Libra - The mutual mirror

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Author: miki

When you look out, what do you see? When you peep out through your eyes, what peers back at you? ("My pet Human glaring at my screen with bloodshot eyes...") Your internal feelings, thoughts, ponderings, ideas, dreams and intuition could be categorized as "You." The world that you perceive outside yourself could be regarded as "not-You," although what is "not-You" can reflect back much about you! ("Hang in there, guys, she's bound to make sense sooner or later...")

But let's go back a few steps. ("Thank heavens!") As babies, we believe that Mom, Dad and everything around us are but extensions of ourselves. In this primitive state of enmeshment we believe that who we are is mirrored back to us, and that what is reflected back is an accurate portrayal of who we are. This mirroring effect forms the basis for the symbiotic bonding with one's mother (or the primary caretaker). But wait! Doesn't this sound a little like Cancer? ("About time you noticed!") All that Mother stuff and bonding? And doesn't that self-centred orientation sound like Aries?

Welcome to the 3rd Cardinal sign, Libra! The first two Cardinal signs are (you guessed it) Aries and Cancer. Collins English Dictionary defines "cardinal" as meaning "fundamentally important; principal," coming from the Latin word for "hinge," meaning "that on which something depends." The Cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) represent parts of ourselves that are essential and central to our lives, on which subsequent development depends as a foundation for growth.

Libra represents our ability to relate to other people, but this is actually a very complex task. What, exactly, are we relating to? If "You" are inside, then the outside becomes "The Other" or "not-You."  ("Oh no, here she goes again...") We relate to whatever is outside ourselves. And yet, if we are all One underneath, where do we draw the line between what is "You" and what is "not-You"? ("I'm getting dizzy...")

This is the lesson of Libra—to explore the razor's edge between ourselves and those with whom we are closely connected. But this ability to relate to others doesn't just happen out of nowhere. To understand Libra on a personal level, it helps to look at the sign from an archetypal perspective ("There it is! Her favourite word."), at what comes before Libra and what follows after it.

The Dynamics Of Projection

Libra marks the midpoint in our journey around the zodiac, peering at Aries from the opposite side. It's as if we hiked half-way around a circular lake and are now looking back across the water to where we began. We see it as if for the first time, from a whole new perspective. We see that cottage over there, which seemed so large close-up, which looks surprisingly small against the background of the looming hills. The boathouse, built some distance from the cottage, now looks as if it's an extension of the cottage. And we see that the road running next to the cottage, which up-close seemed to disappear into the woods, apparently runs way over to that store over there. 

The sign of Libra represents this kind of objectivity, based on distance and separation. When we view other people as a separate beings, we can see them clearer than when we're up-close and intertwined. Everyone wants to be seen and appreciated for themselves, and through our Libra nature, we have the maximum vantage point to do this. However, distances can also be deceiving and we must ask ourselves if we're really seeing what we think we see. ("I spy with my little eye, something that is YOU! But am I using my real eye or my mind's eye...?")

Libra and Pisces are the two signs most prone to distorted or atypical perception. When the Sun rises, we see it in the 12th House (Pisces' natural house), and later it sets in the 7th House (Libra's natural house). At these times, the Sun's appearance becomes refracted and distorted near the horizon. The corresponding signs and houses (Libra/7th, Pisces/12th) are those most prone to perceptual and experiential distortion and deception.

When we look out through our 7th House lens, we perceive what we believe is the other person, but often we project our own desires, needs, issues and agendas onto that person. This can mean we're seeing only a glimpse of the real person, while filling in the blanks with our own hopes, fears and expectations. It's kind of like that lake scene, in which the road looks like it runs between the cottage and the store but may actually wind into the woods first and merge with another road first before it reaches the store. Just because we're seeing more of the scenery doesn't mean we see it accurately or understand everything about it.

In the same way, we tend to see in other people a combination of the real person and our own projections. In Libra we must learn to navigate through this strange Hall of Mirrors and decipher which is the reflection and which is the real thing. ("When I'm having a bad mane day, I decide that the reflection belongs to someone else...") The best way to do this is to keep relating to others until we find a way that works. Hence, the Libra person is usually very focused on other people, especially those with whom they find some form of harmony or balance.

Love And War

One's initial relationship to the world of "not-You" is that of mirroring. The mother (or primary nurturer) reflects back and responds to what s/he sees expressed by the child. The baby smiles, the parent smiles and coos; the baby gurgles and makes sounds, the parent replies in baby-talk and encourages some simple words; the baby cries, the parent comforts and cuddles. A balance of similarities is achieved and all is right with the world.

The Libra person seeks similarities with others through harmony, symmetry, diplomacy, balance, fairness, love and beauty. If astrology's slogan is "As above, so below," Libra's is probably "As with you, so with me." ("As if mine, asinine!") The Libra person seeks to establish harmony through mutual similarities, a sort of sympathetic resonance. Like a tuning fork that will cause a guitar string to vibrate when they are both tuned to the same pitch, we instinctively gravitate to people whose "vibes" we relate to. We "resonate" with each other.

