A Pink, Winter Coat Shell

Emotional and moody: Cancers tend to get their feelings hurt very easily and it is hard for them to get over it; they can be sharp and hold grudges. These people are generally very nurturing, motherly people with a great attachment to the home and family. They are seemingly just like a crab; guarded by a hard armor shell, that protects a soft and emotional inside. This shell is usually quite difficult to penetrate, but once you do, you become a part of the crab’s soft inside and are therefore treasured and guarded forever. A cardinal water sign, these people seem to be directly tied to the oceans, but they prefer basking on the hot sand to swimming in the seas. The pearl is their birthstone, their ruling planet is the Moon. The waxing and waning of the moon and the rise and fall of the ocean tides are as tumultuous and fickle as the mood of the Crab. They are deep and intuitive, often psychic or possessing a Sixth Sense. They are those who follow their heart instead their head.

I remember often staring up at the moon from the car window, as we drove by. It had fascinated me for as long as I can remember. The way something so heavy and substantial hung in the sky so delicately as if by a gossamer of spider's thread, the way its shape changed ever so slightly, and the way that what I was looking up at was the same thing that people hundreds of miles away were also looking up at. That beautiful being always somewhere in the sky seemed to be my anchor and my solace.

I remember learning later that the moon and the seas were connected to each other. It seemed like magic to me that two bodies, so far away, so different from each other could be so completely and drastically linked. Like magic, so seemingly impossible, yet so completely fated, it felt so right that it gave my person such an ease and peace to know this fact.

When I was in 3rd grade, I lived in a pink, winter coat. It didn’t matter what the temperature was; that coat was my armor. It was dingy and faded, the sleeves were frayed and caked with gray sweat from the tiny fingers that retreated inside and grasped its cuffs. It was purple inside, covered in balls of fuzz from many washings, tears in the seams leaked white stuffing. The purple piping on the outside hung loose at the edges, some completely torn free, creating an obscure pattern of missing and still hanging on. I was so completely drawn into myself, everything inside me screamed “be invisible”! I would walk, head bowed, arms straight at my sides, taking small, silent steps always vigilant not to come too close to another person, nor let my shoes tap loudly on the echoing floors, clinging to the cool, non-judgment of the friendly walls. I sought empty halls at school and lingered in the bathroom as long as I could before returning to the eyes and the noise of the classroom.

My timidness and quest to be unseen did not change in the coming years. Lunch and recess were my favorite part of the day. I never ate lunch. I didn’t have anyone to sit with, no friends. I didn’t want the additional anxiety of food hanging out of mouth, messes unseen on my face or in my teeth; just more fuel for the other kids to laugh at me. No, I bolted through the double doors that led from the cafeteria to the open air and I felt the rush of freedom like a horse into an open field. I galloped with my black dress shoes kicking up the playground gravel each day to the very edge of our school’s playground. I ran to my spot that was so far away that no one else ever came and so far down a hill so that I could barely even see the school. To the climbing wall at the furthest point; this is where I felt safe and trotted around waiting. Only a few feet away was the creek that ran the length of the playground and at this far side was a fence to designate where the school left off and the farm beyond began. The horses could go under the fence at the creek and I would spend my time with them. Their sensitive ears pricked up at the slightest noise, so they never stayed in the rare circumstance that someone was sent to check on me. Nobody ever knew and nobody ever fixed the fence. My horse friends may be all that got me through those hard, dark days. The cruelty of the other children had caused my shell to thicken to keep me safe from the pain. It was only through the kindness of animals that I kept my inside soft.

I found a book in the library in seventh grade. Some would say I found it by chance, but it showed me that it was by Fate. The Argonautica: the story of Jason and the Argonauts. A book of myth from ancient Greece, the story of a completely misunderstood and demonized woman who gave her very life and soul to the man she loved, only to be betrayed and broken by him. I was 11 when I devoured this book. Being one of those quirky kids who would rather be with a book than people, I had a very high reading level for my age, so I often sought books that could advance my talent and passion for reading. This book however, surpassed that purpose and brought me a new one. Within it I met Gods and Goddesses, creatures and monsters, heroes, and villains. I read about them hungrily, devouring every detail, feeling the stir inside my very core as the Me within began to awaken. I knew them all, each one. Reading about them was like lifting a dark, heavy blanket, covered in dust and age, and shaking it free to reveal ancient memories of my place, my family, my home. The Greek “myths” became my life, my obsession. I collected images of the Gods and prayed to them. I wrote them poetry and sang them songs. My affinity for Artemis, Goddess of the Moon, Nature, and the chastity of women, seemed to exist before I even rediscovered her. She was my love, my God, and I gave her my worship.

