I Corinthians 3:17; Follow Your Jockey

"Am I my brother's keeper?" asks a plaintive Cain after he has killed his brother Abel. The implied answer is "yes, we do have an obligation to care for our family members."

This morning's sermon was about the Great Commandant: Love the Lord Your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself. It was ironic. I had gotten into a discussion with a more fundamentalist Christian a couple days ago about that very scripture verse and what it meant. The first message I got this morning was a slap for arguing--it is more important that you have a relationship with God than whether you disagree about how to interpret the Bible--weren't you being a bit egotistical?
Head bowed, "Yes, Lord."

Then came the reading in the title. I am not quoting it as I want you to go look it up. Two nights ago, I had found myself thrashing around once more over Mom's death, looking for peace, looking for a way to forgive and let it go, and praying that it be so. This morning I understood that I had to say this before I could let it go.

At the time Mom died, I had a lot of guilt, anger, hurt. Why had she not called me? Why didn't she ask for help sooner? Why was I detained in Portland? As I wrestled with these questions, my church chose to do a Bible study of the Book of Daniel. I tried to get to each one, but the only one I could was the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abedneggo. The point of the story was "Where was Daniel?" Daniel wasn't there because God knew Daniel was listening to Him; He wanted to know about the other three. I wasn't at home for my mother's death because it wasn't my turn to be tested, and it wasn't my trial. I had to accept that. I had done what I had believed God wanted me to do to the best of my ability, and I had to trust that. Dad had given me the role of my parents' keeper; God had not.

Shortly thereafter, I wound up having to have a hysterectomy, and I also had to accept that God had denied me the role of traditional mother. That wasn't an easy trial either--and I still grieve it. Yet I know that I made the best decision when I chose not to have children because the relationship I was in wasn't healthy enough.

God HAS given me many roles however: sister, wife, daughter, doctor, aunt, bhauju, and he has given me a name that embodies Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and the Western female aspect of God; and Kali, the Hindu Mother Goddess, the protectoress of mankind, and one of the three aspects of the Highest feminine divine. To invoke her name is to invoke the other two, and hence the most powerful Eastern female aspect of God--and He gave me the name Calanthe, a name out of Greece, where the West meets the East, and has made me a bridge between those two worlds. I didn't ask for any of it--and I have to go where He asks me to go. I don't know where that will be.

So, before I go, I have to finish a bit of keeping of my "brothers" and slip into the role that Nola assigned me: "Aunt Preachy"--that name hurt until a friend replied, "I wish my children had an Aunt Preachy. Maybe they would listen to her."---and I started to recognize that aunts are very important in our lives and who we become, and one of our roles is to be a bit preachy at times. We W women are a bossy bunch anyway. We don't much like being told what to do, and we consider ourselves strong, independent, liberated. We are all of that--and the W men tend to marry women who are that way as well. Yet, I hope that we can let go of the egotism in that strength for just a moment, and embrace the sharing of hard-fought-for women's wisdom that is also a birthright of we who are female.

I care for my sister, Nola; my sister-in-law,Tigress;and my cousin, Big Boss, and I care for their immortal souls--and I am worried for them. I cannot reach them. A few weeks ago, I had a discussion with my older brother and he was asking "where does this antisocial piece come from in our family?" and he blamed Dad. I went home and decided that it doesn't come from one side or the other--it is in each of us. It is the unexamined life. It is the outcome of ego without true humility. It is what we humans are without God in our lives--because God is the brake on our mind. Our mind can justify anything--it is the knowledge of Good and Evil that makes us think that we know enough to control our lives and not need God's guidance. We think that we know good, and that we are good. But our mind can slide over the edge to evil when we don't even realize it. The most important question is how do we stop it--in ourselves and in the next generation?

