Festering at Fifty

Photo: once a single pronged thing, this cactus is developing a character all its own on my kitchen window sill.

As part of my 50th birthday gifts to myself, I went far beyond the norm and the mundane.  First it was the Mongolian yurt, then it was the astrological readings; yes, I went really "out there".  The natal astrological chart was quite fascinating, even with my limited knowledge of such things.  Two points were noteworthy; first the planet Chiron was prominent in the skies at the moment of my birth.  Discovered in 1977, this little known planet represents the "wounded healer" and orbits only every 50 years.  This explains so much; what's at play here is not merely a garden variety menopausal episode but the very stars are contributing to my ongoing festerings and awakenings.  I've decided to take comfort in this sense of powerlessness and see what will reveal itself.  Apparently, this is what I've been feeling for a year and I'll continue to feel it for a year to come.  Hormone replacement therapy can't touch this.

Secondly, my astrologer told me that I was a nun in a past life.  Strangely, this resonates especially with Rob who said I was very nun-like when we first met.  I reminded him that at that moment, I was reading his Rune cards at his bachelor pad cabin during a fund raiser for Canadian Crossroads International and I had gotten there in my car painted like a Holstein cow.  But the point was that I had carried over some of these nun characteristics with me to this present life.  In the past I was obedient to the scriptures, but now, I guide my life according to my heart.  Not exactly a giant leap of logic for anyone who knows me but there is further proof.

A few days ago I was flashing my tatoo in my favorite coffee shop.  The story of the old thing goes back 20 years when I got a divorce from my first husband.  This was long before tatoos became fashionable and common.  I needed something powerful to mark the moment, to solidify my decision to choose growth and mystery instead of what I had; stale stability and predictability.  What I needed was to travel extensively, to roam around aimlessly, to explore wildly whatever opportunity afforded.  First it was the train across Canada and by the time I got to Halifax I had the tatoo well thought out; an anchor with a heart in the middle on my ankle.  My brother Pierre was in the navy then so he knew the place to take me on the shaddy side of town.  I reasoned I needed something strong to anchor me into a new life, with new outlooks and philosophies.  How easily it would have been to slip back into the comfort and ease of my marriage that no longer fit properly, like a sloppy old shoe.  The heart was obvious, to give me tender guidance to my soul.  Remarkably, all that remains of the tatoo today is the heart; no more need for that cold hard anchor. I am firmly on my path now, only parts of me wishes I knew where it was going.