Letting my Sun Sign Self Shine...

I’m so indecisive that I don’t know how to start this essay.

I tap my fingers on my writing desk, sip my coffee, and stare into the ocean painting that hangs on the wall.

Should I write an essay called, “How to Create the Sweetest Meal (Dessert) for a Libra?”

I scribble on the blank paper: A Libra is like a slice of carrot cake topped with a swirl of whip cream and a sprinkle of espresso beans.

Yes, that essay idea sounds yummy, but too predictable. I crumble up the paper, tossing it in the waste bin, effortlessly.

My creative mind runs headfirst into the west wind (for Libras are Air signs after all).

I’ll freely admit to being a free spirit with a sense of order.

Yes, yes, that’s a contradiction, but I can do that — I’m a Libra after all.

I’m absolutely 80 proof Libra.

In that, I mean, I’m a strong bitter drink of a Libra that’ll burn if someone drops a match in my cup, but if you mix in a bit of sweetness, then I’m the perfect spirit on an autumn afternoon.

Contradictions are the root of being a Libra, and yet we are natural leaders.

Libras are the Cardinal of the Air Signs.

A Cardinal sign means the leader of the sun signs (Air, Water, or Fire). I’m nothing like an Aries who is the Cardinal sign of Fire. They lead with a solid intensity — a controlled burn to prevent forest fires.

Libras lead softly and sweetly while adorned with a star-studded silver crown.

Balanced. Artistic. Lover of beautiful things.

And yet mystery envelops us in our inconsistencies.

As a Libra, I adore surprises. The lull of curiosity’s song. A puzzle to be solved.

Astrology is one such puzzle for me a Libra.

The astrological descriptions are pieces fitting together, creating an image skewed slightly by the jagged edges.

A picture that shows Libra’s strengths like golden wind chimes ringing in the pink and blue pastels of twilight, but the picture doesn’t show the darkness — the difficulties of being a Libra.

Libras lean into the windy night, smelling the sweetness of cherry blossoms under the starry skies — searching for the mystery. A way to expand the definition of Libra to more than pretty, smart, creative, and the balancers of justice.

An image of Libras being more than a golden scale.

Libras are supposed to be the arbitrators of justice, but I, like so many Libras, are tired of balancing everyone’s crap.

I’m not static — golden scales stuck weighing the weights of other’s actions.

The Libra symbol needs to morph into something more beautiful, which leads to art.

Yes, art is a Libra’s joy — my divine bliss.

I’ll dive into the creativity without care of another’s interpretations. My hands get messy with paint or clay. My eyes alive and awake, as I get lost in the flow. The river of creativity. The shiny surface of waves crashing against the rocky cliffs at sunrise. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all. The eyes are the window of the soul and the mind.

Libras love to learn, holding a wealth of knowledge.

Yes, it’s true, I know a thing or two, but I’ll play it cool, letting others chatter away about facts and fiction. I’ll listen excited to learn something new from my friends. I’ll add a sprinkle of questions to engage their stories, especially their stories about love.

Libras are love, eternally.

We’re ruled by Venus — the planet of love. I adore all stories about love and relationships.

And yet, as a Libra, I don’t kiss and tell anymore. I’ve learned that some stories aren’t for the sharing.

A sweet secret.

But I’ll divulge this one: I’ve saved the best for last.

Libras are the sweet sign of the Zodiac.

Libras love anything delicious.

The smell of jasmine and orange blossoms.

The aromatic flavor of a hot chai latte on a rainy day.

The first and second and third bites of a slice of double mocha flourless cake decorated with a handful of espresso beans.

And that’s when I weave back to the beginning — my indecision on how to write an essay about Libras leads to this sweet goodbye toast — a reminder to always let your sun sign self shine on through!

Copyright 2021 © Jesi Wright