If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
That I may slumber an eternal sleep!

Marcus Andronicus in Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus II.iv.14-5

Horoscopes starting 5.19.2016

Taurus:

This weekend is a set-up. This weekend is the end of the beginning. This weekend also marks the transition from Taurus to Gemini. This weekend? I pity Marcus Andronicus in his lines above. He’s looking for eternal sleep. Me? I’m not a Roman ruler, so I’m not looking for that, at all. I am looking forward to a good nap this afternoon. As a Taurus, there’s sense of relief that’s fast approaching, soon as Mars gets done with its opposition to the Sun, right at the onset of Gemini. Until we hit that rendezvous point though? Until we get the Sun and the Mars opposition in the Taurus rear-view mirror? Consider rest. Consider rest and some form of relaxation. Consider this might not be the best time to embark upon a new adventure.

Gemini:

Special birthday present for you, my most excellent Gemini-infused friend? Special gift, to make your birthday that much better, because, let’s face, no one loves a Gemini as much as I do. Other astrology authors give lip-service to love of all things Gemini, but I demonstrate that love, day-in and day-out, time and again. Am I right? Or what?

Gemini starts around May 20/1 and on the 22nd, more or less, Mercury goes direct.

You’re welcome!

There’s a catch, as there’s always a catch with me, and as Mars passes backwards into Scorpio, it will be opposite from the Sun going into Gemini. The way to use this? Curb the usual Gemini enthusiasm for the next couple of days. You can tell me how excited you are; we can celebrate privately. It’s getting way better, with an extra shove from good karma, coming your way, courtesy of that Mars thing. The secret? Don’t show that usual Gemini enthusiasm, not yet.

Cancer:

A little dose of clarity goes a long way to seeing how this works out. Or doesn’t work out, as the situation varies from individual to individual. The Cancerian portion of the chart, though, that’s heavy impacted by “reality.” I’m pretty sure this has to do with a relationship, probably of the romantic variety, but it could be otherwise, friendship, working partnership, never can tell without looking at each astrology chart. However, let’s start with reality and romance.

There’s a situation where you might be kidding yourself.

I’m not one who can speak about denial, as it’s a very effective coping mechanism for me.

Never bothered me in the least. But I’m not a Cancer Sun Sign, and as such, I can get away with this behavior, at least, well, usually. My sweet Moon Children? Not now, and not all. Reality enters the relationship arena, such as it is. This can either be like a football game, a sporting contest that involves physical brawn and some degree of tactical skills, or this could be merely acknowledging that some of the previous “evidence” wasn’t really evidence, or, as I like to put it, not admissible in a court of law. Reality and relationships. Can be good, if you’re willing to really address that thing.

The Leo:

One of my Leo buddies loved a certain image “social media” site, and she was always raving on and on about this new idea or that new project. Cool. Fun stuff to look at, but not anything I would implement myself. Cool DIY projects, but that requires getting up from the Leo easy chair, the Leo’s “throne,” and lifting a paw to do one of these projects. There was one that did look really cool. It was a set of 12 cinder blocks, “trailer foundation blocks” to some of us, and those were arranged with loose, wood beams serving as a bench of sorts. Totally portable, totally trailer park and yet, totally, like super cool design.

Pause and reflect. I don’t think I have an image, not online, of that “park bench” constructed of a dozen cinderblocks, and four 4X4 boards. Maybe four feet long, although, six would work as well. There’s no construction. There’s not much in the way of assembly. It’s an artful arrangement of loose objects. That’s the Leo strength, these days. Artful arrangement of loose objects. Kind of like zen-flower arranging. I snagged the idea off the inter-webs, your Leo mileage might vary, but you get the idea, right? Artful arrangement, might not be permanent, but who knows? That bench is still standing.

Virgo:

For several years, I got to drive a Honda CR-Z. Wasn’t an every day driver, but I got to use often enough. Perfect for either Austin or the Gulf Coast, a little hybrid Two-Seater. Loved that car, but the sales copy was mistaken. It was a great car to drive economically, as I once teased over 50 miles per gallon out of it, long haul up to Ft. Worth. The problem being, it was supposed to be a “Hybrid Sports Car,” like the old British two-seaters, MG, Triumph, Austin-Healy and other similar marques. While it responded, maybe a little bit of too much understeer, but it was a front wheel drive vehicle, while it responded properly, even sports-car-like, it got crappy mileage when driven in sport mode.

