Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 10.19.2006
“How vilely doth this cynic rhyme!”
Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar [IV.iii.132]
It’s Cassius, talking about a poet who is trying to reconcile opposing politicians. And it’s a perfect introduction to Scorpio, along with the Scorpio Sun, there’s Mercury, Venus, Mars and Jupiter all in Scorpio. Saturn squares Jupiter, too.
Aries: I was precariously perched on a rock, right at the edge of the lake. I was languidly throwing a lure into the water, dragging it back, trying to make it dance, vainly attempting to entice one of my finny friends to take a bite. Just sample. Anything. I’d scrambled down the steep side of ravine, hopped from a stump up to the slippery slope, then slid down to the rock. It’s a good spot, as there’s some old, dead trees in the water, and the bass tend to congregate there. I wasn’t having much luck, and after all that work to get there, I just sort flipped the lure out and let it sit. I heard some rustling and as I glanced around, I noticed fat, gray tabby cat. She (he, maybe) was inching along the shoreline, making her way towards me. At first, I though she was going for a drink, although, I would probably not recommend that water for a pet. However, as I watched, I noticed she was getting ready to hunt. She perched herself on another rock, ignored me completely, and intently watched the water. I didn’t catch a thing, not that afternoon, not at that spot. I don’t think she did, either, but she was in a better spot than I was. I’m assuming that the cat was an Aries. Perched, poised, less clumsy than me. I eventually packed myself back up the hill, not without the theatrical “almost sliding into the lake” move. But that Aries cat? I’ll be she’ll have some luck, as long as she endeavors not to be too clumsy. Unlike me.
Taurus: A friend of mine was telling me about video she had to watch at the beginning of her son’s soccer season. Seems that the team, and this seemed to spread across a broad range of demographics, so it seems that the parents got a little too involved in the kiddy game. I would figure, after having seen a portion of the video, that the parents would rather not look so involved in the game. Seems that the parents needed a little lesson in looking like parents. Be my guess. What to do. What not to do. What’s appropriate. What’s not so appropriate? That’s the question, and I don’t have much of an answer. I never could tell if the video was staged, with actors and actresses playing the parts, or if the shots were from a real game, and do parents really act like that? Consider your Taurus self being warned about “over-exuberant behavior,” especially when you’re in a situation where you seem more excited about the game than the players themselves.
Gemini: I was trying to figure out how to put this across to the Gemini corner of the sky, the fine Gemini friends I’ve got. The little fact I’ll toss out, I don’t have a source, and I’m too lazy to look it up, is that a sporting game fish, like a bass, it will only take the same bait three times before it learns that it’s bait and not food. I can imagine a Gemini smirking, “Three times? I make that mistake ONCE, and I’ve learned.” Sure, I’ll give you credit and suggest that maybe you usually do that, learn fast from previous errors. When the water clears up in the fall, I can watch, up close and personal, a number of my little finned friends, and I can watch as they will investigate a particular bait, and then, I’ll be sorely disappointed when they turn their little fish noses up at my bait. They’ve seen it before. Probably been caught with it a time or two. But not three. Maybe three times. One old girl, I got her a half-dozen times before she learned it was my ruse. When I lined up your chart, what I kept thinking about was that concept that the same trick will work three times, but no more. My evidence notwithstanding, for Gemini? The question, and it’s up to you to come up with the answer? Are you trying the same action, the same bait, three times in arrow, and finding it no longer works? Or worse, are you taking the same bait, three times in a row? Can’t say I didn’t try and warn you.
Cancer: I had, in mind, a certain passage from a modern American poet, with his booming voice reading his poem about waking up. I heard it once, in a university literature class, the professor brought in — get this — a record player, with an audio version of the poet himself reading the poem. The poem itself is about gradually waking up. Not the “alarm clock, jump out of bed” kind of experience, nor, for that matter, the “pre-dawn, I’m going fishing” kind of hustle. No, it’s about a gradual, easy, simple process of slipping into awareness. Not jumping up and going, but slowly, making our way into consciousness from the dream state. That’s what the next couple of days are like, that gradual, gentle, ease and grace, the part of waking up, like on a weekend morning? When you’re comfortable in bed, and the room is cool? Under the warm covers? Slowly crawling into consciousness? Not a sudden transition, not a hurried jump, just an easy way of waking up. Rested, relaxed, and until the rest of the mind catches up? At peace with the world. I think that poem’s reading has been converted to mp3 format, now if I cold just find it, I’d suggest it really evokes what the next few days should be like.
