Following my arrow

I thought I was the most shameful Sagittarius, but not because I couldn’t spell it right until I was 20.

As a kid, I would stop at the magazines and newspapers aisle in the supermarket to check my week according to my star sign.

"Sagittarius," the weekly horoscope said. "Always the adventurous one. You are full of wanderlust and an insatiable need to see the world and travel!"

I stared at the artsy image of a strong hybrid creature pulling a bow across its chest and aiming into the endless and wondrous void of space. I had a babysitter who once told me she stuck push pins into a map on her wall, and I wondered if this creature did the same, but with an arrow and the stars.

I wanted to be the same as the both of them. I wanted to be spontaneous and fearless and seek the unknown with a smile on my face and a dare for the universe on the tip of my tongue.

But in college, I struggled to make friends. My roommate was a Scorpio (thank goodness) and dragged me out to bars and variety shows and band nights every weekend. But without her encouragement, I never mustered the courage to strike out on my own. And after? The same. I go to work, and I come home. I do my shopping and my laundry.

And I dream while I'm awake.

Between the moments of the real world, I always have a book in my hands. I read everything. I debate with Plato and Marcus Aurelius. I discover with Neil Gaiman and Ursula Le Guin. I save the world with Clarissa Claire and Ilona Andrews. They all sit on my shelf and wait for the next time I crave their company. When the world grows too small and uncomfortable for me outside, I fold myself between the written pages, and let the perfume of a paperback linger to create another memory. In my books, I am safe but adventurous.

Another trait of Sagittarius is an inability to fulfill promises.

Had I broken a promise, a pact, made with the stars that welcomed me into the world? Was I hiding away from what I was meant to be? Would I be labeled a defective Sagittarius?

No. I don’t believe I am.

Sagittarius are also very intelligent creatures. We explore and dissect the world, wondering where the gears are and why it makes a ticking noise. We can also find the loopholes and caveats of any situation.

I may not travel to exotic destinations, but I have explored worlds across time and space. Each page of a book is a ticket to the next, and the secrets waiting there. I have shared heartache and triumph with characters that never knew life until I read them into existence. And in return for this favor, they have taught me much more about myself. Through books I venture into territory others shudder to contemplate, much less enter. I am given permission to ask the questions some will never strive to ponder.

My wanderlust is not for destinations, but for understanding myself and the complexities that create me.

I do not point an arrow toward the distant stars, but settle it inside a compass to spin as it pleases. We Sagittarius enjoy freedom too.

So my arrow spins, around and around, until it is pulled by a well-constructed opening line or a beautiful cover. And as I read, I am set on a path that curves away into the darkest corners of my mind. Often I tread a path that takes me too deep inside of myself, and I come back shaken and bruised by my travels. I am left to question what I had known up to that point, and if I should try to remember what I have learned. But never, not once, do I regret. I stand up, brush myself off, and move on to the next adventure with optimism and without a second thought.

Another trait of the Sagittarius.