It doesn't mean you're a soldier or jock, just assertive.
How Ted Kennedy lived to age 77.
Seriously...that is gonna be a hard nut to crack. I really hope he does therapy. He certainly comes off as pleasant, but if you tick him off, watch out, and he's going to be clenched so hard that his ass could make diamonds when it comes to love and softness.
Poor bastard. That's just an ugly T-square there.
So...I took a RAD self-defense weekend course for the second time. The first time I took this thing, I went in there pretty much thinking I was going to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (I said this to someone who's 20 years old this weekend and she was all, "Isn't that show off the air?" Um, yes, and that prevents me from watching it how?) I was going to BEAT THOSE GUYS' ASSES! ROAR! I like taking kickboxing classes, I love punching, and this was the class to teach all the little short girls how to do it. Huzzah!
My Mars on the midheaven, well... I'm not a jock, not an athlete, sure as hell not a soldier in this life, but I definitely have that desire to be physically MACHO that I pretty much miss out on because I'm a short wittle girl. I've pondered taking martial arts to satisfy that urge, but it's too big of a time commitment for me and I suspect I wouldn't like the rigidity and uniforms and whatnot. RAD class, on the other hand, pretty much satisfies that urge. I loved the punching and the kicking and learning how to flip people over and yelling...good times!
But when it came to the simulation last year...well, short of injuring myself or the guys, it didn't get much worse. I forgot all the moves, I attacked them before they attacked me (a no-no), I fell down...after the first go I just hid in the corner while everyone else went. And then beat myself up about it for a year, of course, because I do that.
I was well aware that I needed more practice at this, because a weekend's worth of class is not enough to get it ingrained in you in the event of emergency. So when they offered it again, same time and place, this year, I went back. As I did the first time, I enjoyed the punching and kicking and drills, but this time I really dreaded the second day and simulation.
I kept thinking, "What's going to be different about this year? I totally bombed last year and I KNOW it, I can't forget it..."
My list of what's different this year:
(a) I already know what to expect from the simulations and know approximately how it's going to go
(b) I meditate for ten minutes a day now, and that's already had effects on me not panicking so effing bad after doing it for a month. And I've been doing it for about 130 days (started April 1) now...
So I meditated during lunch on both days, and did as much deep breathing as possible in the hour before the simulation (as much as was possible while learning to flip people over on the floor, anyway).
And that...fixed it! I stayed calm and rational and in the moment, didn't forget everything, happily pounded guys in the face and kicked them in the crotch. I actually fell down after beating up the last guy in the last simulation, but wasn't fazed because I knew I could get up and run this time. Yeehaw!
I guess that's a Chiron sort of thing: knowing what broke me last time, figuring out how to fix it. I kind of want to become an instructor now. though I asked about how to do it and apparently that involves paying a lot of money for certification later, so I don't know how much of a long-term goal that is. They now have a self-defense club, which I am hoping that I will be able to join so I can get that practice in.
But if I were teaching the class, I'd tell them all about the time I bombed out, and how even if you bomb out today (I was the only one who ever bombed in any class I took so far), you can come back from it. Odds are you won't be worse at it the first time than I was!
I was teaching a beginning sewing class this summer. I didn't particularly want to do this because it was a very long class that ran for most of the summer and I can't even get paid for it (long story, legal issues), but every other instructor didn't apparently feel like doing it any more or was out of town, and since that's a class that always runs/is full, the organization would be losing money if I didn't do it. As far as I'm concerned, "I don't wanna" is not a good enough reason to lose money for other people, so I said I'd do it. It actually went pretty well, students finished a project and seemed pretty happy with it. Mostly I was teaching them how to read patterns and deal with the annoyances of sewing, and reiterating things like "Don't sew when you're angry or crying, it'll only go worse" and "Machines are buggy, don't take it personally" and "Everyone sews the wrong side out plenty of times, I do it a good chunk of the time myself," and "Yes, gathers really do suck to have to make."
I think the thing the students liked the most about the class was that I was reassuring about the bugginess of sewing, acknowledging that sometimes this crap is hard and things go wrong, and there's ways to fix it without going crazy. Sadly, I couldn't get any of them to fill out a class evaluation to verify that for the management :P, but that was the impression I got.
I think that's a Chiron thing: acknowledging that there are issues, that everybody does it including the authority figure in charge here, and that you can improve from here, you're not a failure at sewing or self-defense forever.
]]>Topic of discussion: Ryan "I Just Trolled On My Kid At My Girlfriend's Funeral" O'Neal.
