July: Cancer
The 7th issue of Dharma Direction is all about the moon children … the highly sensitive and emotional tendencies of the often mistrusting and reclusive Cancer the Crab.
Are you ready to Go With The Flow?
Cancer: The Crab
June 22 - July 22
What's in a name?
Angels: “Crab Calling”
Personal Essay by Debbie Abbott
Read time: 8 minutes
Let’s clear up some things about this month’s zodiac: Cancer, the Crab.
Once upon a time, the word “cancer” was a simple Latin word for crab. There were no negative connotations associated with it. Cancer was a delicacy … a gift from the sea for the carnivorously inclined.
The connection between the disease of cancer and the clawed animal goes all the way back to somewhere around 400 B.C. (a mere 2,400+ years ago) when Greek physician Hippocrates—considered the “Father of Medicine”—used the terms carcinos and carcinoma to describe tumors. The first term designated a non-ulcer-forming growth and the latter pointed to the more dangerous ulcer-forming kind.
The reason Hippocrates used the Greek word for crab stems from the similarity between the “fingers” of a tumor growth and the way a crab’s legs look. Three-hundred and fifty years later, Roman physician Celsus translated the Greek terminology for this tumor disease into the Latin word for crab: cancer.
Another C-Word
In the zodiac, Cancer is one of four “cardinal” signs which means it kicks off a solstice and begins at an equinox. When one of these four seasons starts, it is characterized by a strong and boundless initiative.
Mother Nature isn’t the only one who has the power to push a flower through concrete and ice.
The intensity of a Cancer-born human contains every bit as much determination as Gaia and her death-defying flora.
Crabs have existed since the Jurassic period (over 200 million years ago), living on land and in water (salt and fresh). This attribute anoints those who arrive on earth under the crustacean sign with both emotional, watery aspects and material, earthy desires. Unfortunately, these two things tend to clash … a lot.
As if they were polar opposites, emotional needs and material wants always seem to be at odds in a Cancer mind, often repelling each other to the point of paralysis (metaphorically speaking).
I know because gatherings in my family are like a Crab-a-palooza festival. We aren’t a large tribe. I only have one sister. Yet, somehow between us, we managed to squeak out six Cancer descendants. Apparently, the crab is the only zodiac I am capable of reproducing because my only child is a Cancer and so are both of her children. The youngest one even shares his mother’s birthday. Don’t think I haven’t pondered the universal message in that genetic gift basket.
The Advantage of an Exoskeleton
Blessed with a hard shell, the ten-legged creature of the sea can withstand even the roughest of waters and shores.
They are equipped, by the grace of divine evolution, to belong in two different realms.
It is for this reason that I believe those ruled by the Cancer zodiac are more than capable of adapting to changing circumstances even when they think they can’t. Evolving genetics has provided the crab with something few animals possess … flexibility to survive where and when others cannot.
The challenge with many of the “crab people” I know (including my bestie of 40 years) is their aversion to moving from one realm into the other. They doubt their own abilities to withstand the changes occurring in their world.
In the water they can nearly drown themselves in sorrow.
On the sand they are prone to placing too much value on treasures buried beneath it.
Digging for the next shiny thing occupies much of a Cancer’s time. An unsuccessful excavation will most likely send them back into the water. When this happens, when the crab crawls into the weightless world of swirling emotions—
The angel Muriel is waiting patiently to remind Cancer that life is for living no matter what realm you’re in.
Muriel, Angel of Peace
Ruled by Archangel Gabriel, Muriel assists people in need of healing negative emotional energy, especially anxiety (which is rooted in fear). As an angel of sentiment, Muriel is here to bear the weight of your burdens if you ask earnestly. Because of the nurturing qualities of this angel, Muriel is most often felt as a feminine presence.
Angel Muriel can balance nervous energy and bring a sense of comfort to those who seek her assistance.
Muriel’s main responsibility is to carry a message of peace and harmony to humankind. Releasing fears is a requirement for us all if we ever hope to achieve the peaceful and harmonious world that is our birthright.
Tending the plants and animals of Earth also falls under Muriel’s jurisdiction. When we are awed by a bird in flight or intoxicated by an exotic bloom, this is Muriel’s essence. The lore of the angels tells us that when Muriel is near, you will notice the scent of your favorite flower. Mine is jasmine—which coincidentally is also one of Archangel Gabriel’s flowers. Some of the flowers specific to a Cancer zodiac are hydrangeas, passionflower, and white roses.
Hera and Hercules
So, we’ve learned why the words “cancer” and “crab” got hooked up, but that still doesn’t explain which came first in the zodiac realm. Is the sign named for a disease or a decapod?
We’re going to have to travel much further back in time to reach the reason for this dubbing. The constellation Cancer was “born” back in the mythological days of gods and goddesses. The story goes like this …
Hera, a goddess, was married to the god Zeus, an unfaithful husband who fathered a bastard child named Hercules. In order to secure his immortality and eternal place within Mount Olympus, Hercules was ordered to perform “12 Labours.” Second on his long and potentially deadly list was a trip to slay Hydra, a nine-headed poisonous serpent guarding the watery entrance to the Underworld.
In an effort to sabotage Hercules, the rightfully jealous Hera sent a crab (I’m assuming it was a very large one, imbued with the strength of the gods) to attack Zeus’ illegitimate offspring while he was beneath the water. The crab bit Hercules’ ankle, then met its demise under the shoe of the demigod.
Hera took the crushed crustacean and sprinkled it’s remains across the sky, forming the Crab constellation.
Meaningful Madness
I can’t help wondering if Hera did this as a way of acknowledging her failure to kill a demigod, or as a reminder to Hercules of his success in proving himself worthy of a Mount Olympus mailing address. Given her previous grievances against her husband’s innocent son (which included unspeakable, heinous crimes of passion), it’s unlikely Hera ever wished Hercules well.