Last year I worked with a man who wound up committing suicide by shooting himself in front of his wife. He literally made the choice to die rather than admit that he was wrong--and tried to leave his guilt on her. I pray for his soul as well. If ever there was a human being condemned to Hell, he is there. Refusing to admit our limitations is the biggest sin--that is playing God. Refusing to accept our responsibilities is the second biggest sin--that is denying God's Will. In each choice, we run the risk of both. If we are taking care of someone else's responsibilities, then we are aiding and abetting them in avoiding God's Will. Each day, we have to ask, "What is the task the Lord has for me today? What is MY responsibility today? How is the Lord asking ME to glorify HIM?"

So often, we follow, instead, our own need to feel the rush of ego--the need to be RIGHT; not the quiet, peaceful, unacknowledged-by-man-only-by-God, deep-in-the-heart contentment of knowing that you are walking the path that God has given you. I once wrote an essay entitled, "Follow Your Jockey.", comparing us to racehorses, who needed the wisdom of The Jockey to get us through life. So go see Secretariat--know that we must contribute the heart, the energy, and the will--but without The Jockey on board, we might come in first, but we will never win the real prize. And if we fight against The Jockey, we'll not win at all--but we all are running the race. We have no choice in that.

"Evil triumphs when good men do nothing." -Thomas Jefferson. So when to say something? When to keep my mouth shut? I am not perfect, and I don't pretend to be. Yet, I have fought some difficult battles and I have gained a great deal of wisdom. As a Bhauju, it is my duty to pass what I have learned on. The smart ones will learn vicariously, the arrogant will rant about what a bossy bitch I am.

I can't run your race. I can sometimes see when someone is fighting with The Jockey. I don't want to run your life, but I do want you to do well in the race that really matters--because I LOVE you, and I care about you. There have been a lot of times in my life when I needed someone to really talk with me and tell me their true feelings. Usually they tried in an offhand or indirect way because they were afraid of my reaction. I reacted to the fact it was offhand and not direct--and there we go. The message didn't get through. So this one is especially for you--Nola, Tigress, and Big Boss--because I love you and you ARE my sisters--and I don't buy that "just a cousin" crap, Big Boss.

The Real America: Amalgamation not Assimilation

"Resistance is futile. We are Borg. We will assimilate you."

Interestingly, next to this picture was one of Bush in similar garb. Why this fear of assimilation?

Every sci fi fan knows this famous Star Trek threat. It is fought by introducing a single Borg who has been taught that he is an individual in the episode "I Borg." Picard resists assimilation and gains a name of his own: Locutus, though Memory Alpha, the Star Trek Wikipedia suggests that this is an idea of the Borg to make a spokesperson to humans. I think that it was a compromise by the Borg, having found an exceedingly strong-minded individual.

At our core, we as Americans know that Borg are the exact opposite of everything American. We truly fear them as much as we do death. I recently started asking how does that fit into our current political debates. The fear of assimilation seems particularly strong in the populace right now. Assimilation is a loss of who we are, a loss of autonomy, a loss of individuality. In psychological terms this is the crisis of individuation--suffocation vs death. Either we are assumed into the parent, or we are too weak to exist with out the parent and die--this is what creates anxiety. I have long maintained that America is in the midst of adolescent angst and individuation.

I would suggest that we are right to reject out of hand the path of assimilation. Yet, in doing so, we must not let go of our core value of amalgamation. There is a major difference. In the first, all become one and any differences are eliminated and suppressed. In the latter, the individual strengths--and weaknesses--of each component are kept, assessed, valued, and blended with the other components to achieve a stronger whole.

We must not allow the debate to become polarized, but rather continue to pull it to the discussion of values clarification, an exercise that my high school youth minister used. What are our core values? What do we agree on? What must we do? We can still rely on the words of our Founding Fathers for these things:
"All human beings are created equal"
"The government shall not endorse nor repress any religion"
"The government shall not limit the right to bear arms"
These are a few. The rest are written in the Constitution of the United States of America and its amendments.

I, only half jokingly, say that I am for a new party: The Equality Party, with an Equus as its mascot and eggplant as its color, or in Western English: The People's Party, with a Paint as its mascot, and purple as its color. The horse has long enhanced the simple man and worked for the common good. Purple was the color of royalty and associating it with a party implies that the people are the true rulers of this country, further it indicates a blending of the currently strident red and blue. It complements green, too much associated with one issue, that of environmental stewardship. Maybe we should do a new Star Trek with purple uniforms...Picard is a horseman.

