It is a damned and a bloody work,
The graceless action of a heavy hand—
If that it be the work of any hand.

Philip, the Bastard in Shakespeare’s King John (IV.iii.57-9)

Horoscopes starting 9.29.2016

Libra:

One Libra girlfriend, we developed a shorthand code for this energy, “Shoe-shopping on the internet.” You can’t shop for shoes on the inter-webs. Maybe it is possible in a theoretical sense, but it certainly doesn’t work for me. I realize there is at least one mega-online-retailer that has made this into a highly successful business model, but that’s an exception.

For something like shoes? I want to see how they fit. My Libra girlfriend? “Shopping for shoes on the internet” is a code phrase for meandering, in a way that might seem aimless, to some, but meandering where it is that this takes us. All about the journey and less about the destination. Personally, I will buy one kind of shoe online, a certain brand of sandal, but I know what fits, and I know that they only offer two models. Can’t go wrong, not really shopping, more like just getting another, same size, etc. This isn’t about my sandals, either, this is about the Libra energy and its best use.

Shoe shopping on the inter-webs. Not buying, just looking. Save for a future date. Happy birthday!

Scorpio:

One of my more fatal mistakes was reading the label. The list of ingredients on the back, down in small print? Almost too tiny to see? Like they were hiding something in the fineprint? Turns out, you don’t want to know.

One of the more famous examples, of the material in the ingredients? There’s a famous brand of whipped-desert topping, and careful perusal of the ingredients? There’s a petroleum (based) product in it — or there was. I’m sure, with the age of information upon us, they’ve had to change the formula, or change the name of the ingredients, so it this is no longer reflected in the package’s details. This is about making sure, that you, as the Scorpio, make sure you know what’s in the package. Make sure you know exactly what component pieces are used to make that thing. Doesn’t have to be food, but that was the easiest example. Can be any number of Scorpio-related items that you touch. But it’s important to know what’s really in the package?

Sagittarius:

The Nodes of the Moon are at 12 degrees of Pisces (South Node) and Virgo (North Node). Saturn arrives at 12 degrees of Sagittarius.

Without looking at anything else, this indicates a degree of an obstacle, pushed to the forefront of the Sagittarius mind by a number of less than celebratory events. Real world stuff. Real world obstacle, was what I was thinking. Like a wall. Like a big, brick wall that we, as Sagittarius, feel like we must get through, ah, there’s always Saturn, isn’t there? Pound away, manually attack, get a power cutter, chainsaw, earth mover, try any tool we like? Wall stays put. I’d suggest falling back to regroup. Take a single step back from the hands-on, get-this-out-of-my-way attack-mode we’re launched upon this wall. The Nodes are part of the Lunar Cycle. This will wash away, in almost no time.

Just as a follow-up and future note to Sagittarius self? That wall? turns out it was there, not to keep Sagittarius from getting to the other side, but to prevent the evil on the other side, from getting to us.

Final idea? Leave well enough alone?

“What could possibly be on the other side that would worry us? Oh, holy crap! Run!”

Capricorn:

My coffee styles change. However, early in the morning, I still prefer to make a strong, hot cup of coffee. Almost first thing. I’ve used an espresso maker, a caffettiera, French Press, Drip, which is now called “pour over,” Cold Brew, and the current fave? Chemex.

What I was thinking about, though, was the first sip in the morning, the time when the coffee is too hot to taste, might even burn my tongue. That first sip. “It burns!” So what happens next? I take a second sip. In the event the scorched condition of my tongue wasn’t clear before, it is by the second sip. Just checking to see if it’s still too hot? Be my guess. Guarantees a burnt tongue, or singed, at least, for the rest of the morning.

It’s that second sip that does it. I can’t seem to stop myself. Given where the planets are, and with Mars poking along in your sign? I can save you the singed tongue, or whatever burns, I can help prevent that. You’re only going to get the one reminder, though, this week. From me. If it’s too hot? No need to try a second time. It’s too hot. Put it down; put some milk in it; put an ice cube in it; or just let it sit.

“Too hot to handle” means just that.

You’ll try, like me, the first time; no need to try, like me, the second time, too.

Aquarius:

It wasn’t until I experienced a local “paleta” that was Cantaloupe-Flavored that I appreciated the delicacy of that kind of melon. Growing up, it’s a reasonably local fruit, and I was virtually force-fed cantaloupe. Hated it. Refused to eat it for many, long years. I’m unsure of what shifted. Childhood scars finally healed? Doubt that’s really it, more like I was far enough removed from whatever trauma there was associated with cantaloupes that I was willing to try. Besides, it was local, Mexican candy-like product, that was merely melon-flavored. But that experience awakened my taste buds to a delicate yet oddly sweet flavor.

This is about being willing to try something new, albeit, similar, or, in my example, “I used to hate those.” I did. I’ve been known, in previous years, to eat around the cantaloupe in a fruit salad, steering clear of the stuff.

Conversely, I’m not allowed to say, “I didn’t know what I was missing,” because, as a kid, it was forced on me. I missed it on purpose. Maybe my taste buds changed with age. Or old scars are healed? Either way, up against some long-held Aquarius belief? Try shifting sideways to see if we can change that belief. Or, if the belief needs to hold, for now.

Pisces:

While this is a recent obsession, for me, started some years back, it’s recently shifted, in a small way. I became interested in the arrows that construction crews, usually road crews, leave as markers on pavement and asphalt, indicating where to dig, or not to dig, where a cable or pipeline might be.