Far be it for me to guess what a goddess would think, but maybe her motive came from more of a motherly vantage point. Not the loving, nurturing kind that the Angel Muriel would bring, but the elder warnings that we all received during adolescence that were designed to plant a hardy fear-seed in our minds.
When I was growing up, it was the slogan “Stranger Danger!” that mothers everywhere were hollering at their kids as they ran out the front door with no identification, no cell phone, no helmet, no bottled water. In hindsight, I think about what those two words represented … Death.
In other words: Be careful or you might get killed.
Hera could have been warning Hercules of the dangers that would always be out there waiting. But I don’t think her intention was to give him advice that could save him from dying. I think she was simply saying: Danger will always be present.
On the flip side, one could just as easily say that she meant: Fear can be easily crushed. But that would mean that she was cheering Hercules on as he went forth to task number three: Capture the deer with the golden antlers who was sacred to the goddess Artemis.
Comfort is their Calling
Above all else, Cancer the Crab is focused on comfort—mostly their own. But the comfort of others, too, after their own comfort has been established. Let’s be clear about that.
Being uncomfortable will send these highly sensitive creatures into their fight or flight mode.
Neither is a very productive way of meeting the needs of the crab people. In fact, each way tends to bring on another detriment. Fighting rarely solves anything. And fleeing from your troubles will only set you back on the path you were running from.
Like real crabs, maybe the takeaway here for Cancers in times of crisis is to look forward while moving sideways. Crabwalk. No fighting. No fleeing.
Just claws up, eyes ahead, gliding on by.
Debbie Abbott is a former managing editor for an upscale food and lifestyle print magazine from Scottsdale, Arizona. She now spends as much time as possible working on her debut novel and sharing accounts of her life through her website and as editor and publisher of Dharma Direction.
Connect with Debbie on Facebook, through Debbie's Twitter page or visit Debbie on Instagram.
Audio Visual Art: Angel Muriel
Digital artist Peter Mohrbacher treats viewers this month to the ethereal sounds of musical artist Xan Griffin (featuring Emilia Ali). Find Peter’s work at Angelarium.net. Find more of Xan’s work on his YouTube Channel. Watch time: 4+ minutes
About Face.
Humor: “Cancer-Crab-Colleen”
Personal Essay by Colleen Markley
Read time: 9 minutes
Let’s get this part out of the way first.
When I was a child and discovered my astrological sign was Cancer, I thought it meant I was destined to die from the scary disease that my grandmother only whispered about, anointing with a title: “The Cancer.”
Telling me stories in her tiny kitchen, she’d blow out her cigarette smoke above her hair-sprayed coif (getting her bouffant helmet set every Thursday while she gossiped with her lady friends and then trying not to displace a hair the rest of the week). Then, she’d lower her head to mine and whisper with her menthol breath: “But that was before she got The Cancer.”
My younger self thought it was terrible that anyone with a July birthday would die from their astrological sign. My grandmother was also born in the sign of Cancer—her birthday was just one day after mine.
She used to tell me that I was her best birthday present ever. I believed her.
She died the January before I was married. Lung Cancer. Go figure.
Signs and Signals
Once I got over the initial distaste for my astrological sign’s name (which I will admit I still wish had more of a warm and fuzzy moniker that didn’t make people twitchy), I wanted to know everything about me and the destiny the stars created. I took out books from the library and mailed away for my star chart when I was 12. I didn’t understand any of it then, but I traced the planet symbols in my diary—the vault of pre-teen crushes, unrequited love, and other familial despair.
Years later, I’d lose the diary and the birth chart before I understood anything more than the surface ideas. But my curiosity lingered. In college, I’d buy my star chart again—borrowing a map of Cambridge, Massachusetts to find a tiny bookstore called Seven Stars—with five dollars in dimes stuffed into a paper roll.
Incredibly shy, I rarely talked to professors outside of class. But when my screenwriting professor announced one day that he’d interpret our birth charts for us if anyone brought them during his office hours, I thought this was my chance. I secretly worshipped him and was ready for him to illuminate my path to being a meaningful writer. So, with my printout in hand, I went to find my destiny.
His office was tiny—with a window that faced the building next door, so close I wondered if there was enough room to even walk between the aging brick structures. Every surface in the cramped space was stacked with paper. Some books, but mostly scripts, bound with brass brads and cardstock covers or in colorful binders with title pages in sheet protectors. He waved his hand toward a pleather-cushioned wood-framed chair.
His desk was a metal relic—and covered so high with books and scripts that he moved things around to make a little valley so we could see each other between the piles.
I sat patiently while he looked at my star chart, feeling nervous and foolish as I waited for him to evaluate me. I felt like I’d asked him to judge my potential success in my career and life, and I couldn’t wait for him to speak. And then he did:
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
Sensitivity Training
I stuttered and played through all the options in my head that followed that question. During the 1990s, when it became vogue to “ask first” before lighting up in someone’s presence, non-smokers were a real drag.
Smokers always want to smoke. They liked people who let them have what they wanted. They didn’t like people who refused them a cigarette.
They’d get itchy and edgy and twitchy and unpleasant.
And I, a highly sensitive Cancer, wanted everyone to be comfortable and at ease. Even if at my own expense.
So I said, “Oh, go ahead.”
He opened the window, and I was grateful for that, even though I doubted the circulation would improve much.
I couldn’t pay attention to anything he said. With the click of his cigarette lighter, he’d lost his magic. I was completely distracted, not unlike that adorable dog in the movie UP who can’t talk when he’s seen a squirrel.
It would take me many years to recognize my reactions to stress and discomfort and figure out how to keep myself in the present moment. I do that better now than I did then—except when I am obsessing and freaking out about an uncertain future when my anxious-self has taken over.
These last few years, she’s had a lot of material to remind me of all the uncertainties in life.
Sideways
Somewhere along the years and moving from dorm to apartment to house, I lost that copy of my birth chart too. And then life got busy with jobs and family and life, and the stars were something to watch in the sky rather than seeking wisdom. It wasn’t until the last few years that I started feeling that pull again.