Truth or Dare: The Cowgirl Trail

I have a game that is a version of Truth or Dare, called The Cowgirl Trail. I can't get anyone in my family to play it with me. There is a BIG UGLY HIPPOPOTAMUS in the middle of our family that no one wants to pull the rug off. I feel like the Little Prince and his picture of a snake eating an elephant....

You know how I sit and ponder things. Well, I'm in Havre, working while Skullcracker and the doggies are still in Portland, so I have been doing some pondering. These are some odd questions that popped into my head....

I know that both Pete, our hired man, and Wildman, my older half brother, sexually abused me at different times. I told Dad and it stopped. I also know that about 65% of obese women admit to sexual abuse, the percent is probably even higher. There is also a genetic piece, and we have many obese people in our family. Emotional and verbal abuse are always present when sexual and physical abuse are present. As we become less like animals we give up the latter two first. Obesity is the resultant anger stuffed inside.

I once did an "ancestral hypnotic regression" and "saw" my "grandmother" at age 4 being sexually assaulted by her drunken "father". Where did that image come from? Certainly no family story. Abuse is generational--it is passed down from one generation to the next, sometimes in odd ways. Sometimes it is not directly, but by leaving a child vulnerable to the abuse by someone else when the parent should by rights intervene, but instead they rationalize and allow the child to "be punished" because they "deserve it." It is when the parent can't face the truth themselves. I know that sexual and physical abuse runs in our family. I have re-created both in my earlier life in order to feel like "home".

Was Nola, my obese sister, sexually abused? From what age? Was it Wildman or was it Pete or both? And was it Wildman's stepdad who sexually abused him or Pete or someone else? From my own experiences and my knowledge of psychology and the family dynamics, these things would make sense. Wildman could never have told Dad about the abuse for fear he would have literally gone postal--my dad could get very angry and very protective. He had a form of manic depressive disorder and was hypomanic much of the time. It runs in the family--and I have it, too. Pete and Dad are long dead; I hope that the stepdad is as well, though I wonder, if it was him, what other legacy might be lingering on Wildman's mother's side.

I have written some death metal lyrics, initially they were prompted by a woman prof who took advantage of her position of power to create trouble for me. Then I generalized them and called it "Bitch Woman From Hell." Let me tell you that doctors can be very descriptive of people's hearts, brains, and guts.... I just realized that although I labeled it woman, I didn't demonize her female body parts--I love mine too much, and I have had much nourishment from women as well. And the same for men. Bitchiness is not gender specific in my mind, so I didn't relate it to the sexually specific organs. Oh, that's an interesting observation--next blog though.

Actually, when I was little, Mom was a "bitch woman" for me. Her temper was so unpredictable that I was scared to death of her. Dad was also a "bitch woman" for me--he treated me special, but there were two prices. One was that I could never grow up. The second was that my two closest siblings hated my guts because I was his favorite and got special favors. They still do deep down inside. The third way was when he used his belt to paddle, he insisted that you not cry. If you did, he hit you more. It was a special kind of emotional abuse. I know that my grandfather beat my grandmother, at least when he was drunk, and that the two oldest boys saw some of that. That's what made Dad run away when they divorced when he was age 12--he rode freight trains to South Carolina. Wait a minute--what do you think might have happened to a young boy along the Hobo Trail in the 1930's? I hate to think...another puzzle piece fits into place. How awful for him when he then was left by his father and his mother with an aunt, and treated as the poor cousin, in South Carolina!

Nola has been a "bitch woman" for me--she can be so fucking hurtful, because she knows me so well that she will get me to open up and be vulnerable first and then strike--then blame me for being too sensitive. It's a game she has played with me for decades. I used to just fall in. Then I started calling her on it. Now I have just shut down to her. I can't let the opening appear for fear she will pounce on it. Mom used to hold her back occasionally, but since Mom has gone she has no mercy. Mom also held me into a relationship with Nola when younger and would have fled it as a child.

