March 21-April 19: If you chose me as your relationship guide, I’d counsel you and your closest ally to be generous with each other; to look for the best in each other and praise each other’s beauty and strength. If you asked me to help foster your collaborative zeal, I’d encourage you to build a shrine in honor of your bond — an altar that would invoke the blessings of deities, nature spirits, and the ancestors. If you hired me to advise you on how to keep the fires burning and the juices flowing between you two, I’d urge you to never compare your relationship to any other, but rather celebrate the fact that it’s unlike any other in the history of the planet.
April 20-May 20: The Milky Way Galaxy contains more than 100 billion stars. If they were shared equally, every person on Earth could have dominion over at least 14. I mention this because you’re in a phase when it makes sense for you to claim your 14. Yes, I’m being playful, but I’m also quite serious. According to my analysis of the upcoming weeks, you will benefit from envisaging big, imaginative dreams about the riches that could be available to you in the future. How much money do you want? How much love can you express? How thoroughly at home in the world could you feel? How many warm rains would you like to dance beneath? How much creativity do you need to keep reinventing your life? Be extravagant as you fantasize.
May 21-June 20: “When I grow up, I’m not sure what I want to be.” Have you ever heard that thought bouncing around your mind, Gemini? Or how about this one: “Since I can’t decide what I want to be, I’ll just be everything.” If you have been tempted to swear allegiance to either of those perspectives, I suggest it’s time to update your relationship with them. A certain amount of ambivalence about commitment and receptivity to myriad possibilities will always be appropriate for you. But if you hope to fully claim your birthright, if you long to ripen into your authentic self, you’ll have to become ever-more definitive and specific about what you want to be and do.
June 21-July 22: As a Cancerian myself, I’ve had days when I’ve stayed in bed from morning to nightfall, confessing my fears to my imaginary friends and eating an entire cheesecake. As an astrologer, I’ve noticed that these blue patches seem more likely to occur during the weeks before my birthday each year. If you go through a similar blip any time soon, here’s what I recommend: Don’t feel guilty about it. Don’t resist it. Instead, embrace it fully. If you feel lazy and depressed, get REALLY lazy and depressed. Literally hide under the covers with your headphones on and feel sorry for yourself for as many hours as it takes to exhaust the gloom and emerge renewed.
July 23-Aug. 22: In the early days of the internet, “sticky” was a term applied to websites that were good at drawing readers back again and again. To possess this quality, a content provider had to have a knack for offering text and images that web surfers felt an instinctive yearning to bond with. I’m reanimating this term so I can use it to describe you. Even if you don’t have a website, you now have a soulful adhesiveness that arouses people’s urge to merge. Be discerning how you use this stuff. You may be stickier than you realize!
Aug. 23-Sept. 22: Ancient Mayans used chili and magnolia and vanilla to prepare exotic chocolate drinks from cacao beans. The beverage was sacred and prestigious to them. It was a centerpiece of cultural identity and an accessory in religious rituals. In some locales, people were rewarded for producing delectable chocolate with just the right kind and amount of froth. I suspect, Virgo, that you will soon be asked to do the equivalent of demonstrating your personal power by whipping up the best possible chocolate froth. And according to my reading of the astrological omens, the chances are good you’ll succeed.
Sept. 23-Oct. 22: Do you have your visa for the wild side? Have you packed your bag of tricks? I hope you’ll bring gifts to dispense, just in case you’ll need to procure favors in the outlying areas where the rules are a bit loose. It might also be a good idea to take along a skeleton key and a snake-bite kit. You won’t necessarily need them. But I suspect you’ll be offered magic cookies and secret shortcuts, and it would be a shame to have to turn them down simply because you’re unprepared for the unexpected.
Oct. 23-Nov. 21: You’re like a prince or princess who has been turned into a frog by the spell of a fairy tale villain. This situation has gone on for a while. In the early going, you retained a vivid awareness that you had been transformed. But the memory of your origins has faded, and you’re no longer working so diligently to find a way to change back into your royal form. Frankly, I’m concerned. This horoscope is meant to remind you of your mission. Don’t give up! Don’t lose hope! And take extra good care of your frog-self, please.
Nov. 22-Dec. 21: People might have ideas about you that are at odds with how you understand yourself. For example, someone might imagine that you have been talking trash about them — even though you haven’t been. Someone else may describe a memory they have about you, and you know it’s a distorted version of what actually happened. Don’t be surprised if you hear even more outlandish tales, too, like how you’re stalking Taylor Swift or conspiring with the One World Government to force all citizens to eat kale every day. I’m here to advise you to firmly reject all of these skewed projections. For the immediate future, it’s crucial to stand up for your right to define yourself — to be the final authority on what’s true about you.
Dec. 22-Jan. 19: “God doesn’t play dice with the universe,” said Albert Einstein. In response, another Nobel Prize-winning physicist, Niels Bohr, said to Einstein, “Stop giving instructions to God.” I urge you to be more like Bohr than Einstein in the coming weeks, Capricorn. As much as possible, avoid giving instructions to anyone, including God, and resist the temptation to offer advice. In fact, I recommend that you abstain from passing judgment, demanding perfection, and trying to compel the world to adapt itself to your definitions. Instead, love and accept everything and everyone exactly as they are right now.
Jan. 20-Feb. 18: Lysistrata is a satire by ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes. It takes place during the war between Athens and Sparta. The heroine convinces a contingent of women to withhold sexual privileges from the soldiers until they stop fighting. “I will wear my most seductive dresses to inflame my husband’s ardor,” says one. “But I will never yield to his desires. I won’t raise my legs towards the ceiling. I will not take up the position of the Lioness on a Cheese Grater.” Regardless of your gender, Aquarius, your next assignment is twofold: 1. Don’t be like the women in the play. Give your favors with discerning generosity. 2. Experiment with colorful approaches to pleasure like the Lioness with a Cheese Grater, the Butterfly Riding the Lizard, the Fox Romancing the River, and any others you can dream up.
Feb. 19-March 20:
Take your seasick pills. The waves will sometimes be higher than your boat. Although I don’t think you’ll capsize, the ride may be wobbly. And unless you have waterproof clothes, it’s probably best to just get naked. You WILL get drenched. By the way, don’t even fantasize about heading back to shore prematurely. You have good reasons to be sailing through the rough waters. There’s a special “fish” out there that you need to catch. If you snag it, it will feed you for months — maybe longer.