What is my meaning in the universe? Am I following the path I imagined? Am I now the person I dreamt of becoming 25 years ago?
Actually, I’m way better. My past-self would be amazed.
But that got me thinking. What version of my future-self would amaze my present-self? What can I dream up next? And, while I imagine an amazing future full of abundance and balance, how much can my present-self obsess and worry about not attaining those dreams and being woefully disappointed in all of my unreal expectations?
I am nothing if not complex. Complicated. Cancer.
Sometimes when I annoy the crap out of my husband, I will say to him, “I’m trying,” and I mean that as “I am attempting to be better.” I recognize that I am also “trying”—troublesome and frustrating to the point where I exasperate those who love me most.
But Cancer Crabs are exceptionally loyal creatures, and part of my quest for self-understanding and betterment is so that I can share that vibe with my family. Cancer rules the home, the hearth, the center of family operations. We love to make sure everyone feels relaxed and at ease. It’s how we honor those we love—by taking care of them.
So what did my present-self need to do to understand my life to make sure my future-self would impress my past-self? Besides convincing everyone that I was on a path to enlightenment, not a victim of multiple personality disorder?
Sometimes it’s just listening to the people who are in your path.
And that’s when I met Elena.
We had both joined an online women’s career networking organization and signed up for a “pod squad.” Six women, all at different points and in different careers, would meet once a week for a “hot seat”—one woman at a time. We posed our questions in writing to the group, and then each group member would respond with their thoughts and ideas in turn over Zoom.
We had a 20-something just starting her freelance media consultancy looking for ideas on how to network.
A 60-something hypnotist looking to expand and level up her business into podcasts and group work.
A financial literacy coach who wanted to focus on empowering women to make their own independent choices without investment pressures.
A near-retirement age historian who was let go from her museum director position after she insisted on exhibits that came from non-white experiences.
A former West Point grad who wanted to steer her health detective business into in-person retreats in a post-pandemic world when people would need their health and self-care more than ever.
Elena, who was just finishing her certification in Chinese Face Reading, a 3000-year-old practice … even older than “traditional” Chinese medicine.
And me: a writer trying to lean into her career after coming to terms with the 15-year resume gap from being the primary caregiver for two children who were getting ready to leave the nest.
Looking back now, a year later, I think of my problems as simple.
Choosing Courage
I was struggling with the beginnings of guilt over “going back to work.” I was struggling with trying to do all the things I used to do on a daily basis first and then turning to my writing second, like Cinderella only being allowed to attend the ball if she did all her chores first. I wanted everyone comfortable, and I felt guilty if anyone was lacking anything because I was looking for something for myself.
All of that was nonsense. Excuses in my way of productivity.
It was easier to think I was NEEDED as a mom than it was to turn into the face of uncertainty where I might be a total flop and failure as a writer. How much easier to blame my family for not “letting” me write instead of recognizing that I needed to claim writing as my own and show everyone else the boundaries around it?
That was the gift my pod squad helped me realize. That was the modeling my children needed. They needed their mom to show determination, focus, and vulnerability. I needed to be willing to put myself out there. I didn’t want my kids to have a mom who was a martyr and said that she couldn’t pursue her dreams because the dishwasher needed to be unloaded. The advice offered by my squad made sense.
I wasn’t lacking answers. I was lacking confidence.
After the rest of the pod squad shared their hot seat advice, it was Elena’s turn. Combining my date of birth using a system called Nine Star Ki—the most comprehensive of ancient astrological systems and Chinese Face Reading—she’d studied photos of me (straight on, profiles, close-ups of my ears). Nine Star Ki isn’t the traditional western zodiac, so the language and symbols are slightly different but eerily similar to other spaces I’ve searched and explored over the years. Elements, stars aligned at birth, how we respond to each other as humans as we look at each other and experience each other’s energy.
Elena described Chinese Face Reading as “… going with the flow instead of swimming against the current. It's about bringing ease and love into your life.”
Six months later I’d be asked to write a monthly humor column for Dharma Direction, whose motto ends with “Going with the flow is your way to Dharma … your purpose.” Similarities and patterns in western and eastern civilizations have told me this: If something is true, it is true.
My mini-reading piqued my interest. Elena told me I had “princess energy.” I was destined to delegate. I needed to know more. So I booked a full reading with Elena. And when I was done with that one, I booked a second reading to learn about my family and how their patterns influence our interactions.
Chinese Face Reading originated back when physicians were encouraged to diagnose their patients without physically touching them for an exam. They were especially not allowed to touch women, so they needed to diagnose by observation. When I first read that, I thought it sounded a little sexist, but I also realized it had a sense of boundaries and respect that feels in tune with the purpose of the originators of Chinese Face Reading and Medicine:
Observe nature, try to understand it, use it to our advantage, don’t harm anyone.
The results created a catalog of ailments and what those conditions did to the body—especially the face. It could also tell physicians (and anyone else paying attention) what someone’s response was to life. We make the same faces throughout our experiences in life.
What do those movements do over time?
What wrinkles and creases appear as we smile with joy or frown in consternation?
What can you tell about someone’s personality as we watch their face respond to ours?
Chinese Face Reading also includes the divination of birthdates, believing that our souls contracted with the universe to arrive at a specific time and place when the stars were aligned so that we could have the experiences we need in life to attain our enlightenment. Our souls choose what moment we arrive.
Our souls choose what our faces should look like so that others can see us for who we are.
Data By Design
Chinese Face Reading is all about how to align with that self, mind and body connected. The concept of the soul contract is to assure us in this life that we can overcome whatever is in front of us.
I’ve been here and worked on these issues before—let me try again and let me try to figure this out.
I am here to grow and learn.
I have chosen my strengths and the people in my life to support me.
I am not a victim of circumstance.
I will identify my core life issues.
I will grow and overcome.
My face is designed for this journey.
“Wait,” I say to Elena as she explains. “Everyone I know has had plastic surgery. What does that do to a face reading? Can you still learn anything about anyone?”
