Free Will As­trol­ogy

HK Magazine - - FILM - ROB BREZSNY

PISCES (Feb 18-Mar 20): ”The great­est il­lu­sion is not re­li­gion,” says apho­rist Michael Lipsey. “It’s wak­ing up in the morn­ing imag­in­ing how much you’re go­ing to get done to­day.” But even if that’s of­ten true, Pisces, I sus­pect that you have the power to re­fute it in the com­ing weeks. Your abil­ity to ac­com­plish small won­ders will be at a peak. Your knack for mas­ter­ing de­tails and act­ing with prac­ti­cal acu­men may be un­prece­dented. For the im­me­di­ate fu­ture, then, I pre­dict that you’ll largely be able to get done what you imag­ine you can get done.

ARIES (Mar 21-Apr 19): Artist Steven Spa­suk works ex­clu­sively with an un­usual medium: soot from can­dles and torches. He spreads the stuff across a blank can­vas, then uses var­i­ous in­stru­ments to sculpt the ac­ci­den­tal blobs into de­fin­i­tive forms. I’ve seen the re­sults, and they’re both well-done and in­trigu­ing. What would be the metaphor­i­cal equiv­a­lent, in your world, of us­ing soot to make beau­ti­ful and in­ter­est­ing things? I think you’re primed to turn waste into build­ing blocks, rot into splen­dor, and lead into gold. (See Spazuk’s work at

TAURUS (Apr 20-May 20): Carl Sagan said that science thrives on “two seem­ingly con­tra­dic­tory at­ti­tudes: an open­ness to new ideas, no mat­ter how bizarre or coun­ter­in­tu­itive, and the most ruth­less skep­ti­cal scru­tiny of all ideas, old and new.” Whether or not you are a sci­en­tist, Taurus, I rec­om­mend that you prac­tice this ap­proach in the com­ing weeks. It’s the tool that’s most likely to keep you cen­tered and free of both rigid­ity and il­lu­sion. As Sagan con­cluded, this is “how deep truths are win­nowed from deep non­sense.”

GEMINI (May 21-Jun 20): “Ex­cess on oc­ca­sion is ex­hil­a­rat­ing,” said Bri­tish au­thor W. Som­er­set Maugham. “It pre­vents mod­er­a­tion from ac­quir­ing the dead­en­ing ef­fect of a habit.” Now would be an ex­cel­lent time to take that ad­vice to heart, Gemini. Ac­cord­ing to my anal­y­sis of the as­tro­log­i­cal omens, you not only have a li­cense to en­gage in rowdy fun and ex­trav­a­gant plea­sures; it’s your sa­cred duty. So get out there and treat your­self to an orgy of naughty ad­ven­tures—or at least a cel­e­bra­tion of mean­ing­ful thrills. You can re­turn to the rig­ors of dis­ci­pline and or­der once you have har­vested the healthy ben­e­fits that will come from es­cap­ing them.

CAN­CER (Jun 21-Jul 22): At one point in Friedrich Ni­et­zsche’s book “Thus Spoke Zarathus­tra,” the hero is hav­ing a con­ver­sa­tion with him­self. “You have wanted to pet every mon­ster,” he says. “A whiff of warm breath, a lit­tle soft tuft on the paw—and at once you were ready to love and to lure it.” If I were you, Cance­rian, I would re­gard that type of be­hav­ior as for­bid­den in the com­ing weeks. In fact, I will ask you not to pet any mon­sters at all—not even the cute ones; not even the beast­ies and ras­cals and imps that have slight re­sem­blances to mon­sters. It’s time for max­i­mum dis­cern­ment and cau­tion. (P.S.: One of the mon­sters may ul­ti­mately be­come a non-mon­strous ally if you are wary to­ward it now.)

LEO (Jul 23-Aug 22): On a so­cial me­dia site, I posted the fol­low­ing quote from self-help teacher By­ron Katie: “Our job is un­con­di­tional love. The job of ev­ery­one else in our life is to push our but­tons.” One com­menter took is­sue with this. “’Push­ing but­tons’ is a metaphor that’s long past its ex­pi­ra­tion date,” she wrote. “Can’t you come up with some­thing fresher?” So I did. Here are a few po­ten­tial sub­sti­tutes for “push our but­tons”: “tweak our ma­nias”… “prank our ob­ses­sions”…”glit­ter-bomb our bi­ases”…”squeeze our pho­bias”…”bad­ger our com­pul­sions”…”se­duce our re­pres­sions”… “prick our dog­mas.” Which­ever ex­pres­sion you pre­fer, Leo, find a grace­ful way to em­brace your fate: Your cur­rent job is un­con­di­tional love. The job of ev­ery­one else in your life is to tweak your ma­nias and prick your dog­mas.

