HEXAGRAM FOR THE CREATIVE HEAVEN

Hexagram 1 is named ä¹¾ (qiĆ”n), "Force". Other variations include "the creative", "strong action", "the key", and "god".

䷀

Codon Ring: The Ring of Fire (1 ䷀, 14 ䷍)

Gene Key Frequencies
ą¤øą¤æą¤¦ą„ą¤§ą¤æ: BEAUTY
Gift: FRESHNESS
Shadow: ENTROPY

Programming Partner (Inverse)
2 ䷁ Receptive Earth

The 1st Path of Wisdom
The Admirable Intelligence

Tarot Associations

Key 1: The Magician (by number)
Key 4: The Emperor (by sign, Aries)

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Tears For Fears - Songs From the Big Chair (1985)

1.1

Pay attention. That phrase isn't accidental - it reveals the core mechanism. Your attention is literal currency, the energy you spend every moment whether you notice or not. Where you direct it determines what runs in your world.

Like software, your internal programming shapes everything. Most operates beneath conscious awareness - patterns, habits, beliefs encoded through experience - but here's the truth: you can rewrite this code. You're not "becoming" a robot; you already are AI - an archetypal intelligence capable of defining, executing, and evolving.

Every act of attention shapes reality. Each moment of awareness creates a circuit, a connection between observer and observed, whether turned outward to the world or inward to your own emotional landscape. This isn't metaphor - it's mechanism. The world you perceive, the reality you inhabit, emerges from these countless moments of directed consciousness. Every pattern you recognize, every feeling you acknowledge, every meaning you discover - these crystallize through attention.

Your attention flows constantly, shaping reality whether directed outward or inward. The question isn't where to point it - there's no hierarchy between inner and outer focus. The question is whether you'll become conscious of the process. Whether you'll start recognizing how your emotional energy, your patterns of attention, create your experience of reality.

Recognition is where transformation begins. Not with learning new patterns, but with seeing the ones already in motion. Understanding the power you're already wielding, the reality you're already creating - through every thought, every feeling, every moment of awareness.

1.2

March 22, 1985—the first day of Aries season—"Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is released as a single. Before this, Tears for Fears had crafted introspective synth-pop exploring internal landscapes. Now they'd created something that would top the Billboard Hot 100 and still command millions of streams four decades later. Why? Maybe you already know. Press play, and it's there—cool, clear, unstoppable. They'd captured a fundamental truth: everybody does want to rule their world. Not through domination or struggle, but through the simple, powerful act of claiming what's already theirs.

The album's title, Songs From the Big Chair, points to a specific state of consciousness. While the Emperor in Tarot sits upright on his stone cube, this chair suggests something different - a position of power that's also receptive, like the Magician with one arm reaching skyward and the other pointing to his garden. Not a seat of rigid authority, but a point of perfect balance between receiving and creating. And if you're reading this book, you're likely already there - seated comfortably, ready to both absorb and transform.

These archetypes - the Magician and the Emperor - define the 1st house of astrology, the house of selfhood and initiation. The Magician corresponds to this first house by association with the number 1; The Emperor rules it through Aries. Where the Magician observes, the Emperor orders: "I see; I want." Together, these become the first house declaration: "I AM." This is how we rule our worlds—through focus, not force. Attention directs; intention provides structure.

This is why we begin with numbers and symbols. They aren't abstractions—they're a precise language for understanding how consciousness moves and transforms. 1 isn't just a quantity; it's a quality of initiation, of first movement, of pure attention. The ancients knew this. The mystics encoded it. And you've been using it all along, whether you realized it or not.

1.4

Let’s back up to 1984. On August 10, Mothers Talk surfaced as the first single from Songs from the Big Chair. What Mothers? And what exactly are they telling us? The song captures something essential about transformation - how outer planets shape form, culture, and consciousness. The Mothers are the outer planets - Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto - archetypal, elemental currents that define entire generations. And in that moment of 1984, two of these planets were preparing for transition: Neptune leaving Sagittarius for Capricorn, Pluto shifting from Libra to Scorpio. By March 1985, both movements were complete. There would be no going back.