My favorite movie line is from Clueless when she describes her mom passing away from a “routine liposuction.” My anxiety perked up from the minivan’s third row and started driving the “don’t do it” route. Plastic surgery could orphan my children.
I wonder if my soul contract included anxiety to ensure I wouldn’t try to augment anything; my face will always be my face.
You can trust these wrinkles. I’m authentic. And just a little quirky.
Elena gets excited from my distracting question.
Plastic surgery and augmentation are not necessarily bad or good. It’s data. What feature do you want to change? What elements do we learn from that feature that might demonstrate your worries or inadequacies? Lips are common, she says, but she cautions that blowing up your lips can blow up your relationships too. That there’s a subconscious desire to heal something.
I nod thinking about this, but I also think there are differences in the reasons someone chooses lip filler. “I’m 40-something and divorced and would like to boost my confidence in this disgusting dating world with other women’s cast-offs” could be a positive way to blow up the past.
I think of the relationships that no longer served my girlfriends because the people they were married to no longer appreciated the love my friends had to offer. That seems different from someone who is supposedly already in a secure and loving relationship who is worried their partner is going to realize that time actually exists, and therefore aging and wrinkles—and gravity—are real.
The outcomes of our lives are written on faces.
I would be disappointed in a husband who didn’t love my face as the weathered and battle-scarred evidence of our connected joys and hurts. On the plastic surgery front, I am more judgmental than Elena. And more wrinkled.
Life Lines
Elena explains to me that Chinese Face Reading and Nine Star Ki believe we are born into a chosen time with particular energies and meant to have certain experiences in life—and those experiences wear patterns into our faces. And ears.
“Hmm, mm,” she starts. “You had stressful times at age nine. It’s marked on your ears. And at age 10 you felt less supported.”
I resist my urge to challenge her and question her fishing. She is not a charlatan at a carnival. I’ve asked her to help guide me. What is it I want from this experience? I am searching for meaning.
In order to achieve understanding, I recognize I need to allow myself to be vulnerable.
“Yup,” I admit.
When I was nine, my parents told me they were divorcing. My mom went back to work. By the time I turned 10, I was a latch-key kid cooking dinner for my siblings. My mom would have me call her at work when I lit the oven. The igniter part was broken, so the only way to get it to work was to turn on the gas, light a match, and aim it toward the pilot in the little hole in the bottom.
My brother and sister were to stay in a different room in case it blew up. I would be the sole victim, and my mom would stay on the phone to bear witness to the boom and know if she should call the fire department. I never blew anything up, but my ear made a mark—evidence of emotional trauma. I suppose that’s better than losing my arm in a gas explosion.
Elements & Energy
I push Elena. Is it all in my face and ears? Why did she need my birthdate?
Chinese Face Reading and Nine Star Ki are not Chinese astrology. Nine Star Ki (older than Chinese astrology by two-thousand years) uses our birthdate to determine the impact of 12 earthly and 10 heavenly influences. Variations in the energy at the time we are born provide important info in three areas:
Our main overall personality
Our emotional/stressed self (also referred to as our childhood state)
Our core life issues and true calling
“The good news,” Elena tells me, “is that you have water as your dominant element. That means you have perseverance and can push through anything.”
This tracks.
In 1985 I thought it was customary to worry your oven might explode when you lit it. And since we haven’t fixed the affordable childcare issue decades later, I don’t blame my mother for doing what everyone else did with the latch-key solution. She was a single mom … a secretary who worked 40 hours a week, came home to finish fixing dinner (thanks to my oven preheating assistance), and then did medical transcription by phone for money that would fill the gaps where child support and salary missed.
When I wanted piano lessons on the upright (out-of-tune) piano we inherited from her great aunt, my mom started cleaning offices on Saturday mornings, bringing my brother and sister with her to roller-skate in the empty hallways. My soul contract showed me a mom who kept going.
Elena continues telling me about my face. “You have an AMAZING forehead.”
I accept the compliment, even though I’ve never thought of my forehead as anything but large. In my 20s, I tried to cover more of my giant forehead by cutting bangs and quickly saw my double-cowlick-swirl morph my hair into a swirling rooster’s comb.
According to Elena, my rounded forehead means I am highly creative … I have an incredible imagination … and I am intuitive. I nod my giant noggin.
When someone says something incredulous and follows it with, “Can you imagine!?” I always can. I can picture every story, every facet of opportunity. The novel Midnight Library by Matt Haig made sense to me as a way to envision the world.
We are a product of the choices we make.
Let me imagine the best possible scenario and try to live that life. Let me also be wary of aaaaaaall the poor decisions and not live those lives. I imagine my past-life selves are all packed into my anxious brain to help me avoid dying the same way again …
Hypothermia (I hate being cold).
Hanged as a witch (I despise turtlenecks and too tight choker necklaces).
Severe aversion to potential food poisoning (I most definitely died from being the food taster for the royal court). I am also the one most likely to get food poisoning, even if no one else does. I have that kind of sensitivity and have puked in more purses than usual in this life).
The Worst Curse
There’s a downside to this imagination, though, Elena tells me. She explains, and I know it to be true. My creative imagination can run away from me.
If I let the fear parts come in and drive, I’m allowing them to show me the places where the worst-case scenario lives.
At this, I laugh.
Elena raises her eyebrows. Making that expression causes my forehead to look like a pack of hotdogs. I admire her younger smoother skin.
“I play the worst-case scenario game all the time,” I explain to her. “Brian used to try it to make me feel better. But I always had other ideas that would happen.”
Most of my scenarios would start as something small … worrying about the kids not calling home from camp. I could always end the “what’s the worst thing” with one of two outcomes: nuclear holocaust or alien invasion. Sometimes both could occur at the same time.
Brian stopped trying this as a “help me feel better” technique. But I started playing the game with my kids, who both have my genetic predisposition for anxiety. They also have my financial support to pay for therapy—mine, theirs, ours. Everyone needs therapy. My therapist likes my new use for the game, as did Elena.