Leo: I had another name for this kind of event, but I’ve met with much disfavor in using that particular name, so you can call this week anything you want. It’s a “good and bad at the same time” type of action. While I’m tempted to suggest it’s all just a tough time, what with the onslaught of Scorpio energy, I’m also reminded that there’s a trick to working with this. Unconventional wisdom. “Yeah, Mr. ‘Fishing Guide to the Stars,’ you’re a fount of that stuff,” the Leo admonishes me. But there’s a way to deal with the incoming Scorpio planet energy, and your very-Leo-like response isn’t always the best way to greet this. The Saturn and Jupiter angle, a tough one, has a possible outlet. There’s a stroke, a simple piece clicks into place. When that happens, pay attention, it will happen, you get to see the pathway clear to a sure a victory. I didn’t promise it would be easy, as there’s a ton of planet energy making this a difficult situation. However, truth and justice will persevere, and the Leo will get his or her way, and that I’m sure of. The point is, though, to look where you didn’t think to look, seek what you didn’t know was lost, and work it. Unconventional wisdom.
Virgo: “All sweetness and light, you know?” Sure, I understand the concept. I believe one person referred to them as “Care Bare scopes,” although, I’m not sure what naked bears have to do with anything. I’d like to spoon out a healthy, syrupy mixture of sweetness and light, all good and gooey, but I can’t. There’s a little bit of very strong action occurring elsewhere in your astrology chart. Somebody needs a tough “talking-to.” Either you get to the confrontation, or you’re going to get confronted. I don’t see it much any other way. Either you’re headed — can’t say blindly — into a situation wherein you know you’re not taking the most correct form of action. Or worse, you catch one of your buddies doing this. “I won’t date you — ever again — if you go fishing one more Saturday!” I’ve heard it before. And as the song goes, I sure will miss her. But the fish were ON that one Saturday, and it was worth it. Now that’s the question, and the results of the confrontation, are the results worth what you know will be the outcome?
Libra: Couple of years ago, I worked an event in one of the Austin public buildings. It was convention-like arrangement, nothing new to me. In the fountain, outside, I noticed that there were minnows of some sort, tiny fish, bait fish, something like that, roaming around in a huge school. An idea was born. A few days later, I dropped a couple of small fish I’d caught, in the pond, the pool for a fountain, really, just for amusement. I forgot about my actions. Maybe a month passed, and it was warm fall afternoon. I noticed a disreputable-looking gentleman, with a tired fishing pole, fishing in that very fountain’s pond. He had one fish on the bank, presumably something he was going to fix as a repast, and he was seriously angling for more. It all started as a joke, to me, and it turned into a meal for a homeless guy. I’d consider that I was doing some good here, but I’m not sure that’s the real situation. Nor, for that matter, was that my intention. My original goal was to provide sport for myself, but I never got around to enjoying the fruits of my labors. Or maybe it was all a joke, too. Whatever. Good deeds, even when the motivation is a little different from the perceived goal? Don’t be too amazed if one of your jokes becomes an act of mercy. Or charity.
Scorpio: There was a suggestion put forth, that Austin, is kind of like the Vatican, a separate entity from the rest of the country that surrounds it. I’ve long maintained a similar belief, in fact, using it as a shield at times. “I’m from Austin,” I’ll say, and that comment will usually garner knowing nods, kind of like a blanket excuse. A number of my politically liberal friends, well, that would be most of my Austin neighborhood, make a similar claim — if not identical. But this isn’t about politics. This isn’t about living in a different country. It’s about being insular, which, I might add, isn’t the same as an insult. There’s a time when a certain amount of an aloof nature can help your Scorpio self. By the end of the week, there’s a veritable plethora, a whole host, of planets in your sign, And none of these guys arrive at the same time, but in the next few days, as they creep on into Scorpio, and as Scorpio party time begins in earnest, consider that insular approach. Not haughty, but a step removed might keep you out of trouble. Be, perchance, a little aloof, at least, at first. Let the planets catch up with you. Which they will.
