One is not born, but rather becomes, a Leo
Along with the other Leos that took part on Peoplestrology’s survey, I share the belief that when talking about the sign of Leo, what comes to mind is power, brightness, determination, self-confidence, joy, and so on. Loaded words, for sure. It’s no small thing. A great package of wonderful adjectives for your resumée.
It seems like the fact of being born under the sign of Leo itself is already a privilege. My mom, for example, is a very skeptic allopath that doesn’t know much about Astrology, but who is also very proud of being a Leo.
Leos aren’t born, they premiere?
Leos are merely born and are right after associated with the (slightly megalomaniac) metaphor of King of the Jungle. Once you cut the umbilical cord: you better be fierce, strong-minded and self-confident.
For that reason, it’s often surprising when I tell people I’m a Leo. And suddenly, since I don’t act “like someone under the sign of Leo”, I become the person everyone refers to as a poorly made bootleg of “being a Leo”. And, just like me, I believe there must several other Leos that don’t see themselves within this unanimous (and heavily cartoonish) place.
For a long time, I felt like I had to follow such noble characteristics of my own sign since I felt far from performing some of the “natural” Leo behaviors. Once, reading my birth chart, an astrologist told me I was learning how to be a Leo. And then I ached to learn how to be more like a Leo. I wanted to have the self-confidence, power, and obviously, to take charge in the jungle.
But while I was learning how to become a Leo, I was also learning how to become a woman (thank you, Simone Beauvoir), a professional, a human being, and I ended up falling into one of these holes in life. And since I was late with my “Leo-ness”, I had to catch my breath and dig into the debris of my self-love. I was far from the mirror, from my kingdom, from all the attention. The place I saw myself was dark, mazy, bouldered, and didn’t fit any good company.
Obstinate like a primitive fire spark, I reached out to the loyalty of self-love. It didn’t carry the beautiful mane lions usually have, but it helped me grow larger. I wasn’t bigger than anyone else, though, but was rather filling out the spaces in “me”. The fire of being.
Would that be the so-called Leo sparkle? I don’t think so. I wonder if this sign’s mission is reminding everyone else in the zodiac jungle that self-love comes first. And everything else is secondary. Is it vanity or a just a strategy for surviving?
* Luiza Futuro
Leo, writer, and researcher. She monthly writes to News From Futuro, a newsletter about new behaviors and tensions that take place in social relationships.