FREE WILL ASTROLOGY: Wednesday, November 21, 2002
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
Astrology

ARIES (March 21-April 19): Chaos is often good to avoid. But not now, Aries. You’re in a phase when diving into uncertainty would be fertile and invigorating. Perhaps you could pluck some inspiration from Discordianism, which takes account of Ralph Abraham’s assertion that heart physiologists find more chaos in healthy hearts than sick ones. A sampling of its tenets: Everyone is a saint, especially you. When you’re stuck in a rut, you must speak in tongues, handle snakes, and experience phantasmagoria. Your guardian angel loves you better when your room is a mess. Bowling alleys are sacred; you must protect them from desecration. And, finally, the goddess will solve all your problems if you solve all hers.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Of all the signs in the zodiac, you’re most likely to fight fairly, Taurus. You’re not prone to sneak attacks, deceptive propaganda, or manipulation of innocent bystanders. I love all this about you. And yet, to be true to the astrological omens, I must make the following suggestion: In the coming weeks, use more guile than usual. Figure out how you can employ guerrilla tactics and the element of surprise without diluting your integrity.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Your first rule this week is to push with all your might to ensure the arrival of ease and grace. Your second rule is to act as if the only way you can possibly get what you want is to pretend you don’t want it. Third, be aggressively sensitive and receptive. Fourth, carry out the most macho form of surrender you can imagine. Fifth, be so uninterested in what people think of you that you impress them with your authenticity.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): St. Rose of Lima (1586-1617) was so determined not to be led into sin by her pretty face that she disfigured it with lye and pepper. Though you’ve never gone that far, Cancerian, you, too, have hidden or wounded your own beauty. You, too, have been afraid to reveal the raw majesty of your real self. Please stop doing that. Reject the pathological notion that undervaluing yourself can serve any good. To seal your commitment, I urge you to make Rose of Lima your anti-patron saint.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): What metaphor shall we choose to refer to the role you’ve played so skillfully in recent weeks, Leo? Archaeologist of the abyss? Plumber in the undertow? Scavenger of the scrap heap of history? I love the brazen resourcefulness you’ve summoned in cleaning out the gunk that was clogging up your depths. In any case, it’s now time to crawl up out of the muck and onto center stage. You’re primed to start blinding us all with your light again.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): After writing more than 30 stories about Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle got tired of him. In 1893, the English author killed off his well-loved character, sending him plunging off Reichenbach Falls during a struggle with archenemy Professor Moriarty. Readers were unhappy, though, and nine years later Conan Doyle felt compelled to revive Holmes for another long run. I nominate this writer to be your role model for the next few weeks, Virgo. You, too, will find good reasons to resurrect an influence from the past or bring an old character back into your life.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Are you ready to intensify your pursuit of higher edge-ucation, Libra? We’re not talking about studying life from a safe distance. You need to get more of the edgy kind of know-how that’s only possible to scare up while immersed in the heat of the action. That doesn’t necessarily mean you should hang out in a crack house or travel to a war zone. Choose a milieu that excites your spontaneous curiosity, and put yourself in the midst of its daily flow. Treat it as a laboratory that will be a rich source of experimental data.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): When an old tree in the rain forest dies and topples over, it takes a long time to decompose. As it does, it becomes host to new saplings that use the decaying log for nourishment. Think, Scorpio, about sitting in the forest gazing upon this scene. How would you describe it? Would you dwell in grisly detail on the putrefaction while ignoring the fresh life sprouting out of it? If you did, you’d be imitating the spirit of modern journalists. Or, instead, would you be a balanced witness, reporting on the decay and growth with equal emphasis? In the weeks to come, please be the latter. (Thanks to Ien in the Kootenay Mountains of British Columbia for inspiring this horoscope.)

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): At the amusement park I went to last summer, there was a booth where you could get a trick photograph of yourself lodged in the jaws of a shark. I suggest you have an image like this made now, Sagittarius, as a symbol of the past you’re escaping. Next, create a symbol of your future in the form of a second collage. For this one, paste your face on the body of a person holding a fishing pole and standing on a dock adjacent to a shark hanging upside-down from a hook.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): You know how it’s possible to “push” plants into bloom by cultivating them in a greenhouse? I propose, Capricorn, that you find a comparable way to compel your growing anxieties to mature rapidly. That way, instead of torturing you with a slow proliferation of half-conscious apprehensions for the next four weeks, they’ll ripen overnight into their full-blown state. You’ll be able to have a climactic showdown with them by the end of this week and then move on to more enjoyable explorations. Schedule your worrygasm — the orgasmic culmination of your worries — for no later than Nov. 27.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): “Why is it so hard to find a soulmate?” asks psychologist Carolyn Godschild Miller in her book Soulmates: Following Inner Guidance to the Relationship of Your Dreams. Her answer: “Because most of us are actually searching for egomates instead. We place the most limited and unloving aspect of our minds in charge of our search for love, and then wonder why we [fail]. ... To the degree that we identify with this false sense of self, and operate on the basis of its limited point of view, we aren’t looking for someone to love so much as recruiting fellow actors to take on supporting roles in a favorite melodrama.” I suggest you make this a core meditation for the next seven weeks, Aquarius. Then you’ll be primed for the next question: “What can I do to enjoy life with a soulmate?”

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Dear Dream Doctor: I dreamt I was caring for a beautiful golden fish in a room with two aquaria. The fish kept leaping from one aquarium to another, and my job was to scoop it up and return it to the water if it missed. I felt bad for it because it couldn’t decide which tank it liked better. One was big and classy but sterile; the other was small and funky but had lots of cool castles and toys. As soon as it landed each time, it was already looking longingly at the one it had left. What does my dream mean, O Wise Oracle? Signed, “Frustrated Piscean Caretaker.”

Dear Frustrated: In your next dream, relocate the fish to a lake or ocean where it will have many environments to choose from.

Homework: What part of you has become too setin its ways? What can you do to rile it up into seizing wilder ways of knowing? Write www.freewillastrology.com.


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