Tigress tries to be a "bitch woman"--she tries to boss me and has tried, since coming into the family, to get me to wait on her. Again, when younger, I didn't have a choice. As soon as I was old enough, I pulled out all the power I had and vanquished her. I still can--drives her nuts. But I don't want to be in a power struggle with her, so I am working on ways of re-inventing our relationship. She drags me into a power struggle so easily, then passively-aggressively hits me. The only response that doesn't continue the game then is no response. It is better to just not be in the power struggle. Hence I don't ask anything of her. I don't expect anything of her more specifically. I am friendly and invite her to join me in things rather than ask her to put herself out for me.

Things are so often not as they seem. We ignore the huge things in the middle of the room, pretending that they don't exist, while they affect our behavior every day--or at least when we get stressed. Yet, it is like diabetes, the truly sick ones are the ones who don't get the medical help they need. They may seem healthy on the outside. Most times they even seem normal and downright lovable, and yet, their mental metabolism is totally out of whack. The more intelligent you are, the more likely you can pull yourself together, but also the more likely you are to see through the haze or, if you chose, the better you can hide the chaos.

A friend told me today to consider myself a dignified doctor and not an off-road cowgirl. I qualify for "off road" on the cowgirl trail of truth. I've earned the right by going beyond surviving to the point of thriving. So look out!

Lions, And Tigers, and Bears, Oh, NO!

This week has been a fun mishmash of animals--the new Zodiac, the Chinese New Year prompted some exploration into that Zodiac and the discovery that the animal of the year you are born is only the very surface of it really. It actually predicted some things that I wouldn't have expected it to predict. I ran across an article on Chinese mothering versus American mothering, and put it up on my Facebook page, expecting some indignant responses. I stayed carefully neutral, noting that I had never been a mom and that I used more of a Chinese approach with one dog and more American with the other. I am currently teaching my dogs to be driven from behind like horses so that I can use verbal cues to get them to turn corners ahead of me when we are out walking and I don't have to haul them back, and pull them around. Dogs are smarter than horses, they ought to be able to get it down pretty easily.

I am also reading a lot on psychoanalytic theory, and bipolar disorder, and its affect on one's life. As you can tell, I like to find things out. I am a knowledge addict--if I know enough, I can control my world--not, but at least it stretches the mind and offers real solutions versus something like alcohol or drugs which is merely a masking. So if one must be addicted, knowledge is a better one to have.

I didn't get any responses to the article--not a one. Apparently we Americans are smug in our belief that we the better mothers, and cannot even question that. It's too bad, because the Chinese style of doing things is going to be influencing our world, and we are going to need to understand it. A Chinese young person in rebellion against his mother is not a pretty sight for anyone.

One point that I keep beating on here is the need for acceptance of "good enough" better doesn't matter, only "good enough" does. And the reality that life never really is going to be good enough for our fantasies.

It isn't true that I am not a mother--I think that my friends could tell that. A female family physician is the penultimate mother in some ways--one reason that men are strongly attracted to them, and nurses. We offer, on the surface, the unconditional caring that our mothers never can give. When we form a relationship like that, psychologists call it a transference. That's why they say we marry our fathers or our mothers--we see in someone things like the parent with whom we have the biggest issues and try to work it out. Guess what, it happens with siblings as well. One sibling will assume the role of one parent, and one the other. The closer in age, the more likely this occurs. Your role with authority figures, like us doctors are all based on your relationship with your parents, and siblings. We spend our lives working out those issues--and that is how our brain matures! The resolution of those inner conflicts is how we become adults.

I am reading a book by a psychiatrist who makes the case for psychotherapy as a necessary part of psychiatry, and says there is something beyond the biological basis of the brain. I would take him one better--I think that psychotherapy changes the structure of the brain, creating new pathways, modulating pathways that allow us to create the unique Self that is each and every one of us. I think that religion does the same thing, and science, and every time that we have to solve a problem, or hug a child, or help a person. In short, every time that we suppress our own will for someone else, then we help create the modulating pathway that allows us to be us, and not our parents, or the infant that our brain must initially support.

