Signs of the Literary Zodiac

Today is the summer solstice. To help mark the occasion, we're casting our gaze to the heavens and considering the celestial and the literary with a little help from Randon Rosenbohm at Literary Hub. Today, Rosenbohm looks at writers born under the sign of Gemini and begins with Walt Whitman, before moving on to Emerson and a slew of others. From the top:

The symbol representing Gemini, a pair of twins, seems to perfectly encapsulate what most people associate with the sign—duality (or, if we aren’t being poetic, two faced-ness). This symbol originates from the myth of Castor and Pollux, also known as the Dioscouri. The pair emerged from an egg laid by the Queen of Sparta, who was impregnated by Zeus while he was disguised as a swan—for some reason, he gets off on disguising himself as animals and raping powerful women (see Taurus). The mythical hatchlings are technically half-brothers; Castor’s dad was Sparta’s mortal king, whom the queen boned before the possessed swan happened upon her. They did everything together, but tragically, Castor—the mortal twin—died because they got too rowdy. Immortal Pollux was grief-stricken, so he begged his dad to be allowed to visit Pollux in the underworld. Zeus granted Pollux half of Castor’s immortality, so although their constellation lives in the sky forever, they split their time equally between the worlds of the living and the dead.

From this myth comes the typing of Gemini as the sign of fraternity and duality. Combined with Gemini’s planetary signifier Mercury, the trickster god of transit and commerce who serves as a messenger between the worlds, it blesses Gemini with a multifaceted worldview. Take, for example, the most famous line of beloved Gemini poet Walt Whitman (born May 31, 1819): “I contain multitudes.” A Gemini’s truth is never singular. While its opposite sign, Sagittarius, is associated with higher learning, Geminis are inspired by Mercury to explore via traveling and reading, cultivating an expansive worldview from the comfort and convenience of their own neighborhood. While Saggitarian knowledge comes from faraway travels, Gemini’s horizons broaden in shorter commutes. Their personalized philosophies originate from common sense, their research done themselves.

Whitman was clearly inspired by his natal Gemini sun’s self-directed, fraternal spirituality. In “Song of Myself,” he declares:

I Celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

Although he centers his own experience, the knowledge he accrues is not, ultimately, self-serving; it also illuminates the experiences of others.

Head to Lit Hub now to read on.