ARIES (March 21–April 19): How we react to the sound of the wind gives clues to our temperament, said philosopher Theodor W. Adorno. The unhappy person thinks of "the fragility of his house, hounding him from shallow sleep and violent dreams." But for the happy person, the wind sings "the song of his protectedness: its furious howling concedes that it has power over him no longer." I bring this up to illustrate a point about your life. There will be a strong and vivid influence coming your way that is like the wind as described by Adorno. It's neither bad nor good in itself, but may seem like one or the other depending on the state of mind you choose to cultivate.
TAURUS (April 20–May 20): In 1921, Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev—born under the sign of the Bull—premiered his opera The Love for Three Oranges in the United States. Here's how the New York Times felt about it: "There are a few, but only a very few, passages that bear recognizable kinship with what has hitherto been recognized as music." It's possible, Taurus, that you will get a similar reaction when you debut your new approach or endeavor. And that may disturb you. But I think it would be a good omen—a sign that you're taking a brave risk as you try something innovative and unfamiliar.
GEMINI (May 21–June 20): I'm passionate about doing whatever I can to make the world a better place. How boring and sad it would be if I only thought of satisfying my personal needs. But I also remember what Aldous Huxley said: "There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self." Even if you have mad skills at healing and fixing everyone whose life you touch, Gemini, Huxley's reminder is good for you to honor right now. The place that's in most pressing need of transmutation—and where you're most likely to be successful—is within you. Now here's the trick ending: To the degree that you regenerate yourself, you will improve everyone around you. Your inner work will be contagious.
CANCER (June 21–July 22): Thomas Jefferson almost pulled off a miracle in 1784. America was a young country. There were only 13 states and a few unorganized territories. As a representative to the Continental Congress, Jefferson proposed an ordinance that would have prohibited slavery in those territories, including what would later become Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama. By just one vote, alas, the provision failed to pass. Can you imagine what the United States would have been like if slavery had been partly extinguished decades before the Civil War? The moral of the story, Cancerian, is that at certain pregnant moments, small shifts can have big consequences. The astrological omens suggest your life will be proof of that in the coming weeks.
LEO (July 23–Aug 22): I believe you will crawl or scramble or glide to the top of some mountain in the next four weeks. What mountain do you want it to be? A crumbly molehill? A pile of cheap but useful gravel? A lofty peak where you can see for miles and miles? I urge you to decide soon on which of the possibilities you will choose. Then affirm your intention to call on all your resources, allies, and powers to help you make the ascent. This is a chance for serious expansion, Leo. Unleash your soulful ambitions.
VIRGO (Aug 23–Sept 22): Have you ever seen a moonbow? It's like a rainbow, but it's created by the reflected light of the moon instead of the sun. For this phenomenon to occur, the sky must be dark. The moon has to be full and setting in the west, near the horizon, and rain must be falling. So it's a rare event. All the conditions have to be just right. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, it's more likely than usual that you'll spot one of these exceptional beauties in the coming days. Your affinity for curious wonders and mysterious marvels of all kinds will be at a peak. I suspect you will have a knack for being exactly where you need to be in order to experience them.
LIBRA (Sept 23–Oct 22): Lonesome George was about 100 years old when he died last year. He was the last remaining member of a giant tortoise species that had lived on Ecuador's Pinta Island for thousands of years. But scientists say his kind is not necessarily extinct forever. They believe that by crossbreeding tortoises of other related species, they could re-create a 100 percent pure version of Lonesome George's species. I suspect, Libra, that you may be able to pull off a metaphorically comparable resurrection—especially if you initiate the effort in the coming weeks.
SCORPIO (Oct 23–Nov 21): Let's imagine ourselves near the snowy summit of Washington's Mount Rainier. We're in an unusual kind of cave. Volcanic steam rises from cracks in the rocky floor. Above us is a roof made of ice. As we stand between the heat and the chill, we find the temperature quite cozy. The extremes collaborate to produce a happy medium. Can you accomplish something in your life that's similar to what's going on in this cave? Metaphorically, I mean? I think you can.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22–Dec 21): "We cannot accept the world as it is," remarked Belgian author Hugo Claus. "Each day we should wake up foaming at the mouth from the injustice of things." I don't subscribe to the idea that each day should begin like this. On some mornings, we should rise and greet the world singing songs of praise for the great fortune of being alive. But I do think Claus's approach is precisely right on certain occasions—like now, for you Sagittarians. The time is ripe to tap into your reservoir of righteous anger. Fight to right the wrongs that disturb you the most.
CAPRICORN (Dec 22–Jan 19): "Your story begins the moment Eros enters you," says Anne Carson in her book Eros the Bittersweet. "That incursion is the biggest risk of your life. How you handle it is an index of the quality, wisdom and decorum of the things inside of you. As you handle it you come into contact with what is inside of you, in a sudden and startling way. You perceive what you are, what you lack, what you could be." I want to extend Carson's dramatic hypothesis. I'd like to propose that Eros enters you again and again in the course of your life, and your story resets each time. How will you handle it when it makes its next incursion? Get ready, because here it comes.
AQUARIUS (Jan 20–Feb 18): "I prefer by far the warmth and softness to mere brilliancy and coldness," wrote Anaïs Nin in one of her early diaries. "Some people remind me of sharp dazzling diamonds. Valuable but lifeless and loveless. Others, of the simplest field flowers, with hearts full of dew and with all the tints of celestial beauty reflected in their modest petals." I suspect that even if you normally love cold brilliancy, Aquarius, you will need an abundance of warmth and softness in the coming days. To attract the best possible embodiments of this influence, get clear about your favorite forms of it. Be picky! Don't accept sloppy sentimentality.
PISCES (Feb 19–March 20): Ludwig Wittgenstein was a genius. His last book, which influenced many different fields of thought, is regarded as one of the most important philosophy tomes of the 20th century. And yet he was a big fan of foolishness. "If people did not sometimes do silly things," he observed, "nothing intelligent would ever get done." Another time he said, "Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down into the green valleys of silliness." Here's one more of his opinions: "Don't be afraid of talking nonsense! But you must pay attention to your nonsense." I hope that's enough evidence to support my advice, Pisces, which is: Now is a good time for you to get both smarter and wiser. And a good way to do that is to play and play and play some more.
Homework: Buy or make yourself a present that encourages you to be more generous. Report results at freewillastrology.com.