My Cusp Runneth Over

I was born in Texas in 1966. The “Women’s Movement” (on the heels of “Civil Rights’ Movement, as Suffrage followed Abolition) was a fetus. “Girl Power” was something only my children would hear as children. My mother and grandmothers didn’t have all the power and opportunities I did, my daughters have more than I. I’m in a better position to take advantage than my foremothers and better position to not “take for granted” than my daughters. I like my life on the edge.

I was born in Texas on the 31st, at 1:34am. This puts my moon sign right on a cusp. One Moon Sign description starts, “It’s as if you were born wise.” The other begins with, “Even those closest to you can be shocked by how cold you can be.” My best friend suggested I can pick my moon sign (seeing how being born a couple of time zones away would change my birthday) and of course I picked the former. But the truth is both have truth. Wisdom is not synonymous with kindness–I can be really cool (“cold” even)–indifferent (unbiased, rational and unemotional), but my reasons for being cool are based on my insights.

My grandmother was born before electricity, my parents before TV. I was born before VCRs, microwaves, personal computers (my dad was a computer engineer so I grew up very aware of how computers shrunk in size and grew in capacity), internet, cellphones… . I watched the world move from analog to digital. I’ve felt how heavy a record collection can be and appreciate how vast a cloudy music library can be.

I remember being asked what I would be when I grow up and being exasperated by the question. All the women I knew were only three things: stay-at-home mothers, teachers or nurses. Being married to a house as “career” was very unappealing. Nursing is gross and it’s mean to stick needles in people. So I said “teacher.” I might have been a good one, but I decided I didn’t want to do that either once my opportunities expanded to “secretary” which I also rejected (and to prove my rejection, I never took typing and now peck out an impressive ~21-words/minute–on my best day), “interior decorator” or “designer” which never filled me with passion because I don’t want to just make the world prettier/shallower and psychiatrist (which I rejected after a few boring classes). I ended up doing not much of anything. I have a genius brother who has obsessed on many things. He’s a jack-of-all-trades and master of most. I’m a lethargic dabbler who has mastered nothing. But that’s okay with me. It may be selfish–I’m sure it’s immature, but I just can’t make myself groove out as a cog in a system I see as inherently flawed. In another age, maybe I would’ve flourished rather than floundered. In yet another, I would’ve killed myself.

Here I sit on the edge, approaching my 49th year. I feel good. Not great. Not bad. I feel good. Omne bene. Recent medical studies state a healthy person should live 120 years. I could be ENTERING midlife (rather than exiting it, as I feel is the case). Another cusp. What will I do with the second half? It’s going to be more spiritual. I’m long past living it worrying what others will think about how I’m living it. And I want to leave echos for my kids because listening to my cousin’s CDs has been so meaningful for me.

Almost a year ago I decided to do _Three Years of Three Wills_ (Williams Downing, Shakespeare and Blake). It was supposed to start back in January. I have three recording of _All’s Well That Ends Well_ but haven’t been able to get them uploaded. I’ll post an introduction at the end of this month and start the series in September.

Every seven years, all the cells in the human body renew (even brain cells). I won’t be 49. I’ll be 7. I’m also changing my name to Jitk7.0. 🙂

Peace and love to all my readers. (Both of you–if that many.) And to the billions who don’t read me.

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