Freud described this maturation event as the resolution of the Electra or Oedipus complex--the realization that we cannot marry our mother or father--and that it would be evil to do so. BUT we must first want to! What if your father is demanding, controlling, and the last person on earth you would want to marry? Thus begins the process of differentiation--the process that I am not my mother and not my father. Freud described the individuation process as happening at age 2, culminating at age 3. That is like saying that we should all be 153 cm tall and weigh 45 kilos when we graduate from high school. We are individuals, and this process happens differently for each of us.

We travel the Yellow Brick Road at different rates, encountering our own lions, tigers, and bears, wicked witches, and loving scarecrows. We discover how to unfreeze the metal in us, and find our lions of courage, or wolverines if you are Montanan...and in the end we find that the Wizard outside of us is a fake--that we have the wisdom we always needed inside ourselves. Then we can put on our ruby slippers, go home, wake up to real consciousness, and really appreciate it for its own reality.

My younger sister says that her strongest memory of me growing up is my plaintive wail most every day as we got ready for school, "Where are my shoes?" Now, could anyone tell me where I put those ruby slippers? And where is Toto? I can't go without him...I'll take my Kalo Chituwi and his picture, and it won't be for too long...

E: Endurance "This is Disney, It can't hurt me!"

I once went with some guys to a Disney attraction called "Alien Encounters." It was very realistic about this hot-breathed alien winged monster that had accidentally been transported into the room, and then escaped the glass cylinder of the transporter. Your seat squashed down as it stepped on the top. You felt it's hot breath down your neck, accompanied by a spray of warm 'saliva.' I gripped the armrests of my seat and kept repeating, "This is Disney. It can't hurt you. This is Disney. It can't hurt you." Every sense in my body was telling me otherwise. Yet I endured, and could have gone a second time just for the joy of the science fiction made real.

Endurance: "Live today as if your dreams have come true. Don't give up and don't fall into the trap of why hasn't it happened yet."

Boy, am I at a point in my life where I really need this one! I have endured so much for so long. Medical school, a career that I had to put on hold until I could sort out the dysfunction in my personal life, an abusive long term relationship, loss of Dad when I most needed him, loss of Mom when I finally had arranged to be with her, cancer, a horrible work environment last year. Whew! Can I just go curl up in the corner for awhile? That is what I want to do when I think of it. Yet, I am starting work again in ten days. I have to finish Christmas cards. I have to pack, and get the clothes ready to pack. I have groceries to buy, other paperwork. So I must endure.

Skullcracker and I find ourselves talking about how to build wealth, buying a house. The past three years have been financial a real bust. I have had illness, he was struggling to get through school and use his excellent education in a more productive way.

Backpacking is like this. What kind of idiot would want to slog around with a 50 lb pack on his back? Yet, the reward is a view that few else have seen--the tarn tucked into a perfect cirque, the panorama from a mountain peak, dinner by a fire in the woods, the taste of trout fresh caught and pan-fried, the sense of accomplishment of having endured and being able not just to survive in a hostile environment, but actually thrive there. There was a book about a young man who ran away from home and lived by himself in the wilderness, My Side of the Mountain. How sad that he had to run so far! How powerful a growing experience! How lucky he was not to have died. I love to backpack, hike, camp, and I am so glad that I did it in my youth. Some of my best experiences of life have been in Glacier National Park and the Bob Marshall Wilderness. A high school classmate of mine is a classical guitarist who writes and plays songs of the beautiful wild places of Montana. This is what Skullcracker and I both love about Montana.

