Happy New Year!
May it be as predicted: more stable, more familial, and more hopeful as people come together socially and politically to re-frame the future and cultivate what we’ve got left of this life on earth.
LIFE IS UNPREDICTABLE. ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN.
And it already has…
If you were born on a Saturday, then the light of the sun caught your mother’s eye.
Or, the stars. If tipped towards Saturn, then you are quick to wit and long to love.
If the North Star was turned south, then you have spent your life looking for a home.
There are no trees– so you were born on a Monday.
The snow is silver — so you were born on a Wednesday.
Because of the day and the year that you were born, you are the luckiest dog in the pack.
Because of the exact moment that you assembled yourself into flesh, you fluctuate madly between being temperamental and certain.
You’re lucky in business. Unlucky in love. Then your luck shifts and the opposite happens.
Because love is a seed, you are an oak.
If you don’t find your soulmate in this life, don’t worry. In the next life, you will be born on a Thursday.
How extraordinary, and lined with gold.
Because golden is the star under which you were born.
Your heart is a house and your family is a campfire.
Always sheltered. Always loved.
It’s because you were born that everything has happened.
I wrote this poem as a homage to “Could Have” by Wislawa Szymborska; it’s dedicated to Lwin Lwin Mon who taught me MyanmarBurmese astrology while I had the privileged of teaching with her at the University of Yangon in November. Disclaimer: there is no real astrology to be gleaned from this poem, but I hope it makes you smile anyway.)