Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
Turn up the volume. You’re doing really well, Virgo, at expressing your wants and needs explicitly and articulately. You’re just not doing it loudly or aggressively enough. Communicating with perfect lucidity is useless if you’re so quiet that the people who need to hear what you’re saying simply can’t. They’re mostly so eager to please that they end up guessing—and guessing wrong, which leads to all sorts of other complicated wrinkles and annoyances. Avoid having to balance those good intentions against your disappointment: Grab a megaphone and start yelling. It might feel unnatural to hurl your wishes into the air with all the force your lungs can muster, but you’ll get over it when each and every one comes true.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
It’s scapegoat season again, and you’re miles from any haven where hunting is off-limits. Your world’s shifty right now; even the alibis you use to evade taking the fall may turn on you, if you’re not careful. It could be frustrating to take a smack across the head for a sin you didn’t commit, but resist the temptation to deflect that attention by pointing your own ray gun of culpability. At least you know you’re innocent (even if no one else believes it). Blaming someone else (especially when you’re not sure they’re guilty) would erase that innocence, and only make you deserve the punishments you’re getting.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
You’ve been chained up way too much, and taking your normally motivational self-flagellation to unhealthy extremes. Ease up. Unlock at least half the encumbrances grounding/restraining you, and let a few things slide for a while. Pretend you’re delicate and fragile, like a freshly cut flower. You need to be lovingly trimmed, nourished, and enjoyed, not worked out and worked over. You can go back to your robust high-speed, high-efficiency employment and amusement next week when they won’t leave you drooping and half-dead with wilt and exhaustion.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
My favorite architect and artist, Sagittarian Friedrich Hundertwasser, once said, “The straight line is godless and immoral; the uncritical use of straight lines has reduced our cities to concrete deserts.” I urge you to consider this message in the coming weeks, when the straight line, although it may be the shortest distance between two places you want to be, is almost certainly the worst path you could take, killing a bunch of the chaotic life flourishing in your mental terrain. Instead, when considering your destinations, please imagine the most complicated, spiritually nourishing route, with no regard for efficiency—that’s the one you want to take to not only get where you’re going, but get there enriched, instead of sterilized.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
You need to be cuffed and spanked. Or maybe you need to cuff and spank someone else. The astrological omens aren’t very clear about who deserves this punishment, which could be humiliating, sexy, hilarious—or all of the above—for everyone involved. Whether you’re the distributor of discipline this week, or the castigation catcher, I’m sure you’ll have fun (and happily review a couple half-forgotten lessons). Just don’t make a habit of this. As exciting and interesting as it can be to tear down useless walls (in your soul or somebody else’s), it’s more important that you save your strength and time for the impressive construction work of the coming months: structures dotting your shared inner landscape that are more massive and cooperative (and beautiful) than anything you’ve ever attempted before.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
This week I’d like you to concentrate on overcoming the misery of gadgetry. You’re too much under the influence of some of the technology that surrounds you, and you end up feeling—rationally or irrationally—that you’re its servant, and not the other way around. Revolt against your cellphone, television, or Internet addiction. Reduce their behemoth proportions to more reasonable priority levels. Your first week off high-dosage tech might be rough, but by week three, you’ll be happier and more engaged with the world than you have been in a year.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)
You might as well throw in the towel this week, because all your ventures will probably fall flat. If you succeed right now, it’ll most likely be by accident, not by trying as hard as you can. Don’t abandon your loftiest ambitions, just put them on hold for a week or two. They’ll still be there later, when the inhibitive astrological influences don’t have you pinned to a board. I’d rather you tackle them fresh at that time, rather than flailing ineffectually at them for weeks, amidst mounting frustration. Instead of aiming high, just concentrate on the little shit, enjoying life’s daily pleasures: Take lots of showers, stay cool, eat delicious food, listen to good music, play with the dog. When it’s fruitful to go back to conquering the world again, I’ll let you know.
Aries (March 21-April 19)
Since you’re not currently in their grips, this is a good week to take an objective, practical look at your fears. List them in order of potency, not conquerability—the latter is irrelevant just now, because there’s actually no wall you can’t topple. Then line them up against a brick wall and shoot them dead. Sadly, this week doesn’t herald an end to all fear (like you yourself, some of them have more than nine lives, and will return in a new form), but you should be able to utterly kill (and be rid of forever) at least two or three.
Taurus (April 20-May 20)
Your naturally iron stomach may protect you from mild food poisoning, but that’s no reason to purposely ingest anything even slightly toxic. Sure, go ahead and exercise your digestive advantage if you have a good reason, like: It’d be fun to go on a bender with your college buds, impress a chick with your pufferfish ingestion, or kill that parasite you picked up in Zimbabwe. But I’m guessing that none of the reasons you’re given (or can think up) are even half as good as the ones I mentioned, so by all means, don’t be stupid. If you see something (or someone) toxic, stay away.
Gemini (May 21-June 20)
Your life is rife with deficiencies. I’m not talking parts of your personality; we both know you’re pretty much one of the most chill, well-adjusted people out there. I’m talking about what you’re taking in—and what you’re not. There’s a certain element, as essential as Vitamin C, that’s just plain missing from your life. You know what I’m talking about. You’d better find a way to supplement your spiritual diet with some form of what’s absent, or you may come down with a bad case of soul scurvy. Hint: You already know a perfect (and willing) source of your malnourishment’s remedy. It’s only a phone call or email away.
Cancer (June 21-July 22)
Hard and fast rules of morality won’t serve you well. Sometimes, albeit rarely, violence, assholism, theft, or deceit is justified. I’m not presenting an ends vs. means argument here. I’m simply pointing out that occasionally one of those extremes represents the lesser of evils. I’m discouraging the infamous Cancer Cling on all fronts, but this week most of all I wish you’d resist rigidity regarding your principles. If you can’t think outside the arbitrary ethical boxes you’ve drawn, you won’t be able to deal when, like right now, all your viable options lie outside of them.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)
Take off your blinders. It’s simply time to stop fooling yourself. You can’t blame the deception you’re suffering from on anybody else; you’re not naïve enough for anyone to pull wool this thick over your eyes. The only person who could maintain this unbelievable charade is you. The problem: a war between your gut and your desire. You want something to be true, or real, while deep down you know it’s not. It’s hard to admit to yourself the truth of the situation because it’s anathema to your hopes (which are slightly unrealistic, but only for the moment). You’ll never give yourself a chance to actually find a situation that fits your wishes—until you see the current one for what it is, and extricate yourself from it.
To contact Caeriel send mail to sign.language.astrology@gmail.com.
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