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Your Zodiac Sign Is 2,000 Years Out of Date

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Your Zodiac Sign Is 2,000 Years Out of Date

Whether you care about horoscopes or not, you probably know your zodiac sign. You’ve probably known it for most of your life.

Zodiac signs were originally based on the stars. But over thousands of years, our view of the stars has shifted. That means, if you account for this shift, your sign might not be what you think.

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Below, we’ll tell you what it would be instead.

There are three reasons the zodiac signs no longer line up with the constellations they’re named after.

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1. Earth’s wobble

The Earth wobbles like a top. A spinning top starts to wobble soon after it is set into motion. The Earth does the same thing, only more slowly.

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It takes 26,000 years for the North pole to trace out a complete circle in the sky, pointing at different stars along the way. Scientists call this wobbling motion axial precession.

This wobble means that our view of the stars shifts by one degree every 72 years. Over centuries, this difference builds up.

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And it’s not just the Northern stars that shift in our view because of Earth’s wobble, but all stars — including the zodiac constellations.

Take the spring equinox, usually around March 20, the first day of spring in the Northern hemisphere (and the start of the zodiac calendar in Western astrology).

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This shift in our view of the stars was discovered by Hipparchus over 2,000 years ago. Since you can’t see stars during the day, he waited for a lunar eclipse — when the moon is directly opposite the sun — and used the moon’s position to work out where the sun was.

By comparing his measurement with earlier ones, he found that our view of the stars shifts by about one degree per century — not too far from modern measurements.

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Today, Western astrology uses the tropical zodiac system, which is based on the positions of the stars more or less as they would have appeared to Hipparchus, and not as they appear today.

That means that the zodiac signs familiar to Americans are in sync not with the stars, but with the seasons: Aries starts on the first day of spring, even though the sun is now in front of Pisces then.

In contrast, the Indian system of astrology uses the sidereal zodiac, which accounts for Earth’s wobble and aligns zodiac signs to the stars.

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While these two systems were initially aligned, they have been drifting apart ever since. Western astrologers are well aware of this mismatch, but they don’t see a problem with basing the signs on the stars as they were two millennia ago.

“Astrologers using the tropical zodiac are just using what they consider to be an equally valid system,” said Dorian Greenbaum, a historian of astrology who teaches at the University of Wales Trinity Saint David.

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2. Constellations differ in size

The zodiac signs were created around 2,500 years ago by the Babylonians.

Their star catalogs listed at least 17 zodiac constellations. But they eventually simplified these into the 12 zodiac constellations we know today, each 30 degrees wide, as if slicing the sky into 12 equal slices.

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But constellations aren’t really the same size. In 1928, astronomers divided the sky into 88 officially recognized constellations, each one shaped like its own puzzle piece.

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Official constellations along the sun’s annual path

“They are not nice equal pieces,” said Stacy Palen, emeritus professor at Weber State University. “They’re like jagged shapes that are not symmetric in any way.”

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Based on these boundaries, the sun spends more than twice as much time in front of Virgo as in front of Cancer. And it spends only a week in front of Scorpio — if you include Ophiuchus, that is.

Which brings us to the last reason the 12 signs don’t align with the zodiac constellations.

3. Ophiuchus

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Ophiuchus is the 13th constellation along the sun’s path, according to astronomers. (It even has its own emoji: ⛎.) Ophiuchus means “serpent bearer” in Ancient Greek, and is usually depicted as a man holding a snake. If you squint, you can kind of see why.

So for people born during the sign of Scorpio 2,000 years ago, Ophiuchus was more likely behind the sun on their birthday. (And because of Earth’s wobble, most Sagittarians today were also born when Ophiuchus was behind the sun.)

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We don’t really know why the Babylonians left out Ophiuchus from their zodiac signs. They may have originally had a different name for it. But historians believe that when Babylonians simplified their zodiac system, they wanted the 12 zodiac signs to match the 12 months of their calendar. Ophiuchus didn’t make the cut.

A ‘shape-shifter’

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Astronomy and astrology have little in common today, and there’s no scientific basis to the idea that the movements of the stars and planets influence our future or our personalities. But the two disciplines started out as the same thing thousands of years ago.

“If you were an astronomer, you were also an astrologer,” Professor Greenbaum said.

The Babylonians viewed the planets as gods, and planetary motions as omens that could foretell the fortunes of kings and kingdoms. This motivated them to look for patterns in the sky.

