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Book of Days

BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY

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Filtering by Tag: Aquarius

February 19: On the Cusp

Kristen Lindquist

Today is the last day of the astrological birth-sign Aquarius, the Water Bearer. Tomorrow, my birthday, is the first day of Pisces, the Fish. When you're born on the first or last day of a particular sign, you're considered "on the cusp," possessing traits of both signs. While I think for the most part I'm a typical Pisces--introverted, creative, sensitive--I can also be extroverted and very rational like an Aquarius. (On the Myers-Briggs personality test, I scored equally for I, introverted, and E, extroverted.) And although I take a lot of this astrology stuff with a grain of salt, I have always felt that dichotomy in myself of the creative vs. the intellectual, and the passionate, emotional person vs. the obsessive control freak. (Though, really, we probably all do!)

Pisces the Fish is a water sign, of course, governed by the planet Neptune (Neptune being the classical Roman god of the sea), and I've always felt an alignment with water and the ocean. (Growing up on the coast of Maine plays no small part in that, as well.) Interestingly, though, the Water Carrier Aquarius is a "fixed" air sign. I guess it makes sense that you would want something fixed to hold something flowing.

My being born "on the cusp" of these two different but somehow congruent signs might explain in part why I collect pitchers. I learned on Wikipedia that in Hindu astrology, Aquarius is kumbha or pitcher. I have no idea what attracts me to pitchers--perhaps the fact that they can be beautiful, works of art sometimes, but are also vessels with practical value as holders of liquids. The act of pouring from a pitcher is a lovely, graceful gesture. Being part Water Bearer and part water sign, perhaps it seems only natural that I would be drawn to pitchers in this way. I think in general that I connect strongly with things that are both aesthetically pleasing and useful--frivolous tchotchkes don't do much for me unless they have some personal meaning in and of themselves.

While of course several of my pitchers feature birds, one of my other favorites is the fish one in the center.

In a graceful arc
water flows from a pitcher;
words pour from my mouth.