Free Will Astrol­ogy

Change your at­ti­tude, Sagit­tar­ius, says ROB BREZSNY



(Nov 22-Dec 21) I used to nur­ture a grudge against Tony Pas­torini. He was the high school math teacher who kicked me out of the ex­tracur­ric­u­lar cal­cu­lus club be­cause my proofs were too “in­tu­itive and un­ortho­dox.” The shock of his re­jec­tion drove me away from a sub­ject I had been pas­sion­ate about. Even­tu­ally, though, I came to re­al­ize what a good deed he had done. It would have been a mis­take for me to keep spe­cial­iz­ing in math— I was des­tined to study lit­er­a­ture and psy­chol­ogy and mythol­ogy—but it took Pas­torini to cor­rect my course. Now, Sagit­tar­ius, I in­vite you to make a sim­i­lar shift of at­ti­tude. What debt of grat­i­tude do you owe a per­son you have thought of as a source of frus­tra­tion or ob­struc­tion? Capri­corn

(Dec 22-Jan 19) In the lore of an­cient Greek mythol­ogy, the god Prometheus stole fire from his fel­low deities and sneak­ily gave it to us humans. Be­fore our pa­tron pro­vided us with this nat­u­ral trea­sure, we poor crea­tures had no ac­cess to it. As I gaze out at your pos­si­bil­i­ties in the com­ing months, Capri­corn, I fore­see you hav­ing Promethean in­cli­na­tions. Your abil­ity to be­stow bless­ings and spread benev­o­lence and do good deeds will be at a peak. Un­like Prometheus, how­ever, I don’t ex­pect you’ll get into trou­ble for your gen­eros­ity. Just the op­po­site! Aquar­ius

(Jan 20-Feb 18) Here’s a para­ble you may find use­ful. An arm­chair ex­plorer is un­ex­pect­edly given a chance to em­bark on an ad­ven­ture she has only read and dreamed about. But she hes­i­tates on the brink of seiz­ing her op­por­tu­nity. She asks her­self, “Do I re­ally want to risk hav­ing ragged real­ity cor­rupt the beau­ti­ful fan­tasy I’ve built up in my mind’s eye?” In the end she takes the gam­ble. She em­barks on the ad­ven­ture. And ragged real­ity does in fact par­tially cor­rupt her beau­ti­ful fan­tasy. But it also brings her un­ex­pected lessons that par­tially en­hance the beau­ti­ful fan­tasy. Pisces

(Feb 19-Mar 20) “A game of chess is usu­ally a fairy tale of 1001 blun­ders,” said chess grand­mas­ter Savielly Tar­takower, a Pisces. “It is a strug­gle against one’s own er­rors,” he added. “The win­ner of the game is the player who makes the next-to-last mis­take.” I think this is ex­cel­lent coun­sel dur­ing the cur­rent phase of your as­tro­log­i­cal cy­cle, Pisces. It’s time to risk bold moves, be­cause even if they’re partly or wholly mis­taken, they will ul­ti­mately put you in a good po­si­tion to suc­ceed in the long run. Here’s a fur­ther point for your con­sid­er­a­tion. Re­mem­ber the philosopher Rene Descartes’ fa­mous dic­tum, “Cog­ito ergo sum?” It’s Latin for “I think, there­fore I am.” Tar­takower coun­tered this with, “Erro ergo sum,” which is “I err, there­fore I am.” Aries

(Mar 21-Apr 19) Amer­ica’s Civil War ended in 1865. A vet­eran from that con­flict later pro­duced a daugh­ter, Irene Triplett, who is still alive to­day and col­lect­ing his pen­sion. In the com­ing months, I fore­see you be­ing able to take ad­van­tage of a com­pa­ra­ble phe­nom­e­non, although it may be more metaphor­i­cal. Bless­ings from by­gone times, per­haps even from the dis­tant past, will be avail­able to you. But you’ll have to be alert and know where to look. So now might be a good time to learn more about your an­ces­tors, ru­mi­nate ex­u­ber­antly about your own his­tory, study the lives of your dead he­roes and maybe even tune in to your pre­vi­ous in­car­na­tions. Tau­rus

