- “This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the bet of our times;”
- Gloucester in Shakespeare’s King Lear [I.ii]
I enjoy the positive energy associated with a Full Moon weekend. There’s a similar, subtle push that also comes from Jupiter, finally turning around in his tracks.
Aquarius: One of many astrology teachers I’ve had, this one was adamant about the best Moon Sign for a party: Leo. That idea holds up well when the Sun is in Aquarius, like it is now. Good time for a party of some sort? This weekend. Happy birthday to the extra special and wonderful Aquarius friends. In our Western Tradition, there’s usually a single candle for every year of life, displayed or arrayed across the top of the ceremonial birthday cake. “Make a wish and blow out all the candles!” The way the lore has been handed to me, the wish comes true if the candles are all extinguished, sometimes, depends, all at once, or with a single breath.
As an Aquarius, make a wish, this weekend. Wish upon a star, wish when you blow out the candles, but define one dream that can come true. I see possible wish fulfillment within the next two, three weeks.
Pisces: There are ghosts rattling around in the Pisces subconscious, even now. There is a skeleton, draped with chains and that macabre death’s head grin, rattling the chains. To me, I’m not a Pisces, there’s a cartoon-like quality to the images. To me, it looks like old-style, slightly gritty, frame-by-frame, hand-drawn animation. But I’m not a Pisces. If I were a Pisces?
This ghost, the one rattling around in the Pisces brain? It’s not a bad omen. Just the opposite, it’s a good omen, but a humorous one that does require some attention. As that ghost, that skeleton, rattles from point to pint? It illuminates a former problem area. It’s like the Hermit, with his Lantern, trying to shed light where it might be needed. Or, as I prefer to address this, the light shines where it was a problem, but isn’t a Pisces problem anymore. Therein is the clue, as the Moon goes Full then starts to wane, there was a problem there, but you have already solved. Don’t open up an old hurt that’s been carefully packed away. No need to dwell in the past.
Aries: I developed a uniform for myself, some years ago. There are now three iterations, but the basic two are the easiest to stick with. In the warmer months, warmer climate areas, where I tend to stay, it’s simple. Warm weather is a brightly colored shirt (Hawaiian shirt) and shorts. Usually shorts with cargo pockets. When I lived in Austin, the shorts were really swimming trunks with pockets that had drains. Worked well enough. These days, just plain cargo shorts seem to be as effective. The other version is for cooler weather, the putative winter in South Texas, jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. I can throw a sport coat on and look formal, or I can wear a flannel shirt and be warm. Either works, multiple settings and I’m required to think less about style, fashion and so forth. Less time spent worrying about clothing. Either sandals or cowboy boots, too, again, not much to think about. It’s almost a binary decision, and the sole factor is weather. Temperature. After the Full Moon passes, think about how to simplify one corner of the Aries life.
Taurus: One of my buddies had this expression, “Drink from the fire hydrant.” It referred to a way of consuming inbound data that was delivered at an alarming rate. Too much, too fast. As a Taurus, you’re normally really sensitive to too much too fast. Jupiter quickens the pace. Suddenly, you’re there, at the fire hydrant, trying to take a drink. Maybe you succeed, too. I’m in Texas, and it is mostly winter time around here. I wouldn’t dare to drink from a fire hydrant, not now, not this week. I’m too busy to do that. Then there’s the question of winding up soaking wet, too.
There’s an invitation, an opportunity, a chance, something falls in the Taurus lap with good news and choices. There’s an opportunity to grab much by the nape of its neck. I’m not totally sure what it is that falls into your lap, but you’ve been working in this one for a while, and it’s suddenly here. Grab it. Grab it, and try to hold on.
Gemini: Work smarter, not harder. It’s that simple. The longer version of this? As a Gemini, you’ll appreciate that there are two versions at least, and see what fits. “I’m underpaid, under-appreciated, under-loved, and the boss doesn’t get me. I need to be paid more for what I do.” The other version, similar? “I’m good at this, but I’m working too hard to for what I’m getting paid.” As a Gemini, you’ll appreciate the third version, too, “I’m not working at anything right now.” All of these have a single focus point in the current economic climate. Keep the drudge work to a minimum. Let the machine do the repetitive work. When I write something, and post it online, a piece of software scrapes that material off my site, then echoes my words, bouncing them off FaceBook, Twitter, Linked In, and so forth. Don’t ask me about the mechanics of it, the details involve RSS feeds, and other stuff. If you must know? I’ve forgotten how I set it up. However, I do know that I let the machine do all the work.
Gemini: figure out how to make the machine do the work, the boring stuff.
