If you divide a geomantic sign into upper and lower halves, you are confronted with a cosmological division between celestial (fire and air) and terrestrial (water and earth) each with their stimulating (fire and water) and generative (air and earth) elements. The division occurs cross-culturally, but my go-to model for that tends to be more like Lopez-Austin’s Mesoamerican model than anything else. Looking at Amissio and Acquisitio as a pair in this light reveals intriguing properties about the forces that gather around these signs.
This take is more cosmological than homespun than the last.
The two signs are united in the way the terrestrial and celestial forces mirror each other (only Populus and Via also do so, and they do so without admixture). In Acquisitio, the generative element of each half is active while the stimulating is passive, while the situation is reversed for Amissio.
Speaking geomantically, we would say that water and fire are well-suited to being active (containing a single dot) while earth and air are well-suited to being passive (containing a double dot). In Amissio, then, the lines are in their ‘ideal’ position, while in Acquisitio the lines are in their antithetical positions.
That may sound strange to say because, in general, Acquisitio (a figure of gain) is understood to be a more favorable sign than Amissio (a figure of loss). Keep in mind, though, that the stimulating and generative elements are in dialogue with each other. In the figure of Acquisitio we see the stimulating element passing its force into the generative, creating a situation that makes the generation of forms (material or formal).
We can call Acquisitio a crown and see in it the mythological relationship between sovereign and land, with the sovereign securing the fertility of the land to which they have been consecrated. More mundanely, it reflects the Jupiterian expansiveness and leadership, with the head of an organization serving to secure the well-being and goodwill of an organization by establishing beneficent relations with its members. This sort of leader is not necessarily visible except through the well-being they engender.
Amissio, while more natural than Acquisitio, is not necessarily more pleasant because we live as terrestrial and generative beings. Amissio embodies the difficulty of stimulating the generative, and the way in which the generative returns to a passive state and yields up its active force to the stimulating element above it. We can call Amissio a vulture, overseeing the deconstruction of the generative vessel and the release of the soul.
Where Amissio is strong, there is a necessary pain and sadness. Some beautiful vessel is being broken and the most vital aspect of it is departing. The crying figures of Venus express the truth of this sign, reflecting the necessary decline of all beauty and wonder in the terrestrial plane. There is a hidden joy to this in that that the vital charge is not lost, but released, able to return to stimulate and shape some new beauty. The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen.
Where the material form has become flawed or broken, the sense of Amissio and Acquisitio is reversed. With a flawed form, Amissio brings release. When we are looking at mundane matters, it is often the figure of revision and reform, that which points to the need to discard our current models in order to work toward one better suited to the task. It is the writer throwing out or drastically revising a manuscript.
With a flawed form, Acquisitio brings suffering. While it is sometimes necessary to make-do with a good-enough explanation or an injured body (Fisher King), in Acquisitio the limits of this form are keenly felt. It can summon its twin, Amissio, but often Amissio arrives as promise of release rather than release, an aid to make-do without the transfiguration of outright release. Though, together, the long hardship can yield a subtle grace.