ARIES (March 21–April 19): In 1993, Frenchman Emile Leray was on a solo trip through the Sahara Desert. In the middle of nowhere, his car suffered a major breakdown. It was unfixable. But he didn't panic. Instead, he used a few basic tools he had on hand to dismantle the vehicle and convert its parts into a makeshift motorcycle. He was able to ride it back to civilization. I foresee the possibility of a metaphorically similar development in your future, Aries. You will get the opportunity to be very resourceful as you turn an apparent setback into a successful twist of fate.
TAURUS (April 20–May 20): Your power animal is not the soaring eagle or the shrewd wolf or the brave bear. No, Taurus, it's the rubber chicken. I'm serious. With the rubber chicken as your guardian spirit, you might be inspired to commit random acts of goofiness and surrealism. And that would reduce tension in the people around you. It could motivate you to play jokes and pull harmless pranks that influence everyone to take themselves less seriously. Are you willing to risk losing your dignity if it helps make the general mood looser and more generous? Nothing could be better for group solidarity, which is crucial these days. (Thanks, Gina Williams.)
GEMINI (May 21–June 20): In the language of the Huron Indians, "orenda" is a word that refers to the spiritual power that resides in all creatures and things. If you've got enough of it, you may be able to declare at least partial independence from your own past. You can better shape the life you want for yourself rather than being so thoroughly subject to the limitations of your karma and conditioning. I happen to believe that your current supply of orenda is unusually abundant, Gemini. What's the best use you can make of it?
CANCER (June 21–July 22): When I lived in Santa Cruz years ago, some of my published writings were illustrated by a local cartoonist named Karl Vidstrand. His work was funny, outrageous, and often offensive in the most entertaining ways. Eventually he wandered away from our colorful, creative community and moved to a small town at the edge of California's Mojave Desert, near where the space shuttles landed. He liked living at the fringes of space, he told journalist R. D. Pickle. It gave him the sense of "being out of bounds at all times." I suggest you adopt some of the Vidstrand spirit in the next three weeks, Cancerian. Being on the fringes and out of bounds are exactly where you belong.
LEO (July 23–Aug 22): The history of your pain is entering a new phase. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, an emotional ache that has been sapping your vitality will begin to diminish. You will free yourself of its power to define you. You will learn to live without its oddly seductive glamour. More and more, as the weeks go by, you will find yourself less interested in it, less attracted to the maddening mystery it has foisted on you. No later than mid-April, I'm guessing that you will be ready to conduct a ritual of completion; you'll be able to give it a formal send-off as you squeeze one last lesson out of it.
VIRGO (Aug 23–Sept 22): "When looking for a book, you may discover that you were in fact looking for the book next to it." Italian writer Roberto Calasso told that to the Paris Review, and now I'm passing it on to you. But I'd like you to expand upon its meaning and regard it as a metaphor that applies to your whole life right now. Every time you go searching for a specific something—a learning experience, an invigorating pleasure, a helpful influence—consider the possibility that what you really want and need is a different one that's nearby.
LIBRA (Sept 23–Oct 22): At least once a day, a cell in your body mutates in a way that makes it potentially cancerous. Just as often, your immune system hunts down that dangerous cell and kills it, preserving your health. Do you understand how amazing this is? You have a vigilant protector that's always on duty, operating below the level of your awareness. What if I told you that this physical aspect of your organism has an equivalent psychic component? What if, in other words, you have within you a higher intelligence whose function it is to steer you away from useless trouble and dumb risks? I say there is such a thing. I say this other protector works best if you maintain a conscious relationship with it, asking it to guide you and instruct you. The coming weeks will be an excellent time to deepen your connection.
SCORPIO (Oct 23–Nov 21): Some rules in the game of life don't apply to you and can therefore be safely ignored. Do you know which ones they are? On the other hand, do you understand which of the rules in the game of life are crucial to observe if you want to translate your fondest dreams into real experiences? To recognize the difference is a high art. I'm thinking that now would be an excellent time to solidify your mastery of this distinction. I suggest that you formally renounce your investment in the irrelevant rules and polish your skills at playing by the applicable rules.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22–Dec 21): "Don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter," wrote the Persian mystic poet Rumi. "It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous." I think you're like that winter garden right now, Sagittarius. Outwardly, there's not much heat and flash. Bright ideas and strong opinions are not pouring out of you at their usual rates. You're not even prone to talking too loud or accidentally knocking things over. This may in fact be as close as you can get to being a wallflower. And yet deep beneath the surface, out of sight from casual observers, you are charging up your psychic battery. The action down there is vibrant and vigorous.
CAPRICORN (Dec 22–Jan 19): "When you come right down to it," says religion writer Rabbi Marc Gellman, "there are only four basic prayers. Gimme! Thanks! Oops! and Wow!" Personally, I would add a fifth type of prayer to Gellman's list: "Do you need any assistance?" The Creator always needs collaborators to help implement the gritty details of the latest divine schemes. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, you would be an excellent choice to volunteer for that role right now—especially in tasks that involve blending beautiful fragments, healing sad schisms, furthering peace negotiations, and overcoming seemingly irreconcilable differences.
AQUARIUS (Jan 20–Feb 18): In the movie Fight Club, there is an animated scene at the very end that required an inordinate amount of time to produce. Each frame in this scene took the editors eight hours to process. Since there are 24 frames in each second, their work went on for three weeks. That's the kind of attention to detail I recommend you summon as you devote yourself to your labor of love in the coming days, Aquarius. I think you know which specific parts of your creation need such intense focus.
PISCES (Feb 19–March 20): "I have decided to rename the constellations that have domineered our skies too long," writes an internet denizen named Hasheeshee St. Frank. He gives only one example. The Big Dipper, he says, shall forevermore be known as the Star-Spangled Gas Can. I invite you to come up with additional substitutes, Pisces. It's an excellent time for you to reshape and redefine the high and mighty things to which you have given away too much of your power. It's a perfect moment to reconfigure your relationship with impersonal, overarching forces that have wielded a disproportionately large influence over your thoughts and feelings. How about if you call the constellation Orion by the new title of Three-Eyed Orangutan? Or instead of Pegasus, use the name Sexy Dolphin? Other ideas?
Homework: What would the people who love you best say is the most important thing for you to learn? Testify at freewillastrology.com.