“And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice.”
Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice [IV.i.192-3]
Historically, the Merchant of Venice was only performed twice in the 17th century, and both times? For King James I, at the Whitehall Palace, in 1605.
Uranus bumps into Aries, just a taste, just a flavor, not really making that much of a splash.
Gemini: Happy Birthday to that one special Gemini! Before we get any more freaky about this, let me point out a single point: Aquarius is an Air Sign. Like Gemini. All right, things are going to get mighty weird. Soon. Now. Even in the last few minutes, it’s gotten a little more strange.
As a good Gemini, though, strange isn’t really so bad. This sets up a period of time, the last astrological theory I worked with suggested this is the tone for the next year or so, and that’s what we’re looking at. It’s more like a flavor instead of a series of events. More like a smoky allure of BBQ with a hidden hint of the flavor of Mesquite. Less a spicy hot, more like the smoked sultry sweetness of the Chipotle Sauces.
So there’s a weirdness quotient that gets turned up a notch , but it’s not, like, this is really weird. Just sort of weird. Getting weirder, but is that so bad for a Gemini? The symbolism is one that suggests there’s a chance for change, in a very positive direction, around the corner. Now, even. Take advantage of the strange events, but remember, this is more like flavor than anything else.
Cancer: In the desert mountains, to the north and west of Albuquerque and Santa Fe, there’s a little Benedictine Monastery. It was originally built in the sixties and seventies by three monks from NYC.
Christ-in-the-Desert Monastery.
Check it out, the monks do have a web site. Of course they do. This is a modern age. The ironic part about the place? It’s open for visitors and overnight guests. No, that’s no ironic. However, there is no electricity or phones. That is ironic — they do have a web page.
I was thinking about that irony, no electricity, no phones, and then to discover a web page for place. Got me thinking that spending a few night in place like that could be very productive. I’d have to pretend I was Catholic because I’d want to take communion with them — it’s all part of the experience. For that matter, I’d be pretending, but I’m sure their god can forgive a little transgression like in the face of what I would be trying to do.
Spiritual vacation, a time to spend a little time without a cell phone, without electricity, with nothing. Think about that some time. It could be a little too scary for some. Try ditching the electronic communications stuff for a little while.
Leo: This is an invitation to take a walk on the wild side. This week, this coming weekend, sometime — really soon. Welcome to Leo Land!
This is time for one action that is either daring, brave, risque, or some combination of all three. Or some other, out-of-place, Leo-action. Doesn’t have to be way different, it can be a little different. It’s not a matter of confronting the big fears in your life, although, I’m sure, you might have some secret fears, I won’t tell, but no, this isn’t about taking a broad leap into the unknown.
This is about doing one thing, it’s a single action, a simple, single, out-of-the-ordinary (for your Leo self) step. Not too wild, not too far-out. Not too weird. Just a little more bizarre, unusual, different, and so on, than usual.
We’re experimenting with known limits, and all I want your excellent Leo self to do is explore a previously agreed upon boundary. In as much as anything? This is about seeing if a self-imposed limit is really at the best location. In other words, just because you thought you couldn’t do it? Might need to change that thinking. Try. No harm in exploring.
Virgo: The “corn dog” is credited with being invented at the Texas State Fair, placing its creation timeline in the fall of 1942. There are several claimants to the title, but the most reliable sources suggest that it was at that State Fair, the original corny dog was introduced.
It’s a good, nutritional source of food on-the-fly. It’s a hot dog and bun, all as one, with a convenient carrying stick. I like mine plain, or maybe with a single stripe of cheap, yellow mustard along one side. The way it was intended. Good stuff. Hot dog, bun, corn, deep fried. Easy to eat and easy to fix. Between a few elements, I was wondering, there’s sort of a relief that you’re looking for.
Maybe this isn’t as complicated as your Virgo self makes it out to be. Maybe there is a simple suggestion that will help. Like a corny dog. I’m not saying that this is the ultimate food, or the best comfort food of all time, but as a temporary way to make it through the next week?
