I have to confess. I’ve always been especially proud to be Sagittarius. When I was a child, I loved it because of the whole half-man/half-horse thing. It brought me that much closer to riding a horse and the fact that I had hooves for feet only made it more exciting. It proved my love for equines was more than just a whim. It was a birthright. The only thing that might have made me happier would have been a half-dog/half-girl-holding-a-book-and-a-Fudgesicle sign. I’d have undergone a rebirth for that one.
I then discovered Sagittarius is a masculine sign. I liked that too because I was something of a tomboy–typical for Sag. And that Sagittarians are typically creative, optimistic, lucky, enthusiastic, outdoorsy, intellectual, and they hate to cook or clean. They retain their faculties and wit until the end of their unusually long lives. Which gives me that much more time to worry about things I, apparently, don’t need to worry about.
I later learned that Sags have a many negative characteristics, such as restlessness, recklessness, impatience, high foreheads, large (but well-shaped!) skulls, and something called foot-in-mouth disease. Which is an ugly way of saying we ask women who aren’t pregnant when the little bundle of love is due. Not only that, but our metal is tin. Tin. There’s no way to make that sound appealing. But far worse than the tin and the constant apologizing is that Sagittarius is said to be associated with horselike hips and thighs, and “bigness in general.” Translation: step away from the rocky road brownies.
What I learned later more than makes up for the extra lunges and leg lifts. Higher learning, communication, human progress and especially publishing are strongly linked to Sagittarius, and many Sags become writers, poets, publishers, philosophers, teachers. Sag writers include Louisa May Alcott, Woody Allen, Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain, Jane Austen, Emily Carr, Willa Cather, Emily Dickenson, Joan Didion, James Thurber, just to name a handful. Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison were also Sags.
They say when a Sag meets another Sag she feels she’s looking in a mirror. Which brings me that much closer, at least physically, to my idol…Woody Allen. When I slip on my black glasses and khaki jacket, and muss my hair just so, you can barely tell where he ends and I begin.
Surfing for Sagittarian info, I found the following description – Sag willl stride purposefully forward, head high, face proud. Then he’ll trip over the curb and his briefcase will snap open, scattering his papers all over the street. But she who helps him up will probably take him for a nice bowl of soup.
Sounds about right.