- “I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir,
I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, sir,
I would it make you invisible.”
- Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night [III.i.28-30]
Bit of smack-down word-play, Elizabethan-style.
Capricorn: Bumper sticker: Hunt. Fish. Vote. Subaru wagon, thing, car, little vehicle. I like the message of “Hunt. Fish. Vote.” I would expect a sticker like adorning the large truck, maybe an RV, several of my friends have just the perfect Urban Assault Vehicle for such a sticker. It’s true, too, my friends, hunt, fish, vote. My Austin family cringes at the thought of violent predators loose with weapons and the right to vote. What struck me as odd, though, was the nature of the vehicle that the sticker was on, a little, economical Scooby-do (Subaru) wagon-thing. Full-time, four-wheel drive. Small four-cylinder engine. Not exactly the kind of ride I’d expect to see a ten-point buck (Bambi’s daddy) tied to. To me, and in my narrow mind, it was incongruous, part of the oddities of Texas that I adore. Still. To me, to Capricorn, it feels like something is way out of place. Hang on, this is just a feeling. The Moon is making it so there’s a very visceral reaction to almost everything. Actions? Sometimes, no action is best. Observe. Observe and have a good birthday!
Aquarius: One of my buddies got a remote control car for Xmas. Like, you know, an adult toy for the big boy. One of my neighbors, actually. He isn’t an Aquarius, but there was a very Aquarius action, last week. Toying with the two control levers, he kept running the toy truck into a wall. Really a fence, but built of bricks, and to that remote control toy? Much, much taller. It would be, like, if I were driving that toy truck? I would be looking up at a skyscraper.
What was funny, as we, my neighbor and myself, as we were playing with the controls, the front bumper of that monster truck kept ramming into that brick wall that was, like, way tall. Short little fence, I can step over it, but to that toy truck? Insurmountable. Bang, Bang, bang. Reverse, forward, trying to turn, but winding up in the same spot.
Easiest solution? I walked over and picked the truck up and turned it about 90 degrees. Zoomed off into the parking lot, and it could “get air” over a speed bump. The image that stuck with me, though, for Aquarius? Backing up, hitting the wall, backing up, hitting the wall, backing up, hitting the wall. Didn’t damage the wall, and to be fair, barely scraped the plastic on the toy truck. Still, Mars is like my buddy at the controls, repeating the same mistake, over and over. His girlfriend looked at us, rolled her eyes, “Guys.”
Pisces: I forgot to mention this one, New Years Day, every year, being from the South and all, or, at least in part, my heritage is Southern, and anyway… The traditions is New Years Day should be marked with Black-eyed Peas. Every year. I’m pretty sure this is a Southern Tradition, but I’m not about to do any anthropology on this and look at the roots of the folklore. Not what this is about. I was more interested in my latest version, combine already convoluted elements. Corn Chip, tortilla chips, maybe bacon, peppers from can, cheese, all melted together? Nachos! Nachos, and in a nod to the new year, with black beans added as well. Good for luck. Think about that next year, huh. Instead of black or refried beans, try black-eyed peas. Stretch with me, this example is fresh in my mind. Stretch your Pisces brain around combinations that don’t always fit together.
Aries: With Uranus in your sign for a spell, and Mars currently cooking along in Aquarius, this bodes well, once we get into the weekend. Bodes quote well. What was your first thought, this morning, when you woke up? Dread, fear? Elation, joy, happiness? Make it something good, and let’s hope for the best. I was getting around to helping a particular Aeries divine the correct path for her. In this, it’s like an exercise, and what we do is figure out what the first choice was. What’s the first thing you remember from waking up? Now, what’s the top item that needs to get accomplished, right now? Number one, obtainable, Aries goal? The purpose of our exercise is to get rid of the distractions, and concentrate on that one direction, the direction that most benefits the Aries. Now, not later. Usually, it’s that first impulse. Usually, it’s that first, clear thought. Usually, it’s easy, too.
There’s a single place to focus, instead of being scattered and trying to do too many things? That first one, what was it? Stick that.
Which one? The first one.