Kali is an aspect of Parvati, the wife of Shiva. In Nepali, the couple to emulate are Shiva and Parvati. Parvati is the Daughter of the Mountain. She is absorbed into it and born again out from under it, with it's strength and endurance. She endures a lot out of Shiva, including beheading their son. Patiently she finds another head for him, and Ganesh, the remover of obstacles, is created. There is a statue of the city of Portland, Portlandia. I maintain that she is Parvati--so obviously a woman of great strength. She carries a trident, held away from here, a symbol of Shiva, her mate. Portland is born of Mount Hood, and has relationship with the sea. The symbol of the trident is associated in the West with Poseidon, God of the Sea. If one looks at Shiva and Poseidon, there is a lot of Shiva in Poseidon, but in the Greek version, the disavowment of the female is evident while in the Hindu version, Shiva eventually carries Parvati around with him after her death until her corpse rots into pieces. Rather gruesome for our Western sensibilities. But symbolically touchingly romantic. Poseidon remains the womanizing male. Yet the sea is our abyss of emotions: fear, love, anger, hurt, joy. Emotion is always stronger nearer the sea.

Another of my favorite songs is Dan Fogelberg's Netherlands. "High on this mountain, the clouds down below, I am feeling so strong and alive."

Mountains symbolize the meeting of challenges, the higher the mountain, the greater the challenge. Parvati is the perfect woman--what a high mountain for any of us to attain! Mountains are also where God dwells. He speaks to Moses at the top of the mountain. Moses sees the Promised Land from the top of a mountain. Jesus is crucified on top of a mountain. Mountaintops are sacred ground. It takes endurance to reach them, yet, in order to live there we must bring water. Thriving requires emotions, not just thought and endurance.

So head for the mountaintop--and save some room for a good size canteen.

"T: Time Out" The Gold of Gerbing

My roommate in college made up the verb "gerb." the definition is what I spent all day doing---looking up the extended Chinese astrology on my entire family. Fascinating, but hardly my top priority that I wrote down before going to bed last night. Well, the joy of not working is that one can give oneself a day of gerbing.

My day of gerbing was spent playing with Chinese Astrology. I discovered that there is much more to the process than the year of the Rabbit as we are going into. There are elements associated with each animal, and colors associated with the elements, and the elements are also interrelated. Does this fit a "scientific model"? No. Does that mean it can't have validity? When Einstein's theories didn't fit the scientific model of his day, did he decide that they didn't have validity? No. He was able to see in a different dimension, and describe different dimensions. There are limits to his vision as well. So part of what I was asking was does it predict things that I know to be true. Interestingly, in terms of personal relationships it does.

Last night while watching "The Big Bang Theory" I was able to make a joke about just having one breast--I'm status post mastectomy. It was a lovely nerdy joke stimulated by a line from the show. Sunil commented that what was funnier than the joke was my enthusiasm for it. As a male, I am sure that he has no clue what acceptance of my situation that joke represented. I am facing perhaps voluntarily giving up the other breast because of underlying genetic predispositions. That would mean all of my female parts would be gone---except my female brain, and certain superficial characteristics. I am experiencing some real anxiety about that---and like many I joke to face my anxiety. I would not have been able to do that if I were not in a position where I have a great deal of time to think.

This is the real value of time off. We tend to spend it doing fabulous trips and challenging ourselves by taking up new sports, or observing sports. I have a need for deep thinking, for self-analysis that not many people have. Most people from what I can observe--and it is biased by my own level of self-contemplation--do much less. That doesn't mean that they don't need it. Just means they are not as compelled to it as I am. Means that perhaps they are ignoring their need for it, and keeping themselves busy to keep from the anxiety that those unfilled hours allow to surface.

The problem is that the anxiety arises regardless of whether we acknowledge it or not. One of the calculations of Chinese astrology is called the four pillars--based on the year, month, day, and hour of your birth--and there is an element and an animal associated with each of these as well. Your birth animal and element are your most public side---how the world sees you and what you present to the world. In this I am a "Male Fire Monkey". Interestingly, I was born on the last day of the Fire Monkey year in the last hours, so I have overtones of the "Female Fire Rooster" as well--though it is not as obvious. this also has a component of your childhood and how that affected you--how that causes you to react to the world.

Then the month determines how you are in relationships--there I am a "Female Metal Ox"--and interestingly that indicates that I am loyal in friendship, serious, good disposition, just, but sometimes inflexible and stubborn--damn, nailed me! The metal part says that I can be cutting and hard, though female is also dark, the yang to be precise, so it indicates that friendships and associations are important to keeping me grounded and also give me strength.