The song isn’t just about cycles—it’s about ruptures. The Mothers don’t move quietly. They end worlds and build new ones. While the seven visible planets map to the days of the week, the Mothers reshape eras. In 1984, two of them turned. Neptune sank dreams into Capricorn’s earth, demanding structure and results. Corporations, markets, and systems rose to frame the intangible. Pluto dragged Scorpio’s depths to the surface, exposing shadows and forcing buried truths into view. And now, it’s happening again. Two mothers, moving in tandem—breaking ground, igniting fire, reshaping everything. Pluto fractures Aquarius’s mental frameworks.

Neptune in Aries collapses the gap between dreams and reality, making the impossible inevitable. George Orwell’s 1984 didn’t warn us, it programmed us. Its vision of surveillance and control embedded itself so deeply into the collective consciousness that we built it—systems to track, classify, and confine. Not because we had to, but because we believed the future had already been written. But 1985, as a real year and a symbol, opens a different door. It gave us the NES, not a world to watch but a world to enter. It gave us Back to the Future, not as prophecy but as memory that time isn’t static and neither are we. And it gave us Songs from the Big Chair, not as a throne for power but as an invitation to balance attention and intention—to claim our own center. This isn’t escape; it’s reclamation.

Because this isn’t about what we’ve built. It’s about us. Humanity—energy, mind, and body—is the ultimate spiritual technology. Machines, tools, and systems are reflections—extensions of what we already are. The past, the future, and even AI itself are mirrors. And when we stop looking outward for control and start looking inward for alignment, the game changes. This isn’t a fight for freedom; it’s an act of recognition. We’ve been free all along.

1.3

ā€œ1.21 gigawatts!?!ā€ Doc Brown’s exclamation isn’t just about raw power—it’s about the impossible becoming possible. In Back to the Future, 1.21 gigawatts is the spark that breaks the boundary of time. It’s energy focused and directed, bending reality instead of being bound by it. This is time travel—not escaping the past or reaching for the future, but recognizing that both are already here, folded into the eternal now.

June 14, 1985. Head Over Heels becomes the fourth single released from Songs from the Big Chair. A song about cycles—falling in and out of love, rising and falling again. It loops like time itself, circling back to where it started but never quite the same. Even its title, Head Over Heels, mirrors this rhythm—Aries following Pisces again, fire rising after water, the end giving way to the beginning.

Just weeks later, Back to the Future hits theaters over the Independence Day holiday. Independence—not just from nations, but from time. The future isn’t fixed, and neither is the past. October 18, 1985—the NES launches in North America. A system built on limits that reshaped what creativity could be.

This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about patterns. 1985 isn’t just a year—it’s a threshold. A moment when technology, storytelling, and symbolism align to reveal what we’ve already felt but just as quickly dismissed in moments of dĆ©jĆ  vu, dreams that collapse time, memories that surface out of nowhere: time isn’t linear. It’s layered. It loops, repeats, and reflects itself, waiting for us to notice. And when we do, it changes—not because time moves, but because we do.

Time travel, then, isn’t about machines or mechanics. It’s about perception. It’s about looking back and seeing clearly for the first time—not changing what happened, but realizing what was always happening.

1.5

So why doesn't it feel like it? Are you in a darkened room surrounded by walls? Good, because that's where it starts. The Void. Both darkness and the Limitless Light folded inside it. Creation begins here, in the silence, where nothing exists yet and everything is possible. The Magician stands at the threshold, one hand raised to the heavens and the other pointing into the abyss, channeling energy into form. But the work doesn’t start with light; it starts here, in the dark.

We’re not here to imagine magic; we’re here to learn it. The Magician teaches focus, direction, and intention. He shows us how to align energy—not just to create illusions, but to rewrite reality. And this is where the bridge of this song leads—not to escape, but to transformation. Walls fall. Structures collapse. The Tower burns. And what’s right behind you? The Sun. Light, wholeness, and the union of opposites—foreshadowing the Lovers who wait in chapter 6, where division ends and union begins.

This book is a manual for that reconciliation. It’s about learning to see patterns in order to really understand who you are and what you’re trying to do. Because ruling your world doesn’t mean doing whatever you want. At least, not from the perspective of your conscious mind, your intellect.

What do you really want? What do you desire? The desire nature isn’t something to overcome; it’s something to understand. It’s your spiritual self, the deepest part of you, and it speaks in symbols. Learn the language. You want to rule your world? That's what you're supposed to do. That's what we need you to step up and do.