ARIES [March 21–April 19] At one point in his book The Divine Comedy, the Italian poet Dante is traveling through purgatory on his way to paradise. American poet T.S. Eliot describes the scene: "The people there were inside the flames expurgating their errors and sins. And there was one incident when Dante was talking to an unknown woman in her flame. As she answered Dante's questions, she had to step out of her flame to talk to him, until at last she was compelled to say to Dante, 'Would you please hurry up with your questions, so I can get on with my burning?'" I bring this to your attention, Aries, because I love the way you've been expurgating your own errors and sins lately. Don't let anything interfere with your brilliant work.

TAURUS [April 20–May 20] If you've been holding yourself back in any way, Taurus, now's the time to unlock and unleash yourself. If you have been compromising your high standards or selling yourself short, I hope you will give yourself permission to grow bigger and stronger and brighter. If you've been hiding your beauty or hedging your bets or rationing your access to the mother lode, you have arrived at the perfect moment to stop.

GEMINI [May 21–June 20] In the cult blaxploitation film The Human Tornado, the main character, Dolemite, brags about his prowess. "I chained down thunder and handcuffed lightning!" he raves. "I used an earthquake to mix my milkshake! I eat an avalanche when I want ice cream! I punched a hurricane and made it a breeze!" This is the way I want to hear you talk, Gemini. You have every right to. Further, I think it'll be healthy for you.

CANCER [June 21–July 22] Astrologer Antero Alli theorizes that the placement of the sign Cancer in a person's chart might indicate what he or she tends to whine about. In his own chart, he says, Cancer rules his ninth house, so he whines about obsolete beliefs and bad education and stale dogmas. I hereby declare these issues to be supremely honorable reasons for you to whine in the coming week. You also have cosmic permission to complain vociferously about the following: injustices perpetrated by small-minded people, short-sighted thinking that ignores the big picture, and greedy self-interest that disdains the future.

LEO [July 23–August 22] LA Weekly praised the music of drone-noise band Barn Owl. Its review said that the listening experience is "akin to placing your ear against the Dalai Lama's stomach and catching the sound of his reincarnation juices flowing." That sounds a bit like what's ahead for you in the coming week, Leo: getting the lowdown on the inner workings of a benevolent source . . . tuning into the rest of the story that lies behind a seemingly simple, happy tale . . . gathering up revelations about the subterranean currents that are always going on beneath the surface of the good life. It's ultimately all positive, though a bit complicated.

VIRGO [August 23–September 22] In the coming days, you could do a lot to develop a better relationship with darkness. And no, I don't mean that you should do bad things and seek out negativity and be fascinated with evil. When I use that word "darkness," I'm referring to confusing mysteries and your own unconscious patterns and the secrets you hide from yourself. I mean the difficult memories and the parts of the world that seem inhospitable to you and the sweet dreams that have lost their way. See what you can do to understand this stuff better, Virgo. Open yourself to the redemptive teachings it has for you.

LIBRA [September 23–October 22] Sister Jessica, a character in Frank Herbert's Dune books, says: "The greatest and most important problems of life cannot be solved. They can only be outgrown." I encourage you to use that theory as your operative hypothesis for the foreseeable future. Here are some specific clues about how to proceed: Don't obsess on your crazy-making dilemma. Instead, concentrate on skillfully doing the activities that you do best. Be faithful to your mission. I think you'll find that the frustrating impediment will be drained of at least some of its power to lock up your energy.

SCORPIO [October 23–November 21] A few years ago, the Hong Kong company Life Enhance sold briefs and boxer shorts that were supposedly designed by a master practitioner of feng shui. On the front of every garment was an image of a dragon, which the Chinese have traditionally regarded as a lucky symbol. To have this powerful charm in contact with your intimate places increased your vital force. By my estimates, Scorpio, you're not going to need a boost like that in the coming weeks. Without any outside aids, your lower furnace will be generating intense beams of magical heat. What are you going to do with all that potent mojo? Please don't use it on trivial matters.

SAGITTARIUS [November 22–December 21] There are times in your life when you do a lot of exploring in the outer world and other times when your pioneering probes are directed inward. In my astrological opinion, you're more suited for the latter kind of research. If you agree with me, here's one tack you might want to take: Take an inventory of all your inner voices, noticing both the content of what they say and the tone with which they say it. Some of them might be chatty and others shy; some blaring and others seductive; some nagging and needy and others calm and insightful. Welcome all the voices into the spotlight of your attention. Ask them to step forward and reveal their agendas.

CAPRICORN [December 22–January 19] The Oxford English Dictionary, an authority on the state of the English language, adds an average of two new words every day. In the coming weeks, Capricorn, I'd like to see you expand your capacity for self-expression with equal vigor. According to my reading of the astrological omens, you're due for an upgrade in your vocabulary, your clarity, and your communication skills. Here's one of the OED's fresh terms, which would be a good addition to your repertoire: "bouncebackability," the ability to recover from a setback.

AQUARIUS [January 20–February 18] We turn to Dr. Seuss for help in formulating your horoscope this week. He told a story of dining in a restaurant with his uncle, who was served a popover, a puffy muffin that's hollow on the inside. "To eat these things," said his uncle, "you must exercise great care. You may swallow down what's solid, but you must spit out the air!" Drawing a lesson from these wise words, Dr. Seuss concluded, "As you partake of the world's bill of fare, that's darned good advice to follow. Do a lot of spitting out the hot air. And be careful what you swallow." I expect your week will be successful, Aquarius, if you apply these principles.

PISCES [February 19–March 20] You should be like a rooster, Pisces: dispensing wake-up calls on a regular basis. You should be nudging people to shed their torpor and shake themselves out of their stupor. What's your personal version of "Cockadoodle-doo!"? It shouldn't be something generic like, "Open your eyes!" Come up with attention-grabbing exclamations or signature phrases that no intelligent person can possibly ignore. For example: "Let's leap into the vortex and scramble our trances!"

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