In economical, “Let’s see how far we can go on a single tank of gas,” mode? That little car ran like an anemic Prius.

Best of both worlds? Worst of both worlds? Or, what I always suspected, too many middle-of-the-road options. Handling could’ve been fixed, and there was a chip set that gave it more juice, but that sacrificed the mileage thing. To get the mileage? Might as well drive a Prius. I used to brag, “It’s faster than a Prius,” but as Bubba pointed out, he has a skateboard that’s “faster than a Prius.”

It’s all about trade-offs. As a Virgo, are you willing, this week, to sacrifice speed for mileage? Which is more important? “Can’t I have both?” Like that little car, wasn’t mine, didn’t get to drive it too much, but enough to know, it was one, or the other. Drive fast and have fun? Mileage was no better than some American mid-sized cars. Drive slow, cautious and safe? Great mileage. Choose. Choose one. Can’t have both, not this week, Virgo. Sorry, I’m just suggesting, well, I’ll drive like a little old man, no problem, so I’m all for the mileage thing. Go for what you want, though. Pick one.

Libra:

Wicked grin. Or wicked smile? More like a knowing kind of a smile, played with a hint of mischief? Getting a picture on this, yet? It’s oblique, off to one side, sort of, not in the direct line of sight, but there’s a hint of happiness. A hint of something is coming full circle. The most fun? Getting an opportunity to say, this is for Libra, I’m pretty sure, getting a chance to say, “I told you so.” Back to the wry, wan grin, okay? Instead of saying, “I told you so,” instead of the triumph of that statement? Smile. Smile a vacant yet knowing Libra smile. There are times when not saying anything, but letting the meaning be implicit?

Instead of taking that opportunity to gloat, instead of rubbing it into the wounded and aggrieved other person? Just smile. Simpler. With that wicked grin, or wicked smile, or, wan-wicked smile? That grinds the message in, without any effort from Libra, whatsoever. Not any effort, well, there is a certain amount of mental anguish from resisting the urge to say, “I told you so.”

Scorpio:

I’m a discount shopper. Part of that is pure hereditary, familial background and upbringing. Part of that is because I’m a Sagittarius Sun Sign, and I’ve learned to conserve some resources as need be. So I’m cheap. I like me some deep discounts. It’s not whether I can get what I want, it’s about whether I can get it at cost less than cost. I may not need it, but at this price? I should get three of them, right?

Here’s the deal, with the deals, I’m not a Scorpio, and I lack enough Scorpio in my chart to make this work. Just because there’s a “special deal, super-discount, today only!”? Just because there’s an offer for something too cheap to pass up? Do you have room for it? Do you foresee an immediate need for it? Do foresee an immediate use for this item? I know it’s like, “They are almost giving it away,” but you’re going to pay freight, handling, storage, and tax on all of that before it ever sees any use. If it ever sees use. Just because it’s steeply discounted, me? I might buy it. I’m not sure that your Scorpio self needs one of those, even if it is a steep, “below dealer’s cost,” type of sale.

Sagittarius:

Clearly visible as an integral part of my reference library? I keep several variations of translations of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. Sometimes, it’s called that, other times, Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, with some editors adding a subtitle of “Living and Dying the Good Life.”

Christian, Pagan and New Age alike can embrace the various renditions, old and new, as it’s good stuff, no matter how it’s delivered. There’s even a free (public domain sourced) version on my site someplace. Enjoy it and its archaic use of language, as it’s a Victorian-era translations, a little stiff in its collar.

The Stoic Philosophies serve Sagittarius well, even now. Part of this Mars, the Roman God of War, and Part of this Saturn, the Lord of Karma, and no matter how we slice it up, there’s a certain amount of respite to be found in Marcus Aurelius, and this week? Read him like a Stoic. That Stoic Philosophy works in our Sagittarius favor, this next few days. The Full Moon will accentuate this need, this “not-very Sagittarius-like” leaning towards the Stoic Philosophies.

