My father's birthday was September 11th... mine is the same as the day Martin Luther King was murdered... this is why I choose to celebrate differently.
For example, Easter means more to me than my birthday, though I don't do the shallow egg and chocolate thing. And as far as my father's dates, well, he passed away on the 28th of March so that pretty much encapsulates the period wherein my birthday resides. I sit between my father and THE father if you wish to see it that way. Or in another sense It is a true Aristotelian period of coming to be and passing away, of regeneration, of stoking the continuum of life, of remembering to look forward to each day and not get bogged down by the weight of loss.
So, Spring, or rather the equinox strangely enough is significant too—being approximately March 21 and September 23. My consciousness then is further synchronized with the natural course of things of this earth. I am fairly squashed now by the demands of this planet's rotation and my failure to synchronize my daily routine with circadian demands of the sun and the chides of the moon. It is a cosmic time... and finally it is a dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Ironically, and sadly too, I grow aware that while I've lost my father at a symbolic end, the setting of a patriarchal era, my mother conversely grows nearer the end of her life as the age of matriarchs rises. It is an archetypal time of revelation then, that we can find spiritual meaning in life and death, the tertiary and distal cosmos. We are somewhere between hope and dread perhaps but always secure in knowing the time of day when the sun is visibly passing above us and steady when our feet are striding below.
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