I would concur with this one. Mars issue guys...well, be careful. Find a guy who's using that energy constructively, rather than taking it out on other people.So, okay, I whip up his chart and go looking for astrological prick indicators (A.P.I.) and voila – the classic afflicted Mars. Ladies and male gays, take note. The “afflicted” Mars is the classic astro-omen of trouble when you are looking at men. Not all men with a trickily aspected Mars are difficult pricks with drugs or violence issues but plenty are. PLEASE don’t e-mail me to defend your precious snookums who has never laid a hand on you excepting for tantric sex at which he excels and he always puts the rubbish out sans complaint. I am just saying that in SOME cases, a man with Mars square his Saturn, Uranus, Pluto or Neptune can be a piece of work.
Your chart has significant challenges literally written right into it. Your moon is in challenge aspect to the asteroid Chiron, a potent symbol of issues that cry out for healing. Your Moon is opposite the planet of your survival instincts, Mars, and Mars is also in challenge aspect to Chiron. What this symbol says to me is that you are driven by powerful emotions that are often at cross purposes with you own best interests. In other words, you let your heart rule your head. While we are often admonished to listen more to our hearts and less to our heads, in your situation this is rather like doing too much of a good thing. Why? Because Chiron is sitting there, challenging your heart and your survival instincts to make some intrinsic changes in how you operate.
How do you operate? With three planets in the sign of Leo in your tenth house of career and public image, you like to work from center stage. You take great pride in how you handle your life, and you can be prideful in the choices you’ve made. You need the attention of others, and when you don’t get it in the measure you feel you deserve you tend to feel let down and even depressed. There is nothing sadder than a Leo who feels that they aren’t appreciated. Certainly, in a situation where you hauling all the freight, doing all the work in and out of the home, taking care of the emotional, physical and financial work of taking care of a family, there literally is not enough appreciation in the world that is going to feel like you are getting what you deserve. Yet you can, from the challenge from your Moon to your Uranus/Venus combination sitting in the the tenth house close to your Sun, be quite stubborn in insisting on keep on a course of action, even if it is apparent that course simply isn’t working."
I have some of this myself, but mainly this letter reminds me of a friend of mine with two autistic kids and a similarly difficult life, with Chiron issues.
This sounds like the guy has Mars Saturn or Mars Pluto to me... (Upon attempting to figure out a chart since he mentions his birthday, looks like he has Mars semisextile both planets.)
]]>"There was a time in my undergraduate studies when I decided to reject everything considered masculine. I had just started learning about feminist philosophies and the associated feminine ideals: pacifism rather than violence, gentleness rather than strength, and love and the erotic rather than pain and competition. My readings convinced me that maleness was something to diminish rather than champion. The patriarchal structure of societies seemed to be the root cause of oppression and warfare. Matriarchal societies, as illustrated in my books, were about cooperation, farming, and a communal society of ideals. Matriarchal religions, worshiping a feminine goddess or the sacred feminine, were more about love and the erotic, and less about hellfire and beating the loving snot out of heathens.
Additionally, I had a thing for scarily smart women (still do) and a lot of them were getting into that avenue of philospophy.
I learned a lot about gender and women during that period of my life, but I remember feeling disquieted, like I was hungry and wasn't feeding. Riding wildly through D.C. on my motorcycle provided some sustinence, but it wasn't quite my thing. A ticket for reckless riding stopped that sort of nonsense quickly.
One evening, while drunk, I received a text from a friend that set me off. I don't even remember what the text was about, but I do remember pounding on my dorm door until it busted off the hinges and bounced off the opposing wall. My hands hurt. The door was trashed. People were coming out of their rooms to find out what the hell was going on. And, I felt good. Real good.
I've always been a violent sort. My mother used to joke that our phone number was on the principal's speed dial. Weekly meetings with school staff about my fighting became routine for both my mother and I. The kids in the school yard had a deal - they'd get to make my life miserable and in return, I'd get to beat the snot out of them.
My mother tried her best to channel this aggression into sports. I played ice hockey, but preferred bashing people into the walls instead of playing with the puck. In middle school and high school, I wrestled. I also tried football, but found that my size hadn't caught up to my aggressive tendencies. The bigger boys made short work of my knee and that was the end of my sporting career.I needed an outlet, otherwise I was just going to take Hellspawn, put him in the car, and drive off without telling anyone where we went. Getting into tussles at parties helped a bit, but it ruined my clothes and there was always the risk of hurting someone badly and being on the hook financially. While flipping through the net some time in the early morning, while taking a break from watching Hellspawn sleep and doing homework, I stumbled on some pictures provided by the Society for Creative Anachronism. The pictures showed folks in full metal regalia pounding on each other with sticks.
I looked at the pictures, and corresponding movies, for hours. I wanted to do that. I needed to do that.At 26, I've come to terms with my violent tendencies. But, I've tempered them, and redirected myself to the appropriate activities. That's ultimately the crux of being a man - knowing the strength and dangeousness of the masculine and using them wisely. A real man doesn't beat his wife and kids. He beats other people with sticks within a structured environment. A real man embraces his competative nature, but cautions it with humility and a bit of chilvarly thrown in."