Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.23.2015

    Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss,
    But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
    Queen Margaret in Shakespeare’s 3 Henry 6 {V.iv.1-2}

Good advice, no? Don’t sit and bemoan one’s fate, but correct what’s wrong.

Early Shakespeare.

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.23.2015

The (mighty) Leo:

LeoLeo is officially ON! Let’s get real! There’s a lot of “fire” activity in the Leo chart. Yes, Leo is the very best Fixed Fire Sign of them all. Trust me, I’m a compatible fire sign, I know what’s best. Here’s the deal: tons of good energy. Here’s the question: How will you harness this energy? It’s there for the taking, and as the mighty Leo? Take it. Grab it. Use it, bless it, hold onto that wonderful sense of what’s possible, and what will be coming your way.

The Feng Shui folks talk about setting intentions. Some of the psychics I’ve worked alongside use the same type of expression. With what’s happening, in the heavens, with the planets and their orbits, around Leo? Set a good intention. You aim to make the rest of this year, the next 12-months, just excellent. Set an intention. Put it out there that this going to be good. Do it now. Happy birthday!

Virgo:

I have zero experience with seasonal planting. I most assuredly do NOT have a “green thumb,” and I make no pretext otherwise. I enjoy the fruits of others’ labors rather than doing it myself. I have, in the past, managed a garden, but I consider it a “darwinian” approach, that which does not die? Survival of the fittest and more erratic — or nonexistent — watering schedule, care, feeding, and so on. Nope, I’m not farmer. However there is a seasonal planting that needs to occur.

This is much less about the phase of the moon, and much more about the phase of Jupiter, who, eventually, is headed towards Virgo. Until that happens, and even, then, in the first few stages? There is a cleaning, clearing, and planting that needs to occur within the Virgo framework. In my mind’s eye, I was seeing a small patch of backyard that need to be roped off, maybe just twine, and then, the grass hoed under, then some furrows, and maybe some fertilizer of some sort, horse/cow manure comes to mind, then the proper fall things need to be prepped for planting, I think it’s the root vegetables, like radishes or something, that needs to go down. Need to get this done, I’m unsure, I don’t have my astrological planting guide handy, but root Veggies when the Moon is waxing. This is preparation that no one will see immediately. Those little plants don’t pop up for a few more weeks. Nothing to see, yet, but clearing, cleaning and planting? Need to get started, this week, to make things better for the Virgo future.

Libra:

I have no idea why anyone would ever want to have a home that didn’t feature concrete floors. Preferably, a concrete floor with a drain of some sort, in the middle, just come in with a high-pressure water hose and rinse the whole place down. Think how much easier that would be. In my own place, this might be a problem, because the great number of electrical devices that plug into the wall sockets, routers, drives, computer, charging stations, lights, eccentric electrics, all of that, yes, might be a problem, but I like the idea. I like the idea, a lot.

Need some wholesale cleaning and cleansing for Libra. I’m imagining a high-pressure spigot on a garden hose, just rinsing everything down the drain. A quick rinse, wash all the accumulated planetary grime, all the material leftover from Mars and Jupiter, and, especially, Saturn. Just see all of the trauma and drama getting washed down the old, Libra drain. Into the sewer, then on into the water reclamation ponds and then? As that stuff settles out? It’s someone else’s problem, no longer a Libra issue.

High-pressure spigot on the old garden hose, rinse everything down, let old, out-of-date trauma and drama get washed away — no longer a Libra problem.

Hose it off. Simple as that.

Scorpio:

What’s the real Scorpio objective? What’s the real Scorpio target? What’s the real goal, here in Scorpio? Very careful about what you wish for. Out fishing a few weeks back, we kept catching undersized “Reds.” Proper wildlife management limits the size of the fish we can keep, in the Texas Coastal Waters, and the fish have to be between 20 and 27 inches with one larger Red each season, as available. The larger fish tend to be a bit gamey in flavor, so the smaller ones, the “slot fish,” 20-27 inches, those tend to be tastier.

