♍My dear Virgos, you don't really get it do you?
How oblivious you can be to your own powers.
Your skill was never about precise dates or neatly drawn lines. When the world tells you you're organized, I see your heart shrink a little. Like the only time you're praised is when you're being of service to others.When you're keeping things neat and clean for someone else.
Have you ever wondered where this fussiness comes from? Naturally, you're the healer's archetype. Your attention to detail was never about being a thorn, or the one who always criticized another's way of doing things , but it always had to do with classifying your various herbs and potions so as to not get your medicines mixed up. One tiny miscalculation, or extra drop of a potent leaf's juice could prove fatal. You just couldn't afford negligence when so many deadly leaves resembled the elixirs. When mankind lived as one with nature YOU were the one they went to when someone got sick. You were the doctor, the wise one that cured them in their illness. The one who brought people back from the brink of DEATH.YOU SAVED THEM. Cured them. When soldiers had lost a lot of blood, your concoctions resurrected them to health.
You needed a filing system,Virgo, to catalogue your herbs, shrubs, flowers and other medicinal barks. Without you, there was no childbirth.Your care was essential to the survival of newborns. Your presence naturally healing. As a medicine man/ woman your time was of utter importance. You understood the importance of integrity, of doing the right thing. You mourned the death of all those you couldn't save. Held their hand as they breathed their last. You understood how much words meant to the living.and that you can't send messages to the dead.
You learned not to mince your words. If someone only had 2 weeks left with their loved ones, they deserved to know so that they could live their remaining moments to the fullest. Or make necessary arrangements for when they were gone. It would be cruel to lie and rob family of those precious golden moments they had left, wouldn't it?
Your harshness, too is a gift.
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