Taurus: This is the week of the lost sock. When doing a mundane chore, like laundry, because I am a guy and because I am lazy, I really, if ever, use any kind of ‘fabric softener.’ I also rarely separate colors, but I don’t know how that matters too much. I divide by temperature, hot wash, cold wash, gentle wash. All my good Hawaiian shirts are ‘gentle.’ I learned that one long ago. This isn’t about all of my laundry, or, fabric softener, or those little dryer sheets.
This is about static cling and the lost sock, call it the lost ‘sock conundrum.’ I washed some ‘hot’ stuff, a work shirt that’s synthetic, socks, that sort of thing. 6 (six) socks, three pair, went in. 5 seemed to come out. The lost sock equation, right? So many of my boot socks are various shades of dirty with, it doesn’t matter, I can make a pair out of lost socks. I also attribute the lost sock to a worm-hole in the time-space continuum. Two days later, I found that missing sock, clinging desperately to the back of the shirt. Missing sock question: answered.
Because I’m not Taurus, I didn’t worry, didn’t fret, rant, rave, or turn the house upside down trying to locate the missing — and offending — item. You’re going to be missing a sock, or something like it, and now’s the time not worry about. It will turn up, if you don’t freak.
Gemini: “You want that right now? Or you want that, like, San Antonio, ‘right now?’ Like, you know, right now, only later.” I’m sure the perspicacious Gemini would quickly explain that, “Right now,” in Gemini terms means yesterday, or maybe the day before, not this laconic kind of “Right now means ‘right now, later'” thing. Quick to point that out, aren’t you? This is about terminology, meaning, and definitions. What’s going to happen, there’s going to a time when the other sign, the other person who is not Gemini, that person is going to say, like, “Right now,” but the implied meaning, not stated, but implied, is that it is “Right now, like, only, you know, later.” Some ethnologists will suggest this has to do deep Mexican roots, but I hardly think that’s the issue. As the weekend arrives, so does a New Moon in Capricorn. In your career path. Means you can get started, right now, on a new job. Or getting a new job. Or making more money. Something. Right now. “Is that, ‘right now right now,’ or is it ‘right now, later, right now?'” Right now. Gemini terms.
Cancer: What I heard? “Are you really wearing a Dead Mouse?” Which, honestly, that’s the way the one kid asked. I reeled around and looked, expecting, at best, a real, dead rodent, or a symbolic rodent with a USB or even stranger, a circular serial plug on it, you know, a “dead” mouse, as in a pointing device? Neither. It was — obviously — a reference to a band with a similar name, maybe pronounced like that, but I’m pretty sure the band doesn’t spell it that way. (deadmau5)
“Yeah, and I don’t even listen to them anymore,” the one replied. For a brief, shining moment, I was almost cool, because I could pick up the ironic way the two guys were talking. I understood, the comment was ironic, the shirt was ironic, and the fact they were both in a coffee shop was ironic. Totally irony. One item gotten mistaken, which spun me off into a whole sub-subculture of what’s cool, what’s not cool, and what’s cool because it’s ironic. Lost yet? With everything stacking up against you in Capricorn? You can get so lost, so fast, it’s not funny. Before you try and figure out he jargon of the ironic boys? Stop and pick a single direction. Stop and make one note. Stop and glean a single, salient fact from the whole exchange. Then proceed forward.
The (mighty) Leo: The original settlers, at one point part of the United States westward migration, Central Texas needed fences. Cedar trees were imported. Fast-growing, invasive, hardy stock and in season? Perhaps an almost lethal pollen. Not quite, but there is a time, every December-January, when Cedar Fever hits.
I’ve battled with it for years, with a variety of combinations, and what seems most effective is an over-the-counter combination of antihistamines, hot beverages, and an industrial strength air-cleaner. Not a cheap one, either, but a heavy duty filter. Ceramic and stuff. The season hits every winter at the same time, and the results are the same. It’s like being sick, only I’m not. Properly fortified and propped up with various snake oils, I’ve managed to survive and even thrive.
Know it’s coming and I try to remember to start during the Xmas season with various potions and lotions to help alleviate or, at least ameliorate the effects. The trees grow like weeds and they are the first to come back when land is cleared, hence the explosive growth. There’s similar problem, and as the Mighty Leo, you need to be propped up on lotions, potions and maybe even spells. Might not be Cedar Fever, but something like (Mars) is both after you and on you. Lotions, potions and spells.
