Weekly H'scopes
FREE WILL ASTROLOGY
Week beginning March 19
Copyright 2009 by Rob Brezsny
http://FreeWillAstrology.com
Grammar key: Asterisks equal *italics*
ARIES (March 21-April 19): The 1906 earthquake that hit San Francisco
also demolished downtown Santa Rosa, about 50 miles to the north.
During the rebuilding process, Frank Doyle, a local businessman who
referred to himself as a "champion of the future," pushed a radical
agenda. "When we construct our new downtown thoroughfare," he said,
"let's make it wider than it has been in the past. That way it will
accommodate the promising technological innovation called the
automobile." Draw inspiration from Doyle's prescience, Aries. As you
regenerate and rejuvenate your world, do the equivalent of creating wider
roads. Be a champion of the future. [Thanks to Daniel Osmer's piece in
the Fall 2008 issue of *Lilipoh* magazine for the info.]
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Among medieval alchemists, there were some
who tried to make a fortune by literally converting lead into gold. But the
authentic practitioners of the art were interested in a subtler kind of
experimentation: ripening and beautifying the shadowy aspects of their
own psyches. That explains their motto: "For a tree's branches to reach
to heaven, its roots must reach to hell." Among other things, that means
you have to dig deep and work hard on redeeming your less flattering
qualities in order to earn the right to exalted states of consciousness and
spiritual powers. The coming weeks will be an excellent time for you to
carry out this alchemy.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Entomologist Justin O. Schmidt drew up an
index to categorize the discomfort caused by stinging insects. The attack
of the bald-faced hornet is "rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to
getting your hand mashed in a revolving door." A paper wasp delivers pain
that's "caustic and burning," with a "distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like
spilling a beaker of hydrochloric acid on a paper cut." The sweat bee, on
the other hand, can hurt you in a way that's "light, ephemeral, almost
fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm." In bringing this
to your attention, Gemini, I hope to inspire the rebel in you. Your
homework is to create an equally nuanced and precise index of
experiences that feel good. According to my reading of the astrological
omens, you will be able to call on tremendous reserves of intelligence as
you identify the numerous modes of pleasure that are available to you,
and define them in exquisite detail.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): A famous Youtube video shows a small crab
perched on top of a giant jellyfish that's swimming in the ocean. (It's
here: tinyurl.com/6ulpoe.) Apparently this is a common phenomenon. The
species known as the graceful rock crab not only grabs free rides on
jellyfish, but also steals food from them as it does. This creature is your
role model, Cancerian. See if you can develop a safe and symbiotic
relationship (perhaps temporarily) with a big stinging blob. At the very
least, wangle some benefit out of a clueless behemoth.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): "One of the healthiest ways to gamble is with a
spade and a package of garden seeds," says comedian_Dan Bennett. Your
assignment, Leo, is to come up with three other smart risks you could
profit from taking. You're entering a phase of your astrological cycle when
you'll be rewarded by leaving your comfort zone and heading toward the
frontier -- but only if you're fully armed with crafty discernment and a
realistic (not cynical) understanding of how the world really works. Please
stay away from rash dares, unresearched shots in the dark, and crazy
plunges rooted in blind faith.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Years ago a Polish scientist toiling in
Antarctica was consumed with longing for a woman he'd left behind in his
home country. Spilling over with the desire to express his adoration, he
gathered a mass of penguin dung and used it to spell out a large "M" on
the frigid ground. It was the first letter of his girlfriend's name, Magda. To
this day, two species of flowering plants have thrived in that M-shaped
area, fed by the fertilizing power of the dung. Your assignment in the
coming week, Virgo, is to create something equally enduring and unique
for someone you care for deeply.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): If you find yourself driving on a major highway
anytime soon, there's a better-than-usual chance that you'll come upon a
place where a truck has accidentally spilled a few tons of french fries or
thousands of bottles of beer or a huge load of sex toys. Why do I say
this? Because according to my analysis of the astrological omens, you will
be exposed to an abundance of some resource that is too much to use all
at once or is not really yours to take or is not exactly what you need. A
highway spill is just one form this could take. What should you do? Don't
get distracted by frustration or confusion. Instead, use it as a provocative
motivation to go get the precise stuff you need in the right amount.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): After extensive analysis, I've concluded that
you won't serve any time in hell for the shock therapy you'll unleash this
week -- with one caveat: The shock therapy must be motivated primarily
by love, not a lust for power. My research also suggests that in dropping
your bombshells you may even rack up some karmic credit, not karmic
debt -- *if* the things you destroy are truly beyond repair and certain to
keep causing pain, and *if* you institute a plan for building a shiny new
creation to replace what's lost.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): "Though the seas threaten, they are
merciful," says Ferdinand, a character in Shakespeare's play *The
Tempest.* "I have cursed them without cause." Please consider the
possibility that you could honestly make a similar declaration about some
influence in your world. What's wild but mostly beneficent? What's primal
in a way that draws you back to your deepest sources and reminds you
what's really important?
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Study the following terms: refuge,
sanctuary, bunker, asylum, fortress, haven, shelter, safety zone, storm
cellar, hideaway, retreat, halfway house, cloister, cell, ashram, clubhouse,
lair, foxhole, nest, pit, inner sanctum. Now use some of those words to
formulate descriptions of actions you'll take to enhance both your
freedom and security. Example: "When I'm longing for privacy and
renewal, I'll retreat to a haven, not a bunker." Another example: "If I need
to seek refuge from the unnameable insanity around me, I'll make a
pilgrimage to a sanctuary, not to a foxhole."
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): No one really knows when the Piscean Age
ends and the Aquarian Age begins. Astrologers have been arguing about
the issue for years. But here's what to watch for: When the transition
gets underway, fewer and fewer people will be invested in belief systems,
and an ever-growing contingent will thrive on asking questions and
keeping an open mind. For those of us in the latter category -- the
Aquarian Agers -- we will prize the virtues of curiosity. We will avoid being
addicted to dogmatic theories and rigid certainties, knowing that they
tend to shut down our fluid intelligence. We will get a kick out of shedding
our own emotional biases so that we can strive to be more objective in
our understanding of the ever-evolving truth. I mention this, Aquarius,
because it is an excellent time for you to charge headlong toward the
Aquarian Age.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Some of the best-selling Japanese novels in
recent years have been composed by young authors entirely on their cell
phones. The small screens encourage narratives that are animated by
terse rhythms. Flowery descriptions are rare and character development
happens fast. I believe that in the coming weeks you will have a capacity
akin to the cell-phone storytellers, Pisces. You'll be able to compress
complex material into simpler forms; you'll have a knack for being very
creative as you cut away frills and strip things down to their basics.