At the day, we find our "true selves" that which is our core image: I am a "Male Fire Horse", though the Horse of itself carries the Female Fire. A balanced yin and yang of Fire--fire is a rising element, associated with summer and the fullness of growth. Weird associations with this is that in high school, when we played an icebreaker game of "What animal are you most like?," I always said a horse. Though there was a part of me that was envious of the guy who said, "Cougar." There are no water animals--and I would have sworn that Captain Bly was a porpoise--truly. One time at a zoo, the porpoises refused to play with anyone else in a huge crowd, but him. However,it seems he was "Male Earth Tiger" and Tigers dislike Monkeys. Hummmm. Earth Tiger vs Fire Monkey--not good. Interestingly, Horses dislike Rats--which is the same combination in my chart to his. Now the Skullcracker, my husband and I have no such cross matches. In fact compatibilities are all 8-10 on a scale of 1-10. I like that.

Then there is the Hour, a more secret part of us, that comes out in relationship to our siblings, and in old age supposedly. Here I am a "Female Earth Pig." This is the gentle peace-loving, easy-going, friendly part of me. Have to dig deep to get there. Yet, I was much of this when I was young--it was my role with my siblings. But the Fire Horse and Monkey wanted out! The Pig, Rabbit, and Sheep are compassionate, followers, and they are back seaters in life. There is no bad or good really since this is Eastern philosophy. The Male Fire Horse is the direct opposite of the Female Earth Pig in many ways. Interestingly, if I have remembered the time of birth correctly, Bee has the same duality, but in opposite positions: Male Earth Horse, and Female Water Rabbit. How to get her to her true self? There are very rare moments, a few of which I can remember, where I would see her as a Water Rabbit. I suspect that she shows this to few people, and least of all to me, whom she is afraid of overwhelming her. Again, how do I, the Fire Horse, nurture The Water Rabbit. Perhaps by allowing my Pig be seen again--the Pig is associated with water, so we can bond with that, but I need the Horse to keep from being overwhelmed by her as I was in childhood. She too has Horse, so working on that similarity will help. However, Dad gave her the horses as her domain, part of his unconscious need to keep me from growing up. So there is a conflict there. I have to honor her true self, not the one from childhood, nor the relationship part nor the public self. The Rabbit who loves the moon, her yang side. What yang does she love? Gardening, and mothering small children, and Jesus, who is very Eastern and Yang. Interestingly, I naturally did this when I lived there--and she ultimately rejected it. Hummm.

So I know that she and Bunny are enmeshed terribly. What is Bunny's true self? She is a "Male Metal Tiger." And I call her a Bunny. I don't have her birth hour, and I would be willing to bet that it is Pig, Rabbit, or Sheep--actually I think that she is a sheep there. So emphasizing her true self would help her overcome that gentleness and stand up to others, and also becoming more herself.

So I have started giving everyone nicknames, and I am going to change the above two names. Bee is going to be Nola Rabbit, just Nola for right now. Bunny is going to become the Tigress for right now. I will be changing them as our relationships change.

What did I learn about me? I learned that I need water--funny, I am very aware of water---my favorite hymn is "Peace of the River." I love the concept of the Living Water. Healing--my profession is a flowing water thing. Last night in a premier of a doctor show in the jungle, the man took his wife's ashes to a lake where the luminous algae glowed like fireflies wanting to be released. How Chinese in the image--fire controlled by water. I want to live next to that lake--but a lighted swimming pool will probably do. Washington University I think I should pursue that position. I need to tame the Fire Horse and work with her.

See, my gerbing had benefits I could never have guessed. What if I had scheduled a class in neurobiology instead?

"E: Education" Neville Rules Hogwarts!--and it turns out I went there....

What education conjures up for most of us is a picture of our school, usually the one where we had either the worst or the best experiences. School was always a good place for me. I love to read, and learning comes easily. It was my place to excel. My first date with my husband was to see the movie "School of Rock."