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Even by the 17th century, many astronomers were also practising astrologers. Johannes Kepler, who discovered how planets move in ellipses, probably learned astrology at college, and created horoscopes for friends and patrons. Galileo practiced astrology and sold horoscopes on the side.

“Their side hustle was to cast horoscopes for their rich patrons because that paid the bills,” said Tyler Nordgren, an astronomer and author.

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Eventually, during the Enlightenment, astrology was divorced from astronomy and was no longer considered a legitimate science, Professor Greenbaum said.

“It was kicked out of the universities,” he said. “But there were still practitioners.”

Today, we understand the laws governing the motions of planets and stars well enough to send spacecraft to distant worlds, detect gravitational waves and take pictures of a black hole. At the same time, over a quarter of Americans believe that the positions of the stars and planets can affect their lives.

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So why has belief in astrology endured, while other methods of divination like ornithomancy (finding omens in the behavior of birds) or tyromancy (fortune telling with a block of cheese) have drifted into obscurity?

“Astrology is a shape-shifter,” Professor Greenbaum said. “Astrology goes along with whatever’s in vogue and manages to survive.”

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Because those constellations are behind the sun, they’re in the daytime sky, and so you can’t actually see them on those dates. You’ll need to wait until they’re in the night sky, about six months from the date you entered.

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How we found your sign

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Though the astrological zodiac calendar is well known, there are small ways ours may differ from other sources. To calculate your astrological zodiac sign, we divided the sun’s annual path across the sky (known as the ecliptic) into 12 equal divisions of 30 degrees, beginning with the March equinox, which marks the beginning of Aries. This is the tropical zodiac system, in which zodiac signs are aligned to the seasons.

To calculate the astronomical zodiac constellation behind the sun, we used the Astronomy Engine software library to locate the sun on every day of the year and determine the astronomical constellation behind it.

We based our zodiac calculations on the current year, and on the position of the sun at noon UTC every day. A more accurate calculation of your sign would involve knowing the exact time and year of your birth, and as a result our calculations may be off by a day or so. This primarily affects people whose birthdays are on the cusp between two signs, or between two constellations.

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To create the 3D illustrations of the stars, we used a repository of celestial data for the 88 official constellations, and oriented these constellations based on Earth’s view of the stars on a given date.

The astronomical calculations account for precession (the slow wobble in Earth’s axis of rotation), nutation (a slight wiggle in the tilt of Earth’s axis), and the gradual drift of Earth’s elliptical orbit.

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Our star maps do not account for the movement of individual stars through space, relative to each other, known as proper motion. This movement is typically so slow as to be minimal over centuries, but the positions of some of the stars in the Northern sky during the last ice age may be in slightly different locations than shown.

In our visualizations, we used the familiar names Scorpio and Capricorn instead of the official names for those constellations: Scorpius and Capricornus. The seasons we describe are for the Northern hemisphere. The Earth’s orbit around the sun is actually counterclockwise when viewed from above; we show it orbiting clockwise for illustrative purposes. The Earth and the sun are not to scale.

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‘A Man on the Inside’ is the cozy mystery we need : Pop Culture Happy Hour

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‘A Man on the Inside’ is the cozy mystery we need : Pop Culture Happy Hour
The charming Netflix sitcom A Man on the Inside stars Ted Danson as a lonely widower who’s hired by a private investigator to live undercover in a senior living facility. His mission is to find out who stole a precious item from one of the residents. Created by Michael Schur (The Good Place), the series is also a tender and poignant depiction of loss, aging, and finding community. A Man on the Inside just returned for a second season, so today we’re revisiting our conversation about the show.
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Inside Luxury Retailers’ Bare-Knuckle Fight to Win the Holidays

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Inside Luxury Retailers’ Bare-Knuckle Fight to Win the Holidays
With market leader Saks struggling and Ssense in bankruptcy, competitors from Bloomingdale’s to Mytheresa to FWRD see a rare opportunity to grab market share. They are openly courting top customers, vendors and even the employees of their struggling competitors.
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New poetry stresses that our stories are more precious and urgent than ever

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New poetry stresses that our stories are more precious and urgent than ever

Editor’s Note: This review discusses suicide.

How can poetry help us now, when practically every morning brings a fresh assault on knowledge, wisdom and safety? Amid the cruel political discourse horrifying headlines that seem to envelop everything, where is there a place for poetry? What can a bunch of artfully arranged words do?

