Horoscopes have always fascinated me. They’re always a pretty good judge of character. It seems there’s more documentation on astrology than there is on mathematics. I base that presumption on absolutely nothing other than the fact there are daily horoscopes in every newspaper on Earth. Sudoku is mathematics’ new weapon in drawing attention to itself. Good luck with that, you vile science.
I don’t pay attention to the predictions because they talk about love when you don’t have it. Talk about problems in a relationship when you’re in a good one. How to manage your money when you have none, and how you’ll lose it all when you finally have it. But, there are tons of people who find it’s perfect for them. For the rest of us, newspaper horoscopes may as well come with instructions on how to tie a noose and directions to the closest crossbeam.
But, what I love about horoscopes is how right they are about the physical qualities and personalities associated with a certain sign. I’ve got this horoscope book that describes people born in my proximity as: usually slim, tall, agile, long arms, high forehead, quick darting eyes, and fleshy hands. Perfect. Well, substitute fleshy hands for slender, girly hands and they’ve nailed me. My likes and dislikes, too. Sure, I may get restless, and impatient and I may be gossipy, nervous and manipulative at times, but that’s okay because there’s a full segment of the population that act and look the same way, Geminis.
I inherited my Gemini-dom. My mom’s grandmother was Gemini, her son (my grandfather) was Gemini, and my mom is Gemini. From mother to son, father to daughter, mother to son, Gemini has become a legacy. It’s a good thing we all are Geminis because we all get along far too well, talking to all hours gossiping and self-analyzing. May and June are beautiful to have a birthday in. But, like May showers, there is a tragedy to being a Gemini.
Gemini is the twin sign of Castor and Pollux. In Greek mythology, these two twins shared the same mother, but had different fathers. Pollux’s dad was Zeus, so he was immortal. Castor got the raw deal, however, and was born mortal. When Castor died, Pollux asked his dad to let him share his own immortality with his twin to keep them together and they were transformed into the Gemini constellation.
For years, I always regarded being bipolar as an exaggerated trait of being Gemini. I had two poles inside me, twin emotional personalities battling it out. But, when it comes to life and love, I ultimately felt the same way most Geminis feel, lonely.
The Gemini’s life purpose is supposedly to find your opposite twin, your “other half.” We’re like the yin and yang symbol, always striving to find someone to complete us. I found that person, and she’s a Gemini, too. Julia shares the same birthday as me, though a few years separated. She also matches the typical Gemini criteria. She even surpasses it, being obsessed most of her life with twins, even dressing up her friends in elementary like her and being furious when they refused.
True love is really something I can’t describe. It makes the present moment stretch to infinity and the future something to look forward to. It’s all very mushy. But, I don’t totally look at my relationship with Julia as two twins becoming one. The fine print in my Gemini book reads: though we may be looking for someone else to fulfill us, it’s only ourselves that have the ability to become complete. All those years spent dealing with my illness made me stronger. I got to a point after my hospitalization where I didn’t need anyone to fulfill some part of my soul. I had a full heart and soul stepping into my relationship with Juila, and so did she. There is no dependence, no jealousy. We simply exist together, in complete sync. Trust, honor, friendship and respect (mmm, and attraction.) She’s not scared of my ghosts and I’m not scared of hers. That’s big.
I find myself always wondering what she thinks when she goes quiet. Not because I fear she may be thinking something bad about me or our relationship, and not because I want her to stroke my ego by telling me all the mushy things she may be thinking about. I ask her what she’s thinking because whatever it is, I know I’m feeling it now or have felt it before.
“Hey, Julia. What’re you thinking?”
“I was wondering what you’re thinking.”
And that’s love.