• Horoscopes for 6-3-2025
  “The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.” Ulysses in Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida (II.iii.45)

  Horoscopes for 6-3-2025

  • Venus into Tau. 6/5 11:43 PM
  • Mercury into Can. 6/8
  • Jupiter into Can. 6/9
  • Full Moon 20°39’ Gem./Sag. 6/11

  Horoscopes for 6-3-2025

  Gemini

  There will be generations who don’t understand the reference points. That noted? I’ll push onward. At one time, think: trailer park in old South Austin, the good old days when I was neither good nor old. I used to get a ton of junk mail, bills, and I had a number credit cards, plus various other mailers, for other projects, all arrived via postal mail. None of this “online” stuff; all of it was delivered in a strictly analog manner. Which gave way to a surfeit of used, empty business envelopes. Paper. Mostly scrap paper, and at the time, the trailer park didn’t offer recycling other than a single dumpster for all the residents to share. Those scraps of paper, though, those became a valuable source of notes. Not a permanent kind of note, just a passing-through kind of note, a quick idea, a word or phrase, a phone number, someone’s 3-digit verification code, due dates, an act from a Shakespeare play I think I need to look into at a later date, an author’s name, a page number from a book, chapter and verse for a resource? To this day, there’s still a few reference books I’ve got, with scraps of these temporary notes still stuffed into them. So it’s a temporary solution that might be more permanent than you think. It’s the answer to the Gemini question. My simple Gemini solution — pen, ink, write it on a scrap of paper. Like the back of envelope you can throw away, but might not. Happy Birthday to that one special Gemini, you know who you are.

  Cancer

  I was headed into at a meeting at my current church, and the outside light for the doorway wasn’t working. The pastor himself showed up, more like passed through to check on the business, and we shared a jovial greeting. As he was just in passing, not intent on the content of the committee meeting itself, I stopped to remind him, “Oh yeah, light doesn’t work.” Implication was a burnt out lightbulb. I reached through the doorway, we were standing right in front of it, the late summer twilight just setting in, and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. The pastor reached around the doorway, flicked the same light switch. The light came on. We shared a laugh. Privately, he leaned in, “I’ll get an electrician to look at that,” but publicly? From an outside observer’s point? Looks like the guy with the collar has a miraculous touch. Look: Jupiter (and Mercury) arrive, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also check with a real electrician, or replace the lightbulb. Just because it worked once? Neither me nor that pastor think it was any kind of divine intervention, just a bit of fun luck. The lucky Moon Children, the Cancer corner of the sky? You might get lucky, but still, “call the guy.”

  The Leo

  “Just hold up there, ‘buck-o,’ just hold up,” first expression that came to my mind, looking at this. Jupiter and Mercury mating in Cancer, precedes you. Almost full moon, there’s that, Sun in Gemini, that, too. Then Mr. Mars, frying his way through your sign. “Just hold up there, buck-o.” That is a lot influence, and what happens, doesn’t matter what planet or lunar phases you want to hang this on, doesn’t matter, as Mars adds a layer of “hurried” that feels like it must be answered. It does us all a nice service, like a nice tip? It does us all a good service if you pause long enough for us to catch up with wherever you’re at. Doesn’t much matter, you’re — it’s a Leo thing — about three steps ahead of the rest of us. Mars. I’m inclined to blame Mars. The suggestion, though? “Just hold up there, buck-o, just hold up for a sec.” Let us get abreast, let us get on board, let us catch up to wherever you’re already at; The Leo being faster, better, brighter, and quicker than the rest of us non–Leo personalities.

  Virgo

  Think about the remake of classic movies, updated, and infused with more modern touches. That’s one way to think about Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida, as it’s just an Elizabethan/Jacobean dramatic update to Chaucer’s original long-form work. But Chaucer’s is clearly tragic, and for the life of me, every time I read or see Shakespeare’s version, I think of it as black comedy, darkly comic, almost to an absurdists point, some beautiful poetry, but still a weird adaption of an older work. Two very different ways of seeing a single piece of literature. Or the problems with remakes, either way, and this applies to gentle Virgo? Copy. Find one that you like, and copy it. Not plagiarism, as in, give full credit where the works, the germination point for the idea, give credit from whence it started, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t copy. Start by copying. Worked in this situation and as a starting point, a place to gather an idea? Remember what Picasso said? “Good artists copy; great artists steal.” (Pink Cake)

  Libra

  I used to illustrate this very energy with a single example, about a project, a series of projects, launched under this influence. What worked, what didn’t work, and what was the surprise runaway hit. I’m continuously amazed at what does work, what doesn’t work, and what seems like the whims of the universe at play. For gentle Libra? Gemini time means at least two, and I’d rather see four — or more. Get a whole bunch of stuff loaded up on that Libra platter, and when someone suggests you won’t be able to finish them all? That’s quite all right, you won’t. But one will be a surprise big hit. Which one? I guess it will be the one you least suspect, but that’s just my Sagittarius way of seeing this energy. Two, four, maybe six or even eight? Sure. One hits, but we’re not sure which one, and that energy dissipates quickly, so get these out the door, and see which one lands, takes roots, and grows.

  Scorpio

  There’s a competitive quality I try to steer away from. Stay clear of? Exit? Don’t engage? All are a number of expressions, but the easiest? In a social setting, a few folks milling around, and some guy, distinct accent from not here, comments that my shirt is ugly. He makes the comment with a smile in his eyes, and it’s an open challenge, but one that is supposed to be filled with merriment and exposed, jocular engagement, albeit, putting me on the defensive. There’s an entire generational astrological aspect to this, as well, but that’s not what this is about. I’m more interested in avoiding Scorpio conflict, and that’s the key. The gentle, yet openly attacking rejoinder? That conversation starter that commences with negative inflections? That’s the key. Avoid it. If you have to know, it’s one of my favorite shirts, worn thin from summers in the sun, and the shirt is ugly, but it’s pretty in my eyes with its clash of colors. Trying to get that across, though? Useless battle, Scorpio, don’t even try. Move on to the next person, “I like that shirt; it looks good on you.”

