Free Will Astrol­ogy

Eval­u­ate fairly, Sagittariu­s, says ROB BREZSNY



(Apr 20-May 20) I in­vite you to ex­plore the fron­tiers of what’s possible for you to ex­pe­ri­ence and ac­com­plish. One exercise that might help: Visualize spe­cific fu­ture ad­ven­tures that ex­cite you. Ex­am­ples? Pic­ture your­self para­sail­ing over the Mediterran­ean Sea near Barcelona, or work­ing to help en­dan­gered sea tur­tles in Costa Rica or giv­ing a speech to a crowded au­di­to­rium on a sub­ject you will some­day be an ex­pert in. The more spe­cific your fan­tasies, the bet­ter. Your home­work is to gen­er­ate at least five of these vi­sions. This week’s birth­days: Ross Burns, Lulu Healy, Martha Irv­ing, Iain K. Ma­cLeod, David Moore, Matt Se­man­sky, Jac­que­line War­wick

[email protected]­ Gemini

(May 21-Jun 20) “We must choose be­tween the pain of hav­ing to tran­scend op­pres­sive cir­cum­stances, or the pain of perpetual un­ful­fill­ment within those op­pres­sive cir­cum­stances,” writes mental health strate­gist Paul John Moscatello. We must opt for “the pain of growth or the pain of de­cay,” he con­tin­ues. We must ei­ther “em­brace the tribu­la­tions of re­al­iz­ing our po­ten­tial, or con­sent to the slow suicide in com­pla­cency.” That’s a bit melo­dra­matic, in my opin­ion. Most of us do both; we may be suc­cess­ful for awhile in tran­scend­ing op­pres­sive cir­cum­stances, but then tem­po­rar­ily lapse back into the pain of un­ful­fill­ment. How­ever, there are times when it makes sense to think melo­dra­mat­i­cally. And I be­lieve now is one of those times for you. In the com­ing weeks, I hope you will set in motion plans to tran­scend at least 30 per­cent of your op­pres­sive cir­cum­stances. Cancer

(Jun 21-Jul 22) You Cance­ri­ans can benefit from al­ways hav­ing a fertility sym­bol some­where in your en­vi­ron­ment: An icon or image that re­minds you to con­tin­u­ally refresh your re­la­tion­ship with your own abun­dant cre­ativ­ity; an in­spir­ing tal­is­man or toy that keeps you alert to the key role your fe­cund imag­i­na­tion can and should play in nour­ish­ing your quest to live a mean­ing­ful life; a provoca­tive work of art that spurs you to al­ways ask for more help and guid­ance from the pri­mal source code that drives you to rein­vent your­self. So if you don’t have such a fertility sym­bol, I in­vite you to get one. If you do, en­hance it with a new ac­ces­sory. Leo

(Jul 23-Aug 22) In my horo­scopes, I often speak to you about your per­sonal strug­gle for lib­er­a­tion and your ef­forts to ex­press your soul’s code with ever-more in­ge­nu­ity and com­plete­ness. It’s less com­mon that I ad­dress your sa­cred obli­ga­tion to give back to life for all that life has given to you. I only in­fre­quently dis­cuss how you might en­gage in ac­tiv­i­ties to help your com­mu­nity or work for the benefit of those less for­tu­nate than you. But now is one of those times when I feel moved to speak of these mat­ters. You are in a phase of your astrologic­al cy­cle when it’s cru­cial to per­form spe­cific work in be­half of a greater good. Why cru­cial? Be­cause your per­sonal well-be­ing in the im­me­di­ate fu­ture de­pends in part on your ef­forts to in­ten­sify your prac­ti­cal com­pas­sion. Virgo

(Aug 23-Sep 22) “We are whiplashed be­tween an ar­ro­gant over­es­ti­ma­tion of our­selves and a servile un­der­es­ti­ma­tion of our­selves,” writes ed­u­ca­tor Parker Palmer. That’s the bad news, Virgo. The good news is that you are in prime po­si­tion to es­cape from the whiplash. Cos­mic forces are con­spir­ing with your eter­nal soul to co­a­lesce a well-bal­anced vi­sion of your true value that’s free of both vain mis­ap­pre­hen­sions and self-dep­re­cat­ing delu­sions. Con­grats! You’re em­pow­ered to un­der­stand your­self with a ten­der ob­jec­tiv­ity that could at least par­tially heal lin­ger­ing wounds. See your­self truly! Libra