I was a good girl. An obedient child. I never talked back or stepped out of line. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all bi-weekly churchgoers. My parents were not. My sister and I yearned for acceptance and belonging and often tagged along when we went to visit our large, extended family. As was my way, I did and believed what I was told. The church took Greek mythology away from me. They said it was of the Devil; that I was worshipping false idols and that the devil had me in his clutches. They did a cleansing ceremony on me that involved fire, chanting, overwhelming emotion, and all of the grand hand gestures of an evangelical 1930's preacher. I look back it at now and see how akin that Christian Cleansing was to a traditional Pagan Ceremony or Ritual today; and I giggle.

I grew up in the church after that. I was obedient and I loved Jesus, as I was told. I begged my parents to come along to church and to accept the Lord as their Savior, because as my Pastors, family, and friends always reminded me, if they did not, they would burn in the eternal fires of Hell, whilst we all looked down upon them from Heaven. I followed the Word of God, but always in the back of my mind it seemed like I was being untrue to myself, like a betrayal of what was truly right for me. I chose to ignore my own intuition and do as I was told instead. For years I stayed on the path of righteousness, but deep inside all I really felt was fear instilled in me by the church and sadness of something that I was missing.

I discovered my innocence and my purity. To stay clean and a virgin seemed so very important; it was sacred, and it deserved to be protected. I also discovered the nurturing aspects of myself. I would become like an eagle and spread my wings over an under-dog, any one or anything that needed protection. I would nurse any animal to health, housing many fallen birds, stray cats, and even the tiny mice that had found their way in those cats’ paths. And I found myself more comfortable with children younger than myself. I volunteered in the nursery at church, and later in high school, I spent my lunch hours in the on-campus preschool. They flocked to me when they were scared, they found safety with me and I found happiness in that. To this day, I do not have a lot of friends, but those who have earned that name are the tried and true who have been with me for many years; through the very best and the very worst.

I met Heather when I was 17. She was a year older than me and seemed so down to earth and grounded. She made everyone around her feel safe and happy. She never judged anyone but simply seemed to heighten their ability to believe in themselves. She embodied a modern day a hippie. She dressed the part, was peaceful and loving, and even did some drugs. She was into crystals, she burned incense, and talked about meditation. She awakened my spiritual side again, the side that had been closed down, like a steel trap after my Cleansing from the church. She made me question my beliefs and I went to my Pastor and began to ask those questions. “Why would God put these things upon the Earth if they are not here to help to guide us? Crystals and stones? Meditation and communing with Him in the mind?”

Each question was answered simply with “It is the Devil. He is trying to steer off the path of righteousness! Beware! Hell awaits you if you pursue that path!”

But I did pursue that path. I was terrified and it took many years to shake the chains of religion that I’d been bound with. My heart pounded as I read metaphysical books and discovered new things such as astrology, spells, and holistic medicine. Through it all I chose to follow my heart and my intuition over the fear I had of breaking with Christianity and the fires that had been promised if I did. I felt that something was there, calling to me just beyond; something better, happier, accepting, and absolute. I pushed, I learned, and I broke free.

I have read about and dabbled in astrology throughout my years. If nothing else, I feel that astrology can give you a deeper insight into who are you; what your strengths and weaknesses are, and what your purpose is. Every time I have read my own charts or horoscopes, or the traits and characteristics of Cancer; I feel as if someone has just been following me around and writing about my life.

I am the Crab. I wear my pink, winter coat shell to safeguard the gawky, soft child inside. I love to bask on the sand and feel the hot sun upon my skin. I followed my heart, leaving everyone I know back home in cold Colorado, to move to the Texas heat. I am thankful for each morning I can sit on my front porch, drinking my coffee in the hot sunshine. I still keep people at a distance, my sharp claws always at the ready. It takes a fight to become one of my trusted, and you may end up with cuts and bruises afterwards. However, once a part of my circle I will protect, honor, and exalt you until the day I leave my bones behind. I follow my heart. I am often looked at as irresponsible or childish, a dreamer. I let my heart and the Fates guide me on my path, all-trusting that I am going the right way. I am honored to be a Crab, thankful for the day I was born. Through whatever cosmic forces, mythological creation, or my own planned rebirth that led my soul back to this Earth, I know that it was not by chance that I was born on June 25th, but something written in the stars.