“We make it funny,” I explained to my therapist to ensure I wasn’t crazy (a recurring theme in my weekly appointments). “Like in Harry Potter with the bogart and the ‘Riddikulus’ spell.” I liked that part of the book more than I like JK Rowling’s later transphobic slurs. I decide I need a new analogy.
“Like the scene in Mary Poppins where they go to visit the old guy who floats in the air because all he does is laugh all day,” I say. “It’s only when he thinks of something sad that he sinks.”
Elena is ecstatic.
“The fact that you are using humor like that is such a big part of your personality—the way you do things, present, everything. It needs to be funny and light-hearted. Fun. That’s the light you bring. That’s why you’re here and what you are meant to reveal in the world. It’s your way to overcome and transform the fear.”
Great. Destiny. No pressure.
Wait … I have a cosmic reason I can’t do chores. I need to write.
I might seem funny and light, but that’s not how I feel on the inside. I tell Elena that people often confuse me for someone who is an extrovert. That my enthusiasm and excitement can make people think that I’m actually someone who likes being among people, rather than just the fascination I have with their stories and journeys.
I am content to be an observer, taking notes on the side (and have been known to whip out my notebook at odd times, like when I took notes at a memorial service. I hope when I am dead, I have lived a life that makes someone want to take notes too).
Destiny’s Fire
Elena smiles at me. “It’s your eyes,” she says.
She tells me that the dark shadows I’ve sported since my teen years are not from sleep deprivation but rather a mark of my water traits. Deep and emotional, feeling everything and processing so much more than most people. My large eyes are a sign that I have an open consciousness and am empathetic to the problems of others. The wrinkling around the eyes speaks to my wisdom. I start to doubt she’s understood my question; that sounds like Eeyore or Owl, not Tigger.
And then she shifts to explain where she’s going. It’s when I’m talking about the deeper meaning and understanding that all that thinking and processing has given me. What have I learned? What connections did I make? When I’m telling a story … My light and enthusiasm make people mistake me for an extrovert.
“That’s when your eyes are full of fire,” Elena says. “That’s where your true calling lies. Your fun, humor, and passion.”
“You're destined to use your humor to heal yourself and others.”
That’s a lot to accept as destiny.
I raise my eyebrows, which Elena tells me are “beautiful and thick.” I am grateful she missed my 1990s skinny brow era. She tells me my narrowly avoiding unibrow situation means that I have self-confidence, speak up for myself, and have strong boundaries.
I raise just my left eyebrow, my hallmark look of incredulousness. I wonder if that is why the line over my right eye isn’t continuous—that my incredulousness means I am missing an opportunity to integrate my life lessons. Maybe if I raise both my eyebrows with interest and amusement, I will be more aligned and ready to accept my destiny. Or perhaps the muscles over my right eye are weak and need exercise.
I consider the wrinkles that I might be making in this moment of consideration. Am I earning wisdom even now? I wonder if I’m up for the challenge from the universe.
Self-discovery sometimes feels exhausting.
Frida Kholo - a Mexican painter whose self-portraits continue to open discussions about identity, the human body, and death. July 6, 1907 - July 13, 1954, Frida came and left this realm during the season of The Crab: Cancer.
Freedom From the Feels
That, I tell Elena, feels like my greatest weakness—how depleted I feel from trying so hard. She reminds me that I need to tap into my princess energy more.
“It’s painful for you to think of someone else in discomfort,” she tells me. But I need to be aware …
Is this my responsibility?
Or someone else’s?
I can want to fix the world, but I can’t do it solo. I need to delegate, share responsibility, and remember I am one string connected to the world and am only responsible for my part.
My princess energy shouldn’t be Cinderella, but rather Princess Di.
I smile at Elena. I always liked Princess Di. She’s also a Cancer Crab.
Elena smiles back and tells me that I have warrior energy in my smile. I love that idea, but I admit that my exposed gums were never a favorite feature. Apparently, it means I am a do-er and fixer of things; others know that and will often come to me with their problems.
But another self-conscious trait of mine, “cheekbones with nice padding”—how Elena diplomatically describes me—means that I am known to speak up and delegate those to-do list items. I have the kind of smiling face that means people will want to help me and please me because I seem kind.
I imagine my children vehemently disagreeing.
I have explained our soul contracts to my husband (whose grounding earth energy I crave the most when my watery emotions overwhelm me). Years ago, I told him that I understood that our soul contracts included us both living to 101 and then holding hands on a porch swing and dying peacefully as we swing back and forth.
I intend to be wrinkled and enlightened. Maybe even fulfilled with all these plans. Or maybe I will accidentally break my soul contract, returning to the cosmos to make a new plan for enlightenment the next time around. Probably with new anxiety or fear about an early death; I will avoid water skiing or scuba diving in my next life (like I am avoiding jumping out of perfectly good airplanes in this life).
And then I’ll do it all over again, picking a birthdate when the stars are aligned for my life’s purpose. Choosing facial features that will be present to support me and make my face known to others using the archetypes and connecting in relationships to lift each other up. And find our wrinkled wisdom.
I still can’t read a star chart. But I can read someone when I interact with them. I might not know their star chart either, but …
Maybe our faces are the guides we’ve given each other as a gift to learn and understand one another more deeply.
And through this trip on earth, I’ll be listening, laughing, and learning. Dharma with a dose of love.
With deepest gratitude to Elena Clemow for being a trusted guide on this journey and helping to illuminate my path with humor and grace. You can find Elena at facereadme.com and on Instagram @elenathefacereader.
Colleen Markley is a novelist and freelance writer living in New Jersey. Her award-winning essay “Unflappably Calm, Occasionally Furious, Ready and Willing to Hide the Bodies” was recently published in Sisters! Bonded by Love and Laughter. Colleen’s essay “Spaghetti-Gate” was published in April of 2022 in an anthology called The Order of Us. Named the June 2021 winner of the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop Humor Writer of the Month, Colleen attempts to be funny every month as a regular contributor riffing on the zodiac for Dharma Direction. Her novel-in-progress, Lilith Land, is a story about the end of the world where only the women survive. (It’s a novel, not an action plan). Find her at www.ColleenMarkley.com or sign up here for her newsletter and updates.
