O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone!
Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels;
Thy mother’s name is ominous to children.

Queen Elizabeth in
Shakespeare’s Richard III (IV.i.38-40)

April 7, 2016, 6:23 AM, Sun conjunct Moon, 18 Aries, and Uranus at 20 Aries. What that means?

Horoscopes starting 4.7.2016

Aries:

I have one client, let’s pretend she’s an Aries, and every time I revert back to any of my Southern Roots, she bristles. I asked what the problem was, and according to her, every time I say, “Babe,” or, like, “OK baby,” that irritates the bejeebers out of her. Past life, karma, my occasionally unctuous mannerism, could be any of that. She corrects, because I’ve asked her to, anytime I use one of terms that makes her uncomfortable. Setting up an appointment the other day, it came through again, took me all of 30 seconds on the phone to say, not in a demeaning manner from me, but I did say, “OK, babe,” and she quickly corrected me.

Aries: if you don’t correct us, any of us, maybe it’s me, but if you don’t correct us? We’ll keep doing it and that just causes further irritation. This week, right now, when that most annoying thing comes up? Address it immediately.

“OK, darlin’?”

“He’s doing it again.”

Well, darn.

Taurus:

There’s a mental acuity that comes with Mr. Mercury getting comfortable in Taurus. There’s a certain alarm that comes for Taurus with Mr. Mars slowing to a stationary position in Sagittarius. Twin influences, let’s make some sense of this. It’s really not that bad. Well, not that bad, not yet. Looking for some clarity?

With Mercury where he is, and with Mars where he is? There’s not going to be a way to manage the communications that are swirling around in the Taurus brain, certainly not at this point. You’re right. I know you’re correct, and I know that you can see more clearly than anyone else, but there’s a problem communicating what it is that you see, what you understand, what you feel, it’s as if there is an obstacle communicating what you know is correct, there’s an issue getting it out to the rest of us.

Best trick? Clam up. Shut it. Close the mouth. Yes, I know you’re on top of this situation, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best time for you to show off what it is that you know. A little quiet time, a knowing nod, a wink, a finger tap by the side of the nose, instead of saying anything. What happens, you’ll be like me, you’ll open your mouth and the best possible words fall out, at the worst possible time. You’re right, but that doesn’t mean anyone else, besides me, gets it.

Gemini:

I use variety of techniques to mine my subconscious. The unknown, the part of the mind that isn’t involved in active thought process, the mysteries of the inner person? All of that. With fast-moving Mercury in Taurus, the sign before Gemini, and stationary Mars opposite from Gemini, this sets up a dynamic where the subconscious is the source of answers to all Gemini questions. You have the answers, if you can only figure a logical way to access those answers. To this day, I carry a pendulum, a simple dowsing tool. Good for “yes/no” questions, and more as a token rather than any kind of metaphysical tool. However, in a situation like this, the simple dowsing tool, a basic, “Yes/no” oracle of some sort? That’s what works for Gemini. As much as I’d like to do a horary reading for you, this is simpler than that. You have the answers, it’s matter of finding a way to access those answers. You have the tools. I was reminded of a the old “cat” oracle I used. When I ran a kitty cam, live, when the cat was alive, the yes/no question was answered by the appearance of the cat on the cam. Simple kind of yes/no oracle. Pendulum. A single card, flipped up from a fortune telling deck. Or, does it really matter? Whatever oracle you’re most comfortable with. Access the Gemini knowledge.

Cancer:

Systems and fail-safes. Have to have systems, fail-safes, and good back-up plans. This might sound like a little too much like tech talk, but it’s not, not really. I tend to make sure that there is a fairly recent copy most of my important documents, working manuscripts, notes, and digital address book, I tend to make sure there’s a recent back-up at all times. Part of fail-safes, part of the systems that I put in place after losing close to half a year of data in one hard-drive failure. Never again.

Part of this is merely the process that I use when I work. Part of this is just old habits that refuse to die. Part of this is working within the realms of the available technologies so I can have my address book safely ensconced in the cloud — as well as backed up on a disk someplace at home.