Action food is a good idea. Something to eat while on-the-fly. Like a corn dog. Perfect food. For my dollar? I also like think of a corn dog as a kind of comfort food. I know it is for me. There’s something about the “state-fair” branded corny dogs that satisfies my soul’s hunger. It’s more than just food, it’s something like salve for the soul. Doesn’t have to be a big thing, either.
Libra: “I don’t eat anything orange.” Plain and simple, I suppose. “Except Cheat-Toes.” Always an exception to the rule, I suppose. Which is what this is about, I suppose.
As the planets continue to course along in their preordained orbits? As the march of time keeps pushing forward? There’s a hard and fast Libra Rule that I think, might, get bent. Maybe not broken, but toyed with, adjusted, modified, cursorily customized, something. Absolutely broken? Unlikely. Cheated? I suppose. I’m good with that.
Might be a rule that needs to be modified. Might be something that needs to be adjusted, or, the term I’d prefer? Updated. Yes, that’s what’s happening, it’s matter of updating that kind of material. Nothing orange except for, well, something orange. Mostly nothing orange. No oranges, no similar citrus. No orange marmalade, no orange juice. No Al-Pastor. No orange cheese, like cheddar. But maybe, just maybe, a bag of Cheat-Toes. Something about that kind of rule, one that can be bent.
Scorpio: 40 degrees. 40 degrees of separation? No, but not a dissimilar concept. Venus usually is never more than 40 degrees away from the Sun.
Why I was thinking about 40 degrees of separation. In rare occasions, it can be a whole sign away, but usually? Venus is in the same sign or the next sign over from where the Sun is. Like, if the Sun is in Gemini (like now), then Miss Venus is in Cancer, next sign over. Concepts and celestial mechanics are worth noting.
The change with Uranus is going to be felt. As a Scorpio, presumably, this is going to happen in your Sixth Solar House. However, since no two are exactly alike? I’d wonder if this was a more relationship issue. Weird, different and challenging in ways you didn’t know you could be challenged. The cool and most important, calm, approach is what will work best for my fine little Scorpio friends.
Sagittarius: “Looks like good bourbon,” a buddy was addressing me and my glass of clear, amber nectar, on the rocks, in crystal-like goblet. Really? Cheap plastic tumbler with a fancy heritage.
Things are not what they appear to be. The clear, amber liquid? Ice tea. Homemade. Sweetened with a spoon-full of agave nectar (organic) and in the pitcher? I sliced an organic lemon, a few center slices floating for color, the two ends squeezed for an acidic citrus tang. Not too sweet, not too strong, a little weak, cool, refreshing on a hot afternoon, that glass sweating in the South Texas humidity.
Things are not what they appear to be. Looked like bourbon. We all have our vices. On a certain afternoon, a glass of tea is all that I need. Really, I can drink about a gallon of the stuff, but I try to limit myself. The Jupiter/Uranus conjunction, then, the transit of Uranus into Aries, just taste? It’s like that amber nectar. Bourbon, single mash, single malt Scotch, or just some of my own “micro-brew” ice tea? Reclining and observing, preferably sober for the time being? That’s the way to handle this. What I’ll do.
Things are not what they appear to be.
Capricorn: Hatch, NM: home to the most-famous green chili. I’m guessing about that, but their regional legend has it that the stuff is famous world-wide. Hatch, NM and Green Chili. I have clients who work within the industry, here’s what I learned: each Hatch NM farmer is required to farm 10 acres, presumably Hatch Green Chili. With that in place? The bulk of the chili export crop is brought in from Mexico, processed in Hatch, and then shipped out with the “Hatch Green Chili” brand.
Again, assuming that it’s a seal of approval. Sounds more like a nod and wink, rather than real chili from that one location. Sounds like a bait and switch, although, I’m sure, that there’s a local, state and federal regulators who cover this kind of arrangement.
After I learned that? I had to look at the “Old El Paso” brand of “Hatch Green Chili” in the can, and I was wondering, product of Mexico? Who knows, anymore. Not that I have a problem with chili from Mexico, or Mexican produce, that’s certainly not my issue. What I was wondering about, truth in advertising. Capricorn: truth in advertising for Capricorn? Yes, stick the facts, just the facts.