Visit Colleen on Instagram, see what’s up on her Facebook, or shout-out to Colleen on Twitter.
Seafood, with or without the C-food.
Culinary Craft: “No Need to be Crabby”
Article & Recipe from Chef and Culinary Wellness Coach Candy Lesher
Read time: 3 minutes + Recipe
Call me a foodie, but when I saw that this month’s inspirational sign was the Cancer crab, my mouth immediately went into salivation overdrive. From hefty hunks of Alaskan king crab dipped in liquified butter to delicate strands of Maryland's famous blue arthropod converted to iconic crab cakes—Cancer's symbolic crustacean sits on the throne right next to Maine lobster, at least in my (cook)book.
That said, it doesn't take a calculator to compute the costliness of cooking with crab. There's a reason they made a whole television series based on catching crab in Alaska—the deadliest catch is also the most costly.
What to do if you're craving a tasty crab meal but your budget doesn't support it?
Why, simply look to another flavorful crustacean-cousin … cost-effective shrimp! With a little inside prep-info, you too can create the most satisfying, delectable mounds of oceanic goodness in the form of shrimp cakes/patties.
The Insider’s Tip
So what’s the secret? It's found in the food processor, literally. By pulsing one-third of your shrimp to a fine grind (not quite a paste, but close), then briefly pulsing in the remainder of the shrimp plus your aromatics (onion, herbs and spices), you attain the perfect toothsome texture.
The finely ground shrimp becomes a flavorful binder (replacing egg), exponentially expanding that shrimp essence profile. Once the formed cakes are refrigerated for 20 minutes, they're then coated with crumbs and dropped in a hot oiled skillet to cook, creating an irresistible crispy exterior.
Facing Facts
As a wellness coach, I often have clients who want to stay strictly vegetarian, and eschew most once-live ingredients. I have a work-around for that, too!
I've made this recipe based on both chopped (jarred) artichoke hearts and hearts of palm, which are equally delicious. The only addition in that case is either 2 small eggs to bind the mixture OR utilizing flax meal egg replacement. There's also no need to puree 1/3 of the veggies as the recipe method calls for.
For those who are okay with dairy, a nice sprinkle of feta cheese really bumps up the flavor.
A generous portion of nutritional yeast works for the more vegan at heart.
Recipe: Candy’s Shrimp Cakes
Serves 4
Even in these budget-minded times, one can enjoy Cancer's ode to our ocean's crustaceous bounty with tasty Shrimp Cakes. Whether used as an appetizer, a main dish, or nestled atop a veggie-laden salad (heavenly), you'll still be grateful for Cancer's delicious influence—even without the “crabbiness!”
Ingredients:
20 ounces (one and one-quarter pounds) peeled and de-veined shrimp
1 medium shallot, finely minced
4 Tablespoons mayonnaise (can be reduced to 2 Tablespoons each of mayo and Greek yogurt, if desired)
3-4 Tablespoons green onion, finely minced
1 Tablespoon fresh cilantro (or Italian parsley), finely minced (or 1 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon each - paprika and onion powder
1/8 - 1/4 teaspoon Aleppo pepper* (or for a smoky profile use dried chipotle pepper)
1 cup panko bread crumbs (for a gluten-free option use crushed tortilla chips or almond crackers)
4-6 Tablespoons oil (coconut or avocado oil)
Editors Note: Aleppo pepper is worth going the extra mile to procure. Find this Middle Eastern spice on Amazon or at your local international foods market. It’s half as spicy as the red-chili flakes we shake on pizza and packs twice the flavor. Want to know more about the Aleppo pepper? Check out this article from Bon Appetit.
Method: Shrimp Cakes
Pulse 1/3 of shrimp, along with shallot and mayonnaise, in a food processor until very finely chopped (about 14 short pulses). Add remaining shrimp, green onion, cilantro, paprika, onion powder and Aleppo pepper. Pulse briefly (only 7-8 times). If you prefer a chunky shrimp cake, hand chop this portion of shrimp, and finish combining in a bowl.
Divide mixture into four equal portions, then separate each of these into thirds (for a total of 12 cakes). Lightly form into patties. Place on a small parchment-lined pan, cover and refrigerate 20 minutes to firm before coating.
After 20 minutes of refrigeration time, begin heating a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. While heating, lightly press each side of patty in the panko crumbs, then set aside.
When pan is hot, add oil; when oil quivers, add the crab cakes, being careful not to crowd the pan (cook only 4-6 at a time). Cook on one side until golden (about 4 minutes), then gently turn and continue cooking on the other for an additional 3-4 minutes or until golden and any visible shrimp is pink.
Serve with a light sauce, like the healthy Cilantro Tahini Sauce below, if desired. Another excellent choice is Chimichurri sauce. For traditionalists, classic tartar sauce works too.
Recipe: Cilantro Tahini Sauce
Ingredients:
1/4 cup tahini
3 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 1 lemon)
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped and loosely packed
1 teaspoon Sriracha sauce or pureed pickled mango (either will add a spicier profile)
1/2 cup water
Method:
Add all ingredients into a blender and blend until smooth. Season with salt as needed. Makes approximately 1 cup.
As a Culinary Wellness Coach, Candy Lesher doesn't simply sit on the sidelines and coach, she's right in the game with her clients. As a chef she openly admits weight is an occupational health hazard, so she engages in that daily battle also. As a Stage III cancer survivor, she knows the importance of feeding your body the nutrients it needs to fight off illness—and function at its very best.
Connect with Candy on LinkedIn or visit her website at YourKitchenRX.com
Savoring life's sweetness.
Original Cancer watercolor by Read Gallo.
