ARIES (March 21-April 19): "Everything absolute belongs to
pathology. Joyous distrust is a sign of health." So proclaimed Friedrich
Nietzsche. Note well that he used the adjective "joyous" to describe
distrust, not "cynical" or "grumbling" or "sour."
The key to remaining vital and strong while questioning every so-called
absolute is to cultivate a cheerful, buoyant mood as you do it. That's one of
your top assignments in the coming weeks, Aries: Practice joyous distrust.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Here are the best and most enjoyable
ways to capitalize on your current astrological omens: (1) Transform one of
your so-called liabilities into at least a temporary asset; (2) lose any
attachment you have to pleasures and rewards that won't mean much to you a year
from now; (3) allow and even invite people to show you how you can get smarter;
(4) compassionately identify the limits of the people you care about; (5)
squeeze every last lesson out of what you're leaving behind.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In
Big Russ and Me,
a memoir about growing up, journalist Tim Russert
writes a lot about what he learned from his father. Here's one story: Whenever
a family member accidentally broke some glass, his dad took extraordinary
precautions wrapping up the shards in a sealed box before depositing them in
the trash can. Why? Because he wanted to be sure the garbagemen wouldn't cut
their hands. I urge you to be that conscientious in the coming week, Gemini.
Imagine in detail the impact your actions might have on all the people, both
known and unknown, whose lives you touch. The gods will reward you for doing
so.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Are your cohorts looking at you
quizzically, wondering why you seem so energized from exploring the shadowy,
off-limits places? I'll offer some suggestions about what you could say to
them. First, try to make them see that until you've risked going too far, you
may not know when to stop. Second, tell them that you suspect there are healthy
desires buried at the roots of your dark feelings, and you're hoping to free
them. Third, explain to them that you're not picking at your scabs in order to
prolong your hurt, but rather to better understand the hurt. If those
rationales are too subtle for your companions to understand, cackle softly and
say that you just need to be a little bad in order to give your goodness more
soul.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): A lightning bolt is hot, fast, and
potent. It can travel at 100,000 mph, reach temperature of 60,000 degrees
Fahrenheit, and generate enough energy to illuminate a light bulb for two
months. And yet it's usually no more than an inch in diameter. This is an apt
metaphor for the kind of highly concentrated power you will have available in
the coming days, Leo: deceptively petite in proportion to its enormous wallop.
Please use it wisely.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): At Free Will Astrology, we love to
turn things upside-down and inside-out every now and then. It keeps our mental
hygiene sparkling clean, and yours, too. This week, in order to incite a
purifying ruckus, we're offering you a challenge from psychologist James
Hillman. Please suck the following thoughts into the deepest recesses of your
understanding, and enjoy the brainstorms they detonate: "By accepting the
idea that you are the effect of a subtle buffeting between hereditary and
societal forces, you reduce yourself to a result. The more your life is
accounted for by what already occurred in your chromosomes, by what your
parents did or didn't do, and by your early years now long past, the more your
biography is the story of a victim." What I'm trying to tell you, Virgo,
is that it's a fine time to rebel against your genetic heritage, your
upbringing, and your conditioning. Imagine a life for yourself in which you
don't believe that those factors control what you're capable of.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): It's the Season of Returns and
Recoveries, Libra. You will generate good fortune if you look for what you
lost. Here are some suggestions on how to proceed: Recall important memories
you've almost forgotten, retrieve any valuable things you rashly threw away,
and bushwhack your way back to a promising path you strayed from. For best
results, you should forgive yourself of any mistakes you think you made that
led to the loss.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): For reasons too silly to go into
here (involving romance, of course), I once spent six months making
thrice-weekly three-and-a-half-hour roundtrips from Chapel Hill, NC to
Columbia, SC. The back roads I drove on were sparsely traveled and my ancient
pick-up truck didn't have a radio, so I passed the time by reading. I became
quite skilled at continually darting my eyes back and forth between the road
and the open book resting on my steering wheel. In this way I got through James
Joyce's
Ulysses,
Leo Tolstoy's
Anna
Karenina,
and Thomas Mann's
Magic
Mountain.
I don't advise you to try
something so dangerous, Scorpio, but I do believe it's a perfect astrological
moment for you to master the art of slipping back and forth between two starkly
different realities.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): A group of us decided to throw a party. The Sagittarian among us, Rosa, insisted on being in charge of supplying the desserts. She feared that if anyone else handled this task, there wouldn't be enough, and they wouldn't be sweet enough or rich enough or decadent enough. To make sure the delectable treats were available in rapturous abundance, she felt she could only trust herself. In this spirit, I appoint you to be the sweet, rich, decadent dessert-provider for the entire world in the coming weeks. I'm using "desserts" in both the literal and metaphorical senses.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Among modern Baghdad's most
prominent architectural features are its blast walls. These omnipresent
concrete barriers shield buildings from truck bombs and random gunfire. They
were nothing but oppressive eyesores up until a few months ago, when a team of
40 artists began covering them with brightly colored murals that depict idyllic
landscapes and glorious scenes from Iraqi history. Your next assignment,
Capricorn, is to try an equivalent conversion. Add beauty to something ugly;
bring a light touch and a creative spirit to a troublesome situation; dress up
your defense mechanisms in silk and gold.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Let's meditate on events that have
an impact at a great distance from their origins. For instance, African dust
reaches Florida, raising pollution levels, just as particulate matter from
China floats over to sully California's skies. Here's another example: The CIA
played a major role in overthrowing the democratically elected prime minister
of Iran in 1953, and this is still wreaking chaos on the current relationship
between the U.S. and Iran. In the coming week, Aquarius, I predict your life
will provide another example of this theme, although in your case the
long-range influence is likely to be far more benign than the other cases I
cited — possibly even downright benevolent.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): "Open your minds, sweethearts,"
begins the soothing rant of enlightenment advisor Dvorah Adler (Dvorahji.com).
"Take a deep breath in and a deep breath out. It's time for you to hear
the big secret of the ages, the radical truth of truths that only the wisest
gurus and avatars and grandmothers are brave enough to reveal. Are you ready?
Here it is: 'SHUT UP AND BE HAPPY!'" I'm pleased to convey Dvorah's
ancient truth to you, Pisces, because it's what you need to hear right now. So
please, darlings: Shout, whisper, or sing "SHUT UP!" to all the
voices in your head that are so addicted to saying "What am I doing
wrong?", "When will I finally be happy?", and "Why can't
everything be perfect forever?" The fact is, you are exactly where you
need to be, and everything is proceeding with mysterious grace.
Homework: Forget what Time magazine thinks. Who is your "Person of the Year?" Tell me at FreeWillAstrology.com; click on "Email Rob."