British North America Bank, Kingsmere, originally uploaded by The River Thief. Copyright Ruth Seeley 2007.
Monday’s Child
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.
-- Mother Goose
I’ve always loved this rhyme, partly because I was born on a Tuesday. Being fair of face would be nice, and if I had to rank the days on which I could have been born, I’d say that after Tuesday, being loving and giving (Friday’s child), or a fair-of-face Monday’s child would be the next best things. I don’t aspire to be a Sunday’s child, although obviously they have it all. Sometimes I’ve wondered if they made a mistake and I was actually born on a Thursday or a Saturday, along with all those others for whom life seems to be semi-constant struggle.
The swimming metaphor for life has always worked for me. Technically I’m a fire sign, but there’s a LOT of water in my chart. (This is not an astrology-free zone.) For some parts of your life you’re floating, drifting in the water currents and letting them take you where they will. You’re strong and confident, and in this phase of existence you feel extremely safe and relaxed. Who doesn’t love this phase?
When things are going badly in my life, I feel like I’m treading water. Anyone who’s been broke for an extended period of time and has had to effect economies knows this. I’ve always relied on my sense of humour to get me through the rough patches, and so far it’s working. Over the course of the past year I’ve found myself thinking a lot about the expression, Don’t borrow trouble. I’ve made a conscious effort to stop worrying about whether things are going to work out or not. A former friend is right: it will all work out.
And then there are the times when you’re trying to get somewhere and the only way to do that is to swim purposefully and vigorously towards your destination. I seem to have had fewer periods of this phase in my life than the other two. I’m not sure why that is, and I wonder if other people feel the same way, or if there is just a fairly wide variance amongst people in terms of precisely how purposeful they are. I’ve often been described as ‘driven’ – but I make quite a few left turns along the way. I like to navigate by the sun and reflect by the moon.
I agree that the death of one’s parents means one has reached the final phase of separation and individuation (although some choose not to separate and individuate – I’m not quite sure why). My mother’s death has given me something I am not sure she ever truly wanted me to have, although it’s something she often said she wanted for me: a sense of infinite possibilities. Ordinarily I am a decisive person. As I get older, however, I have learned to temper my spontaneity with a little reflection. Now for a lake, some sunshine, and a flat-bottomed rowboat in which to sit and reflect.
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