NEPTUNE IN ARIES: Starting Over; Lost in Fog of Unknowing

May 7, 2026

Yep. Epistemology is enjoying/enduring a meltdown. There seems to be no way to tell whether any bit, dot, “fact,” theory, hypotheses, data point, etc. is “true” or “false.” What does Truth even mean in a world of human pretending? Or the new favorite word, “performative”?

Elon Musk, in his advice for young people, urges them to learn as much as they can about as much as they can in order to set a direction for their lives.

Well, that’s one obvious cleavage between Elon and me. As a kid, I also started to read the encyclopedia, figuring that if I did I’d know everything. (As a double Sagittarian, I sure did want to know everything!)

But I failed. Didn’t get beyond “C.” That “failure,” can you believe? — still haunts me.

Elon, apparently, can focus intensely, one step at a time, on each of his massive, wide-ranging projects, one after another, for all of his waking hours, which some people say, is why he is so unlike all the rest of us. Or maybe: all the rest of us except nearly 80-year-old Trump, who also seems to be able to direct intensely focused and seemingly multidimensional energy for as long as it takes to get whatever he wants done, done.

The rest of us? Or at least, me?

I’m no Elon, and I’m no Trump. My morning hours are the best, at this point in my 83 years. After a long wonderful walk, I can squeeze two hours of intense focus into pouring energy through my fingers onto the keyboard, and then, the entire rest of the day, slip into a muffled, dreamy, mostly enjoyable state of consciousness — eating, napping, cleaning, erranding — getting stuff done, moving stuff around, all required in 3D embodiment.

Yes, muffled and dreamy with however, exceptions. Like scheduled events with others that I’ve signed up for, a few of them going back two decades. Like, for example, our Green Acres Village Community Dinners. Twice monthly, on Thursdays, pitch-in, friends, family, neighbors all invited. Tonight we hope to have it again on the patio, if the weather holds. Otherwise, it’s in my house this time. Email this AM to those who live here in this three-home urban village: “Come out at 6:00 to clean up patio and put out tablecloths, silverware, plates, cups.” Then, we gather again at 7:00 to meet, greet, and eat with whoever shows up! Sometimes it’s 8 people, other times it’s 15; once, 25!  You never know. What you DO know, is that our Community Dinner will happen, no matter what.

The only interruption and/or weirdness we’ve had, except for holiday season and weather events: the covid con years. In fact for the first year we hardly met at all, and when we did, most of those who dared to leave home and come were masked, muffled, filled with F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real).

So now, will the hantavirus prove to be another covid con? Can “they” actually pull it off again? Five years later? Celia Farber, for one, is alarmed. And I’ve seen so many posts in the past few days, on X, and in my substack emails, that all say the same thing. Yep! Another rollout of F.E.A.R.!

Yuck! Don’t want to give it energy here.

What I do want to give energy, is how I think we’re being technologically bamboozled by twitter/X at this point. Bamboozled into staying within the algorithmic lane that X has so “kindly” provided for each of us. I mean: geez! Every post I see there at this point I want to either like or repost! And I know for damn sure that’s not because the world is waking up. Or maybe it is waking up, but certainly not via any algorithm.

Am I about to let go of twitter/X?

Wow? What would I do? There goes my encyclopedia, my primary news source. Oh wait. Not! Remember Ann, you’re captured by the definition of yourself you’ve given to X by the types of posts you either like or repost. No wonder at this point everything I see there I basically agree with!

BORING.

And if there’s one thing that turns me off, it’s being consciously or algorithmically corralled, or groomed, allowed to see only what’s streaming (or screaming) across an Overton Window I myself, inadvertently constructed!

All because of the internet yes. That’s why there are no longer any facts. Plus, the encyclopedia itself can be scarfed up by an LLM.  The intuitive assertion I made in my 1972 PhD dissertation, that “There’s a fine line between fiction and fact,” is no longer mysterious, it’s obvious. In fact, the line has basically disappeared. We’re here, with Neptune in Aries for the first time in 165 years, starting over again, inside a mysterious fog. Saturn in Aries too, but moving ahead (Neptune at 3°, Saturn at 9°), trying, and failing, to direct or corral the fog with its inevitably porous walls, its rules that mean nothing, it’s laughable attempts to control.