Next 8 weeks, plus or minus, are about reviewing your systems. The Moon-child’s systems and fail-safes. Meant to have a back-up of special piece you’re working on? Now’s the time. Just burn a quick back-up.

As long as there is a good back-up? You won’t need it.

As long as there’s systems and fail-safes in place? No need. But it never hurts to have a good back-up plan.

The Leo:

The next 8 weeks or so, just a round figure, trying being less Leo-like. Give the royalty image a rest. Stop being a royal pain in some peoples’ backsides. There’s a message that goes with this, too. I didn’t use the passage from Henry V, the part, right before the battle of Agincourt where Harry goes undercover and walks around, listening to his troops mutter. A great leader, brilliant military strategist, he goes out to see what the common folks are like, what they say about him.

It’s not an uncommon trope, where the royalty dresses like the common folks and circulates amongst them. Think that’s what the next few weeks should be like for the majestic Leo. Wrap a figurative cloak around you. On stage, this is easy, a simple cloak and suddenly, you’re one of us. Just a regular Joe. Everyday foot soldier. I know you’re royalty, and we both know that you deserve to be treated as such, but tone it down a notch or two, just for now. You’ll be surprised what you hear, and in the big picture? You emerge as a better leader.

Virgo:

I’ve managed to shed most of the accouterments of a non-digital life, over the years. Gone are the endless stacks of old photographs with just a few meaningful prints left for walls. However, as a nod to my own heritage, I’ve managed to hang onto a bunch of old software CDs, or really, I think the last few ones were DVDs. Still, software on a disk, or disk-like thing. Buddy of mine has an older Apple laptop, and he wanted to know if I could raise it from the dead, resurrect the machine. No real useful data, I think it was just a project piece of hardware.

I dig through my old carton of software CDs. I couldn’t download a copy of the software as the machine was too old, and what rescue software I could copy onto a thumb drive just spit back, “Not supported,” which, to be honest, should’ve said, “no longer a viable system.” Still, there’s an inherent interest in such things, and I like to tinker. Eventually, I got the right DVD (speaks to a certain era), and that fixed it up. So there’s some stuff that’s worth holding onto, but if that was all pulled out? It would be more than a single a washtub full of various CDs and thin manuals, receipts with serial numbers for proof of ownership. So there are things to throw away and things to not throw away. Are you getting the hint? Good time to resurrect that old machine, see if it has new uses.

Libra:

Over the years, off and on, I’ve maintained various forms of compost. Since I’ve been at this one place, I’ve been doing this one compost for a while, and I’ve always been amazed at the amount of biological, biodegradable refuse that a single household can put out. Apple cores, orange rinds, tea leaves, lawn clippings, and banana peels.

The biggest perpetrator? Coffee grounds. My coffee grounds make for a rich, dense, and fertile loam. I probably produce more coffee and shredded paper than anything else, but both of those items, it’s nice to reuse trash wherein I can recycle that by letting it rot and become ripe, fecund earth. There’s a warning with the paper, shredded office paper, as some of that contains inks that are not really suitable for adding to the food chain, but I don’t grow food with my compost, so it’s not like I’m going to poison anyone. It’s matter of being aware. Sometimes, the simplest act of recycling can make a huge difference. That’s what this week is about, recycle and reuse. New Libra theme, recycle and reuse. One Libra girlfriend? She grows tomatoes, big, juicy tomatoes in her compost. Recycle and reuse.

Scorpio:

This week, it’s like, what’s that show’s name? The TV program, allegedly reality TV, which we all know, isn’t real, but never mind that, no, the show was about hoarders. People, who, for whatever reason, can’t seem to ever get rid of anything. “Throw nothing away!” The challenge, as there’s a point where you think there’s some Scorpio material that really needs to be tossed, but you can’t seem to part with it.

Having problems with what to to toss and what to save? Make a list of items to toss and items to save. Having problems with the lists of what to toss and what to save? Get all Virgo, and make a list of the lists. The column headings are endless, “Things I want to toss, but can’t because of perceived sentimental value,” and “ things that I should toss, but the grandkids might want some day.” Or not.