(Apr 20-May 20) “I wasn’t in the mar­ket to buy a Day-Glo plas­tic fish from a street ven­dor,” tes­ti­fied a witty guy named Jef on Face­book, “but that’s exactly what I did. The seller said he found it in some­one’s trash. He wanted 50 cents for it, but I talked him up to a dol­lar. The best part is the ex­pres­sion on the fish’s face. It’s from Ed­vard Munch’s The Scream.” I bring this tes­ti­mony to your at­ten­tion, Tau­rus, be­cause I feel it’s good role-mod­el­ing for you. In the com­ing days, I bet you won’t know exactly what you’re look­ing for un­til you find it. This prize may not be highly val­ued by any­one else but you. And it will amuse you and be of use to you in just the right ways. Gem­ini

(May 21-Jun 20) Where are Chi­nese goose­ber­ries grown? In New Zealand. What is a camel’s hair brush made of? Squir­rel fur. When Eng­land and France waged their Hun­dred Years’ War, how long did it last? One hun­dred six­teen years. When do Rus­sians cel­e­brate their Oc­to­ber Revo­lu­tion? In Novem­ber. Trick answers like th­ese are likely to be a re­cur­ring theme for you in the com­ing weeks, Gem­ini. That’s why I ad­vise you to NOT be a Mas­ter of the Ob­vi­ous. Cancer

(Jun 21-Jul 22) In ac­cor­dance with the as­tro­log­i­cal omens, I rec­om­mend you in­dulge in any or all of the fol­low­ing ex­er­cises. 1. Ded­i­cate an en­tire day to per­form­ing acts of love. 2. Buy your­self flow­ers, sing your­self a song and tell your­self a story about why you’re so beau­ti­ful. 3. Ex­plain your deeply-felt opinion with so much pas­sion and logic that you change the mind of a per­son who had pre­vi­ously dis­agreed with you. 4. Make a pil­grim­age to a sa­cred spot you want to be in­flu­enced by. 5. Buy a drink for ev­ery­one in a bar or cafe. Leo

(Jul 23-Aug 22) “Dear Rob: I saw a photo of you re­cently, and I re­al­ized that you have a scar on your face. I hope you don’t mind me telling you it re­sem­bles an an­cient Mayan hi­ero­glyph that means “Builder of Bridges for Those Who Are Seek­ing Home.” Did you know this? If so, do you think it’s an ac­cu­rate ti­tle for what you do? — Rene­gade Leo Scholar.” Dear Scholar: Thanks for your ob­ser­va­tion. I don’t know if I fully de­serve the ti­tle “Builder of Bridges for Those Who Are Seek­ing Home,” but it does de­scribe the role I’m hop­ing to play for Leos. The com­ing weeks will be an ex­cel­lent time for your tribe to clar­ify and cul­ti­vate your no­tion of home. Virgo

(Aug 23-Sep 22) Au­thor Clarissa Pinkola Estés en­cour­ages us to purge any ten­den­cies we might have to think of our­selves as hounded an­i­mals, an­gry, wounded vic­tims, leaky ves­sels aching to be filled or bro­ken crea­tures yearn­ing for res­cue. It so hap­pens that now is a per­fect time for you to per­form this pur­ga­tion. You have max­i­mum power to re­vise your self-im­age so that it re­sounds with more poise, self-suf­fi­ciency and sovereignty. Li­bra

(Sep 23-Oct 22) I used to scoff at peo­ple who play the lot­tery. The chance of win­ning big is almost nil. Why not in­vest one’s hopes in more prag­matic schemes to gen­er­ate money? But my opinion soft­ened a bit when the planet Jupiter made a lucky tran­sit to an as­pect in my per­sonal horoscope. It re­ally did seem like my chances of win­ning the lot­tery were un­usu­ally high. I started dream­ing about the ed­u­ca­tional amuse­ments I’d pur­sue if I got a huge in­flux of cash. I opened my mind to ex­pan­sive fu­ture pos­si­bil­i­ties that I had pre­vi­ously been closed to. So even though I didn’t ac­tu­ally get a wind­fall dur­ing this favourable fi­nan­cial phase, I was glad I’d en­ter­tained the fan­tasy. In align­ment with cur­rent as­tro­log­i­cal omens, Li­bra, here’s the moral of the story for you: Med­i­tate on what ed­u­ca­tional amuse­ments you’d seek if you had more money.

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