(March 21-April 19)
Nine-year-old Fatima Santos told the San Francisco Chronicle her opinions about the movie Toy Story: “If I had to make a movie like this, I would make it funnier. I would make Mr. Potato Head look funnier that he already does. I would put his hair on his legs, his shoes on his head, and his arms on his face. His eyeballs would be on the place where his arms are.” In the coming week, Aries, I advise you to engage in Fatima’s enlightened style of cockeyed thinking. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you have the power and the mandate to improve pretty much every scenario you’re in by making it less predictable, more rambunctious, and just plain funnier.
(April 20-May 20)
During one phase of my life, I walked a mile five days a week to get to a bus stop. On the last stretch of the journey, I had to pass a shabby house next to a vacant lot. On the porch was a German shepherd, always unchained and in a state of irritation. After some close calls, when his agitated barking propelled him perilously close to me, I arrived upon a technique that settled him down: I sang nursery rhymes and lullabies. “Three Blind Mice” was his favorite, but there were others that also calmed him sufficiently to allow me safe passage. Something comparable may work for you, Taurus, as you navigate past the crabby wretches and twitchy pests and pathetic demons in the coming days. My advice is to shift the energy with a charming bit of innocuous play. Avoid confrontations.
(May 21-June 20)
According to anthropologist Robin Dunbar, it’s impossible for any of us to have more than 150 friends. The human brain literally can’t process the intimate information required to sustain more than that. But if there were super-freaks who could crack that limit, it would be members of the Gemini tribe, especially during the coming weeks. You now have an uncanny ability to cultivate bubbly connections, be extra close to your buddies, and drum up new alliances.
(June 21-July 22)
Let’s say I was the director of a grade school play that included outdoor scenes, and you were a student trying out for a part. My inclination would be to offer you the role of the big oak tree, which would be on stage for much of the show but have no spoken lines to deliver. Would you accept my invitation with enthusiasm, and play the part with panache? I realize that on the surface, it may not seem like your performance would be of central importance. But as director I’d hope to be able to draw out of you a vibrant commitment to being steady and rooted. I’d rely on you to provide the strong, reassuring background that would encourage the actors in the foreground to express themselves freely.
(July 23-Aug. 22)
“In times of change, learners inherit the Earth,” wrote philosopher Eric Hoffer, “while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists.” Wouldn’t you prefer to put the emphasis on learning rather than on being learned, Leo? This is a good time to get the hang of that; cosmic rhythms will work in your favor if you do. My advice: Take action to intensify your commitment to education. Seek out new teachings. Think hard about the lessons you want to study in the coming years.
(Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
I was tardy in planting my garden this year — more than two months late. My batch of seedlings didn’t find their way into my patch of dirt until July 2. I humbly apologized to them for my procrastination, then made amends with a tireless campaign to provide them with extraordinary care — organic fertilizer, regular watering, impeccable weeding, steady songs of encouragement. And by September, the zucchini were booming, the pumpkins were thriving, the watermelons were unstoppable, and the cucumbers were riffing with abandon. Take inspiration from my example, Virgo. Your plans may have gotten delayed, but don’t let that demoralize you. There’s still time to launch the project or crusade you’ve been dreaming about.
(Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
“Everything is dreamed first,” wrote French poet Gilbert Trolliet. French philosopher Gaston Bachelard agreed, adding, “Creative reverie animates the nerves of the future.” Your task in the coming weeks, Libra, is to act on those clues: Conjure up pictures in your mind that foreshadow the life you want to be living next year. Proceed on the assumption that you now have extraordinary power to generate self-fulfilling prophecies.
(Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
You know me: I hate to sound sensationalistic. But in honor of this dramatic moment in your story, I’ll risk it. So be alert! Heads up! Get real! A pivotal moment is upon you! What you do in the coming days will ultimately determine how you will interpret the entire past year, shaping the contours of your history for better or worse! I advise maximum integrity! I suggest thorough preparation! I urge timely action! Decisions should come from the roots, not the surface! Climaxes should be mediated by the heart and head together, not just one or the other!
(Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
You are ever so close to coming all the way home. For months, you have been edging toward this welcoming source, and now you’re almost there. I’m not sure about the specific details. Maybe it means you’ll soon be in the place where your potentials will finally ripen. Perhaps you’re ready to make peace with your past or accept your family members exactly as they are. It’s possible you’ve found your ideal tribe or community, and are ready to integrate your uniqueness with its special blend of energies. Who knows? Maybe you’re ready to give yourself completely to the life-changing mission that has been calling and calling and calling you.
(Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
I have good intuition about fate’s general trends, but I don’t think of myself as psychic when it comes to foreseeing specific events. I’ve never been able to predict winning lottery numbers, for example. But lately, I’m wondering if that’s changing. I seem to be developing a knack for prognosticating certain sports events. For example, on three occasions I have hallucinated a golden cup floating in mid-air a short time before Albert Pujols, a Capricorn who plays for the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team, hits a homerun. So I wonder what it means that right now, as I’m studying your astrological omens and meditating on your future, I’m flashing on an image of three golden cups filled with champagne. It’s 2:15 in the morning, and the Cardinals aren’t playing.
(Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
The Paws Up resort in Montana offers “glamping,” or glamorous camping. For the right price, you can sleep in a feather bed with fine linens, comfortably ensconced inside a roomy, heated tent that has artwork on the walls. And all the while, you’re surrounded by the great outdoors. I’m not specifically suggesting that you go to Paws Up, but I do recommend that you seek an experience that gives you an invigorating dose of raw elegance and untamed sweetness — some situation that allows you to satisfy your animal longing for wildness while at the same time indulging your human yearning for blissful repose.
(Feb. 19-March 20)
When I urge you to salvage and re-use old stuff, I’m not really suggesting that you find a purpose for the elastic from worn-out underwear or empty prescription bottles. That would be fine, but I’m thinking primarily of less literal, more poetic reclamation projects. Like dusting off faded dreams and refitting them with futuristic replacement parts. Or planting an October garden of earthly delights in the compost of July’s and August’s discarded pleasures. Or retooling a relationship that has lost its way, transforming it into a vibrant connection with a new reason for being.
Homework: What experience have you been denying yourself even though it would be good for you and wouldn’t hurt anyone? Write a note giving yourself permission. Share at Truthrooster@gmail.com.