CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
Most plants move upwards as they grow. Their seeds fall to the ground, are blown off by the wind, or are carried away by pollinators. But the peanut plant has a different approach to reproduction. It burrows its seeds down into the soil. They ripen underground, where they are protected and more likely to get the moisture they need to germinate. The peanut plant's approach to fertility might be a good metaphor for you Capricorns to adopt for your own use. It makes sense for you to safeguard the new possibilities you're incubating. Keep them private, maybe even secret. Don't expose them to scrutiny or criticism.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
In his poem "The Garden," Jack Gilbert says, "We are like Marco Polo who came back/ with jewels hidden in the seams of his ragged clothes." Isn't that true about you right now, Aquarius? If I were going to tell your recent history as a fairy tale, I'd highlight the contrast between your outer disorder and your inner riches. I'd also borrow another fragment from Gilbert's poem and use it to describe your current emotional state: "a sweet sadness, a tough happiness." So what comes next for you? I suggest you treat yourself to a time out. Take a break to integrate the intensity you've weathered. And retrieve the jewels you hid in the seams of your ragged clothes.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)
"All the colors I am inside have not been invented yet," wrote Shel Silverstein, in his children's book Where the Sidewalk Ends. It's especially important for you to focus on that truth in the coming weeks. I say this for two reasons. First, it's imperative that you identify and celebrate a certain unique aspect of yourself that no one else has ever fully acknowledged. If you don't start making it more conscious, it may start to wither away. Second, you need to learn how to express that unique aspect with such clarity and steadiness that no one can miss it or ignore it.
ARIES (March 21-April 19)
You will never make anything that lasts forever. Nor will I or anyone else. I suppose it's possible that human beings will still be listening to Beethoven's music or watching The Simpsons 10,000 years from today, but even that stuff will probably be gone in five billion years, when the sun expands into a red giant star. Having acknowledged that hard truth, I'm happy to announce that in the next five weeks you could begin work in earnest on a creation that will endure for a very long time. What will it be? Choose wisely!
TAURUS (April 20-May 20)
What does your soul need on a regular basis? The love and attention of some special person? The intoxication provided by a certain drink or drug? Stimulating social interaction with people you like? Music that drives you out of your mind in all the best ways? The English poet Gerard Manley Hopkins said that the rapture his soul needed more than anything else was inspiration—the "sweet fire," he called it, "the strong spur, live and lancing like the blowpipe flame." So the experience his soul craved didn't come from an outside stimulus. It was a feeling that rose up inside him. What about you, Taurus? According to my analysis of the astrological omens, your soul needs much more than usual of its special nourishment.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20)
In 1987, California condors were almost extinct. Less than 30 of the birds remained. Then the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service launched an effort to capture them all and take emergency measures to save the species. Almost 28 years later, there are more than 400 condors, half of them living in the wild. If you act now, Gemini, you could launch a comparable recovery program for a different resource that is becoming scarce in your world. Act with urgency, but also be prepared to practice patience.
CANCER (June 21-July 22)
Daniel Webster (1782-1852) was an American statesman who served in both houses of Congress. He dearly wanted to be President of the United States, but his political party never nominated him to run for that office. Here's the twist in his fate: Two different candidates who were ultimately elected President asked him to be their Vice-President, but he declined, dismissing the job as unimportant. Both those Presidents, Harrison and Taylor, died after a short time on the job. Had Webster agreed to be their Vice-President, he would have taken their place and fulfilled his dream. In the coming weeks, Cancerian, I advise you not to make a mistake comparable to Webster's.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22)
In one of his poems, Rumi writes about being alone with a wise elder. "Please," he says to the sage, "do not hold back from telling me any secrets about this universe." In the coming weeks, Leo, I suggest you make a similar request of many people, and not just those you regard as wise. You're in a phase when pretty much everyone is a potential teacher who has a valuable clue to offer you. Treat the whole world as your classroom.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
Have you been tapping into your proper share of smart love, interesting beauty, and creative mojo? Are you enjoying the succulent rewards you deserve for all the good deeds and hard work you've done in the past eight months? If not, I am very upset. In fact, I would be livid and mournful if I found out that you have not been soaking up a steady flow of useful bliss, sweet revelations, and fun surprises. Therefore, to ensure my happiness and well-being, I COMMAND you to experience these goodies in abundance.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
Libran engineer Robert Goddard was the original rocket scientist. His revolutionary theories and pioneering technologies laid the foundations for space flight. Decades before the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, he and his American team began shooting rockets aloft. Members of the press were not impressed with his unusual ideas, however. They thought he was a misinformed crank. In 1920, The New York Times sneered that he was deficient in "the knowledge ladled out daily in our high schools." Forty-nine years later, after his work had led to spectacular results, the Times issued an apology. I foresee a more satisfying progression toward vindication for you, Libra. Sometime soon, your unsung work or unheralded efforts will be recognized.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
In the plot of the TV science-fiction show Ascension, the U.S. government has conducted an elaborate covert experiment for 50 years. An outside investigator named Samantha Krueger discovers the diabolical contours of the project and decides to reveal the truth to the public. "We're going full Snowden," she tells a seemingly sympathetic conspiracy theorist. She's invoking the name of Edward Snowden, the renegade computer administrator who in the real world leaked classified information that the U.S. government wanted to keep hidden. It might be time for you to go at least mini-Snowden yourself, Scorpio—not by spilling state secrets, but rather by unmasking any surreptitious or deceptive behavior that's happening in your sphere. Bring everything out into the open—gently if possible. But do whatever it takes.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
In 1939, author Ernest Vincent Wright finished Gadsby, a 50,000-word novel. It was unlike any book ever published because the letter "e" didn't appear once in the text. Can you imagine the constraint he had to muster to accomplish such an odd feat? In accordance with the astrological omens, I invite you to summon an equally impressive expression of discipline and self-control, Sagittarius. But devote your efforts to accomplishing a more useful and interesting task, please. For example, you could excise one of your bad habits or avoid activities that waste your time or forbid yourself to indulge in fearful thoughts.
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