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Thursday, December 4, 2008

High and Dry

... And bored to tears. So I am being a total blog thief. My friend posted info about her sign and it inspired me to look up mine. And can I say, the specifics about Cancerian women are not only so off, they are insulting. On and On and ON about what a good mother I'd make and nothing about what kind of individual I am. Pfft. HOWEVER, the general description of the sign is pretty accurate, although I'm leaving out certain sections, like money and looks since I'm supposed to be rich and super busty or flat chested- that's all wrong, sister!

How to Recognize CANCER

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid. because I'm not myself, you see,"

The best time to hunt for human crabs is by the light of the silvery Moon. It's usually easier to recognize them at night, when they're all dressed up to go dreaming, wrapped in vivid imagination. Moonlight becomes them beautifully. It goes with their many moods, and it matches their chang­ing emotions.

You'll gather lots of clues to the Cancerian nature by doing some Moon-gazing on a clear night in the country. It may be hard to see it through the smog in the city, but you can always study an almanac. Notice the Moon's changing shape and appearance. As it waxes and increases in light, it slowly grows into a perfect, round ball in the sky. When it wanes, it gradually disappears, so there's nothing visible but a thin sliver of light with a faint, silver shimmer.

The Cancerian's passing moods are synchronized to the Moon, answering to the same mysterious lunar influence that causes the tides of the ocean to flow in and out. Yet, the Moon doesn't really change at all. It just seems to. Likewise, the Cancerian remains the same person through all his fluctuating highs and lows. Such dependable peri­odicity-constant in its inconstancy-makes the crab easy to recognize, once you know the phase he's in when you see him.

You may first come across him when he's laughing the "crazy lunar laugh." It's inescapably contagious. It runs up and down the scales with a deep, throaty undertone. It giggles and gurgles, then finally erupts in a loud cackle that sounds exactly like two hundred hens laying two hundred perfect eggs. In his life-of-the-party mood, youll have no trouble finding the Cancerian. He'll be the funniest one in the room, a laugh a minute. If he's not performing himself, then he'll be grinning at someone else's antics. No one likes a joke better than Cancer, and his funny side is all the more startling when it pops up so incongruously from his normally quiet, gentle personality. Lunar humor runs deep. It's never shallow or superficial, because it stems from the sensitive observation of human behavior. Cancer may not wear his lunar laugh every day, but he can always dig it out of his old trunk in the basement at a moment's notice.

These people don't pant after the spotlight like the extro-verted Leos or-clownish Sagittarians, but Cancerians have an uncanny sense of publicity, when it pleases them to be noticed. Don't let that unassuming manner fool you. They secretly enjoy attention, and they'll soak up any headlines they get. You won't find Cancer pursuing fame with pas­sion (he pursues nothing with true passion), but he cer­tainly won't shrink from it. He's far more likely to bask in the reflected glow of applause than to run away. Cancer may hide from things, but you can be sure that apprecia­tion is not one of them.

If you're the kind of person who catches cold easily, wear your raincoat when you expose yourself to the damp­ness of a Cancerian in a melancholy mood. He can wrap you in wet blankets until you shiver and shake. Cancer can turn bluer than an inkwell, and drown you in depression deeper than the floor of the ocean. His fears are usually well covered by the nutty lunar humor, but they are always with him, haunting his days and nights with a vague sense of nameless dangers, lurking in the shadows. Pessimism is never far away, always ready to spoil those beautiful nights of fancy. A Cancerian can take the dreamiest trips to the stars on the gossamer wings of his imagination, if he leams to ignore that harping inner voice which keeps nagging him and warning him he might get lost in outer space. But until he leams to conquer his fears, they form his Achilles' heel, and they hurt every time he starts to fly too high.

His tears are never crocodile tears. They flow from the deep rivers of his fragile and vulnerable heart. You can wound his sensitive feelings with a harsh glance or a rough t- tone of voice. Cruelty can bring on brimming eyes or a 'complete withdrawal (It's an odd thing that Cancerians seldom get fevers; they're more likely to suffer from the chills.) It won't be easy to spot the crab in this mood, because when he's hurt, he disappears into reproachful silence. Sometimes, he can retaliate with an almost scorpion revenge, but he'll usually do it secretly, seldom openly with the Scorpio's fine contempt for consequences. Most of the time, however, he'll turn away from getting even, content to hide under his protective shell. Once you've wounded him, you can poke at him with a sharp stick for days afterwards and not reach him. He won't answer his phone, his doorbell or his mail. In the midst of uncertainty, despair and sadness. Cancer people seek retreat and solitude. Just like real crabs.

