ARIES (March 21–April 19): "You know it's Saturday when you are wiping off vodka stains from your face with a marshmallow," testifies the woman who writes the Tumblr blog French Fries Absinthe Milkshakes. I really hope you don't even come close to having an experience like that this week, Aries. But I'm worried that you will. I sense that you're becoming allergic to caution. You may be subconsciously wishing to shed all decorum and renounce self-control. To be clear, there's nothing inherently wrong with relaxing your guard. I hope you will indeed give up some of your high-stress vigilance and surrender a bit to life's sweet chaos. Just please try to find a playful and safe and not-too-insane way to do so.
TAURUS (April 20–May 20): What is the single best thing you could do to fulfill your number one desire? Is there a skill you should attain? A subject you should study? A special kind of experience you should seek or a shift in perspective you should initiate? This is a big opportunity, Taurus. You have an excellent chance to identify the specific action you could take that will lead you to the next stage of your evolution. And if you do manage to figure out exactly what needs to be done, start doing it!
GEMINI (May 21–June 20): When songwriters make a "slant rhyme," the words they use don't really rhyme, but they sound close enough alike to mimic a rhyme. An example occurs in "The Bad Touch," a tune by the Bloodhound Gang: "You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals/So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel." Technically, "mammals" doesn't rhyme with "channel." I suspect that in the coming week you will have experiences with metaphorical resemblances to slant rhymes. But as long as you don't fuss and fret about the inexactness you encounter, as long as you don't demand that everything be precise and cleaned-up, you will be entertained and educated. Vow to see the so-called imperfections as soulful.
CANCER (June 21–July 22): "Almost," writes novelist Joan Bauer. "It's a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe." I'm sure you know about that feeing yourself, Cancerian. Sometimes it has seemed like your entire life is composed of thousands of small almosts that add up to one gigantic almost. But I have good news: There is an excellent chance that in the next 14 to 16 weeks you will graduate from the endless and omnipresent almost; you will rise up and snatch a bold measure of completeness from out of the ever-shifting flow. And it all kicks into high gear now.
LEO (July 23–Aug 22): One of the chapter titles in my most recent book is "Ever since I learned to see three sides to every story, I'm finding much better stories." I'm recommending that you find a way to use this perspective as your own in the coming weeks, Leo. According to my analysis of the astrological omens, it's crucial that you not get stuck in an oppositional mode. It would be both wrong and debilitating to believe that you must choose between one of two conflicting options. With that in mind, I will introduce you to a word you may not know: "trilemma." It transcends a mere dilemma because it contains a third alternative.
VIRGO (Aug 23–Sept 22): In 1984, Don Henley's song "The Boys of Summer" reached the top of the Billboard charts. "Out on the road today/I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac," Henley sings wistfully near the end of the tune. He's dismayed by the sight of the Grateful Dead's logo, an ultimate hippie symbol, displayed on a luxury car driven by snooty rich kids. Almost 20 years later, the band the Ataris covered "The Boys of Summer," but changed the lyric to "Out on the road today/I saw a Black Flag sticker on a Cadillac." It conveyed the same mournful contempt, but this time invoking the iconic punk band Black Flag. I offer this tale to you, Virgo, as an encouragement to update the way you think about your life's mythic quest ... to modernize your old story lines... to refresh and refurbish the references you invoke to tell people about who you are.
LIBRA (Sept 23–Oct 22): Food aficionado Michael Pollan says that Americans "worry more about food and derive less pleasure from eating" than people in other countries. If you ask them what their association is with "chocolate cake," they typically say "guilt." By contrast, the French are likely to respond to the same question with "celebration." From an astrological perspective, I think it's appropriate for you to be more like the French than the Americans in the coming weeks—not just in your attitude toward delicious desserts, but in regards to every opportunity for pleasure. This is one of those times when you have a license to guiltlessly explore the heights and depths of bliss.
SCORPIO (Oct 23–Nov 21): In the Inuktitut language spoken among the Eastern Canadian Inuit, the word for "simplicity" is katujjiqatigiittiarnirlu. This amusing fact reminds me of a certain situation in your life. Your quest to get back to basics and reconnect with your core sources is turning out to be rather complicated. If you hope to invoke all of the pure, humble clarity you need, you will have to call on some sophisticated and ingenious magic.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22–Dec 21): "What is the purpose of the giant sequoia tree?" asked environmentalist Edward Abbey. His answer: "The purpose of the giant sequoia tree is to provide shade for the tiny titmouse." I suggest you meditate on all the ways you can apply that wisdom as a metaphor to your own issues. For example: What monumental part of your own life might be of service to a small, fragile part? What major accomplishment of yours can provide strength and protection to a ripening potential that's underappreciated by others?
CAPRICORN (Dec 22–Jan 19): "To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves," wrote the poet Federico García Lorca. I urge you to make sure you are not inflicting that abuse on yourself in the coming weeks, Capricorn. It's always dangerous to be out of touch with or secretive about your holy passions, but it's especially risky these days. I'm not necessarily saying you should rent a megaphone and shout news of your yearnings in the crowded streets. In fact, it's better if you are discriminating about whom you tell. The most important thing is to not be hiding anything from yourself about what moves you the most.
AQUARIUS (Jan 20–Feb 18): Back in 2002, three young men launched YouTube, in part motivated by a banal desire. They were frustrated because they couldn't find online videos of the notorious incident that occurred during the Super Bowl halftime show, when Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction exposed her breast. In response, they created the now-famous website that allows people to share videos. I foresee the possibility of a comparable sequence for you, Aquarius. A seemingly superficial wish or trivial interest could inspire you to come up with a fine new addition to your world. Pay attention to your whimsical notions.
PISCES (Feb 19–March 20): "I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil." That's what 20th-century author Truman Capote said about his own writing process. Back in that primitive pre-computer era, he scrawled his words on paper with a pencil and later edited out the extraneous stuff by applying scissors to the manuscript. Judging from your current astrological omens, Pisces, I surmise you're in a phase that needs the power of the scissors more than the power of the pencil. What you cut away will markedly enhance the long-term beauty and value of the creation you're working on.
Homework: I've gathered together all of your long-range, big-picture horoscopes in one place. Go here to read your forecasts for 2014: http://bit.ly/BigLife2014.