Yes. How to actually direct one’s attention in a fog of unknowing?

We’re here for awhile folks. Get used to it.

 

REFLECTIONS: mostly detailed rant on how long daily walks dissolve left-brain doom-scrolling harm and invigorate right-brain/heart (and soul!)

May 6, 2026

First: I notice that my three posts referencing ticks (April 26-28) were relatively “unpopular” with readers. Does this mean that ticks have not yet arrived where you live? Or that you don’t ever go onto grass, or into the woods? Or that you don’t have indoor/outdoor animals?

In any case, I keep running across X posts that point to Bill Gates as the villain of this subdrama within the larger lyme disease drama:

And this new drama does make sense; especially the alpha-gal phenomenon, so that once bitten by a certain tick you can’t eat red meat ever again! Wow! Fits right in with the so-called climate change agenda still rolling out, with less and less success (I think).

https://x.com/jackdangerlive/status/2051772390460596605?s=61&t=aUBDiSUrvn0aSlRBtZx0wQ

Every morning, on my four mile walks with Scampi, it’s as if I have to bat away a continuous internal stream of fears, F.E.A.R.s (False Evidence Appearing Real), my one hour of X doom-scrolling beforehand having contaminated my very soul. Luckily, the walks strip out the emotional mentation, as one arched foot after another, at my usual fast, rhythmic pace, all muscles, tendons, joins, working in unison, block after block, mile after mile, takes over.

And meanwhile, my eyes and ears and nose absorb springtime garden profusion, eager chatter of songbirds, tiny lavender stems I break off for a quick, dizzying sniff. Oh, and then there are the trees! Guardians of the earth plane, tall, rooted, now leafy branches lifting and spreading. And the hilarious chatter and scatter of squirrels running up and down them. All species (including bugs — ticks!) interwoven, mutually embedded, both giving and receiving LIFE, on Planet Earth.

But for how much longer, my screaming left brain asks! Is Elon Musk right, that in order to survive, the human race must “go interplanetary,” lift off this good earth? Is Elon Musk actually anchored into his own body? Or is his body robotic (I mean, really).

Then, again, thinking, thinking, while walking, of the polarity between scarcity and abundance; and how Lord of the Flies scarcity consciousness has, apparently, driven humanity to this point where, in order to not kill each other off, and instead create abundance for all, we must lift off Earth? Give me a break.

Without scarcity consciousness, there would be no point in hoarding, trying to get the best of others, valuing “money” above all else.

Elon has many provocative things to say. I won’t bother to list the many X posts he puts up here. One that really does “get” me, however, is his notion that most people derive meaning in their lives through the jobs that they do. And that AI takes over more and more jobs, meaning will be lost.

And that’s likely true. As a contrarian who never held a 40-hour week job — instead, given my right-brain obsession with learning astrology for my own sake (who am I? Geez, please tell me!) — I then naturally segued into working for decades as an independent consultant in that field — I can only begin to glimmer what that (false) notion of “purpose” must be like.

For the last 23 years of my residence here in Bloomington IN, I’ve been in the habit of asking IU students who step inside our Green Acres Permaculture sanctuary here in this academic town, “WHAT WOULD YOU BE DOING IF THERE WERE NO OBSTACLES IN YOUR WAY?”

That usually stumps them. At first. Sometimes, as the shock wears off, I notice glimmers of aliveness sparking  their eyes. Sometimes we even enter into passionate conversation. Deeply satisfying.

What is your creative leap into the unknown? What has got your curiosity so aroused that it turns into an obsession? Because that’s where the essence of our humanity will distinguish itself from AI. If each of us can ask and respond to that one question, if each of our souls can light up the robotic night that threatens to engulf us all, we will set the human-centered future of AI, as each of us gives the prompts needed to set the direction and accomplish tasks that our unique, original purpose demands.

I will end this post with another X post, one that really got me thinking. Which is always good!

Oops! I see that this binji is still working within the old scarcity value system . . .