Free Will Astrology: February 27 through March 5, 2013
ARIES [March 21–April 19] In 1993, Frenchman Emile Leray was on a solo trip through the Sahara Desert when his car suffered a major breakdown. It was unfixable, but he didn't panic. Instead, he used the tools he had on hand to dismantle the vehicle and convert its parts into a makeshift motorcycle, which he rode back to civilization. I foresee the possibility of a similar development in your future, Aries. You will get the opportunity to be very resourceful as you turn an apparent setback into a successful twist of fate.
TAURUS [April 20–May 20] Your power animal is not the soaring eagle or the brave bear. No, Taurus, it's the rubber chicken. I'm serious. With the rubber chicken as your guardian spirit, you might be inspired to commit random acts of goofiness and surrealism. It could motivate you to play jokes and pull harmless pranks that influence everyone to take themselves less seriously. Are you willing to risk losing your dignity if it helps make the general mood looser and more generous? Nothing could be better for group solidarity, which is crucial these days.
GEMINI [May 21–June 20] In the language of the Huron Indians, orenda is a word that refers to the spiritual power that resides in all creatures and things. If you've got enough of it, you may be able to declare at least partial independence from your own past. You can better shape the life you want for yourself rather than being so thoroughly subject to the limitations of your karma and conditioning. Your current supply of orenda is unusually abundant, Gemini. What's the best use you can make of it?
CANCER [June 21–July 22] When I lived in Santa Cruz years ago, some of my published writings were illustrated by a funny, outrageous, and often offensive local cartoonist named Karl Vidstrand. Eventually he moved to a small town at the edge of California's Mojave Desert, near where the Space Shuttles landed. He liked living at the fringes of space, he told journalist R.D. Pickle. It gave him the sense of "being out of bounds at all times." I suggest you adopt some of the Vidstrand spirit in the next three weeks, Cancerian. On the fringes and out of bounds is exactly where you belong.
LEO [July 23–August 22] The history of your pain is entering a new phase. Gradually, an emotional ache that has been sapping your vitality will begin to diminish. You will free yourself of its power to define you. You will learn to live without its oddly seductive glamour. As the weeks go by, you will find yourself less interested in it, less attracted to the maddening mystery it has foisted on you. No later than mid-April, I'm guessing that you will be ready to conduct a ritual of completion; you'll be able to give it a formal send-off as you squeeze one last lesson out of it.
VIRGO [August 23–September 22] "When looking for a book, you may discover that you were in fact looking for the book next to it." Italian writer Roberto Calasso told that to The Paris Review, and now I'm passing it on to you. Every time you go searching for a specific something—a learning experience, an invigorating pleasure, a helpful influence—consider the possibility that what you really need is a different one, nearby.
LIBRA [September 23–October 22] At least once a day, a cell in your body mutates in a way that makes it potentially cancerous. Just as often, your immune system hunts down that dangerous cell and kills it, preserving your health. What if I told you that this physical aspect of your organism has an equivalent psychic component? What if, in other words, you have within you a higher intelligence whose function it is to steer you away from useless trouble and dumb risks? I say there is such a thing. I say this other protector works best if you maintain a conscious relationship with it, asking it to guide you and instruct you. The coming weeks will be an excellent time to deepen your connection.
SCORPIO [October 23–November 21] Some rules in life don't apply to you and can therefore be safely ignored. On the other hand, some rules are crucial to observe if you want to translate your fondest dreams into real experiences. To recognize the difference is a high art. Now would be an excellent time to solidify your mastery of this distinction. I suggest you formally renounce your investment in the irrelevant rules and polish your skills at playing by the applicable rules.
SAGITTARIUS [November 22–December 21] "Don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter," wrote the Persian mystic poet Rumi. "It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous." I think you're like that winter garden right now, Sagittarius. Outwardly, there's not much heat and flash. Bright ideas and strong opinions are not pouring out of you at their usual rates. You're not even prone to talking too loud or accidentally knocking things over. This may in fact be as close as you can get to being a wallflower. And yet deep beneath the surface, you are charging up your psychic battery. The action down there is vibrant and vigorous.
CAPRICORN [December 22–January 19] "When you come right down to it," says religion writer Rabbi Marc Gellman, "there are only four basic prayers. Gimme! Thanks! Oops! and Wow!" Personally, I would add a fifth type of prayer to Gellman's list: "Need any assistance?" The Creator always needs collaborators to help implement the gritty details of the latest divine schemes. According to my analysis, you would be an excellent choice to volunteer for that role right now—especially in tasks that involve blending beautiful fragments, healing sad schisms, furthering peace negotiations, and overcoming seemingly irreconcilable differences.
AQUARIUS [January 20–February 18] In the movie Fight Club, there is an animated sequence at the very end that required an inordinate amount of time to produce. Each frame took the editors eight hours to process. Since there are 24 frames in each second, their work went on for three weeks. That's the kind of attention to detail I recommend as you devote yourself to your labor of love in the coming days, Aquarius. I think you know which specific parts of your creation need such intense focus.
PISCES [February 19–March 20] "I have decided to rename the constellations that have domineered our skies too long," writes an Internet denizen named Hasheeshee St. Frank. He gives only one example. The Big Dipper, he says, shall now be known as The Star-Spangled Gas Can. I invite you to come up with other substitutes, Pisces. It's a perfect moment to reconfigure your relationship with impersonal, overarching forces that have wielded a disproportionately large influence over your thoughts and feelings. How about if you call the constellation Orion by the new title of Three-Eyed Orangutan? Or instead of Pegasus, use the name Sexy Dolphin? Other ideas?
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