"Great floods have flown
From simple sources; and great seas have dried
When miracles have by the greatest been denied."
Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well (II.i.144-6)
Virgo: "I’m the difficult one," the little Virgo announced to me. Yes, yes you are the difficult one. And there’s a tremendous amount of pressure cooking in Virgo land. Birthdays, have a good time, enjoy yourself. Saturn, a terrible and heavy (cosmic) weight, dragging you down. Makes you the difficult one for sure. Can’t decide whether to fish or cut bait, to drag out the oldest trope I’ve got.
But I wouldn’t be worth my name if I didn’t have a direct, simple and easy answer to the age-old conundrum, "Fish or cut bait?" I have an answer. This week? Cut bait. Simple. I can get into a long and detailed analysis, or I can just call it simple and straightforward: cut bait. Ain’t no fishing involved, not yet. Got to prepare. Which is what my answer is all about.
Libra: There was this one Libra, I knew a while back, and while she was good about putting herself together, out in public? The times she looked the best — to me — was in the morning. First thing. Hair all messed up on one side. The over-sized T-shirt hiked up a little. The sleepy-headed shuffle. The gentle smile, then the "Don’t look at me," comment.
It’s a matter of perceptions, points-of-views, and how we all got to this discombobulated state in the first place. Me? I live like a monk, so this a soidisant expression from a long time ago. My youth. The idea, though, is that looking unsettled, with clothing and arms akimbo, that’s not all bad. Hair disheveled? Again, not a problem, considering the context.
As the planets visit upon your gentle Libra head, as these planets foist some harsh energies, consider what the sight looks like to us. It’s really not all bad at all. May not be the image you had in your mind, but it’s good one — to the rest of us.
Scorpio: I’ve gotten to the point where I ask, in a gentle manner, a lot of questions. So I was in particular chain of coffee shops, and I was asking the person taking my money, "What’s the best one you’ve made so far?" She looked quizzical for a moment, then she had an idea, "Pumpkin Spice Peppermint Blueberry Cream Frappuccino," she paused, long pause, "with whip."
I was left speechless at that one. "Tasted sort of like cough syrup, you know?"
Some days, I ask questions that maybe I don’t really want answers for, and that begs another question, was she really reporting a drink ordered and made, or was she just winding me up a bit? I asked her birthday when I regained my composure, and she told me to guess, "10/31."
"Wow, how did you know, I’m 11/2." Still a Scorpio, still the piercing look, and still, I don’t know, was that a real drink or not? Me? I got a double shot of espresso on the rocks, my summer favorite. Cold and bitter. I’m also sucker for Scorpio tricks. I still don’t know if it was a real beverage or a joke. As a good Scorpio, maybe, unless you’re that one I know at the coffee shop, maybe keep the rest of us guessing. Was that a real drink or were you testing me?
Sagittarius: I made a comment about Sagittarius, one in particular, and I was suggesting that she watch it, as I didn’t want her to "Float off course," in the context of the conversation, it made perfect sense. One of her friends showed up, Gemini, not that it matters, and with typical Gemini wit, "Float off course? Kramer’s already on the raft, pushing away from the dock!"
Cute pair — which means, I was left without a lot to say to the comment on my comment. I tend to not try to top the Gemini, but this isn’t about Gemini, this is about Sagittarius, and while I might be on the raft, pushing away from the dock, or I might be adrift someplace, falling way off course, that doesn’t mean that every Sagittarius has to follow my aimless directions.
Stay on course. Don’t float off a little. When poking around, say, in a fishing boat, it’s good to noodle around some. But with Saturn and the Sun frisky in Virgo, make a sincere effort to stay on course, not floating along like me.
Capricorn: The full moon is about ten days away. By the time it arrives, you’re going to be be back in gear, back up to speed and you will have some fresh ideas, ready to harvest. Is it that bad right now? Not really.
I know, a few of you are complaining about how tough it is, but really, it’s not that bad. I do have a Capricorn friend, and she does like to bitch and moan, but some days, like this week, I wonder if the complaining is more for show and less for actually reporting on infirmities, ills, chills, similar valid, vivid complaints.
Jupiter turns around this week, but it might take a few days to get kicked back into Capricorn gear. Saturn and the Sun align briefly and then there’s the mess in Libra-land. All of this serves as the point where movement originates. This is the beginning, not the end. Think about it like that. If you must complain, as befits your style, make sure it’s entertaining. I mean, really. Ya’ll just don’t have that much to bitch about that can’t be fixed in the coming week to ten days.
Aquarius: In one camp, I have a growing sense of anticipation, like anticipating something good. In another (Aquarius) camp, I’ve got a gnawing sense of doubt and frustration. Which group are you going to fall in with? Which side of this line do you want to be on? Which group is more appealing? Valid questions concerning your outlook and after all.
That’s what this is all about. It’s really all about you. You get to pick and choose which side you want to play. You can make a choice, render up a decision, and you get to pick. Happy or sad. Pick careful, as the outcome is not guaranteed, but the prospects are good, if you choose wisely.
Which would you rather be? Happy or sad? Mars/Venus/Mercury, those three form a rolling air conjunction, if you have to know , and I’m sure you want to know. That means, you get to pick. I have one Aquarius buddy, and I’m sure he’s going to say, "No good will come of this." In his example? First, he’s right, no good will come for him, but second? He’s sometimes happier being miserable. Whatever makes you happy, just choose.
Pisces: I’ve wondered what I should be called, a "journeyman roving idle swimming fishing guide astrologer with a penchant for Elizabethan literature?" Or raving, I could be called raving lunatic.