Cancer: As far as I’m concerned, a balanced meal can be as easy as BBQ Pork Ribs, BBQ Brisket and two Jalapeños. That effectively covers the protein, meat and salad group. Depends on the location, some places, no BBQ sauce is required, or even proffered, which means there’s still room for dessert. Other paces depend on such a thick, gravy-like BBQ sauce that the sauce itself makes for a sugary-sweet finish. More than one friend has looked askance, perhaps with feigned horror, as I saddled up to just a meal, calling it a balanced diet. However, it works for me, and that’s what matters. You have one — or more — friends, family members, cell mates, someones who are going to be mocking you. Might be a dietary choice. Might be a fashion decision, but my money’s on it’s a food thing. Colorful combination, way of defining the meal, what food groups your delicate Cancerian constitution decides upon, drawn from available menu choices, all sort of depends. There’s combination that works for you. I’m not invested in your success, but I hope it works out as well as mine does.
The (mighty) Leo: I love me my Leo friends, but all of ya’ll are a giant pain in the (neck) when the Sun is in Aquarius. It’s really more than just the sun, there’s Mars and Mercury, this week, too. Those planets, more than the sun, that’s the reason for the difficulty. Understand that this Full Moon, this weekend, in Leo, understand that this will set Your Majesty off — in some way. I don’t like to see a Leo, any Leo, wronged. Cool it. While I’d attribute the source of irritation to the Sun, it’s really those other planets. Once you grasp that this really isn’t about The Leo? Once you get it, once you comprehend that this isn’t your fight? Makes life in Leo much easier. What I’m all about. Before you jump, paw, or otherwise fight with the situation? Consider what part is really yours, what part belongs to the mighty Leo, and then figure out what to do. Maybe nothing.
Virgo: Funny how things change. Situation, places in life, locations, and the omnipresent fishing. One of my fishing buddies, he used to laugh at fly-fishing. Thought it was stupid, silly, the long, slender, very whippy, little poles, the emphasis on flies and fly-tying. These days, that’s what he does. He retired to Colorado. Different kind of fishing than the bays and lakes I’m used to — very different.
He’s got a few pictures of him with mountain trout and some of those don’t really look like much more than bait to me. His words, not mine. There’s a subtle shift occurring, and it’s about a role that might be reversed. Suddenly, even as a steadfast Virgo, you’re in position that you never thought you’d be in, and that’s where this is heading. Instead of absolute absolutes, I’d suggest all our Virgo-ness needs to be willing to bend a little, as we might wind up opposite from where we wanted to be.
There’s usually a small disconnect, and what I’ve found, some Libra folks especially, fail to take any action towards achieving one of the goals. It’s one thing to make your intentions known to the universe, the powers that be, whatever the systems are you have in place. It’s another to take a little action. Steps.
In the last few weeks, there’s one, obvious, action you’ve neglected. Don’t like it. Not your favorite, something. Consider taking a shot at that one, unpleasant action. Get this stuff wrapped up. I still have a few days left on my deal. So do you. We can make this happen. What’s next?
Scorpio: Shakespeare’s “Coriolanus” is about glory, gory death, ancient roman stuff, and most of all, about switching sides. Suddenly, the Scorpio enemy might be a forced ally.
Sort of like, “An enemy of my enemies is my friend?” Short-lived alliance, it might be. Strategic alliance, too. Might be that. In the shifting global marketplace, friends and enemies are not as clearly defined as they have been in the past. Good guys and bad guys, no longer bound by the convention of white hat and black hat, and thus? We don’t always know who’s good and who’s not. As this week unfolds, I’m wondering, after looking at your chart, have you correctly identified the (Scorpio) enemy?
Sagittarius: As a frequent pedestrian, I’ve learned to look at architecture. Nothing beats getting out and on foot to explore a new destination. It can be a simple walk around the block. It can be more convoluted, too. I was prompted by memory from a weird excursion on foot in what was an unknown town, at least, new to me. Old town, seaside, to be exact, one of the oldest “New World” colonies in North America.
In the last hundred years, maybe a little further back, the ravages of weather have taken their toll on the local structures. Still, one time, right there, it was on a side-street, and I would’ve missed the image had I been in truck, driving. It’s matter of looking. Looking up, looking around, looking. Sagittarius can be observant, but this is in the details that hurried or cursory views will miss. Relax the pace a bit. No frenzied rush. Observe. You can report back to me, what you’ve found, later.
Churchill replied, “It is quite flattering, but whenever I feel this way I always remember that if instead of making a political speech I was being hanged, the crowd would be twice as big.”
Apocryphal, in my eyes, that tale about Churchill, but still, a good way to look at things. With what’s cooking along, planet-wise? As a Capricorn, you get to feel good about something, but like that, imagine that line, or one similar, delivered with the barest hint of a Capricorn smirk. A glint, in the eye, a symbol of a spark, a tongue, maybe not too obviously, planted in cheek.