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Author Topic: Uranus, Aquarius, and the 11th House  (Read 5342 times)
Rad
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« Reply #105 on: May 26, 2015, 06:48 AM »

Hi Skywalker and Kristin,

Thanks for taking the time to work on this. The core understanding as to the 'why' her Soul needed to create this event is reflected in Kristin's analysis.

God Bless, Rad
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Sabrina
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« Reply #106 on: Jun 28, 2015, 06:16 PM »

Quote
Ok, let's begin our EA journey with PTSD is a very simple way. We will start with a very simply. So let's start with putting Uranus conjunct Saturn in Taurus in the second house. If we focus on the archetypes of the Soul's inner relationship to itself, that which constitutes meaning for life itself, the value associated with this meaning, how the Soul relates to others from the core of it's inner relationship to itself, the Soul's relationship to it's own sexuality via it's ongoing evolutionary needs to grow, and what inherent resources it posses in order to affect it's own need to survive what types of traumas that could lead to PTSD could we deduce from this Saturn/ Uranus conjunction in Taurus ?

Going to jump in here -

the underlying theme of Saturn/Uranus in Taurus in the 2nd house does not immediately come to me. The first thing I think of is a particular manifestation but maybe that is the question? What types of trauma?

The trauma that I was thinking of is a Soul coming into a body that does not exemplify consensus standards of beauty or normal functioning, and the kind of alienation that this could create. There is a limitation of belonging, such that the Soul does not belong in a group in a physical sense. Moreso with physical impairments, some kind of handicap, the Soul may then be of a taboo kind of sexuality as far as the culture is concerned, or simply the pool of people that this person could be involved with intimately is much smaller. Maybe the Soul feels a distortion between their identity and how they see the truth of themselves (inherent individuality of Uranus) versus their actual physical body or physical limitations (Saturn).

Another possible trauma could be someone who has experienced the necessity of growing up suddenly, given a large amount of responsibility before the time they were projected to or developmentally ready to. But due to survival or trauma within the structure of the family, they become more of an adult figure to themselves while still a child. Then later in life, there is a blockage or struggle within the identity, where situations that call for someone stepping up to a level of responsibility is triggering for the person. They could be the type to take on more responsibility than asked for of them, someone who has difficulty understanding what is their responsibility to take on themselves. Or it could be at a different extreme where the person does not wish to share responsibility with anyone, isolation through self-reliance. The blocks or challenges that they face have something to do with viewing their reality through the filter of the past, and the necessity to develop and cultivate a relationship to the present reality they find themselves in. The conditioning of Saturn here may be self-imposed more than culturally, or from the mirrors of several close people around them in formative years. It's a conditioning of the self-values which are based from a moment of trauma, and so trust in anything outside of oneself may be difficult for the Soul.

-Sabrina
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Rad
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« Reply #107 on: Jun 29, 2015, 06:27 AM »

Sabrina,

You have rightly identified some of the possible traumas that could occur with these symbols, the reasoning you employed in these possibilities being quite accurate.

God Bless, Rad 
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Rad
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« Reply #108 on: Jun 30, 2015, 09:27 AM »

What your brain looks like after a near-death experience

June 29, 2015
Newsweek

On August 24, 2001, Air Transat Flight 236, with 306 passengers and crew members aboard, began its scheduled flight from Toronto to Lisbon, Portugal, but didn’t quite make it. Midway over the Atlantic Ocean, there was a fuel leak, then a power outage, and Captain Robert Piché and First Officer Dirk de Jager decided to make an emergency landing. The lights went off, the engines failed, cabin depressurization began, and passengers were given instructions for the deployment of life jackets and oxygen masks.

But just after announcing the plane was about to go into the water, Piché spotted a runway in the Azores, the volcanic islands about 900 miles off the coast of Portugal. To lose altitude, he conducted one 360-degree turn and additional S-turns. Passengers screamed as the plane swung around, then back and forth, but outside their windows they saw water turn to land. Warning his passengers to brace themselves, Piché then aimed for the landing strip, and the plane hit it twice before the crew could apply maximum braking pressure and bring the 200-ton aircraft to a stop. Miraculously, nobody died.

In the years since, the survivors of that near-death experience have become a sort of lab experiment for researchers trying to understand the long-term consequences of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The person who proposed studying these survivors was Dr. Margaret McKinnon, an associate professor of psychiatry and neuroscience at McMaster University in Ontario, Canada, and one of the passengers on Flight 236. She developed PTSD after that harrowing landing.

