Horoscope

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
Have you ever considered starting your own religion or think tank or publication? Have you ever dreamed of appearing on all of the televisions in the world simultaneously and delivering a stirring speech (translated into 122 languages) entitled "Be Like Me!"? The next few weeks would be a favorable time to get started on an epic scheme like this, or on any other vast, multi-pronged conspiracy that would take many years of careful yet uninhibited planning to carry out. I'm telling you, Sagittarius, your biorhythms are practically begging you to entertain fantasies of wielding fantastic power—especially the kind that would help and inspire many people.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
The father of my acquaintance Elliot was a professional gambler who figured out an ingenious system, got rich, and retired. For the rest of his life, he spent his fortune hunting down Nazi war criminals and bringing them to trial. Even if you're the kind of person who looks down on gambling as immoral, I bet you'd make an exception in his case. Let this vignette be a seed-thought for your meditations, Capricorn. I predict you will soon encounter a comparable challenge to your value system.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
Consider the Greek word pharmakon. It has several meanings, including poison, scapegoat, recipe, and remedy. All of these happen to be major themes in your life at this time, Aquarius. Oddly enough, they are also interrelated. How? The metaphorical poison you've recently ingested will not, thankfully, hurt you, but will turn out to be a cure for a malady you didn't know you had. And the person who is currently serving as your scapegoat will reveal a valuable recipe for self-transformation if you'll only make yourself a bit more receptive. (Hint: The recipe will free the part of your own psyche that feels like a scapegoat.)

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)
I don't normally like to encourage acquisitive behavior in my readers. However, my reading of the astrological omens suggests you now have cosmic permission to practice a sublime form of grabbiness; I'm almost tempted to call it a spiritually correct greed. Please note that you may not use this as a license to splurge on status symbols. The stuff you amass should be things like fine emotions, uncanny revelations, and exquisite states of awareness. I also encourage you to ask for and gather up colossal quantities of kisses and caresses and love.

Homework: Write a wild rant, lyrical poem, or carefully composed essay on the subject "What I Learned (and Didn't Learn) This Summer." Send to: zenpride@freewillastrology.com.