Welcome to the Bug House

Written By Jonathan Krogh

Dear Fellow Star-shifters:

Let me begin with a disclaimer: I’m not the least bit interested in astrology. With all due respect for the amazing author and humanitarian John Green, I do not blame the stars for unfortunate events. That being the case, I was still a little startled by a NYTimes article this morning  explaining how the astrological constellations relative to the earth’s orbit around the sun have shifted over the past two millennia. (Apologies if the article remains behind a paywall—it’s not worth a subscription.) So, imagine my chagrin when I discovered today that I was not a Scorpio, but in modern reality I am a Libra. I don’t even know what that means. But for a brief moment during breakfast, I felt like a guest of Henry Louis Gates Jr. learning that my great-grandfather was a horse-thieving, slave-holding cannibal. That kind of thing shakes one’s self-perception.

The technical term for the experience is vection, which once described the transmission of disease, but now is applied to neurology. Vection is the illusion created when objects around you move but you are stationary, causing you to believe you are the one in motion. I haven’t shifted, but my stars did.

I believe over the past ten months we have experienced a national political vection, and it’s making us sick to our social stomachs. As near as I can tell, my neighbors are the same people they were in early 2024. They have the same houses, the same number of annoying children and for the most part the same cars; but because something beyond us has moved, I’ve been eyeing them with a little more suspicion. In reality, nothing within us has changed, but there has been an astrological drift to our anchoring constellations. In parts of the galaxy beyond our influence or control, reference points once believed to be immutable are not where they used to be. Things like the Constitution, the rule of law, the balance of powers, our identity as a nation of immigrants, basic decorum and constraints on law enforcement have changed. The illusion created by this vection has resulted in assuming my neighbors are less trustworthy.

Of course, the cure for vection is direct observation. When I was a kid at Lake Okoboji, there was a ride at Arnolds Park called the Bug House. It was a simple rickety contraption where you entered a small room. In the center was a swing, two facing benches pivoting on a single poll through the middle of the room. Four riders entered and sat on the swing facing each other, two on each side. The door was closed, and the room began to spin. Vection created the illusion that the swing was rocking, then spinning, first slowly, then at a dizzying speed. There were no harnesses, no seat belts, because in reality the swing was stationary. You only needed to close your eyes to eliminate the power of the illusion. Your body reported you were safely seated on the little bench next to your friend. But the illusion was so effective that the operator was frequently seen hosing down the ride after one patron or another hurled during the experience.

The key here is reference and our complete loss of anchoring relationships. Over the past few years, I’ve grown out of touch with my neighbors. Perhaps they have changed since our last congenial conversations. I’m not sure if I can close my eyes to the broader distorted world; maybe they’re waiting to come and get me when my guard is down.

The anxiety works both ways; I feel my neighbor’s suspicion. I am, after all, the local progressive whack job with the pro-choice yard sign. Over time, guard up and eyes scanning, we have become exhausted by the disorientation. Who can risk closing their eyes when the world has changed so much, and so fast? Perhaps I should talk to them… then again, maybe not. I’m pretty sure they’re all furtively mumbling to each other that I’m not even a Scorpio.

Thinking I may risk relationships that overcome vection, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

Jonathan Krogh
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