Did the White House UFC Freedom 250 event re-ignite U.S. fighting spirit?

June 15, 2026

Even before it took place, I had a sense this was its purpose. Enough of “soy boys,” “toxic masculinity,” sitting on the couch on screens chomping processed take-out, kvetching about the state of our world and how so-and-so is to blame. Fuck that.

Yes. It’s our world. All of ours. Every person in every country. No exceptions. It’s time to “fight.” Each of us to re-ignite his or her divine purpose, which will automatically open the door for the love that fills and fuels the universe to flow through, vertically aligning you with the sky above and the earth below, spreading your arms to embrace one and all.

We’re done with stupid polarity. It’s time to wake up.

Do we think the founders of this country were soy boys?

 

Back story: I had no idea what the UFC was. Didn’t know it involved fighting  not confined to either boxing or wrestling. Had no idea of the kind of gloves worn, or that they fight barefoot, or who had started it all, or, of course, what the fuck is a UFC octagon doing on the White House lawn?

But even before it happened, I had a sense that this was another extraordinary, deeply purposeful Trumpian move, meant to reignite the fighting spirit that founded this country, timed for Trump’s 80th birthday, as a part of the now ongoing 250th anniversary celebration.

Oh, and did you know: The UFC celebratory event ended at 1 AM; and then, at 3 AM Trump boarded a plane for France. What person of any age can match his trajectory, his momentum?

Some on twitter/X go much further. For example.

Shorter version:

Or was this just a matter of bread and circuses? I don’t think so.

ERUPTIVE URANUS: what happened half a cycle ago

June 11, 2026

Sometimes I wonder what I’m still doing here. Why am I still alive, in this body?

Even more relevant: Sometimes I wonder how I managed to actually stay embodied, and in fact, shed most of the personal “stuff” that dragged me down, over these eight plus decades. In fact, at this point, I’m basically a free being, no longer subject to oral addictions of any kind.

My oral addictions were rooted in my particular version of PTSD: weaned from the breast to a cup at nine months old, the day my father left for World War II. I imagine, looking back, that Mom’s milk dried up, so traumatized was she by his departure. But then, why wean me to a cup? Why not a bottle?

So grateful that my personal path led me to study astrology, and ponder my own birth chart, with its placement of the  security-oriented Taurus Moon (my child self) and its relationship to nearby eruptive Uranus and stern Saturn.

In any case, that little girl, “Orphan Annie” has been present, ever since I named her, and started working with her, back when transit Uranus opposed its original position at 1+° Gemini (ages 38 to 42).

That was half a lifetime ago. This year (age 83+) Uranus has moved another half cycle, to return to the degree it occupied at my birth.

See my many Uranus Return posts.

And wow, I’m still here! My oral addictions did not manage to kill me!

For which I am extremely grateful! And astonished, actually.

On the other hand, I could say that my addictive tendency has now corralled me into a very strict daily schedule, especially in regards to exercise and nutrition. Perhaps too strict? Should I declare one day off each week? In other words, I’m starting to utilize eruptive Uranus to disobey stern Saturn!

Mulling that one over.

Looking over hundreds of essays I have written, and paying attention to themes, I notice that all sorts of them have to do with addiction, in one way or another. So I’ve decided to make an e-book of them. Six essays, so far, with probably at least several more.

Here’s what I’ll put on the cover:

And maybe with this quote:

“I had to change, and I couldn’t.”