Sagittarius: It was a sunny fall afternoon, like, a Monday morning kind of a day. I was waiting on a cup of coffee, outside a local coffee stand. Kind of a trendy place, but the coffee is uniformly good, the counter staff is generally friendly, and in the wan fall sunlight, it didn’t bother me that I was not being served as fast as some other customers. I mean, here I was, in South Austin, on the avenue, the weak fall sunlight streaming down in abundant goodness, the air a little more crisp than the day before, the smell of breakfast pastries and coffee gurgling, the sounds of commerce, the appearance of the local artisans, all bent towards their trades, there was casual yet delicious sense to the scene. The girl behind me got served her mocha-java-decaf-lite. I casually waited, patiently. The next guy behind me asked if the soy-latte was mine. It was single size, no, I’d ordered a double. He grabbed his. The barista guy came over to the window and asked what I ordered. I explained. He made it. Somehow, in the system, such as there is one, the distance from the cashier to the guy making the coffee drinks, maybe three feet, I’d been lost. Got my money, but not the command to make a drink. I wasn’t upset, worried, or concerned. Eventually, took two or three minutes for them to all figure it out, I got my coffee, a tall cup of coffee and frothed milk, and I was good to go. For the perceived inconvenience, the barista guy handed me a card for a free cup of coffee next time. Instead of getting all tweaked and making a fuss, I was patient. There’s a huge stack up of planets, headed into Scorpio, in Scorpio, and eventually exiting Scorpio. But until that exodus occurs? Be patient. Be kind. Don’t worry if you get passed up like I did. I got a free cup of coffee for my patience.
Capricorn: Astrology, and by extension, horoscopes, are about people, and how people interact with certain situations. If I could pick the winning lottery numbers with astrology, think I would be sitting here, answering e-mail and writing horoscopes? I would’ve picked those lottery numbers, bought me a bigger boat, and I’d be fishing. Since I’m not in that position, all I can do is call the influences the way I see them. To a Capricorn, that’s a plus. To a Capricorn like yourself, you like that. Call it the way you see it. Be honest. I ran into this problem with a Capricorn, the other evening. What was desired was a “magic bullet,” or magic wave of the wand, or some similar type of action — on my part. Something to make it all better. I can’t make anything better for Capricorn. But the planets do look rather inviting at this point. I’m not saying you’re going to win the lottery. But there’s a chance for a definite course of action — some route the Capricorn has to follow — and that particular pathway yields success. Period. There is no magic bullet. No silver shell that will render the obstacles useless. But pointed action on your Capricorn part will have some positive results.
Aquarius: There’s a spot in East Austin, putatively a largely Hispanic neighborhood, and I enjoy dining at this one taco stand. It’s really a restaurant, and it’s provided me with great stories over the years. Jukebox has no songs in English. TV in the corner is tuned to some Spanish channel. I get by with my broken Spanish since English is clearly a second language. Food’s usually incredible, too. That one afternoon, I’m thinking about, food was good. Marinated pork, slow-roasted on a spit, thinly sliced, served on a hand-made tortilla, liberally covered in cilantro and diced onions. Muy good. Seven tiny tacos, cost $4. Lunch special. With ice tea? Just under five bucks. I handed the woman behind the counter my plastic debit card, she swiped it, ran the numbers in, then squealed something in Spanish, calling another waitress over to help with the machine. I was being billed $55.55 for lunch. It as good, but at that price? I’d expect a little something extra. Or a lot of something extra. Took three waitresses and a cashier, took 15 minutes, and I left a generous tip. I got a number of apologies, and I was merely bemused by the whole experience. I couldn’t, though, use any of my normally dry wit and charm because of serious cultural, linguistic barrier. Just a little patience. Consider that, too, as all those little planets move into Scorpio. One, look at the bill itself, and two, allow an extra fifteen minutes to sort out minor irritations.
Pisces: Up the hill from my place in Austin, there’s a neighborhood that’s undergone a terrific transformation. It used to be a less-than-desirable side of town, noted for extreme eccentricities. Ethically diverse, the ‘hood has gradually been “gentrified,” to borrow the expression most commonly used. However, in one front yard, there’s still a “bottle tree.” It’s an old, dead tree with numerous branches, all loped off. On the stubs of the branches, bottles are inverted. Beer bottles, whisky bottles, blue-glass bottles, green wine bottles, all matter of glass containers. Not being a regular route for me, I’m not even sure it’s still there. But I’ll assume it is, as it was a few months ago. I would guess that the bottle tree makes strange and eerie noises on a windy winter night with the gentle keening of the zephyrs over all those bottle-top openings. What I’ve heard, the myth I’ve been told, about a bottle tree is that the inverted bottles catch evil thoughts and bad spirits. Trapped, no place to go, eventually the bad stuff is vetted on a dark and stormy night. The keening of the bottles releases the bad thoughts in such a way as to disarm the evil intent. Be nice if it really works this way. I’m not sure the guy with this in his yard is even aware of antecedents to his yard art. There’s a wicked winter wind blowing, and it’s up to the Pisces corner of the sky to act like a bottle tree and disarm the situations. More than one will occur.
All Rights Reserved
copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
