to different degrees. Psychology’s Big Five Model, for example, posits that each of our personalities is some amalgamation of Openness to Experience, Conscientiousness, Extraversion, Agreeableness, and Neuroticism. I prefer the use of broad categories like these as they leave room for robust individuality and personal growth in the understanding of human behavior. In nurturing a sense of self, I think it’s important to allow for inevitable change, as passions shift with age and strengths ultimately depend on what one dedicates themself to the most.

In my mind, I suppose it comes down to this. Am I what my astrological chart predicts I should be? No, because I am so, so much more. I am born of an ever-expanding universe, my traits are fluid and contradictory. My sense of personal identity is strong, and yet I believe we all share a common core. Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. They’re all just overlapping, interconnected representations of a universal human psyche.

We are all made of stardust. It’s why two people on opposite ends of the planet can both see a silly, wordless meme and instantly think: same.