VIRGO (Aug 23-Sep 22): In the com­ing weeks, you will have max­i­mum power to re­vise and rein­vig­o­rate your ap­proach to cul­ti­vat­ing in­ti­mate re­la­tion­ships. To aid your quest, I of­fer this para­phrased ad­vice from An­drew Boyd: Al­most every one of us seeks a spe­cial part­ner who is just right. But there is no right per­son, just dif­fer­ent fla­vors of wrong. Why? Be­cause you your­self are “wrong” in some ways—you have de­mons and flaws and prob­lems. In fact, these “wrongs” are es­sen­tial com­po­nents of who you are. When you ripen into this un­der­stand­ing, you’re ready to find and be with your spe­cial coun­ter­part. He or she has the pre­cise set of prob­lems you need—is the per­son who is wrong for you in just the right ways. (See Boyd’s orig­i­nal quote:­dquote.)

LIBRA (Sep 23-Oct 22): In her book “The Win­ter Vault,” Anne Michaels says, “We be­come our­selves when things are given to us or when things are taken away.” If she’s right, does it mean we should be grate­ful for those times when things are taken away? Should we re­gard mo­ments of loss as ther­a­peu­tic prods that com­pel us to un­der­stand our­selves bet­ter and to cre­ate our­selves with a fiercer de­ter­mi­na­tion? Med­i­tate on these pos­si­bil­i­ties, Libra. In the mean­time, I’m pleased to an­nounce that the things-get­ting-taken-away pe­riod of your cy­cle is wind­ing down. Soon you’ll be­gin a new phase, when you can be­come a deeper, stronger ver­sion of your­self be­cause of the things that are given to you.

SCOR­PIO (Oct 23-Nov 21): “I’ll make love when the lust sub­sides,” sings Deni­tia, one-half of the elec­tro-pop band Deni­tia and Sene. That would be a good motto for you to play around with in the com­ing days, Scor­pio—in both lit­eral and metaphor­i­cal ways. I’ll en­joy see­ing how your emo­tional in­tel­li­gence ripens as the white-hot pas­sion of re­cent weeks evolves into a more man­age­able warmth. As fun as the in­ten­sity has been, it has blinded you to some of the pos­si­bil­i­ties for col­lab­o­ra­tive growth that have been emerg­ing. You may now be ready to ex­plore and ap­pre­ci­ate sweeter, sub­tler plea­sures.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22-Dec 21): “The po­ems I have loved the most are those I have un­der­stood the least,” said T. S. Eliot.

I’m go­ing to steal and ex­pand upon his idea for the pur­pose of giv­ing you an ac­cu­rate horoscope. In the com­ing days, Sagittarius, I sus­pect that the ex­pe­ri­ences you love most will be those that you un­der­stand the least. In­deed, the ex­pe­ri­ences you NEED the most will be those that sur­prise and mys­tify and in­trigue you. Luck­ily, life will be in­ge­nious in by­pass­ing your an­a­lyt­i­cal in­tel­li­gence so as to pro­vide you with rich emo­tional stim­uli for your soul.

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): Capricorn painter Henri Matisse made the fol­low­ing tes­ti­mony about his cre­ative process: “At each stage I reach a bal­ance, a con­clu­sion. At the next sit­ting, if I find that there is a weak­ness in the whole, I make my way back into the pic­ture by means of the weak­ness—I re-en­ter through the breach—and I recon­ceive the whole. Thus every­thing be­comes fluid again.” I rec­om­mend this ap­proach to you in the com­ing days, Capricorn. You’ve been mak­ing de­cent progress on your key project. To keep up the good work, you should now find where the cracks are, and let them teach you how to pro­ceed from here.

AQUARIUS (Jan 20-Feb 19): “We all lead three lives,” said Aus­trian nov­el­ist Thomas Bern­hard, “an ac­tual one, an imag­i­nary one, and the one we are not aware of.” I sus­pect you’ll get big glimpses of your third life in the com­ing weeks, Aquarius: the one you’re nor­mally not aware of. It might freak you out a bit, maybe un­leash a few blasts of laugh­ter and surges of tears. But if you ap­proach these rev­e­la­tions with rev­er­ent cu­rios­ity, I bet they will be cleans­ing and cat­alytic. They are also likely to make you less en­tranced by your imag­i­nary life and bet­ter grounded in your ac­tual life.

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