Capricorn:

Boundaries, got to respect the boundaries. Me? I’m not good at respecting boundaries. But I’m not Capricorn, and I don’t have the same onerous issues this week, not quite the same for me as it is for you. So my total lack — apparent total lack of respect? Not a good way to start, or finish the week. I have tendencies to blurt out questions, observations and I can make wildly inaccurate statements about the status quo, unbidden. Uninvited, as it were. In more than one situation, the remark, “If you’d waited, I would’ve asked you,” follow one of my outbursts.

So this is a week to not follow my trail. Don’t go down the path I’ve blazed, as that’s not the best route for Capricorn. Be a little circumspect. Be a little reticent. Reserved. Hold back. Keep something behind the poker face.

Or, like I started with? Respect the boundaries. “Boundaries,” in this definition, are fuzzy lines that divide one item from another. Fuzzy, grey lines, not hard and fast rules or fences. Still, respect the boundaries.

Aquarius:

I’m not bitter, but I’ve long learned, and I have to learn it again, I’ve learned that I can count on my own, immediate family to pull out the worst behavior — at the most inappropriate time. Family, can’t live with them, can’t shoot them. Can’t run away and join the circus.

Wait, my family is a circus.

Therein is our problem. This is my lesson, over and over, and if I would just adjust my familial expectations in a more downward manner, I would be happier.

As an Aquarius, there’s a very realistic set of expectations, you’ve got. Like me, expecting my family to behave like adults? Sure. Not going to happen. Same for Aquarius, there’s that expectation. To the rational person, it sounds well within the range of acceptable expectations. In my example, this is family, so, what’s “normal” and “acceptable,” none of that works. Not for me. Can’t expect them to behave in a rational, or even remotely sane manner.

Learn from my lesson, learned over and over, as this is something you’ve learned before, and the lesson is back. Consider this a refresher course, and maybe, like me, adjust those expectations in a downward fashion. No one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public.

Pisces:

Slow down, parse the sentences, look at the structure. Stop jumping to conclusions unless you really enjoy the exercise. It’s not the first time we’ve seen this, won’t be the last time, but right now? Really?

Slow down, listen, and maybe, this is an old trick of mine, repeat the last statement back, and put a question mark at the end. “True story.”

“True story?”

This buys time, adds verbal padding, and it demonstrates that your Pisces self seems to be paying attention. It’s not so much that it’s tricky, it’s just that folks — non-Pisces-people — are starting to get in a big hurry, “Mercury is no longer retrograde!” As you know, from my work, it’s not like we’re totally out of the retrograde pattern now. It’s the beginning of the end to this pattern, but there’s also an appealing kind fog that looks even better. To prevent this from happening? Parse every sentence. Prove that you’re paying attention by picking right where the last person dropped off.

“The last person dropped off?”

If you can’t pay attention, act like you pay attention.

“Pay attention?”

Aries:

For more than 20 years, I’ve been presenting various talks about astrology and my version of the symbols and meanings. Part of this is personal history, part of it education, and part is planetary narrative. One talk I gave, about Mercury Retrograde was a huge success. A year later, when I tried to imitate my previous success, I failed miserably. Just a dud. Bombed. I wrapped the failing talk up in hurry and got out of there, having missed all the expectations. It’s a Mercury Retrograde talk, how hard can it be? Part of the problem is I depend on audience participation and public interaction, and the crowd was not forthcoming.

It happens.

In this situation I was to talk for two hours, and I got out of there in half an hour. The crowd’s time was better spent with some other teacher, be my guess. I wasn’t right for the time. I need a pair of Aries girls on the front row, a sarcastic Scorpio on the back row, and some Gemini twins in there, for bantering and questioning. My talk, it was successful the time before, just never got up and worked. I can blame the crowd, the stars, or, I can take a lesson from my experience. As an Aries? Learn, if they don’t want to hear from you right now? Walk away. No point in making a fool of ourselves for two hours if it only takes 30 minutes.