That's another mood Cancerians have. Crabby. The person who gave you a cranky answer when you asked for the time, the one who nearly snapped your head off when you asked him to pass the salt-was probably a Cancer person going through one of his occasional crabby spells that makes him hate the world. He's not angry with you. He's disappointed with life. He'll get over it, and be his own sweet, gentle and understanding self when the Moon changes. Consult the daily paper for the next quarter, or wait until the tides come back in.

All lunar people have enormously expressive features. A thousand moods play fleetingly across their faces in the course of a conversation. Do you know someone who some­times cackles wildly, then weeps despondently,-who occa­sionally snaps at you irritably, and then hides when you hurt him? Does he normally treat you with gentle con­sideration? If he's gruff, yet kindly, a fascinating conversa­tionalist with deep wells of creative imagination, that person was probably born in late June or July.

Caneerians have such control of imagery, and their moods are so intense, they can make you feel them, too. Their imagination seizes joy and despair, horror and com­passion, sorrow and ecstasy, and holds each emotion fast with a retentive memory. Like mirrors and cameras, they absorb images and reflect them faithfully. Every experience is engraved on the heart as a photograph is etched on a negative plate. They never forget any of the lessons life has taught them nor do they forget the lessons history has taught mankind. A Cancerian reveres the past and is usually patriotic to the core. Historical figures intrigue him as much as his own ancestors do. He often collects antiques, old treasures and ancient relics and has an insatiable curiosity about yesterday. Cancer is a sort of mental archaeologist, always digging for more fascinating facts.

He's also a well of secrecy. People automatically confide their secrets to the crab, but with his sensitive emotions he already knows what's on their minds. Cancerian compas­sion is deep and highly intuitive. There's hardly a secret he can't strip naked, if he chooses. It's a one-way street, however. He'll eventually soak up all there is to know about you, but you'll never guess his own private thoughts. He guards his inner feelings carefully from prying eyes. The typical Cancer person doesn't like to discuss his per­sonal life, but he's delighted to hear about yours, as his lunar imagination lets him easily guess the parts you leave out. Cancer seldom judges, however. He simply gathers, absorbs, reflects.

Although the crab gives back emotions like a mirror, he won't give up tangible things without a struggle. Take a stroll along any beach and observe the habits of the real crab. When he grabs an object (and make sure it's not your big toe), he'll hang on for dear life. He'd rather lose a claw than let go. If the crab does sacrifice a claw, he grows a new one, so he can grab hold once more with the same tenacity; and let that be a lesson to you when you're trying to get a Cancerian to give up something he or she really wants. Cancer will never relinquish a treasured object, and that can range all the way from a beloved friend or relative to a title or a position-from an old tintype photo to a pair of frazzled house slippers, with the soles half worn away.

While you're still on the beach, take a few more notes on the customs of the real crab. The way he walks, for instance. If his eye is on that big toe, he'll never come forth directly and head for your foot. First, he moves backward a few paces. Then he moves sideways. Suddenly, without warning, he crawls to the other side. He always appears to be moving in the opposite direction. But he's watching every second. If that delicious toe starts to get away from him, he'll move straight forward, and you'd better run if you don't want those claws to dig in. He means business when he sees he has a chance of losing the morsel he covets. The human crab imitates these tactics precisely. Cancerians never go directly after what they want. Their strategy is to move in every direction but straight ahead. They'll play this shifting game indefinitely, until it looks as if someone else is about to grab the prize. Then the cards are played quickly and cleverly-Cancer lunges forward, takes hold firmly, and refuses to let go.

The crab's sensitive nature is covered with a hard shell, and he's wise enough to avoid the stormy seas. Half the time he lives on dry land, the other half in deep waters. He wears the luminous, pale gold and shimmering colors of moonlight, and hides his powerful emotions behind the pale green, mauve and lavender tints of modesty.

There's a touch of Moon madness in every Cancerian. He knows a wild and secret place where two lilies and seven white roses grow among the iris. Sometimes the memory of this faraway garden causes him to explode with laughter. Now and then it causes him to weep with sadness. Cancer patiently gathers the emeralds, pearls and moon-stones carelessly dropped in the sand by others, as he waits for the tides to wash his silver dreams ashore.

2 comments:

Lydia Milman Schmidt said...

Crazy Lunar Laugh - is that the same as the evil laugh/giggle?

I miss you, Crabby!

Jessica said...

it must be the same, crankypants!