  Sagittarius

  In recent times, a couple of interesting authors (and scholars) have undertaken new eyes as a way to look at the old texts. Fresh translations and, more important, fresh interpretations of classic texts have helped. I got buried in looking at a couple of the texts, and one was fascinating because it played off the classically Stoic material from Marcus Aurelius with both Latin and English versions. I liked the re-interpreted versions, updated with more current language but offering a side-by-side version with the original Greek on the opposing pages, just for a verification process. I’ve long used a couple of Marcus Aurelius versions of the texts, but finding other Roman writers was nice, and then finding the roots of some of the original Stoic thought, amusing. It’s the juxtaposition of the texts themselves, being able to go back and look at the expression in Latin, or with Marcus Aurelius, in Greek. I can parse both languages, but only just barely. For Sagittarius, this ability to chase something back to its roots is what the next few days, this approaching Full Moon, what it’s all about. Roots.

  Capricorn

  Jupiter and Mercury tag-team their way into Cancer, which, recall gentle Capricorn, is opposite from you. There’s a kind of powerful shove you get, but it’s just that, a quick shove, and when it’s over? It sort of depends on whether or not you like the direction you just got pushed, whether or not you like the momentum afforded your Capricorn self, and is it the direction you want to pursue, was it enough of a start to get going. I can’t gauge these, not without a long consultation, and I’m not sure that’s what you want. Weigh, in the balance, the questions about the direction, and the relative amount of amount of momentum you’ve gathered so far, pause long enough to consider the directions, the weight and most likely outcome, then what could be the best way this new direction resolves? I’ve got more questions than answers, but that little cosmic shove, via Mercury and Jupiter? That’s what this is about, just a gentle push, what you do with it?

  Aquarius

  There’s that moment, or in that moment, or at that time, or in the time, at the point when this occurs? Seems like two convergent time lines intersect. Run into each other. Maybe run over each other, and there’s two sets of conflicting data that seem unable to resolve. Can’t see a way clear of it, either. Poor Aquarius! It’s not really a conflict, but appears that way, and the two points of view do their best to negate and otherwise cancel out each other. It’s a problem, and conundrum, and since I’m not Aquarius, it’s not one that I have to face and then resolve. However, I’ve been in a similar situation and the best way to handle the disparate energies, the exigent circumstances, and the apparent unsolvable conundrum? Wait for it. “What for it? Wait for what?” Wait for that clear sign to emerge from the confusing data sets. “Wait for it?” Wait for it.

  Pisces

  I wanted to start the countdown, got all excited when I looked at the dates coming up, and then, I had to pause. Like me? Pause, Pisces, pause. The trick is to get internally excited about an event that is maybe six or eight weeks away, but that’s then, and this is now. Internally excited, like, start with a mental list of what you want to talk about, then, “I’d like to thank the academy, my parents, my manager, and agent, but most of all…” It’s quite all right to start making up a speech just like that in your own Pisces cranium, but I wouldn’t commit it to print, other than an obvious rough draft that no one sees. That’s the start of the countdown. Imagine it in your head. Do not commit the ideas to “paper,” at least, not yet. Someone else might stumble across it, and that other, non–Pisces person would mock you, tease you, or otherwise try to hurt your feelings. It gets ugly. The point? This is weeks away. Wait for it. Pause, Pisces, pause.

  Aries

  Structure. Simple as that, “structure.” What do I mean by structure? Rules, regulations, established patterns, laws that date back to Spanish Land Grants, or even, before that. There’s a certain way this has to be done, there’s an order, there’s a set of instructions, and as much as I don’t do it this way, I’m not Aries, so I’m not the one to follow, but I have been in this situation, or similar one, and I do understand what it is all about, and I do grasp the finite symbols that abound. It’s about an established structure, a hierarchy, an order that, over time, has proven to work. Might not be the most convenient for the good Aries, but this isn’t about convenience. Order, form, process, taking the steps in proper sequence. I used to pride myself on ascending the steps, two at a time, with my long stride, it wasn’t too much of a challenge. But on some of the outdoor stairs, the steps are not a regulation size, being a bit larger than customary. My stride doesn’t quite cover two at a time, and for that matter, neither does the Aries stride, which means? One at time, pedantic pace, in order, just a breaking it down, it’s the way this works — it’s what the structure deems necessary.

  Taurus

  This week’s lunar phase highlights one, unintended weirdness factor. A piece of strangeness left over from days week, even years gone by? As the week unfolds and the days roll into nights and those roll over into days again, with that ever-present drum-beat of time marching us all forward? There’s a simple, syncopated rhythm that only your tiny Taurus timpani can hear. The biggest challenge with the “unintended weirdness factor?” It’s just that, “unintentional,” and therefore? No way to prepare, or properly harness the point until it shows up. There’s not a good way to anticipate the way to zig or zag, the feint to the left, the dash to the right, the abrupt cessation of forward motion or the headlong rush, falling into the opening. “No one saw that coming.” You did. You read this, so you know. You also know that whatever it is, individually, it will be a gentle shake-up, and something that, apparently, no one can anticipate, and therefore, no one is prepared for. You are, but only when you see it. Like the kids used to say? “If you know, you know.” kofiwidget2.init(‘Support me on Ko-fi’, ‘#72a4f2’, ‘O5O73OYCL’);kofiwidget2.draw();

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