As much as we suffer from the harshness of the world, I enjoy being a sometimes misunderstood Pisces. In many ways, I’m stereotypical of the sign: I love poetry and mermaids, the ocean and waterfalls, music is my soul, I’m a supreme romantic, and yoga is really the only exercise I truly enjoy and look forward to. (Oh, wait–scratch that–rollerskating, too.)
As a classics/archaeology nerd, I love that my day coincides with one of the most infamous days in ancient history, the Ides of March. As a Pagan, I like being on the threshold of spring, an Equinox baby surrounded by flowering trees and rune-inscribed eggs. Oh sure, I have the Archer rising and Twin moon; I can easily come across as a fun-loving, overly erudite philosopher-clown. (And I am thankful for these buoyant influences.) Sometimes the levity and social nature of these two signs take over, however, and I’m left feeling disconnected and frenetic. One of my aims for this new year is to remember to be still, to listen, and to imagine greatly. For in my heart and soul, I am all Fish and evasive naiad, plumbing the depths of the unconscious and trying to translate mystery into art, expression, karaoke. This is my ichthyarchy.