“The study was an opportunity to turn something negative into a positive experience and hopefully make a contribution to the science of PTSD,” she says.

In an initial experiment conducted three years after the traumatic incident, 15 passenger-participants—seven with PTSD—completed a memory test to probe the quality of their memories of the flight. “Everyone on board had a different experience,” says McKinnon. Uncomfortable discussing the details of her trauma from that day, she just says, “I thought I would die and came to some form of acceptance around that.”

For the study, participants also were asked to recall two other events: their memories of the events of 9/11 and a neutral autobiographical event. These two other memories would serve as comparison points and help the researchers understand how trauma affects memory.

“There were two main findings from that study,” says Brian Levine a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto and one of the researchers on the project. First, all the passengers remembered a remarkably large amount of detail from the Air Transat incident. Levine refers to this as emotionally enhanced memory. “Everyone on the plane generated two to three times more information about that event than other events we tested,” he says.

The second finding was that the people with PTSD tended to veer off-topic when interviewed about the near-crash, recalling additional but somewhat irrelevant information, compared with the people without PTSD. This suggests they have problems with their control over memory, says Levine. Interestingly, those with PTSD not only remembered more external, tangential details from the traumatic plane landing; their recollections of 9/11 and the neutral event were also cluttered with superfluous details.

Nearly a decade following this initial stage of research, eight passengers agreed to return for a second chapter of the study. This group, which had a brain scan, ranged in age from 30s to 60s and included some who had been diagnosed with PTSD. Placed inside a functional MRI scanner, the eight passengers recalled details of their experience on Flight 236 while they watched the Discovery Channel’s video re-creation of the incident, which included looking down on the island where the emergency landing took place.

“I can tell you, I re-experienced the event, it was that evocative of the experience,” says McKinnon, who participated in the study. “I felt I was suspended in the air again.”

She adds, “They say in trauma the body keeps the score,” and the study’s results provide a neurological explanation why: As the participants recalled their near-plane crash experience, emotional memory regions of their brains lit up—the amygdala, hippocampus and midline frontal and posterior regions.

“Memory is an activation of a number of brain regions at once,” says Daniela Palombo, lead author of the study and a postdoctoral researcher at the Boston University School of Medicine. “The amygdala is classically involved in emotion, while the hippocampus is important to memory. The posterior regions play a role in visual imagery, and the prefrontal cortex comes onboard for self-referential processes.”

Following their latest Flight 236 re-creations, the passengers were asked to recall their experience of 9/11 while watching footage of the terrorist attacks, and, finally, they recalled a neutral autobiographical event. The participants’ brain activity when discussing 9/11 was similar to what had occurred during their memories of the near-plane crash. And, as expected, the pattern did not occur when they recalled a neutral event. What was surprising, though, is that these patterns were not evident in people who hadn't been involved in a near-plane crash, even when they recalled 9/11 while undergoing a brain scan.

“People who have observed trauma might see the world differently,” says Palombo. She believes the emergency landing scare may have changed the way the brains of those passengers process new information. Following trauma, we may be more sensitive to painful life experiences, Palombo suggests, and so we view the world through new lenses. “The research supports the idea of a lasting memory trace, a carryover effect,” she says.

Those passengers would be more affected by 9/11 because, Palombo says, it “hits home—certainly we can imagine they would relate to 9/11 differently than other people.” And PTSD research supports the idea that any element resembling the traumatic event will be perceived by a trauma survivor as threatening, even when it occurs in a safe environment.

The two studies also suggest that how you see the world to begin with may make you more or less predisposed to PTSD, should you undergo a traumatic experience. “Everybody’s memory works differently,” explains Levine. Some people remember events in a precise way, with relevant details lining up in an orderly fashion, while other people seem to take in more superfluous details in a more disorganized way.

“For people who have that second kind of memory, more extraneous information getting in, they may be more susceptible to PTSD when traumatized,” Levine speculates. “It’s the interplay between the cognitive systems and the emotional systems that may determine how you cope.” In those who develop PTSD, “the emotional part may overwhelm the system,” he says.

These findings add fuel to the theory that when it comes to PTSD, it’s not so much that a traumatic memory exists but that it can be later triggered in unpredictable ways and unexpected times. McKinnon’s hope is that an enriched knowledge of brain activity following a traumatic experience could help advance current therapies built around processing these uncontrolled memories.

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