Virgo: The influence in Virgo is simple. Prices keep going up and yet, while there’s still a steady income, it doesn’t grow to meet the new prices. Therein is the problem. One is steady while the other keeps on moving upwards. Prices go up, income stays the same. Familiar with the problem? Every Virgo is. The solution? One item has to go. One thing, one action, one expense has to be cut. Not everything, and there are certain very-Virgo items that clearly can’t be cut from your budget. Some other (non-Virgo) people might think those items are luxuries. Those items are not luxuries, they are required for the Virgo lifestyle.
When I was faced with a similar cut, well, really, I wasn’t going to cut it, but I did, I sold my truck. More than a decade ago. I haven’t bought a car since. As a Virgo, no, I’m not saying sell your car, but I am saying there is one (1) activity, action, person, place, thing that you can cut from your budget. You don’t have to do it this week, but might want to think about cutting one item. Remember, this a Virgo non-essential task, trimming something you might really no longer want.
Libra: In my travels, I’ve been exposed to a number of belief systems. From staunch Catholic right on up to the Techno-Pagans. Bit of diversity here.
I’m unsure of the roots and antecedents for this one tradition, but I’ve found it rather effective: the burning bowl. On a piece of paper, foolscap, parchment with dragon’s blood, or, like me, just pen and notebook paper, write down three wishes for the next two weeks. Add three more wishes for the next three months, and finally, three more wishes for the next three years. Total of nine items on the list. Friday morning, Friday evening, sometime Friday? Step outside and ignite that piece of paper over a bowl. Ash tray. Anything works, as I’ve used a fire pit, a fireplace, the “back yard” of trailer in South Austin, just about all of it. It’s a ritualistic way to let whatever you believe in, let that deity, the odd gods of the universe, whatever your system dictates, it’s a way to let the powers know that there’s some wishes that need Libra fulfillment.
Never hurts to ask, and often as not? It seems to work. Adjust as need be.
Scorpio: We were riding along, towing a boat to a lake, fishing pictures are up elsewhere, I’m sure, and the radio warbled about, “Arkansas land of opportunity…” That was too weird. Sounded familiar, and when I got home, I looked it up: Glen Campbell. Song, for that matter, most of his career, before my time, although, I did figure it was him before I looked it up. Something about a distinctive tone and style. Which has nothing to do with great hilarity that ensued when we heard the tag line, “Arkansas land of opportunity…”
My last experience with Arkansas, all I recall, was being asked to take my baseball cap off in a mall because they had a gang problem. Yeah, I don’t get it, either, I had the hat on backwards, with a pressed, button-down shirt and clean jeans. While we’re thinking about the song, its title and tag line, we’re not thinking about Mr. Mars making you uncomfortable, like that mall cop made me feel, and that was some time ago. Turn your Scorpio hat around, like the nice mall cop asks. You can argue, but you’ll only lose. No one likes a Scorpio losing.
“I lost the battle, I didn’t lose the war, i.e., this isn’t over yet.”
Sagittarius: Recent scholarly research in the Middle East has turned up a series of monoliths that predate the Pyramids, Stonehenge and everything else by 3,000 years or more.
There is a very human need for ritual. The specific site I was thinking about proves that hunter-gatherers erected a spiritual/religious site long before the farmers came along. It was always assumed by modern archeology that religion developed after mankind learned to grow crops. The takeaway point — for me — is that we have an inborn, innate need for ritual. This is stuff that’s on par with the cave drawing in France. Early art.
There’s no way to know what the ritual was, but the need for the ritual, in one form or another, is probably hardwired into our reptilian brains. The need is embedded in our DNA, if you ask me. I have one friend who offers “house clearings,” and another who is certified Feng Shui person. Still, a third does “house blessings,” and one time successfully chased a ghost out of haunted restaurant, never to bother patrons again. Whatever it is? Whatever is required? Can be a simple trick like the candle I tend to leave burning in the kitchen, but for a Sagittarius? Whatever the ritual? Now is the time to observe it.