To be most effective, though, there’s a kind of ruthlessness that the good Scorpio has to employ. Slash and burn, “Scorched-earth” policy is now in effect. Rough to make this call, but a “slash and burn,” scorched-earth kind of Scorpio relentlessness pays off in about two months. That’s two months away. It hurts right now. Do it anyway.

Sagittarius:

“Charge!” Epic Sagittarius Fail. “Charge (again!)” Epic Sagittarius Fail, again. “Once more!” Epic Sagittarius fail, yet again. The true measure of a person’s internal fortitude is the ability, in the face of failing, over and over, the ability to get back up, rally onward, and charge again. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. We’re the mighty centaur, as I’ve been known to point out, half-man, half horse’s ass. Fail four times in a row? Make a fifth attempt, that’s the true measure of a person.

We don’t learn from our successes, we learn from our mistakes. No one is there to catch us, no one is going to bail us out, we have to carry on, move forward, do something despite the horrific odds and the dismal failures we’ve recently faced. As a writer, every rejection letter, and I’ve had a few, every rejection letter is merely an opening for some other option, a different perspective, a new way to handle the old problems. It’s not a total failure, just needs to be tweaked. Presentation, all in the presentation.

Capricorn:

Tricky business, times like this. Delicate balance point, and frankly, that’s kind of hard for me to even fathom, much less maintain. But this isn’t about my lack of finesse, this is about Cappy and the route towards success. Tricky business, times like this. Requires a laser-like focus. Requires a laser-like focus on the real objective, and the problem is “Bright, shiny object syndrome.” We’ve discussed this before, not like I can be any judge of this myself, but there is that, “Oh, look, over there!” Total focus is lost. Laser-Like, requisite, focus is gone in the blink of an eye.

Two choices: don’t blink, which isn’t rational, or, don’t get distracted. Not like I can be any kind of judge of no distractions, as I’m almost always getting distracted. No, I’m not the judge of this one, but I can see that there is a tendency, a certain kind of allure to something that isn’t part of what you’re supposed to be working on. For me, the distractions pay off, as one item leads to another which then leads to something that might, or might not, be of interest. Blinders, as an idea, might work. Something to keep you focused on the main objective. No distractions, none of this.

“Wow, look at that!”

Aquarius:

April means tax season and the bass have bedded. Weather is typically good but not always good for comfortable fishing. The simple guideline I follow is “make plans but allow for the weather.” In other words, I have three-day window for Aquarius fishing this week. I’ll allow that one day looks good night before, but that morning, winds are gusting to 20 knots, and frankly, although it’s possible to fish, I don’t necessarily want to get out in that kind of choppy water. It’s not terrible, but I’m basically, lazy, so that’s the one day I don’t fish.

Next morning, pre-dawn, get the call, “Calm, it’s a go.” The same water that was so choppy the day before is smooth like glass. Pictures on the website someplace, with the fish we caught. It was good.

Third morning? Slight breeze, but rain clouds showed up later in the morning, so we called it a day, a little early. Three days. Fished one and a half. Works out like that, in Aquarius. Make plans but allow room for the weather to dictate what might really happen.

Pisces:

At one point, I realized that I lived in a constantly shifting environment, and there was no permanence. Perhaps the roots are in a trailer park in South Austin. Perhaps the roots go further back, I recall, as an undergraduate, moving at least a half dozen times during a 5-year education plan. That’s like 6 or 7 addresses in a less than 6 years. Something like that.

Home was always impermanent. Home for me, was, for the longest time, never a fixed place. I drifted south from Austin to San Antonio, and I washed up against the logjam, not really a roadblock, as life continues to trickle through, but I hit a resting point. Instead of fighting with it, and instead of worrying about whether this is to be my final resting place, I — eventually — got comfortable with the lack of permanence in structure.

As a Pisces, there’s a similar “lack of permanence” at this juncture. Part of this is Mars, the drive is driven off, part of this is Neptune, the myth is stronger than the reality, and part of this is mere Mercury, insisting that there be roots. Right now. Embrace the temporal, impermanent lifestyle at the moment. There will be roots, but we’re not at a final Pisces destination at this moment.