By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
ARIES [March 21–April 19] Since writing the book Brazen Careerist: The New Rules for Success, Penelope Trunk has started a blog. Recently, she wrote about a subject I'd love for you to think more about: mentors. Here's one of Trunk's most crucial points: To take maximum advantage of your teachers, ask them what questions you should be asking them; don't assume you always know what you need to find out.
TAURUS [April 20–May 20] "Woodsman Claims: 'Lady Bigfoot Kept Me as Her Love Slave!' " was the headline of a report in the Weekly World News. In addition to providing the fascinating details, the article also had a helpful section on the jobs most likely to get someone kidnapped by a female Sasquatch: lumberjack, surveyor, landscape artist, and ornithologist. In my astrological opinion, that list should be amended—at least for the next few weeks—to note that Taurus lumberjacks, surveyors, et al. are especially susceptible. Why? Because according to my projections, many of you Tauruses will be profoundly influenced by a powerful feminine energy.
GEMINI [May 21–June 20] "The truth is always more interesting that your preconception of what it might be," says author Steven Levy. Journalists "should not have the stories written out in their heads before they report them. Preconceptions can blind you to the full, rich human reality that awaits you when you . . . approach the material with an open mind." I think that's an excellent strategy to use even if you're not a journalist—especially right now, Gemini, when you're in a phase when the healing shock of the new is available everywhere you go.
CANCER [June 21–July 22] Whatever you do, DON'T open the door of that closet that hasn't been opened in years; DON'T peek inside Pandora's other box, or rush in, like a trusting fool, where angels fear to tread. DON'T do any of these forbidden things, my dear Cancerian—unless you wish to embark on some elemental, enlightening adventures.
LEO [July 23–August 22] I happen to like The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull, a CD by sludge rockers Earth. But I'm not urging you to get a copy of it so much as I'm suggesting that you carry out a metaphorical equivalent of what the album's title describes. This is a perfect time for you to create something sweet in a situation that once scared the sleep out of you.
VIRGO [August 23–September 22] In the ancient text known as the Sutra of 42 Chapters, the Buddha is quoted as saying: "My doctrine is to think the thought that is unthinkable, to practice the deed that is unperformable, to speak the speech that is inexpressible. . . . " Those happen to be your tough assignments in the coming week, Virgo, and you'll have a good chance at succeeding if you refuse to be excessively serious in your approach. The more fun you have, the greater the likelihood that you will pull off subtle yet spectacular feats that may seem impossible to more sober people.
LIBRA [September 23–October 22] "Dear Dr. Brezsny: I love my weekly dose of astrological wit, but I've got to say that if I had all the fun and revelry you predict, I wouldn't be the morose, meandering malcontent I am now. I must conclude that you're living in a different dimension than I am. So how do I get over there to where you are? —Up-in-the-Air Libra." Funny you should mention this: Due to a rare crack in the space-time continuum, there's currently a wormhole between my dimension and the dimension where up-in-the-air Libras live. Come on over! You'll know you're near the portal when you feel the urge to exuberantly leap up off your feet for no particular reason.
SCORPIO [October 23–November 21] Please join me in a boycott of horoscope columns and astrology books which insinuate that all Scorpios are cruel, perverted, power-mad jealousy freaks. It's true that there are some less-evolved Scorpios who speed up their cars to run over small animals and treat romance as a game in which there can be only one winner. But do we demonize all scientists simply because a few mad physicists created weapons of mass destruction? Of course not. I hereby proclaim June to be Scorpio Pride Month, a time to celebrate all your winning qualities—especially your skill at helping to activate the dormant potential of the people you care about.
SAGITTARIUS [November 22–December 21] "Take time to stop and smell the flowers," goes the old saying. Albert Hofmann, the Swiss scientist who discovered LSD and lived to age 102, had a different approach: "Take the time to stop and be the flowers," he said. That's my advice to you, Sagittarius: Don't just set aside a few stolen moments to sniff the snapdragons, taste the rain, chase the wind, watch the hummingbirds, or listen to a friend. It's time to actually become the Other.
CAPRICORN [December 22–January 19] What Martin Luther King Jr. said about epic struggles in the political arena is also apt for your private life, Capricorn: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." I recommend that you transpose his advice into the realm of your intimate relationships. If you really do that with all the irresistible force of your burning conviction, you will prove another of King's excellent thoughts: "Unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality."
AQUARIUS [January 20–February 18] Scientists used to believe that a butterfly has no recollection of its previous life as a caterpillar: The pupa breaks down into primal goo during its metamorphosis, they said, erasing all trace of the caterpillar's brain. But new research suggests that there is continuity—at least some of what the caterpillar learned remains available to the butterfly. As you carry out your own personal mutation in the coming months, Aquarius, I believe you will experience a similar process, thus ensuring that the New You will benefit from the wisdom that the Old You possessed.
PISCES [February 19–March 20] It's Blame All Your Problems on God Week. You hereby have license to shun responsibility for the pain you feel and the messes you've made, and instead ascribe it all to the Divine Mischief Maker. The secret of achieving success in this enterprise is to act as if your dilemmas really have been entirely caused by God's mistakes, His intentional cruelty, or His wicked sense of humor. By the way, Accept Total Responsibility for Your Problems Week is coming up next, and to observe that holiday correctly, you'll have to be thoroughly sincere about this week's. PS: If you're an atheist, then it's Blame All Your Problems on Your Parents Week.
HOMEWORK Talk yourself into being proud about something you've always felt sheepish or shy about. Then go testify at RealAstrology.com. Click on "E-mail Rob."