My goal, this a good Scorpio example, my goal was catch a bunch of fish. I kept catching — and releasing — maybe 20 or more — of those undersized Reds, running 17 to 19 inches. Close. So close. So very close and in another month or two? Those very same fish will be tender, tasty and legal to keep. Until then? I’d tell the fish to grow-up and throw them back.

The real objective, what I set out to do? Catch fish. What I did? Catch fish. I forgot to include “Catch keepers” as part of the goal.

Use my example, if the message isn’t clear, use my example, and be extra-certain, super-clear about what it is that want. I boated a bunch of fish. Just had to have BBQ for dinner, not big thing.

So what is the real Scorpio goal? No, don’t tell me, it’s a Scorpio secret.

Sagittarius:

Love me some Leo parties, and love me some Leo. However, and I’ve delivered this many times so it’s not like this is a new one for me, but there’s one Leo client, the right age, the right “look” for me, and when I see her? I just tell her I’m not man enough for her. I’m not a Leo. I’m also a good friend, but not good enough to be a Leo lover. I know my limits. This about Leo parties and Leo party time, and not about Sagittarius. We have to respect what our Sagittarius limits are. We have to understand that sometimes, this isn’t all about us. This isn’t about what we want, what we think we need, or what we think is best. Like that one Leo client, the appeal is certainly there, but I know, in the long run, like after the first, heady blush of lust, there’s not enough in me to sustain any kind of meaningful dialogue. I’m man enough to admit that I’m not man enough for her. I know my limits, in part, it’s age, in part, it’s lessons learned from youthful indiscretions. In part, too, it’s a Sagittarius acknowledging the limits of what will — and won’t — work out. Know the limits. Respect the limits. Know what we don’t know and go with that. Don’t try to be the hero, the savior, the lover. Love me some Leo, but there’s not enough backbone in my chart to keep that Leo happy. I know it. I know — and understand — my Sagittarius limits, especially this week. Here’s to looking at you, my Leo friend. Sagittarius? Know your limits — this week isn’t about us. Doesn’t mean we can’t play and have some fun, but again, know what the limits are.

Capricorn:

I toyed with some quasi-formal Zen training. Never got very far because my own, rather eclectic belief system seems to work, and I borrow from more than one branch of religion. Many servants, one master. Or many lives, one soul. Or, and this can change each moment, as to what it is that I believe in, exactly. The zen training, though paid of with a certain kind of calmness that permeates every action. To make it through to the full moon? You need some zen training. This can happen one of two or three ways. One, you can go to a local zen center and take a meditation class (recommended). Two, there’s a plethora of freely available books about zen, most of it online; avail your Capricorn self of the limitless library of the world (wide web). Three, try my “Fishing Guide to the Stars” zen approach: “Wow, look at that. Interesting.” Nod your head.

One buddy noticed that most zen writing, over time, tends to reference itself and becomes nothing more than mental head games that go no where fast. Sound of one hand clapping, the famous Koan?

All of this leads to an existential angst that pervasive in Capricorn. Easiest way to deal with the exigent energies? Suggest that this is the way it’s supposed to be and contemplate that it is just so. Kind zen-like, no?

Aquarius:

Middle of the hot, summer afternoon. That old South Texas Sun was blazing overhead, nary a cloud in the sky, but the atmosphere was ripe with moisture, humidity. The coast is a mere hundred miles south, so it feels “beachy” without any real water. Torpid, sullen summer weather. I passed a guy on the street, and he was dressed in pants, dress shirt, and he held a file folder over his head, and as he glanced at me, he made a disparaging remark about the heat. My quip back? “Wait until summer arrives.”

With oppositions and oppositional defiant attitudes in Aquarius? What are you expecting to change that isn’t going to change?

This is South Texas. It’s summer. It’s hot. Hot and muggy, for the duration. Never cools off. Way it is. Don’t like the heat? Go someplace else. The heat is very much on. Can’t change that. Make use of it, like me, enjoy the heat and use it. Expecting it to cool off in Aquarius? Probably not until later, but it might cool off in Aquarius sooner than it does here in South Texas.

