Sitting next to me on the train was a young mother and her boy in a stroller. Her needs. His needs. Not… connecting. His voice is loud, he wants her attention. Chiron is a train. She’s trying to read and the train keeps moving. Chiron is the tracks. She threatens to hit him, waves her arm. He hits her back, as only a little kid can, with the flimsy newspaper he’s holding. Chiron in the 8th: missing the mark with those you need so very much and need so much from. The mother is then cuddling a man – I hadn’t noticed him at first. And the little boy turns inward, kicks the stroller. She gets frustrated and in a flash she’s had it and… it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, wasn’t as bad as I’ve seen before on the train. Life goes on and the train stops for the next stop, and the boy becomes a man, a wounded man, has a dream of his mother on a train the rest of his life.
Chiron is that ache ugh wound ouch ooch please don’t touch me there it hurts TOO MUCH PLEASE STOP. On the *up* side, I do believe what they say is true: that we help people with what we cannot heal in ourselves. So I have an 8th House Chiron and I have an intimacy wound but also have a knack for making you feel close to me, even when I’m a million miles away. You say you love me, but I have my doubts; that’s my 8th House Chiron.
If your Chiron could talk, what would he say?
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