Tonight, Chinese folks everywhere will usher in the year of the dragon. As much as I would love to think of myself as a fire breathing dragon, I was born in the year of the pig.
To my knowledge, I am not Chinese, not even by a tiny percentage. Which means I can interpret Chinese myths in whatever way I choose, and I choose the dragon. As a pig, I am peace loving, trusting, and strong. All true, I think, but where the hell is strength going to get me if I trust everyone and shy away from a good fight? Dragons have strong personalities, love their freedom, and hate routine. Now you're talkin'. When I open up my fortune cookie, that's what I want to see. Especially the part about hating routine -- it suggests kind of a take charge, screw the rest of you attitude. It's my feast, and I'll take my wonton soup after my moo shu, thank you very much.
A pig by birthright, maybe, but if I have learned anything from my extensive yoga training it's that I should be present, live in the moment, so this year I will be exhaling flames and upstaging pigs and other lesser beings everywhere with my flamboyant scales. I will guard my freedom jealously, and shatter old routines that have failed me. With apologies to my inner pig, I will fight for what I want, and I will trust nobody. If anyone's going to get burned this year, It's not going to be me. That is, as long as I don't inhale my own flames.
Okay, maybe I'm sounding a bit too belligerent, even for a fire breathing dragon. And, okay, maybe I am all talk, and won't be waging many battles, won't be scorching any earth, might even fall into the trap of trusting some people. But all that won't diminish my strength in any way. I may be a pig, and a pacifist to boot, but it doesn't mean I can't stick my trusting little snout into the trough and grab the morsels that are rightfully mine.
Dragon, pig, woman. Peaceful with a touch of lethal breath, and an occasional sprinkling of sugar and spice. Life on the farm (like everywhere else) can be complicated.
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