Aquarius: Symbolism, that’s what this is about. And the modern glyph for this week? It’s highly arcane. It’s a package delivery driver (UPS, FedEX, USPS), yawning.
It means something I know it means something, it was a brown uniform, when I saw it, one of those images that sears its way into the brain and memories.
He was hustling, but not quite as much as, like, at Xmas time. Or other package-intensive times. Bored driver. Yawning. Not quite really hot yet, just warm. Wait until Summer arrives, then it will be hot. So the yawn wasn’t induced by the ambient temperature. This is one of those images that has meaning. It’s the quiet between storms. It’s the lull that can lull all of us to a false sense of security. That’s what I’d warn you about. False sense of security.
Pisces: Regional food is a specialty for me. Not one that I can prepare, one that I like to sample. Whatever the region, there’s always a taste test, a difference, between the way items are prepared.
I’m lucky in that I get to hit El Paso (El Paseo del Norte) couple of times a year. The soft, green New Mexico chile and the hot Old Mexico fire. Makes for some delightful — very — regional cuisine. I ordered up some enchiladas, and when faced with the question, “Red or Green,” I asked for both. Sort of like Christmas tamales, only not. Red and Green? Get it? Never mind.
That one place, it was just a “Mexican” diner by the side of the road, down in the Mesilla Valley, and the two sauces next to each other provided the best of both worlds, old Mexico and New Mexico. In Texas.
As Uranus makes a hasty exit from Pisces? Remember the food choice I just suggested, a little of both. Gives you a chance to sample from both sides. New Mexico is Green Chili — from Hatch, usually. Mexico chili is usually red and hot.
Aries: Shaken. Not stirred. Perhaps over ice, be nice. This is an introduction to Uranus and his energy. Won’t last that long, and this next month or so gives you a taste of what the next six, eight years could be like. Just a sample, though. Not the real deal, but close enough.
Uranus is exciting, electric, a little eclectic, and just a tad bit odd. Aries isn’t usually that odd. Maybe a few quirks, but no, not that odd. However, this is a sampling of what it could be like. From a little odd to really strange. Just sample, though.
Quick (astrophysics) mechanics lesson: Mercury has a north pole and south pole, goes around the sun every 88 days, or so. Venus, north pole, south pole goes around the sun every 260 days. Earth, north pole, south pole, day, night seasons, goes around the sun every 365 days. Mars? Every 22 months. More or less. Jupiter, 12 years, Saturn, the rings, north pole, south pole, orbit the sun every 28 years. Uranus? It has a north pole that points at the sun — rolling along sideways in the solar system. Basically? 90 degrees off from everything else. That’s why it’s such an odd influence. Not bad, just weird.
Really, it’s closer to 87 degrees, but for now? 90 is much easier to explain. Right angles.
Taurus: There’s a popular (local) cleaning solution called “CLR.” The initials stand for “Calcium Lime Removal.” One of my buddies poured CLR in his coffee maker. The machine. Cleaned out the machine. Got rid of the little lumps of white crud, presumably calcium build-up, from inside his machine. Sort of a rotor-rooter for the coffee machine? I guess.
Cleaned the little plastic pipes just fine — only, yeah, there’s always a catch. Didn’t work so good. He flushed all that CLR solvent out of the machine, near as we could tell. It was gone. The little brass pipes in the coffee maker looked just find. There was only the faintest lingering aroma that suggested there might be spilled or lurking or left behind cleaning agent. Flushed water through that machine three times. We made coffee. He did. Anyway, and it looked just find, tasted fine, except, when I got to the bottom of the cup? There was a black, leaf-like substance, a tiny dark flake of some kind. I didn’t sample it, although, it was in my coffee cup and I’m known for drinking the grinds that make it into the coffee.
Didn’t look like something I wanted to sample. Some kind of detritus leftover from the cleansing process. The cautionary tale for Taurus? Think about that cleaning the coffee maker. Then think about the way my buddy undertook the task. Then think the “industrial strength” solvent he used. On a household machine. Not always a good idea to mix industrial with household. There was something leftover. We’re not sure if it’s harmful, or not. But it’s not a risk I was willing to take. Think about that as we go merrily along through the next few days. Maybe try warm, soapy water first. Then something stronger.