Romance: “Soup and Sugar”
Short Fiction by L.J. Longo
Read time: 3 minutes
I met my wife—yes, wife—while desperately seeking the attention of a waitress. Small, effeminate, violin-playing music teachers aren’t always gay. Let that be a lesson to you, kids.
Every Thursday, when I was in college, I went to the same bar, sitting in the same spot, ordering the same tomato soup and grilled cheese with the desperate hope that someday I would achieve a glimmer of recognition from this one waitress.
She was the prettiest, most glamorous person in South Jersey and if she once remembered a thing about my order, I would have proposed to her on the spot.
“Want anything to drink?”
Of course, she never remembered. “Coffee, no sugar.”
A moment later, she brought coffee service with a heap of sugar packets next to the creamer. I felt bad for the sugar packets which could never be served again now that they’d been served to me. So, like every Friday, I grabbed them and pocketed them to bring to my roommates.
The only other person at the bar laughed at me.
She sat at the other end of the bar, and I’d seen her before. Many times, in fact.
She always struck me as profoundly sad, without any of the secret beauty that came from grief.
Her laughter was as broad and masculine as the rest of her and she opened another sugar packet to add to her coffee, ignoring the cream. “Do you also feel the guilt of denying something its life’s purpose, just because the taste doesn’t agree with you?”
I was too stunned—by the fact that she was looking directly at me—to look away. I was so used to being invisible, like a ghost people look at but don’t see, that her direct calm gaze startled me, and modesty didn’t kick in right away.
Then having met her gaze without shame, I didn’t know how to deal with that weariness staring back at me, except to answer. “I do. I’ve never been fond of sweets. I’m just weird like that.”
“Lactose intolerant.” The woman nursed her coffee like it was the only thing that could carry her through the night. When she leaned on her hand, I realized what I’d always taken for sadness was extreme exhaustion. “I’m Jude.”
“Harrison. I come here every Thursday.”
“Me, too. Best bar soup in a 50-mile radius.”
I didn’t have much experience with bar soup or with the radiuses of miles. “I come after a string quartet rehearsal. No time to cook even if I had the courage to use the dorm’s kitchen.”
“I hear that. I study literature when I can escape the road.”
I was certain her profundity was mocking me. She had that air about her. Maybe it was a literary reference, one that had something to do with violins and music or with pop culture that I didn’t have time to pay attention to.
She chuckled—at my expression which was bewildered—and confessed. “I’m also a trucker.”
“Oh.” I laughed. “I thought—”
“No, no hidden messages or ulterior motives.” The woman gestured with her hand, and I moved to sit across from her … compelled by all the logic of fate, choreography, and politeness. She continued, “I do that too. Over-analyze reality. Find symbolism in strange places. Like in sugar packets and creamer.”
It wasn't a mockery, I realized. It was … a soft judgment. Like her opinion would slowly mold you if you sat near her, close to those well-scrubbed fingers and tired warm eyes.
Who I would become with her nearby?
“You ever tried the broccoli and cheese soup?” she asked.
“No. I—tomato and grilled cheese is just … classic, you know. I never really strayed.”
She held her bowl out to me and I dipped my bread in the soup. “You ever tried the tomato?”
She laughed again and then tore off some of her bread and did the same.
I kept seeing my Thursday friend until the glamor of the waitress wasn’t what kept me coming to that bar after the string quartet rehearsal. The trucker came to my concert, the only one of my college friends who ever did. I went with her on a cross-country job to keep her company and I swear my only ulterior motive was to get a free road trip. Still, somewhere in Kansas …
Anyway, that’s why my advice is always:
Look past what you think you want and stay with what you need.
You need the person who sees you and your quirks and is amused by them. It doesn’t hurt if they take their coffee the exact opposite way that you do, either.
L.J. Longo is an award-winning Romance author, a queer geek and feminist writing a medley of dark romance (which can be found through Evernight Publishing) magical realism, weird sci-fi/fantasy, and very implausible creative non-fiction. She recently received Third Place recognition for her submission to the Writer’s Digest Annual Short Story Fiction Contest with her entry titled, "To Harvest Lavender."
Connect to L.J. on Facebook and on L.J.'s Twitter page.
Head and heart.
Energy: “Feeling Your Way”
Personal Essay by B.E.S.T. Certified Practitioner Anja Dubberke
Read time: 5 minutes
Ruled by the moon, Cancer is a water sign which signifies the inner-self … the deep feelings. Cancer energy is emotional, homey, comforting, and it relates to the world by feel.
As humans, the Crabs have a reputation for being hyper-emotional, temperamental, and (dare I say) spiteful. Yet, at the same time, they are very loyal. Once you gain a Cancer’s trust they will go to great lengths to protect you. They place a high value on family and close friends.
Who’s In Control Here?
Being a July girl, I can attest to some of the above-mentioned traits. As I am getting older and wiser, I am more aware of my negative tendencies, and at the same time … I am kinder to myself.
Over the years I have discovered my inner voice, coming from deep within—not from the thinking mind. Learning to trust and listen to it is still a work in progress. We are humans. We know now that our mind is here to think. But …
Our body is here to feel and translate our emotions to the mind.
We are what we feel not what we think—and that is expressed on a physical level all the time. Unfortunately, our mind has the tendency to run the show and move us into action, ignoring the actual feeling that wants attention.
If we think back to how we were raised, it’s no surprise that the exposure to our parents and peers have shaped up into ”fearful” beings, conditioned to always think the worst-case scenario. This plays out on a subconscious level, but I am certain everyone can agree that when we don’t feel in control we create all sorts of scenarios.
We start to scramble, producing stories regarding what could wrong … why we can’t go for the next promotion … why we can’t ask someone out. No one wants to be rejected, so we play it safe. There are endless examples. Each and every one of us has something we were taught that influences how we live our lives.
Our mind becomes the “protective personality” leading us … not allowing our inner-self to feel what’s there waiting to be felt.
Why?
Simply because it is UNCOMFORTABLE.