A lot, I’d argue.

Words are among the many things under attack. Our stories, the ways that we fill our words with our own meanings, are more precious and urgent than ever, as three new books this fall by poets in – or entering – mid-career make clear. They lay claim to stories of identity, suffering and hope, to a kind of collective subjectivity, to the inner life of a country in the throes of deep pain and uncertainty. Here’s a look:

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Blue Opening by Chet’la Sebree

Chet’la Sebree’s third book begins with the thwarted wish to have a child: “Many in my family have been plagued/ by menorrhagia in early middle age–/ fibrinous weeds causing their bodies to bleed streams,/ flooding lands no longer suitable for plants.”

What follows is a rapidly paced, heart-stricken coming to terms with a body and a future suddenly altered by autoimmune disease, with the meanings of motherhood and daughterhood, and with the stunned language required to describe it all when there is “no one to know/ my body’s vernacular, that it would mistake me for foreigner.”

Blindingly clear and unornamented, these poems have all their cards on the table, “pregnant with grief—/ it’s bloated, black, a matted thatch.” If the body is in revolt — “I am not the owner of this vessel I thought I owned, implies the man trying to sell it to me” — then it is through language that Sebree can lay claim to herself, to her story, and take it back.

The lexicons of motherhood and illness (“I accept this list of words:// necrotizing lymphadenitis and swell-scrambled nerves”) become a vocabulary of grief and profound disappointment with what may and may not be possible. Sebree searches for language to carry the grief and to promise some kind of hope and inner rebirth; she finds a surprising kind of peace and power “when a centrifuge spins/ my blood 3,000 revolutions per minute/ to render me perhaps anew to me again.” A new kind of creation becomes possible, as well, through poetry.

The Seeds by Cecily Parks

With The Seeds, her third book, Cecily Parks comes into her full powers. These poems are dark, lavish, far-reaching and subtly layered, making a harsh and rich mirror of the pastoral and the domestic. Parks reckons with the compromises that every life demands, that motherhood and art demand, that a country where violence and cruelty are suddenly triumphant require: “now I think of hope// as a swing chained to a branch./ it can be used until/ the branch sweeps the ground/ with a shush shush because/ it cannot bear/ so much weight and still loft through/ the dream-trafficked air.”

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Parks’ powers of description are breathtaking, not only because one feels transported but also because, as in the poems of Elizabeth Bishop, the emotion, the domestic or personal story, is interwoven into – always an undercurrent of, a reason for – the description. But somehow, the world as described also feels like the world, not a projection. In these poems, Parks feels with her eyes.

The writing is simply beautiful: “the grackles plummet down to pierce the lawn/ for seeds and fat brown live oak acorns.” The words dart in and out of the rhythm like the grackles’ dark beaks, making gentle animals of a mother and her “ravenous daughters.” This book is a delight, a feast of grief and determined celebration. A fallen world this lovingly observed must be at least somewhat redeemed.

The New Economy by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Hopelessness is a beloved enemy in these poems, a necessary muse. So are grief and fear. “The days I don’t want to kill myself/ are extraordinary,” begins the most affirming poem about suicide I’ve ever read. But these are not merely affirming poems (though one of them is titled “Affirmation Cistern When I Let Go of My Fear Life Becomes Magical”). Calvocoressi is at home in the dark, they live there, even if light is their element. They’re wise because they’re wary: “every being will slaughter/ their neighbor if they’re hungry,/ and enough.”

All of our violence, they assert – with a compassion so pure it feels out of step with the times – is born of fear: “when I was little I wanted/ to be tough to beat people up to own a gun./ wanted the boy body that would keep my body/ from being so scared.” Violence begins in each of us, is always inflicted first upon ourselves. And yet, we persist, try to do better – we must.

A series of “Miss You” poems, high-energy elegies for loved ones who have died, celebrate life emphatically by not quite letting go of the past: “miss you in your puffy blue jacket./ They’re hip now. I can bring you a new one/ if only you’ll come by. Know I told you /it was okay to go. Know I told you it was okay/ to leave me./ Why’d you believe me?” Why let the past go? Where else do we live but our stories? Where else can we rest from the terrors of the present? Where else can we remind ourselves of the beauty of the world?

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If you or someone you know may be considering suicide or is in crisis, call or text 9 8 8 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

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