(Sep 23-Oct 22) The coun­try of Poland awards medals to cou­ples that have stayed mar­ried for 50 years. It also gives out medals to mem­bers of the armed forces who have served for at least 30 years. But the mar­riage medal is of higher rank, and is more pres­ti­gious. In that spirit, I’d love for you to get a shiny badge or prize to ac­knowl­edge your de­voted commitment to a sa­cred task—whether that commitment is to an in­ti­mate al­liance, a no­ble quest or a prom­ise to your­self. It’s time to re­ward your­self for how hard you’ve worked and how much you’ve given. Scor­pio

(Oct 23-Nov 21) Scor­pio poet Sylvia Plath wrote, “I ad­mit I de­sire, / Oc­ca­sion­ally, some back­talk / From the mute sky.” You’ll be wise to bor­row the spirit of that mis­chievous dec­la­ra­tion. Now is a good time to so­licit in­put from the sky, as well as from your al­lies and friends and favourite an­i­mals, and from ev­ery other source that might pro­vide you with in­ter­est­ing feed­back. I in­vite you to re­gard the whole world as your mir­ror, your coun­sel­lor, your in­for­mant. Sagittariu­s

(Nov 22-Dec 21) In Jan­uary 1493, the no­to­ri­ous pi­rate and kid­nap­per Christophe­r Colum­bus was sail­ing his ship near the land we now call the Do­mini­can Repub­lic. He spot­ted three crea­tures he as­sumed were mer­maids. Later he wrote in his log that they were “not half as beau­ti­ful as they are painted [by artists].” We know now that the “mer­maids” were ac­tu­ally man­a­tees, aquatic mam­mals with flip­pers and pad­dle-shaped tails. They are in fact quite beau­ti­ful in their own way, and would only be judged as homely by a per­son com­par­ing them to myth­i­cal en­chantresse­s. I trust you won’t make a sim­i­lar mis­take, Sagittariu­s. Eval­u­ate ev­ery­thing and ev­ery­one on their own merits, with­out com­par­ing them to something they’re not. Capricorn

(Dec 22-Jan 19) “I want what we all want,” writes nov­el­ist Jonathan Lethem. “To move cer­tain parts of the in­te­rior of my­self into the ex­te­rior world, to see if they can be em­braced.” Even if you haven’t pas­sion­ately wanted that lately, Capricorn, I’m guess­ing you will soon. That’s a good thing, be­cause life will be con­spir­ing with you to ac­com­plish it. Your abil­ity to ex­press your­self in ways that are mean­ing­ful to you and in­ter­est­ing to other peo­ple will be at a peak. Aquarius

(Jan 20-Feb 18) Us­ing al­go­rithms to an­a­lyze 300 mil­lion facts, a Bri­tish sci­en­tist con­cluded that April 11, 1954 was the most bor­ing day in his­tory. A Turk­ish man who would later be­come a note­wor­thy en­gi­neer was born that day, and Belgium staged a na­tional elec­tion. But that’s all. With this non-event­ful day as your in­spi­ra­tion, I en­cour­age you to have fun rem­i­nisc­ing about the most bor­ing times in your own past. I think you need a prolonged respite from the stim­u­lat­ing frenzy of your daily rhythm. It’s time to rest and re­lax in the sweet lux­ury of noth­ing­ness and empti­ness. Pisces

(Feb 19-Mar 20) “The Blue Room” is a fa­mous Pi­casso paint­ing from 1901. Sat­u­rated with blue hues, it de­picts a naked woman tak­ing a bath. More than a cen­tury af­ter its cre­ation, sci­en­tists used X-rays to dis­cover that there was an ear­lier paint­ing be­neath “The Blue Room” and ob­scured by it. It shows a man leaning his head against his right hand. Pis­cean poet Jane Hir­sh­field says that there are some peo­ple who are “like a paint­ing hid­den be­neath an­other paint­ing.” More of you Pis­ceans fit that de­scrip­tion than any other sign of the zo­diac. You may even be like a paint­ing be­neath a paint­ing be­neath a paint­ing—to a depth of five or more paint­ings. Is that a prob­lem? Not nec­es­sar­ily. But it is im­por­tant to be fully aware of the ex­is­tence of all the lay­ers. Now is a good time to have a check-in. Aries

(Mar 21-Apr 19) “How prompt we are to sat­isfy the hunger and thirst of our bod­ies,” wrote Henry David Thoreau. “How slow to sat­isfy the hunger and thirst of our souls!” Your first as­sign­ment in the com­ing days, Aries, is to de­vote your­self to quench­ing the hunger and thirst of your soul with the same relentless pas­sion that you nor­mally spend on giv­ing your body the food and drink it craves. This could be chal­leng­ing. You may be less knowl­edge­able about what your soul thrives on than what your body loves. So your sec­ond as­sign­ment is to do ex­ten­sive re­search to de­ter­mine what your soul needs to thrive.

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