Pisces:

List-makers, and then, list-followers? Usually I reserve that energy for another sign (think: Virgo). However, because I’m both careful and attentive, at times, I learned a new trick and for this week’s Pisces missive? I want to let you have this trick.

The trick is a simple one: after you complete a task, after you’ve done what you set out to do? After the goal, maybe a small goal, after you get what you want done? Write it down on your Pisces “To Do” list then check it off as completed.

At the end of the day, you have a series of crowned accomplishments, a “To-Do” list that has everything checked as completed. Suddenly, from being behind, you’re ahead. Suddenly, like, almost overnight, you are a Pisces, transformed. By the end of the day, armed with a list — and every item is accomplished, then crossed off?

Looks like you’ve become an over-achiever. That’s success.

Aries:

A former neighbor, I was admiring her frankly female form, anyway, she pulled the earbuds out of her ears, looked me up and down, “You’re Kramer, right?” That’s me. “You do astrology readings?” That’s me. “You’re Jimmy’s friend?” That’s me. “Don’t you recognize me? Oh, I know, I’ve got clothes on, no wonder you don’t remember me.”

Been a while since I’ve used that line, a long time, it was in reference to a woman I used to see, in her bathing suit, she was in a two-piece suit, not me, at Barton Springs, in Austin. I didn’t recognize her with clothes on. Like my former neighbor, apparently. She claimed she saw me at the pool, or she was at the pool and wearing much less than she was when I encountered her on the street. Downtown business casual versus just beach casual?

There’s a similar encounter, here in Aries, as Mars squares off against Uranus, in the next few days.

Try that line, which is funny, in context, “Yeah, I don’t recognize you with clothes on.”

Taurus:

The way an American pronounces “schedule” is closer to its Greek root than “veddy” British pronunciation, “shed-Yule.” That language nugget is the launching point for Taurus, for this week, and possibly, the next year. It’s about the schedule.

The English accented pronunciation with its soft “c” implies, to my American mind, that this is a loose affiliation with reality. Sure, it’s important, but I think of the British way of saying it more like a series of guidelines, rather than a hard and fast schedule. Or, in my own version? Remember the disclaimers? Some of this schedule stuff might shift. This next week calls for an adaptable Taurus “shed-Yule.”

Gemini:

Precision. As a native Sagittarius, I’m used to broad, sweeping gestures. As a native Gemini, you’re used to broad, sweeping gestures, too. As noted before, though, “All generalizations are false.” As I wave my arms around, as I pace and gesticulate, as I make broad, sweeping generalizations, realize that, for Gemini, that kind of action is not rewarded in the immediate future. Some days, being the drama queen doesn’t work (for Gemini). This is one of those times. One of those weeks. One of those years, how it feels. However, this is really just short period of time, relatively.

Still, the clue? The hint? Reign in the broad, sweeping gestures. Hold back on the generalizations that might — or might not — apply.

Gemini finesse and an uncharacteristic attention to detail serves my Gemini brothers and sisters best, just next few days.

To put is succinctly? No broad, sweeping generalizations, generally speaking.

Cancer:

Local joint, not far from here. In the back of the place, there’s a small stage not much of a place, as I’ve inferred, more of “joint” than anything else. Dive? Sure. Won’t be featured on TV anytime soon, though, that’s for sure. There’s a sign, among several, but this one? “Beer served with food, ONLY.”

Kind of a warning, but also, kind of a friendly reminder that the place is restaurant, of sorts, and as such, just sitting under the old oaks, on warm summer’s eve, while that’s encouraged, just sitting ad drinking? Not reality allowed, per the sign’s statement.

How much is that enforced? I’m not sure, as I tend to not be a drinking man these days, but I’m there for passable food, companionship, and casual atmosphere, not to just drink beer and get rowdy.

There’s a simple guideline to this week’s planet’s as Mars and Uranus square off with uncomfortable energy. What are you going to do to handle this? Order a sandwich. Be surprised how good the food is.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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