The astrological Signs of the Zodiac identify me as a Capricorn (born January 8, 1940). We Capricorns are often described as “determined” and “goal oriented.” I think being determined is natural for us Capricorns––they do call us “the goat,” you know. Of course, we get a lot of headaches from butting our heads against the forces of evil as a result of our determination. But on closer examination, I believe I do have some inherent sense that I absolutely must keep my promises, no matter what, and especially if my promises involve singing or performing for an audience. (See my previous blog, How to Function…Despite Dysfunctions.) Of course, it was that goat-like determination that kept me in a couple of bad marriages when I should have run away. But that’s another story.

On the other hand, according to the Chinese Zodiac, I was born in the Year of the Rabbit. If you’ve eaten in a Chinese restaurant, you may have noticed the paper placemat with the signs of the Zodiac around the outer edge, each one depicting an animal and the years for which that animal was the governing sign. You may say, “But wait! 1940 is the Year of the Dragon.”

For years I misread those Chinese placemats and believed I was born in the Year of the Dragon. I was forever trying out my dragon-hood: questioning authority, attempting to stand up for my rights, and continually being beaten down for my efforts. I didn’t understand why people kept slinging their arrows at me, and why I was so easily pierced, like St. Sebastian the Martyr.

Then one day, I was reading a book of Chinese philosophy, and discovered that the Chinese New Year doesn’t begin until late January or early February, depending upon the phase of the moon. My Zodiac sign actually covered the year 1939 up to February 8, 1940. So I was born in the Year of the RABBIT, not the Dragon, as I had mistakenly believed for years.

That explained so much! …why I was always so timid, why I let men (and strong women) dominate and abuse me, why I turned tail and ran when faced with any sort of conflict. No amount of aggressiveness training could cure me of my rabbit-hood.

Further study of the traditional personality traits of the Rabbit had a familiar ring. Rabbits are selfless, neat and tidy, and get along well with siblings (well, yeah, after my brother got big enough to beat me up). They live by the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (but every man I married lived by a different rule: “Do it to her before she can do it to you.”) Rabbits are well suited to professions such as banker (I balance my checkbook––hourly), lawyer (my arguments are logical and well thought out; unfortunately other people’s are not), and interior design (I have so many Feng Shui treatments in my house it has an identity crisis!)

Finally, I managed to embrace who I am, and re-label my behavior as more strategic than stupid. It means that I avoid any situation deemed as “walking in harm’s way.” I do not, knowingly, enter sections of town that are known as the “wrong side of the tracks.” I never travel to parts of the world that our government warns are dangerous to tourists––such as Syria… or Detroit. And, despite the cautions, I delete e-mails that predict dire consequences if not forwarded to at least ten people. However, as I was warned, my wish to win the Arizona Lottery never came true (which is not surprising–– I never bought a ticket.) When faced with interpersonal conflict, it seems easier to assess the situation, sniff out the potential for disaster, and simply walk away.

Recently, an acquaintance who subscribes to a radically different viewpoint from mine aroused in me a desire to be a dragon, despite my inherent rabbit-hood. He is one of those e-mail-forwarding fiends who send messages, half a dozen daily, laden with threats against our nation and its leaders, advocating revolution and civil disobedience, and woe to anyone who professes to hold a conflicting opinion. When I protested the e-mails and expressed my fright at the gun-toting vengeance and racism he recommended, he wrote the following to me: “I fought and bled for my country. What have you ever done for your country?”

I was too flabbergasted to think of a good retort at the time. As so often happens, it was only later, after stewing and sobbing, that I thought of what I should have said: “What did I do for my country? I got up and went to work every day, that’s what! I paid my taxes and never tried to avoid or evade paying my share. My tax money bought your uniforms, guns, and the monthly stipend that you sent home to your family (I hope). And the money I paid in taxes helped to fund the GI Bill that made higher education available to you…which apparently you did not use.”

Of course, I was too rabbit-like to say any of this, especially since my gun-toting critic lives in a community where a neighbor took a gun into a meeting of the community’s leaders and shot two people––dead. Faced with that type of conflict, my rabbit has no choice but to follow her instincts … and hop away.

So here I am, a Rabbit-Goat…determined to get something done that I promised to do, but scared to death someone’s going to yell at me if I do it wrong.