Judge not, that ye be not judged.

I was making my bed one morning when something came up about a crab.  Without thinking too much, I made reference to my own association with a crab.  This, most obviously, raised questions and eyebrows with BigGirl.

I don’t remember when I first learned about astrology.  I suppose it was a piece-meal process found within the pages of Mama’s morning newspaper horoscope section and the back pages of Glamour magazines.  Regardless of its origin, I’ve always been naturally drawn to astrology.  I latched on and nursed it fervently, thirsty for more.  It was sweet and familiar and comforting.  I have returned to it time and time again throughout my adolescent and adult life. 

On that morning with BigGirl, I stood at the edge of my bed, smoothing sheets.  Pulling at the coverlet.  Neatly piling pillows, European, standard, throw, bolster.  I talked about stars and planets and symbols – crabs, twins, scales, fish, insects, lions.  I spoke of constellations and personal traits.  She listened, wide-eyed and fascinated.  Until, as I finally draped the chocolate blanket gracefully at the foot of my side of the bed, we left our lesson and the Wedgewood blue walls of my bedroom behind us for the day.

The next night, questions arose again.  I retrieved my trusty bank of astrological knowledge from the top shelf, and we poured through its pages together at the kitchen table.  FireDaddy joined us and dove into the pages for a few moments before passing it back. 

He remembered the many late nights I spent long ago on the floor of our office, leaning over my bulbous pregnant tummy, working on birth charts.  Consulting the internet for latitude and longitude coordinates for our birth places – first mine, then his, and finally BigGirl’s.  BabyGirl’s had yet to be determined. 

I remembered the mess of numbers and charts that flooded my mind for weeks.  I could see my yellow legal pad and scraps of paper with notes about days, times, places, and calculations.  Long stretches of self-doubt had been broken by fleeting, yet glorious, moments of triumph and sure success. 

I am aware that many people do not condone or believe in the mysterious knowledge revealed by the stars.  But, that doesn’t really matter to me.  I love watching BigGirl’s knowledge, theories, understanding of this universe grow and change everyday.  She, a brilliant star somewhere within the Gemini constellation, will form her own beliefs and feelings about God, heaven, and our amazingly temporary existence on this plane of consciousness. 

As her mother, I will open my heart, spirit, and beliefs for her to freely question and explore.  She will know the word namaste and, I hope, believe it.  I will tell her my stories of angels and baby Jesus and visits from souls of friends and family who’ve passed.  I will listen as she asks why God makes things happen and what I believe lies in the darkness between the stars. 

Until the day for which I’m anxious finally arrives, when I will hear from her lips how her intuitive little mind has explained the wonders of our world.  And, on that day, I will be the wide-eyed student and she will teach me.

And I'm Not Even Catholic

I started a post last week about Earth Day.  Unfortunately, my skatter-brained self, amidst an extremely busy week ('tis the season for that kind of week in my little world), never made it back to the draft.  It's too bad, too.  I was going to toot my own horn a little about all the little things I've done this year to become more of a friend of the environment.  What can I say?  Green is the new pink?

But alas, that post may never see the light of day.  

Tonight, though, my mind overrunneth with words I'd like to share with you.  I'd like to share a few thoughts with you this evening about GUILT.  Some say it is a useless emotion...but it is strong.  It is powerful.  It is life altering.  

Some of us are more suceptible to guilt than others.  Take Catholics for instance.  I, personally, am a far cry from Catholic.  I have, though, had a plethora of Catholic friends during my life.  One thing I've observed that they all seem to have shared is their intense feelings of GUILT.  

I ask you, HOW CAN THEY NOT struggle with this???  The emotion seems to be a building block in the foundation of the religion.  Hello?...CONFESSION?  PURGATORY?  The very structure of the religion lends itself to creating a population of guilt-sufferers.

 

I, on the other hand, am apparently just one of the lucky few who are genetically predisposed to suffer from this so-called "useless emotion".  Take, for instance, my dinner this evening.

I've been making an effort to cook more dinners during the week.  I'm resolved to cutting the cord that binds my family to the convenient, yet unhealthy, fast food options that surround us.  As a cook, however, I bore easily.  I seldom make the same recipe more than twice, excepting a small selection of favorites.  I'm also trying to force encourage Fire Daddy and my little princesses to like fish.  So, this weekend, I dug deep into my memory and culinary "expertise" and decided I'd grill some teriyaki swordfish, with a side of Asian style rice and vegetables.  Sounds yummy, right?

Until I found myself thinking about the sustainable seafood guides I'd seen recently....and Happy Feet...and Earth...and I began to wonder how my dinner rated on the "eco-friendly" scale.  

Turns out, according to the Monterey Bay Aquarium's seafood guide, chances were 4 out of 5 that my fish was at least OK -- environmentally speaking.  I felt the need to air my own dirty laundry, though, so I made this tweet on twitter on my lunch hour.

All I wanted to do was air my guilt, right?  Confess and you shall be forgiven.  I'll learn from my mistakes and do better next time.  

My "Cyber Cuz" thought differently.  

He proceded to send me a virtual barrage of guilt-inducing tweets in reply to my pitiful plea for forgiveness and understanding.  One tweet even included this link, which I proceded to watch and become even more depressed as a result of my own, self-inflicted guilt and the unexpected discovery that orange roughy is has also been black balled in the world of seafood.  

Gee. Thanks, Cuz.  I totally appreciate your furthering my guilt.  Got it.  Lesson learned.  I know I should be thanking you for educating me (thanks, really...no joking), because I did learn something,  but can I just tell you (and everyone else reading this) that the stinkin' fish didn't even taste good!?  

Before I got home this evening, I thought about tossing it - scrapping my dinner plans (especially after I read about the mercury risks...Did you know it's recommended that women and children do not eat swordfish at all and men eat it only a maximum of once per month??) and coming up with a more Ecologically Correct "Plan B" for dinner (a.k.a. leftovers). 

That is, until I thought of all the starving people in this world....(I would say China or Africa or somewhere else like that, but then I feel guilty for overlooking the poverty issue in the United States) and I decided I'd better not waste it.  The damage was already done, right?

Ha!  Our fish this evening was palatable at best.  

We ate it.  

It sustained our life for a little longer.  

But, let me confess:  I, for one, did not enjoy it.

...And I'm not even Catholic.