ARIES (March 21-April 19)
Listen up, my beautiful, mixed-up friend, and listen good. And please don't react until you hear the whole story. The conflagration will soon climax, which means your future is rosy. I predict you'll entertain that little apocalypse in your heart for maybe another 100 hours, and then it'll extinguish itself in a twinkly burp, leaving you empty and scoured and almost ready to be reborn. Then, at the moment when you have achieved a tender, relaxed objectivity (not a cold, sterile objectivity), you will be resurrected as a fresh-faced warrior who will permanently shift the balance of power between good and evil in the direction of the good.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20)
Let's play Jeopardy. I'll give you the metaphorical solutions for several of your burning concerns, and you will come up with the appropriate questions. Ready? Here are the answers: (1) Like drinking fresh-squeezed lemonade in the middle of the night. (2) Like receiving the gift of a toy dragon from a person you thought was mad at you. (3) Like all the workers at the local landfill suddenly breaking into a Cole Porter medley as you drive up with your load of garbage. (4) Like making love with all the lights blazing.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20)
Nothing can ever fully compensate you for the stinging loss you suffered a while ago. I won't try to minimize its impact. But let me ask you this, Gemini. Have you ever wondered whether there would come a time when you'd look back and say, "It's amazing how strong and true I became because of that pain"? Believe it or not, that moment has arrived. You're ready to harvest the fullness of power that germinated during your old trauma.
CANCER (June 21-July 22)
The philosophers I admire most are tricksters with a passion for shattering dogmas: Robert Anton Wilson, Terence McKenna, and Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche. The religions I trust most are those that rebel against their own beliefs and respect the fertilizing power of chaos, like the Discordians and the Church of the Subgenius. Nonetheless, I do harbor, in my personal belief system, a relatively stable moral vision. Yes, it's more flexible than most, being rooted in the quest for beauty, truth, love, pleasure, and liberation instead of order, control, fear, and self-denial. But it's still a set of principles about right and wrong. What about you, fellow Cancerian? When did you last revisit your rules to live by? The astrological omens say it's time for a thorough review.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22)
As I meditate on your imminent future, Leo, I'm sensing a cathartic mix of death and liberation. The death won't be a literal one; no one will have to meet the Reaper. Rather, I foresee the passing of an icon or the withering of a dream or the loss of a prop. As sad as it may be, this ending portends a rush of relief and release. And if you're willing to keep your heart open, you'll suddenly find yourself able to access resources that have previously been dormant or unavailable. Now here's my suggestion for a ritual you can perform that will help you open your heart as wide as it needs to be: On a day when the sky seems very high, wander through a cemetery and sing all the songs you love the best.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
My acquaintance Beth had a dream that she and her tribe were living peacefully at the foot of a mountain. Without warning, fiery ash and lava erupted. Everyone fled, desperate to escape. But before she had gone far, Beth heard a voice in her head say, "Run toward the volcano; it's your only safety." Feeling an inexplicable trust in the voice, she turned around and started heading back, whereupon the dream ended and she woke up. Soon after getting out of bed, she felt moved to face up to a certain dilemma she'd been ignoring in her waking life. When she solved the problem a day later, she felt gratitude for the dream that had spurred her to do the right thing. Moral of the story, Virgo: Run toward the volcano.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
I'm all in favor of giving special aid to people with learning disabilities. But I think that geniuses should receive an equal boost. I bring this up, Libra, in order to draw an analogy to your current situation. You've been spending a lot of energy attending to the weaker parts of your nature while neglecting your brilliant aspects. Here's what I propose you do to balance the ledger: Hunt down a tool or experience that will stimulate your greatest talent. And remember, just because your natural gifts come easily doesn't mean you should neglect to develop them into super gifts.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
I'm sensing an especially voracious longing in you Scorpios lately. In many ways that's a good thing. You periodically need the weird healing that comes from dealing with desires that are too big for you to contain. I must confess, though, that I'm a little worried you'll go too far this time. While meditating about you, I had a vision of a giant scorpion that was so hungry it ate the entire world. Might it be possible for you to ride the raw, ragged edge of your yearning without letting it flip over into manic obsession?
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
The poetry of your imminent future reminds me of certain lipstick names: Plum Silk, Honey Amber, Golden Brandy, and Soft Sea Spice. I'm betting there'll even be some Molten Ruby moments in there as well, possibly even a touch of Mucho Gusto Coco Loco. Given this state of affairs, you might like to study up on exotic love-making techniques like Dancing Phoenix in the Valley of Bliss, Night-Long Sipping of the Moon Flower Medicine, or Jeweled Lotus Swimming in the Grotto of the Tiger Lily. For more inspiration, check out the following books: Sexual Energy Ecstasy by David and Ellen Ramsdale, Tantra: The Art of Conscious Loving by Charles and Caroline Muir, The Multi-Orgasmic Couple: Sexual Secrets Every Couple Should Know by Mantak Chia, and The Essential Tantra: A Modern Guide to Sacred Sexuality by Kenneth Ray Stubbs.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
If you're typical, you've already taken in over 8000 advertisements this year. You might think this is just a harmless annoyance, but I don't agree. To avoid damaging your ability to measure the true value of things, you must immediately cut your commercial intake by at least half. Please avert your eyes, turn down the volume, and do whatever it takes to protect yourself from this dangerous form of subliminal pollution. I'm especially suggesting this now because it's prime time, astrologically speaking, to upgrade your approach to absorbing information.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
Any expert in demographics will tell you that far more women than men check out their horoscopes. But that's not so true about this column. The ratio here is 57 percent female, 39 percent male, and 4 percent other genders. It's also the case that among my Aquarian readers, about 17 percent of the women have more masculine intelligence than the average men of other signs, and 13 percent of the Aquarian men have more feminine intelligence than normal women. I predict these figures will rise even further in the coming weeks, since many of you will be absolutely brilliant at blowing away gender stereotypes.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)
"In Africa you punish a child by not giving her homework," wrote a reader named Dulce in a recent e-mail. It led me to muse on the fact that as adults, most of us don't get anywhere near the homework we need to keep our souls lively. Instead we're barraged by shit work that ties up our brains and numbs our heart. I mention this, Pisces, because you're entering an astrological phase when juicy homework assignments will be the best gifts you can get. Here's one now. In ancient Celtic culture, a person was thought to be born through three forces: the union of two parents, an ancestor's longing for rebirth, and the touch of a particular god or goddess. Please meditate on what ancient spirit you might be carrying within you and what divine entity aided your creation.
Comment on the following: "The wild but disciplined mind nurtured by great sex is a key to reforming our outmoded political system." Write to email@example.com.
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