There’s just sense that if we tie together enough descriptive phrases, we can arrive at a definition to fit, say, someone like me. Or like your Pisces self. In an increasingly fragmented society with labels on everything — and everybody — I’m wondering what demographic you’re going to use to define yourself. This week, this moment.
Might change later, but just how many labels are you going to require to get ever important facet covered? Pisces are nothing if not adaptable, and that’s part of the problem trying to tie you up with just one word, one phrase, that doesn’t work. Get an idea, get a plan together, though, as the message in your stars is all about working out that label, that word, that collection of phrases that defines you, as an individual.
Aries: It’s kind of cool, right after sundown, you can see Mars/Venus/Mercury, all lined up close, like. So I think it’s cool and the sight doesn’t last long because shortly after the sun sets, the planets set, too. I only wish, as fast as the sun sinks into the western horizon, I could sink your troubles with the planets. I can’t fix that. I can warn you to not freak out, not get riled up without cause, and not to panic unduly.
I have at least one Aries who will contact me and point out that their problem warrants undue panic, consternation, blame-storming, and more. I’m tired enough already, and you have to ask yourself, does the cause of the consternation really warrant that much theatrical output?
The planets are symbolic of excessive pressure being applied to your psyche. How you react? That’s up to you. Instead of reacting, though, how about taking calculated steps in a methodical manner to get around, through, or otherwise deal with the obstacle? Just a thought.
Taurus: I was thinking about the relative position of Jupiter and Saturn, loose earth trine, and how Taurus fills out that triangle — while I was in the shower. Maybe you’re different, me not being a Taurus or anything, but I do like Taurus, but that’s not important here, what I was thinking about? I squeezed two squirts of shampoo onto my palm. Lather, rinse, then, because the conditioner is running low, I only used part of one squirt from that. If the bottle was closer to full, I’d be more liberal with it.
When the bottle is new, I’m indiscriminate. As it goes down, I use less and less. Same with, like toothpaste. New tube? Coat the toothbrush. As it gets used up, I get to where I just use a dollop, then whatever tiny amount I can squeeze out of the tube.
What does this have to do with Saturn, Jupiter, and all the rest of the planets? It’s about emotional decisions versus logical decisions. I’m a good example, I don’t think twice, when that toothpaste tube is new and full, I just squeeze out a two-inch strip, doubled back on itself. As supplies on hand dwindle, I get more watchful. By the end of the supplies, I’m positively miserly. Tight to a fault, even.
These are strictly emotional colorings to decisions that I make, on a daily basis, how much of what to use. It’s like, maybe in food terms, when there’s a whole carton milk, just use all you want but as it nears empty, we start to conserve. See: there’s an emotional coloring, a purely irrational system that you’ve been employing, like me with the shampoo or toothpaste, and now is the time look at correcting this process of yours. Or not, but at least acknowledge it.
Gemini: I sat down three, now four, times to write this scope.
I got up to get more coffee. I looked at the trash, mental note, need to take it out. I sat back down.
I got up to go to the bathroom, then came and sat back down.
Then I did get up for coffee, one more time, and I thought, might as well, and I took the trash out.
Then I sat back down after throwing the garbage in the dumpster. Then, one more time, I got back up to put a plastic bag in the garbage can.
That’s a lot of work to avoiding writing a horoscope. What I was trying to figure out was a perfect metaphor for Gemini, all about how to avoid avoiding stuff. Focus. Stick to the issue at hand. Do what is right in front of you. Don’t do like I did, up and down a half-dozen times, trying to get motivated to suggest you avoid doing what you need to do.
Cancer: I didn’t think I would be "surfing shade" in mid-September, but here it is, the nominally the beginning of a fall season, and I’m still sweating like — descriptive phrases have been removed for the sake propriety. But I was, just the other afternoon. "Surfing Shade" is when, as I walk along the mean streets of this town, I tend to stick to shaded, tree-lined streets and I angle from one sidewalk to another, endeavoring to keep myself covered with shade as much of the way as possible.
In the afternoon, late afternoon, especially, this is easy with tall, downtown buildings casting deep shadows. Sort like an urban canyon-land. Maybe not so much, but it works for me. However, it’s still summer-like, almost at "oven-roast" conditions still, and I’m still surfing the shade in the afternoon, trying to keep my cool. Which, call it what you want, that’s what a good Cancer should be doing. Avoid the harsh sunlight. Avoid the harsh stage lights too, these days.
Matter of fact, borrow my angled way of walking and make an effort to stay out of the way of obstacles, problems, or publicity. Sometimes, the general public finds you but sometimes, you can sort of follow my path, and avoid them, just like I was avoiding direct sunlight.
Leo: It was a good sign in a Tex-Mex place: we don’t accept any bills larger than a $20. I’m not sure if it’s the fraud factor, or, more likely, they don’t want to keep too much cash on hand, readily accessible to robbers. Tough neighborhood, one of the places I’ll go for lunch, but probably not for dinner. Again, that could be me, too, just trying to err on the side of caution.
That sign, it’s not something I typically see in a restaurant, but it is symbolic. Hand-lettered, probably been a problem at one time or another, hence its presence. I didn’t have a $100 bill on me, so I couldn’t test the sign to see if that was really true. Although, from me, they probably wouldn’t have taken it. Way it goes, some days.
Now me? I do accept hundred dollar bills. But this isn’t about what I will or won’t accept, it’s more about how to divine the inner workings of a magical restaurant, perhaps it’s a dive, and what can be used to tell the truly superior places from the places that are just okay. Something like that hand-lettered sign? Good indication. Why is this important? Sometimes, the less expensive avenue is better.
