Free Will Astrology, week of Jan. 27

ARIES (March 21-April 19): What rewards do you deserve for all the good living and the hard work you've done since your last birthday? And what amends should you make for the mediocre living and the work you've shirked since your last birthday? If you choose this week to take care of these two matters with purposeful clarity, you will ensure the best possible outcomes. The reward you earn will be the right one, and the amends you offer will provide the proper correction.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Sometimes I fly in my dreams. The ecstasy is almost unbearable as I soar high above the landscape. But there's something I enjoy dreaming about even more, and that's running. For years I've had recurring dreams of sprinting for sheer joy through green hills and meadows, often following rivers that go on forever. I'm never short of breath. My legs never get tired. I feel vital and vigorous and fulfilled. Does it seem odd that I prefer running to flying? I think I understand why. The flying dreams represent the part of me that longs to escape the bonds of earth, to be free of the suffering and chaos here. My running dreams, on the other hand, express the part of me that loves being in a body and exults in the challenges of this world. Given your astrological omens, Taurus, I think you're ready for whatever is your personal equivalent of running in your dreams.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): An interviewer asked me if there's any special ritual I do before writing these horoscopes. I told her that I often say a prayer in which I affirm my desire to provide you with these three services: 1. that what I create will be of practical use to you; 2. that it will help you cultivate your relationship with your inner teacher; 3. that it will inspire you to tap into and use the substantial freedom you have to create the life you want. I hope I'm doing a good job, Gemini, because in the coming weeks your inner teacher will be overflowing with practical clues about the art of liberation.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): "Spring dawn: Turning toward the storm cloud, I lost sight of the bird." Let this haiku-like poem by Julius Lester serve as a cautionary tale, Cancerian. You're at risk of getting so fearfully fixated on a storm cloud that you may lose track, metaphorically speaking, of a rare and beautiful bird. And the thing is, the storm cloud isn't even harboring that big a ruckus. It will pour out its flash and dazzle quickly, leaving virtually no havoc in its wake. That's why it would be a shame for you to let your perverse fascination with it cause you to get separated from a potential source of inspiration.


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