The tuning fork and guitar string will vibrate together regardless of which one initiates the sound. In much the same way, we tend to take on the mood and attitude of those around us and in turn modify our surroundings by our own disposition. It's as if our Libran nature is at one end of a teeter-totter, requiring someone to be at the other end to achieve equilibrium and symmetry. By mirroring our environment and being mirrored back, we connect to the world around us and learn the skill of give-and-take, ebb-and-flow.

This balance is most pleasantly achieved through similarity, where both people share similar qualities. This is a peaceful experience; a state of rest, harmony and love, wherein like attracts like. However, true to Libra's dualistic nature, there are two ways to achieve this balance. The second way is through polarization or complementary counter-balance. This is the attraction of opposites, in which dissimilarities fit together hand-in-glove to form a whole. ("Like winged horses and Humans...")

Like magnets, we may be drawn to people who possess qualities that (we believe) we lack. If someone is good at math and can balance a cheque book like falling off a log, s/he might attract a partner who hates math but is great at cooking, something which the first person may be lost at. This is the ideal way in which dissimilarities can combine positively — each side compensates for what the other lacks. They complement each other.

However, differences between people that are not appreciated or assimilated tend to be perceived and experienced as repellent, and are typically met with attempts to change the other person. In order for a complementary effect to be reached, each person must honour, appreciate, and be open to the dissimilarities in the other person. (The mathematician must value the abilities of the cook and vice versa.) Complementary balance needs to take place in an atmosphere of mutual respect and tolerance. Unfortunately, this can often be very difficult to achieve, and opposites between people will often rebuff and oppose rather than attract.

Balance, however, must and will be achieved in some form. Just as water seeks a stabilized level, even if that means flooding to relieve the excess pressure, all relationships reach a state of equilibrium and normalization, be it healthy or dysfunctional. We instinctively find some way to relate to the other person, whether that's based on peace through similarity and symmetry, or war born of polarization and dissention. For this reason, Libra people are known as both the "peace-makers" and the "war-makers," instigating conflict and confrontation just as quickly and easily as peace and harmony. In either case, the motive is the achievement of balance.

The Hall Of Mirrors

What we see in the other person may be something we feel we lack, or we may be drawn to them because they seem to agree with us. Regardless of our motive, what we are drawn to in the other person almost always lies in ourselves in some form. Whether we're attracted to someone through affection and liking, or morbidly fascinated through dislike and repulsion, we see something in them that "pushes our buttons." The other person may inspire pleasant or irritating feelings in us, but it is our buttons that are being pushed. ("My pet Human is always pushing my buttons — like Control and Escape!")

For example, we may feel an instant affinity for someone for no apparent reason ("I once fell in love with a Pentium computer at first byte!"), or we may see something in that person that we like or admire. We tend to believe that something in the other person is responsible for our feelings. ("How could I resist when I saw that quad-speed CD-ROM and 8MB of memory?!")

Reincarnational reunions aside, we're usually recognizing something in the other person that also resides in ourselves. Like Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection, we are fascinated by our own qualities that we see shining out of the eyes of The Other. However, we may be unaware that we also have this trait. ("Oh ya! I forgot that I have 8 MB of RAM, too!") We may not know how to own this quality, or we may believe we're undeserving or incapable of it; or we may lack the courage or resources to deal with the implications or consequences of that trait. ("If I got a CD-ROM, my pet Human's bankbook would set off the smoke alarms!")

The magic mirror of Libra teaches us that whenever we see a quality in another, some part of it originates inside of us—perhaps the attribute, itself ("I admire a computer that can hold its RAM!"), or simply a fascination, empathy or identity with it ("I lust after anyone with a CD-ROM!"). We project parts of ourselves onto others, thereby finding a way to learn, interact or wrestle with these qualities. ("I'd like to hook up with that cute little Pentium with the CD-ROM-POMS. Maybe she'll let me network with her software....")

Astrologers have a wonderfully apt phrase to describe this action of projection—it's called "giving away your planets." We unconsciously give away the characteristics, strengths and/or weaknesses of our own natal planet to someone else who seems better able to contain or express them. The good news is that by doing this we have an opportunity to learn about that disowned planet by observing and interacting with this other person, who can (ideally) teach us something about that part of ourselves.

The bad news is that by doing so, we also give away our power to choose how, when and why we will exercise and utilize that energy. Our access to that part of ourselves lies at the mercy of the other person, over whom we have no real control. To one degree or another, that person is free to withhold that energy, inflict it on us, reward it to us, or take it in whatever direction they see fit.

Unfortunately, this often doesn't match our needs or hopes, and we may wind up in bitter conflict as we come to feel controlled by or at crossed purposes with that person. Or, we may unconsciously attempt to control the other person in order to regain control over our projected qualities, rather than taking ownership (and therefore control) back within us.

Venus, The Inner Magnet

Libra and its ruling planet, Venus, represents our ability to attract people and things to ourselves, regardless of whether we attract "positive" or "negative" experiences. If we want to attract someone to us, we focus on them, resonate to them, get to know them, identify with them, appreciate them, understand them, love them, hate them—get involved with them! When we fail to connect with someone, it may be because we're not focusing on them clearly or strongly enough, or we're not putting out an energy they can "resonate with."