Sunday, December 28, 2008
I am a tiger, in the Chinese horoscope's zodiac. My western ego likes that. Tiger. Has a certain ring to it, don't you think? But, in truth, all signs (should one indulge in such diversions) each have their own characteristics, both good and bad.
I thought this was the year of the pig, but I have been set straight by an anonymous commenter (I wish anonymous benefactor's were as forthcoming).
To westerners pigs are fat, dirty animals with a propensity for over-eating. Jews and Muslims, alike, don't eat them and Christians distrust anything with cloven hoof. All slightly nutty points of view to us aetheists and bacon lovers.
In the Chinese zodiac pigs are: Hardworking, Giving, Willing, Helpful, Materialistic, Gullible, Oblivious, Obstinate. If you are born in the year of the pig then you are, reputedly, a compassionate soul who simply wants to keep the peace.
I was chatting with a friend about the Chinese astrological characters when I remembered that some time ago, I began a little book called 'The Wishful Little Pig' about a little porker who spent all of his time wishing that things were different to how they really were. Through time the pig moped and, all the while momentus and exciting events occurred while he looked the other way (inspite of his friend, the gerbera flower exhorting him to live his life in the present).
Maybe I will finish it as one of my little holiday projects - if my tigrish courage, vehemence, self-reliance, friendliness, hopefulness, resilience, vaanity and disregard don't get in the way.