ARIES (March 21-April 19):
Do you secretly long to learn Norwegian or Navajo? This is a fine week to begin. Have you ever fantasized about sampling exotic cuisine in a quest to find a new favorite food? It’s the perfect moment to act on that fantasy. When you were younger, did you want to be a professional juggler when you grew up? It’s not too late. Wouldn’t it be fun to draw a self-portrait with your non-dominant hand? Yes, it would—especially now. Can I interest you in imagining you’re a zoo animal that is the ringleader of a mass escape? I hope so. Have you ever devoted an entire week of your life to being insanely curious and experimenting with serendipitous sensations? This is the time and this is the place.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20):
My 11-year-old Taurus daughter, Zoe, has completed her first book of poetry. She calls the collection Secret Freedom. I have asked her to expound upon the meaning of her enigmatic title, but she has so far demurred—perhaps wanting to keep her secret freedom secret. Still, I can speculate on its implications. And I’m driven to do that as I meditate on your current astrological omens. They suggest you’re now communing with a liberating mystery, and that the best way to nurture it is to keep it private. What exactly will this mystery liberate you from? Your “mind-forg’d manacles”—poet William Blake’s term for the way we enslave our own imaginations? Or a trap you got snared in because of a cohort’s karma? Maybe both.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20):
Acting on the authority vested in me by the messenger god Mercury, I hereby present you with a cosmic license to celebrate the radiant, fertile glory that is you. That’s right, Gemini. In honor of your birthday, several restrictions on your self-love have been waived. In fact, the Lords of Karma have promised not to exact retribution if you decide to create the First Church of [Your Name Here]. May I suggest that you begin the first worship service with readings from Gemini poet Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”?
CANCER (June 21-July 22):
Once a year or so, you need me to peer into your past rather than your future; you require a postdiction instead of a prediction. Now is such a time. As I have ruminated on the astrological omens, I’ve become aware of old, half-buried residues that are re-emerging as a force in your life. I’ve sensed the return of dreams you abandoned prematurely, and a showdown with feelings you’ve been faking for so long you’ve forgotten they’re fake. Here, then, is my postdiction: Your future will be postponed until you update your relationships with those residues, those dreams, and those feelings.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22):
Hold on, Leo. I’ve got a melodramatic prediction for you. Here we go. Quiet bursts of low-key but useful intuitions will erupt from your heart (not your brain). If you pay reverent attention to them, you will be rewarded with a ripening of your emotional intelligence. This will in turn give you the bold ingenuity to gently smash an obstacle that has always interfered with your ability to know and be yourself. The opportunity to move into closer alignment with your soul’s purpose will scare the hell out of you, but somehow you’ll plow through the fear. By this time next week, you will be basking in the richest, most delicious sense of uncertainty you’ve known in many moons.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):
If you enter a bubble-gum bubble-blowing contest this week, you’ll definitely win. A 14-incher is within your grasp. Your chances of succeeding at other activities involving expansion are also at a peak. I doubt if anyone will mind if you allow your ego to swell a bit, for instance. You’ll have excellent luck whenever you branch out or overflow. The shapes of the clouds will remind you of royal castles, magical animals, and conquering heroes rather than struggling insects and the insides of clocks. The only potential downside of the current archetypal trend is that you may blow small problems out of proportion. Fortunately, your billowing imagination is likely to come up with creative solutions that will dissolve the resulting karma.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22):
Forty-nine percent of all child care is paid for off the books, as well as 63 percent of lawn care and 71 percent of astrological consultations. I mention this, Libra, because you will soon have a ripe opportunity to channel your talents into activities that are outside the reach of mainstream standards and customs. In other words, you can expect a proposition from the underground economy or the cultural fringe or the unregulated frontier. Are you game? Do you have the nerve to play on the edge of respectability?
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21):
My astrological ruminations weren’t enough to decode your destiny this week. I had to add a novel form of divination—videomancy. Prostrating myself in front of my blank TV screen, I prayed that I’d be guided to turn it on at the right moment to receive an omen about you. When I felt the spirit rise within me, I pushed the power button on the remote and pressed the channel button seven times. What came on the screen were a scruffily dressed mother and a toddler in a thrift store. They bought a bedraggled baby doll dressed in a bear suit. When they got home, the mom removed the doll’s costume to wash it. A wad of $100 bills fell out. Bingo! I had my videomantic oracle. Here’s my interpretation of its meaning for your life, Scorpio: An underprivileged aspect of your psyche will soon make a valuable discovery by accident.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21):
It’s time for your unbirthday, Sagittarius, that nervous holiday halfway between your birthdays when you suddenly acquire the supernatural power to read your own mind. To celebrate, I suggest three actions: Try to see the world through the eyes of people who are most unlike you, aggressively mess with mysteries that have always threatened to make you feel like a failure, and pull off a ballsy new rebellion against yourself every day. During your unbirthday season, you should ask millions of questions, especially this one: How can you know what you are unless you experiment with being what you’re not?
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19):
“Dear Dr. Good Vibes: I’m sorry to report that your bright and cheery predictions for my future did not come true. The gods have laid the cosmic smackdown upon me. My metaphorical buttocks are still smarting. I don’t blame you, mind you. It is entirely my fault. My wishes were different from what the gods wished for me; I was utterly out of sync with the Grand Scheme of Things. My question now is: Being that I am in the habit of desiring pleasures that are good for my ego but bad for my soul, how do I break the habit? —Contrite Cappy”
Dear Contrite: Not blaming others, but rather taking responsibility for your actions, is the best way. And you’ve just done that.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18):
Congratulations! You have an astrological mandate to commune with states of ecstasy this week. And I do mean the real thing: not just mildly diverting happiness or goofy pleasure, but delirious, over-the-top rapture. To assist the cosmos in bringing you the fullness of your juicy fate, take a few moments now to brainstorm about what adventures are most likely to deliver you to the delight you so richly need and deserve. These should not be impossible-to-attain fantasies like hang-gliding over the Serengeti tomorrow or making love with Brad Pitt or Jennifer Aniston. Stick to experiences that are distinctly possible, even if they are at the frontiers of your ability to create.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20):
Your key symbols for the coming days: a night-sea crossing, Jonah in the belly of the whale, a treasure chest dislodged from its hiding place in the earth by a flood. Most reliable source of information: your dreams. Totemic animal: octopus. Special number: 44. Secret password: superconductor. Methods for building soul power: taking ritual baths, being naked for hours, singing songs you consider sacred. Inspirational role model: Dante Alighieri on his way out of the Inferno. Pop culture book likely to be most helpful: Joseph Campbell’s The Hero With a Thousand Faces.
Please comment: No man is an island, but many men are atolls. Write: firstname.lastname@example.org