I did a university paper in astronomy way back when, more because of an affinity for the vastness and mystery of our night-sky than a liking of physics—or for that matter anything else remotely mathematical. Of course I got far more of the latter than the former: the mundane practicalities of "matter", and it's arcane but definitely not mystical workings. And the passage of light through space, and its refraction and reflection, some of which "rationally unsound" people have the temerity to call beautiful.
It was anything but what you might call magical. A subject which the artistically inclined write best forgotten, angst-ridden poems about during their formative years—I didn't actually, but I'm sure you know the stereotype—except with every single drop of the poetry, and angst, removed.
The very first point of order in my first astronomy class, right after the professor introduced himself, was to confirm that for the next semester this class would be on the subject of astronomy, not astrology, and were anyone interested in the latter, now might be a good time to head for the door...
Read more: A pale blue dot