Gemini Season

Castor and Pollux, twins of legend, heroes of old, who guided sailors and fought wild boar, still swing from the stars. Forever together, separate stars cast in the same constellation, they share some things (a mother, a story) while holding the rest (a father, a heartbeat) separate.

All the Geminis who came before you, one in twelve of each year’s born, share your sign and hold the rest separate. Children of early summer, like the blossoms on a newly awakened tree - each flower an individual, wrapped around their own distinct centers, yet all swaying on the same branch, exhaling the same pollen, siblings singing the harmonies of new life.

Their stories are chapters that precede your own, patterns that tesselate into your birth. A way was paved for you, one of sparkling wits and shifting witness, of chatter and charm and chaos. You will find your definition here, your cosmic inheritance, generations of twins whose traits you share and yet make all your own.

You, the most recent link in an ancient chain, the newest twin born to a line of thousands. You seek yourself in mirrors, discerning the divine in the duplicate. Do not resist this expansion of yourself, but continue to embrace the cellular multiplication that gives you more, more, more. It is your birthright.

Turn on the selfie camera and celebrate your own face, its contours, its many variations. Let your feed become a prism reflecting you, from every angle, everywhere you turn. See yourself reflected in the shower door, the puddle beneath your car, the blackness of a screen gone dim. You are enough, and still you are more than enough, you abundant, eternal Gemini.

There were seasons preceding yours - Taurus, the time of the bull. Under the snarling breath of the beast, you dug your heels in. It was a heavy season, muscled and horned, and you settled in deep. Like a twin in the womb, you clung tightly to the hands closest to yours. You were a curled fist, holding on.

Pollux would not let his brother go; he held on from birth through death and beyond, demanding that the gods themselves keep their hands intertwined through eternity. You have lived through Taurus season as a descendant of this twin. You grew tired. Sweat pooled in your closed fist, the stubborn heat of your flesh its best protection.

The bull has left, charging onward to new pastures, leaving you and all that you fought to hold close. What remains? All that you stood for in the past season, refusing to release, as you stared down the bull. You stood this ground for a reason. Remember it.

You are twinned with the world, connected at your core. Find the place where your body remembers its dependence, the tidy knot left behind by your umbilical cord, and breathe into it. Let your clenched fist relax, let yourself open. The bull has gone, and in its place are barefoot twins. They do not charge nor threaten. They welcome you here.

Whatever closed around you now bursts open. An eggshell cracks, and inside are two chicks, chirping in unison, stretching their new legs. Embrace this shatter, and see yourself reflected in its scattered pieces. Let in the light. Let in the noise, then add your own voice. There is a story crying to be told, and it is yours.

Prophesy, Gemini! Split your paired lips and speak, letting the your own tongue carry the truth. Existence is your sister, now breath has become your brother. That double organ, your lungs, carries a gift for you, one to open over and over, every moment a birthday. And holding them, your ribs, their blessed symmetry, every bone curved toward its own twin.

Inhale is the twin of exhale, simultaneous and yet one older than the younger, rivals and guardians. In this season, breathe your sibling breaths. Honor your lungs. Celebrate the present. This is your season.

Yesterday belonged to the bull, and today belongs to you. Whose is tomorrow? When the sun sets on Gemini season, the heavens turn their eyes toward Cancer. What’s coming is the stalwart and secretive crab. You know its shape - two claws, each its own smaller pair. You know what it is to be two and yet also one; you know what it means to grasp.

Your feet may know the grass of the field, grazing bulls and children playing chase. Look ahead, Gemini, to a future on the shoreline. Plan for sand beneath your feet, a ground that is ever changing and always the same. Prepare for the ocean. What will you swim toward, exploring the dark of its depths?

What you held then, and what you speak now, waits for you at sea. It will splash over you in waves, and you will remember the steadiness of land. Feel it now, the soil of your season. In it, seeds are buried. Their shoots will become trunks, and those trunks will join together into a great ship, and you will set sail.

Above you, the stars will be your guide. Keep your eye on the twins, your eldest brothers, twinkling above you. You are a Gemini, and though adventure awaits, with all its terrors and triumphs, you are never alone.