ARIES (March 21–April 19): In all my years of evaluating your astrological omens, I have rarely seen a time so favorably disposed to the value and pleasure of variety. I’m tempted to conclude that the cosmos is conspiring for you to try all 32 flavors, 46 positions, and 64 loopholes. For a limited time only, you really should be determined to sample a little of a lot rather than a lot of a little. Grazing and browsing are not only fine, they’re preferable. You have poetic license to be mercurial, spontaneous, and inscrutable.
TAURUS (April 20–May 20): According to my reading of the astrological omens, you now have the best opportunity in a long time to promote yourself without turning into a manipulative huckster or soul-shrunken sellout. At least temporarily, you have immunity from the phoniness that might infect anyone else who pushed her wares and services as hard as you can push them in the coming weeks. Please take advantage of this grace period to make sure the world knows how valuable you are.
GEMINI (May 21–June 20): In her book Strange New Species: Astonishing Discoveries of Life on Planet Earth, Elin Kelsey writes that though scientists have named 1.7 million species, at least 3.3 million others are still out there, as yet unidentified. In a similar way, Gemini, there are many invigorating adventures and intoxicating truths that you have not yet discovered—countless life experiences that remain unknown to you. It so happens that this is a perfect time to jump-start your pioneering urges and go out exploring those frontiers. In the coming days, I urge you to find at least one new variety of each of the following: allies, sanctuaries, resources, inspirations, and pleasures.
CANCER (June 21–July 22): Blogger Joseph Cannon has uncovered evidence that George W. Bush may be the grandson of the infamous occultist Aleister Crowley. On his website at snipurl.com/pler, Cannon says there’s a distinct possibility that Bush’s mother, Barbara, was conceived during a ritual tryst between Crowley and her mother, Pauline, in 1924. I’m not sufficiently informed on the matter to ascertain if it’s true, though I can’t help but note the strong physical resemblance between Aleister and Barbara. I bring this up because it’s an excellent time for all of you Cancerians, including the current American president, to delve into the mysteries of your past. Secrets that have always been hidden are more likely to pop into view than ever before. If you’re listening, your ancestors have clues to reveal.
LEO (July 23–Aug. 22): A team of Japanese cultural analysts was assigned the task of figuring out the best possible pickup line. The winner: “Rainen no kono hi mo issho ni waratteiy-oh.” In English, that’s “This time next year, let’s be laughing together.” I present this expression for your consideration, Leo, because I think it’s a perfectly poetic way to alert you to imminent developments in your life. As I understand the astrological omens, you’re about to experience transformations whose power to fascinate and amuse you will not fully ripen until June 2007. They may be subtle at first but will slowly build in intensity as the months go by.
VIRGO (Aug. 23–Sept. 22): In the course of reducing the mystery of nature to a set of mechanical laws, Charles Darwin suffered greatly. “I cannot endure to read a line of poetry,” he mourned in his journal. “I have tried to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me. I have almost lost my taste for pictures and music. I lament this curious loss of my higher aesthetic tastes. . . . My mind seems to have become a machine for grinding general laws out of larger collections of facts, but why this should have caused the atrophy of that part of the brain alone, on which the higher tastes depend, I cannot conceive.” I bring this to your attention, Virgo, because I want you to be very careful not to let your love of logic and reason damage your capacity to perceive magic and enjoy the ineffable. Ideally, of course, you’ll always be able to draw on both capacities equally. It’s a crucial moment in the evolution of your power to do that.
LIBRA (Sept. 23–Oct. 22): In a roundtable discussion published in Newsweek, film director Steven Spielberg touted the value of anxiety in stimulating creativity. “Fear is your ally,” he said. “The minute you come onto a set and you’re no longer afraid, you’re in big trouble. The best performances—from filmmakers and from actors—have happened when there are whole stretches of tremendous instability about the process.” I personally don’t believe this is an absolute law that’s always true. Some of my best work has emerged during times when I’ve felt secure and peaceful. But I do think Spielberg’s theory is likely to apply to you in the coming weeks, Libra. Dare to put yourself in the midst of uncertainty.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23–Nov. 21): In her poem “Possession,” Jane Shore describes how the “La Brea tar pits/ keep disgorging ancient bones, squeezing them/through the oily black muscles of earth/to the surface.” She’s referring to the place in Los Angeles where there are lakes of natural asphalt that contain the fossils of ancient mammals. These grails of ancient goo, with their seemingly endless new supply of primeval treasures, serve as an excellent metaphor for the psychic terrain you’re inhabiting these days.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22–Dec. 21): It would not be a good time to try digging a hole to China. You’d have visa problems once you got there and might end up under arrest. A better bet would be drilling a tunnel to Australia, where you’d probably get more slack once you arrived. In general, Sagittarius, I heartily recommend any activity that takes you to the polar opposite of where you’ve been hanging out, as long as you’re sure you’ll be welcome there.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22–Jan. 19): “Race car drivers say that if you’re heading toward a wall,” writes philosopher Jonathan Zap, “don’t look at it. Instead, look at where you want to go.” That’s good advice for you in the coming week, Capricorn. It would be crazy for you to concentrate all your attention on what you don’t like and don’t need and don’t agree with. Rather, you should briefly acknowledge the undesirable possibilities but then turn the full force of your focus to the most interesting and fulfilling option.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20—Feb. 18): In the course of most pregnancies, there is a moment when the fetus first moves in such a way that the mother-to-be can feel it. It’s often a kick or a punch. I predict that an analogous quickening will occur for you in the coming week, Aquarius. You’ll arrive at a threshold where a rite of passage will begin. It may be as subtle as a soft, billowing thump or as radical as a raucous yelp. At that uncanny moment, you’ll become aware that a new force has sprung to life. You’ll become attuned to a delivery from the future.
PISCES (Feb. 19—March 20): A British man named Adrian Hayward had a dream in which an odd event occurred during a soccer game. In his dream, a famous player kicked the ball into the goal from his own half of the field—an improbable long- distance shot that rarely occurs in real games. Following the dream, Hayward placed a wager with a bookmaker, betting that such a goal would actually be scored in the course of the real British soccer season. He later won $45,000 when a player for Liverpool did exactly what Hayward dreamed. If you take the trouble to recall your own dreams in the coming week, Pisces, I predict you will get at least one hot tip akin to Hayward’s.