By Albert Samaha
By Amanda Dingyuan
By Anna Merlan
By Anna Merlan
By Albert Samaha
By Tessa Stuart
By Anna Merlan
By Roy Edroso
ARIES [March 21–April 19] "You never want a serious crisis to go to waste," said Rahm Emanuel, President Obama's chief of staff. "It's an opportunity to do things that you think you could not do before." While your crisis is nowhere near as pressing as that faced by Obama's team, I recommend that you adopt a similar attitude in the coming days. Just assume that any breakdowns you experience will allow you to make breakthroughs that were previously impossible. As you deal with a scary trial, use it as an impetus to find a sacred trail.
TAURUS [April 20–May 20] Your key theme for the week is "Healthy Obsessions"—not "Melodramatic Compulsions" or "Exhausting Crazes," but "Healthy Obsessions." To carry out your assignment in the right way, you will have to take really good care of yourself as you concentrate extravagantly on tasks that fill you with zeal. This may require you to rebel against the influences of role models, both in your actual life and in the movies you've seen, who act as if getting sick and imbalanced is an integral part of being true to one's genius.
GEMINI [May 21–June 20] The closest modern relative of the Tyrannosaurus rex may be the chicken, says geneticist John Asara. He came to this conclusion after studying traces of tissue from a 68-million-year-old bone of the king of dinosaurs. I invite you to draw inspiration from this. Try envisioning a couple of monstrous influences from your past—big, bad meanies who hurt you or scared you. Imagine they were like Tyrannosaurus rexes back then. Close your eyes and see their faces glaring from the beast's skull. But then imagine that in the intervening months and years, they have devolved and shrunk. Picture them now as clucking chickens pecking at seeds in the dirt. Can you see their faces at the top of their bobbing, feathery bodies?
CANCER [June 21–July 22] Scientists and fundamentalist Christians don't share much common ground, but here's one thing most of them agree on: There's no such thing as reincarnation. Now, I'm pleased to be able to offer you the chance to rebel against their dogmatic delusion. You see, Cancerian, it's an excellent time to try out the hypothesis that you have lived many times before and will live many times again. For one week, act as if it were true, and see how it changes the way you feel, think, and act. What if everything you do has repercussions forever?
LEO [July 23–August 22] This horoscope presents three clues for you: 1) I know a psychotherapist's son, who, while growing up, rarely received the benefits of his father's psychological expertise—"The shoemaker's child has no shoes," my friend says; 2) In the Bible's book of Mark, Jesus declares, "A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country, and among his own relatives, and in his own house"; and 3) A neurologist of my acquaintance suffers from migraine headaches that he has been unable to cure. Now, I invite you to meditate on how these alienations may reflect situations that you're experiencing. If they sound familiar, take action. It's prime time to heal them.
VIRGO [August 23–September 22] One reason I've been put on this earth is to expose you to a kind of astrology that doesn't crush your free will, but instead clarifies your choices. In this horoscope, I'll crisply delineate your options so that you may decide upon a bold course of action that's most in tune with your highest values. Study the following query, then briskly flex your freedom of choice. Would you rather want someone to: 1) knock the wind out of one of your illusions, thereby exposing the truth about what you really want; 2) not exactly kick you in the butt, but more like pinch and spank you there, inspiring you to revise your ideas about what it means to be close to someone; or 3) spin you around in dizzying yet oddly pleasurable circles, shaking up your notions about how to keep intimacy both interestingly unpredictable and soothingly stable.
LIBRA [September 23–October 22] Cartoonist Gary Larson defines "luposlipaphobia" as the fear of being pursued by timber wolves around a kitchen table while wearing socks on a newly waxed floor. There is a real danger that you could fall victim to that deluded phobia. And it is definitely a delusion: No timber wolves will be in your immediate future. If you hope to avoid this as well as other equally irrelevant superstitions, you should have a long talk with yourself as soon as you finish reading this. Be very clear and rational as you explain how important it is to be very clear and rational right now.
SCORPIO [October 23–November 21] Maybe you shouldn't mend your supposedly "evil" ways, if your "evil" ways are about to mutate into a fascinating new approach to goodness. Maybe the very quality that has threatened to cause your downfall has now become the key to your upgrade. And maybe the thing that has made you most nervous about yourself will soon start ripening into a beautiful asset that will activate reserves of life energy you didn't know you could have at your disposal.
SAGITTARIUS [November 22–December 21] Sagittarian Jakob Dylan has created a solid musical career for himself. But he's a bit defensive about the possibility that the fame of his father, Bob Dylan, has played a role in his success. I understand his longing to have his work be judged on its own merits, and I sympathize with his urge to be independent of his heritage. But I advise just the opposite approach for you. You will place yourself in alignment with cosmic rhythms by acknowledging all of the influences that have helped you become the person you want to be.
CAPRICORN [December 22–January 19] Throx.com sells socks in threes—so if you lose one, you have an extra. Their ingenious marketing plan resembles the approach of some romance addicts I know, who always date two or three people just in case they get dumped by one of them. (No bouts of loneliness to worry about!) Which brings us to my main advice for you this week, Capricorn: Have a back-up plan. Keep an alternative handy. Make sure you won't run out of the stuff you really need.
AQUARIUS [January 20–February 18] My Chevy got stolen in San Francisco some years ago. The thief broke a window and smashed his way into the steering column to get to the ignition wires. Eventually, the cops recovered the car and returned it to me, but no repair shop could ever completely fix the transmission, and though the car sort of worked for another 18 months, I was never able to shift it into reverse again. Driving a vehicle that only moved forward presented problems that required creative solutions. It was an apt metaphor for my life at the time, when I found it impossible to go backward in any way. I suspect it will also be one of your operative metaphors in the coming months, Aquarius.
PISCES [February 19–March 20] "The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little," wrote Thomas Merton. Judging from your astrological omens, I suspect you should heed this. Consider the possibility that you aren't thinking big enough . . . that you need to actively rebel against the voices telling you to sit back and accept your comfortable limitations. In a sense, the cosmos is giving you a poetic license to ask for more.
Homework: Write a fairy tale or parable that captures what your life has been like so far in 2009. Share it with me at FreeWillAstrology.com.