There is also the adage that our real education starts when we graduate from school. My basic religion tells us that God is not confined to the church on Sunday. I remember fussing because my husband and I had to push up our wedding to a month after my mother's death. Any, but the most demure, celebration was inappropriate. So we opted for the Justice of the Peace. I got to the ceremony, noticed that we had a Hindu, a Muslim, a Jew, and two Christians of disparate disciplines in the middle of Montana--that had to be an act of God! Then upon reflection, I decided that God probably spent more time at the courthouse, more prayers from there, more often.

The school were I would love to go is Hogwarts---wouldn't we all? We see ourselves as Harry Potter--the humble boy who one day will save the world. The little sister winds up with the hero, and the smart woman picks the man who doesn't have to be a hero--no one has asked him to do what he does. He does it for friendship, for love, for the love of mankind. He does it even when we don't think he's going to have the strength because we know he has weaknesses. As a blogger I follow noted, Ron Weasley is the real "everyman." And Hermione is the modern woman.

Everything I ever needed I learned from fantasy and sci fi novels. Seriously, when it comes to who to be, and how to be a curious, courageous, and compassionate person, read fantasy and science fiction. Because we don't associate the environment with any that we really know, then we can choose whom we like. AND who ever chooses to be Voldemort? We do---every single day.

We choose to split off our souls, and put on an inhuman mask. We are taught not to show emotion, not to be who we really are. We tell ourselves that we know the Secret of the Universe---that we are a loving person and we are acting out of love. Only God really knows how to love, and only God can give unconditional love. We just need to keep trying to love--because somewhere along the way we find that fantasy doesn't cut it. We must face who we are as best we can, ask God's forgiveness for the shortcomings, and acquiesce to his plan for us.

That is when our real education begins--that is the moment that we leave behind our fantasies, our childhood, and we start to make progress. We may have learned an awful lot about life before this happens, and we'll make good use of that when it does.

The first great lesson is how to really deal with the schoolyard bullies. What happens to Dudley? He accepts the reality of Harry after he faces soulessness (the most awful possibility) and starts to mend fences. What happens to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon? They must accept the reality of that which they have denied or face the same fate--even then they have trouble believing it. Yet they all chose LIFE WITH a soul. What about Peter Pettigrew? He chooses not to see the reality of Voldemort and he dies--yet that death is better than continuing to live without compassion--ie soulessness. It is his moment of caring that gets him out of Voldemort's clutches. The real "everyman" in this story lies in Voldemort's Death Eaters, or those living in fantasy. The real messages are to give up on fantasy, embrace trying as hard as you can to love, and that is when the real struggle begins. Harry, in the end, goes on to be a father and husband--that is the real goal. This is where the real meaning of life is for wizards and Muggles alike--raising children and everyday work for the common good, not the greater good.

Actually, as I write this, I find an even deeper message in my second favorite character, Neville Longbottom. He grows the most in the books, and becomes a professor in his favorite field at Hogwarts. All the recognition he gets for actually being the one to allow the Chosen One to kill the Bad Guy is having the peaceful life of his dreams. Neville is the real winner in the whole story and Neville is the best man in the end. His only reward is the love of his friends.

So who is the wisest of them all? He who has friends who really love him for who he is--Neville. And he definitely appears to get the least boring, most exciting, most-grateful-for-love-and-friendship, guaranteed-unpredictable, and always-challenging-your-paradigm wife. Hence although on the surface Neville's life may seem dull, underneath it is full of magic. That is the final lesson of Hogwarts. So who is my favorite character? Luna, of course, the one who knows that there is more to life than the accepted paradigm and loves without ever questioning why.

Humm-it seems I went to Hogwarts after all. Earlier today I said that my favorite Bowdoin memorabilia was my self esteem. It was the place where I was first fully accepted: toads, buckteeth, and clumsiness; my passions were nurtured; and my fight against the demons started--And yes, many would take me for Ginnie or Hermione, possibly even Bellatrix, but I really strive to be Luna. Does anyone have some dirigible plum earrings?