The Write Thing

August is a month of renewal in my personal calendar. It may be because the end of the month signals a new year of my life, a sort of willing or unwilling rebirth that will hopefully come full circle in the next 12 moons.

Virgo, an earth sign. Supposedly, natives are known for their perfectionism and meticulousness, as well as their ability to keep their feet on the ground. An acid and sharp critic tends to reside in those born under the influence of Mercury. Interestingly, the four elements mark astrological signs in sets of three. In a single human being, diverse combinations of these elements often reside, but…can they co-exist?

Logic would indicate that they can and they do. Earth and water, for example, would make a good combination, as long as water is not overdone and a marsh suddenly traps the feet of the intrepid wanderer. Air and fire are trickier, although a soft breeze is always welcome to calm a unwilling spontaneous combustion. Fire is a challenge, indeed. Once, while I was indulging in a stalwart defense of my fire friends Aries, Leo and Sagittarius, somebody just shared a good word of wisdom with me…

“Honey, fire signs can light a fire, but they have no idea how to keep it going…”

Poor little fire creatures, I thought. They are really so much fun to be around though…Earth-based creatures like me tend to function relatively well with fire-born people, impatient and quick-tempered, yet as transparent as cellophane in so many ways. Actually, most of my friends are either Aries, Leo or Sagittarius, and love itself has knocked on my door carrying a torch a couple of times as well. I think I have a right to say something in that department, and it would be all positive….well, or at least I’d like to remember the good times.

However, my root element is earth, mutable and yet unmovable. Earth supports the beings that grow on it, hiding part of them underneath, providing the nutrients for life to exist, grow and, sometimes, persist. In a curious way, earth both reveals and it covers, and sometimes it is difficult to tell. Its changes can be imperceptible, requiring patient observation before transformation becomes visible. Earth is normally ready to work and be worked on. However, its inherent lack of mobility leaves it more vulnerable to the other three elements. After all, a fire, a drought or flooding can all result in death.

It must be the reason why when earth meets its equal, there is a mutual, unspoken understanding. There is some degree of patience, enough to dwell on the gradual possibility of growth rather than a quick idealistic flight of fancy. And yet, passion is there, deep, intense, vital…because all the elements are about life and death, but your element is  your equal and you know it.

I have found you, my equal and my love. I am in my element.

I have recently seen a wonderful movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, soon to open in Buenos Aires. The script is based on a short story written by F. Scott Fitzgerald which you can actually access online.

The story essentially poses the question of aging backwards. The protagonist, Benjamin Button, looks like an 80-year-old in a baby’s body when he first sees the light of day, and then grows young. Life happens in the meantime, and shows its complexity through it all, even with the benefit of youth instead of old age as part of progress. Who has not ever imagined what it would feel like to be a 20-year old in the mind of a 50-year old, combining experience gained with suffering with the supple structure of a vigorous body that responds to everything with a lot more energy? I know what it feels like to be 20, but I don’t know what it feels like to be 50 yet. Perhaps I can only idealize such an adventurous combination. However, after seeing the movie, I still do not think it is too different from the normal order in which we age. In other words, life’s complexity is the same no matter in what direction you grow.

As a closing statement for this post, I cannot but remember one of the key lines for me, spoken by Benjamin as he goes through the suffering of being different, or maybe simply of choosing.

You can go mad as a mad dog at the way things went; you can curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.

That is the way, Benjamin. As I write this, only a few days away from getting onto another plane leading me places, with adventure hopefully waiting for me at different ports, I can look back and smile. I am learning to let go…

When are we dying? Are we dying when doctors diagnose a fatal disease, or are we already dying even when no tumors are threatening our cells with a conquest that sooner or later will happen? There is death in life. It may not be easily perceived because we still breathe, and we go about our daily chores with nonchalance, as if death could never happen to us. But it is still there, lurking.

There is too much death, or possibility of death, around me this year. I have seen a child die, and people I once knew diagnosed with serious conditions. I have even flown close to my own chance of making it to the surgery room, although it did not happen. Of course, I have also seen the death of a form of love…although I think it was more the abortion of a possibility. How frail life is! We sustain it with infatuation, work, food, trips abroad, and we think it is worth it in as much as we can keep all that circus going. Now, you scratch the surface a little, and it gets really scary. People around us are touched, regardless of their age, and there is no explanation. When a doctor comes out of an operating room telling you bad news, you really want to think that it will not happen to you because you did things differently. I don’t know, perhaps you did not eat so much fried food, or you drank less wine, or you woke up at normal hours or you simply…were lucky.

That is it. You were lucky, and it still did not happen to you. So you take the hand of the woman next to you, the one you have chosen to love, and you hold it tight, thanking life for not dying on you for real. Or you go and accept that proposition of two 30-year-old European women who simply want to have sex with you in a threesome. Or you write your blog, because it makes you happy. Or you go to bed promising yourself that you will treasure tomorrow twice as much, because now you know this is all it is about… living (or dying) day by day.