So we cover up our pain or hurt and show up as though we have everything under control, moving through life like the walking-wounded on the inside. It might not always be evident at first glance but negative emotions take a toll over time in our physical body. Luckily for me, I got a taste of it early in the form of a breast cancer diagnosis.
The Positive Side of Negative Emotions
I remember finding it odd that I didn’t fit the medical bill of explanation. I was a healthy 36-year-old woman, loved sports, ate clean, did not smoke, and had no family history of cancer.
So why me? At that moment in time, I was presented with an opportunity to take a hard look at my life and, for once, I allowed myself to feel.
I can still recall the intensity of the overwhelming amount of anger and resentment that started to pour out of me.
And for the first time, rather than blaming my dad who had committed suicide when I was 14 years old, or everyone else for that matter who had made my life difficult—I started taking responsibility. I practiced forgiveness.
Life did not happen to me it was all happening for me in perfect divine order and timing.
The outside world was simply a player in my self-created screenplay. With that clarity, I was able to see the bigger picture and let go. I practiced forgiveness and allowed myself to feel the hurt, the anger, the loneliness … and anything else that came with it.
Every day we have complete control over our thoughts and actions which determine our wellbeing.
Mind the Mind
All we must do is listen within and go with our gut instinct—that is where we need to operate from. What I mean by that is this …
Use the mind as a tool, but do not let the mind be in charge.
Life is so short, and we must recognize that any emotion is simply energy in motion that needs to be free and flow. Acknowledge the emotion is there but do not get attached to it. Breath deep into your body (expanding your belly) and feel what is there to feel. You might be surprised by what can be revealed to you.
In closing, I am incredibly grateful for having arrived here. Being able to help others with their lives is very rewarding and fulfilling. We are all meant to live a happy and joyous life, so why not just allow it to be that way?
I could not ask for a better life. Semi-retired, I live part time in Alaska during the summer, practicing B.E.S.T. (Bio-Energetic Synchronization Technique) therapy. Once the snow starts falling I head south, spending the winter months on a catamaran in warm Caribbean waters … alongside my handsome, witty boyfriend, and our fur-baby Border Collie.
Life is wonderful ~
Connect with Anja on Facebook or visit her LinkedIn page. Get more details about B.E.S.T. or schedule a consultation or treatment with Anja through her website: Bio-Energetic Reset.
Poet-Tree
Meant to be, or not to be.
Editor’s Note: Reproduction is a subject currently consuming the zeitgeist after the U.S. Supreme Court’s reversal of Roe v. Wade last month. And while our mission here at Dharma Direction is to inspire and uplift … sometimes we need to reflect on the truly difficult things in life that are beyond our control. Poetry, for me, has always been an avenue to let go and release emotional trauma in an almost ethereal way. Inspired by her own experiences, Elle Becker reveals the array of emotions a woman has to endure when life betrays her.
Original poem by Elle Becker
Read time: 2 minutes
Soulchild
Dear soulchild who picked me
waiting for the moment to be borne from me
I believe in you patiently
waiting in your heaven
I believe
that I could make you a body inside me and I know -
you have waited for so long.
I prepared and fought the parts of me that tried to break.
Let them open me and pull me inside out and cut out what was wrong and ugly.
Scar me so I would be clean and ready and beautiful
I was not wishing to be a mother – no!
I was already a mother who had simply not met my child yet.
Each time I folded into myself
in pain, and exhaustion, in utter loneliness without you -
was a victory because I was still whole.
It was worth it, these years of sick and suffering and surgery,
I believed it made me ready
underneath these scars and pain I was beautiful a perfect place a perfect womb
Someday, I knew you would be mine.
Sicker and sicker I grew until it filled my body.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that the people who carried these magic hands that healed me
who had magic words of hope that they handed me with their bottles of pills
had something else.
They knew more than magic and hope and when they ran out of both,
they explained that they had gone to school for a very long time
not only to learn magic
but to learn how to create soft words and quiet ways of speaking
to me!
These men who held no womb except the fate of mine!
They said to me
“Didn’t you know?”
“Here are some soft words and quiet ways of saying
you can’t meet your soulchild ever,
you are barren.”
Connect with Elle through email at ellebecker@therarebirdwrites.com, or find her on Facebook where she extends her branch of The Rare Bird Writes cooperative.
Music
I wear this crown of thorns / upon my liar’s chair / full of broken thoughts / I cannot repair
“Hurt” written by Trent Reznor
Editor’s Note: Neither Trent Reznor nor Johnny Cash were born under the Cancer Zodiac … but June Carter Cash was.
Playlist: Cancer
This month’s playlist speaks to the Cancer Zodiac with some unforgettable classics, a few quirky crab-centric selections, along with inspirational and upbeat songs to buoy the watery, emotional energy of The Crab.
Please enjoy Dharma Direction’s playlist for July. Keep in mind that the playlist on YouTube changes each month to focus on the current Zodiac. This month’s songs are listed below ~
“Hurt” - Johnny Cash
“Ooh Child” - The Five Stairsteps
“Cats in the Cradle” - Cat Stevens
“Suddenly I See” - KT Tunstall
“Beautiful Boy” - John Lennon
“This Too Shall Pass” - OK Go
“Heart of Glass” - Blondie
“Crab Rave” - Noisestorm
“Tracks of My Tears” - Linda Rondstadt
“Summertime Sadness” - Lana Del Rey
“Sugar” - Tori Amos
“Hey Jude” - The Beatles
“The Dock of the Bay” - Otis Redding
“Octopus’s Garden” - Ringo Starr & The Roundheads
“Shelter” - The XX
The Reading Dingy
Ship in the Camarillo Library in California, USA
Sail into the Reading Sea.
See what our contributors are reading now, what they recommend, or what’s on their “must read” list. Our picks may be new releases, forever favorites, hidden gems, or classics we can’t wait to read again. If we love it, we’ll let you know here!
Color Therapy: Cancer
FREE Downloadable/Printable — just get your crayons, pencils, pastels, or paints and right-click the image below.
Cancer People