The markings, to me, became a form of inadvertent art. Gradually, as location and interest changed, I started looking at parking lot markers. Arrows, lines, rows, and those became a new obsession. There was one batch, and I never properly photographed them, but there was one parking lot, where it was clear that the arrows had been painted over a few times. Maybe three or four layers of arrows were visible. Made for an interesting, found-art, graphic. Inspiration that was, literally, right under my feet. This is my recent graphic obsession. It also serves as a form inspiration. As Pisces, there needs to be some inspiration, even now, and I’m suggesting, like me, it’s right under your feet.

Pisces: Look down so you can look up.

Aries:

Bounce. Easier said than done, but that’s me. What’s required is that you bounce.

“Bounce,” in this version, my version, it can mean number of actions. What I was thinking of, first and foremost? Bounce ideas off of others. “Do you think this is a good idea?” Or, “Does this look feasible?” “Do these horizontal stripes accentuate too much?” Get the idea of what I was suggesting with the term “Bounce?” There’s another implied meaning for the term, too, “Dude. Let’s bounce. Now.” That means? “We’re out of here (in a hurry),” at least that’s the meaning I’ve arrived at after observations. “Let’s bounce.” I still like my earlier version where it’s more about “Bouncing an idea off another person,” and the other person?

Preferably a team member, someone who’s on Team Aries, at least, on the same side, right? Like me, I’m a big Aries fan. I’m on Team Aries, but I’m not an Aries. Respect (gesture). Anyway, one way, or the other, the term for Aries, for this week?

“Bounce.”

Taurus:

Bass boats, the ones I’ve ridden in? Bass boats have a front seat and a back seat. The front seat is the main person, usually the guy who owns/operates the boat. The front seat is reserved for the star. Typically, the bow seat has a trolling motor control, maybe a rudimentary fish-finder display, all depends on the setup, tastes, and budget of the boat’s owner.

The back seat is the second person on the team, my most common seat, and frequently not a desirable location. The front guy has already thrown the bait to the fish, so if the fish didn’t bite, the fish probably aren’t going to bite. However, once last summer? I was fishing from the backseat, and the first cast, guy up front, he wasn’t getting anything, but I could detect a light bite, and I was catching fish. Bass. Pictures are on the site, someplace. In order to get ahead this week, for Taurus? Be willing to take that backseat position. Let the other person have the glory, the accolades, the attention. Back of the boat. Not usually a position of esteem and honor, and yet? Taking the back seat helps move us forward.

Gemini:

My adornment and preferment of Gemini knows no bounds. True. That I’ve coddled, scolded, and nurtured silence in the last few weeks, that’s true, too. That it is time to break that silence? Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Not sure we’re really ready to go, but as an ideal? Sure. There’s a gradual shift, and since it’s not all sudden-like, the typical Gemini won’t be able to perceive that shift. But as an astrologically aware Gemini, you realize that this is happening, and now is the time to take advantage of that shift.

Open up. Spread your Gemini wings and soar!

Or, better yet, make the offer. Multiple offers. In the bad old days of publishing, agents and publishers specified, “No multiple submissions,” which meant that it was one query from a single author, and then after the author was rejected, then the the author was free to query the next agent or publisher. But, supposedly, only one at a time. It’s a long, laborious process. It’s not very “Gemini friendly,” and that system no longer seems to work. Unlimber those Gemini wings, load up the Gemini contact sheets, email, postal mail, text messages, voice mail, get the queries started. You’re set for some success, but you’ve got to start communicating. While “multiple submissions” may be frowned upon in certain circles, even to this day, they work for you. Now.

Cancer:

I became fascinated with House Music because there was an element to it that I didn’t quite grasp. There’s nothing in my background that hooks this music to me, so I find it fascinating. It’s a tad weirder than anything else I’ve listened to, and really quite far from whatever some folks would call “Normal” for me. 20 years later, House Trance shows up in regular playlists, music I let play while working.

The original House had a stronger beat, and that’s what we need to echo back to, for the Cancer Moon-Children. There’s an element to that beat, currently missing, and much-desired by Cancer. The high-hat? Maybe that’s it, but there’s portion of the rhythm that is required to keep you marching onward. To me, this sounds like a cadence, and some of this was on my earbuds, the other afternoon, and I found myself in step with that beat. The true artistry comes from knowing when to repeat and when to cut off that repeat. Frankly, that’s artistry I don’t have, but doesn’t stop me from marching to that beat. We need a beat. We need something to call cadence, or give a rhythmical background for pushing onward through the fog. My suggestion? Find some House Music. Or current derivative, whatever works for you. Need someone — or something — to keep the beat for you.

The Leo:

Because of the free-wheeling nature of my work, my consultations tend to be a little voluble, and sometimes wandering. I tend to stray a bit, get stuck making a point, and then I wander off. Mentally, this is because my brain is racing two steps ahead of the current situation, and the challenge, when I start to recount an experience, is that I get stuck reliving that very experience, while I’m telling the illustrative story.

This works for me, and I can pull this off, because, well, it’s what you’ve come to expect from me. It’s my proprietary blend of absurd and astrological. While there’s a tendency to follow me exactly, I’m not sure that’s in The Leo’s best interest. Yes, my route is fun, and yes, I can be a merry, highly anarchist “leader,” but that doesn’t make this right for The Leo. There’s a certain point where staying on task, staying focused, and keeping to the strict path, at outlined before? That’s what serves you best. My free-wheeling, round-about, discursive ways don’t really work, not this week.

Virgo:

Rituals. This is all about rituals. I’m not talking about heavy, laden with symbolic meaning rituals, or church rituals, or temple rituals, no, not that kind. My grandfather taught me to love fishing. He also taught me to spit on the bait. Some sort of ritual based in real-world science, I suppose, as the human saliva apparently made the bait look more alive, fresh, something to the fish. Fish have an acute sense of “smell,” so I can see a fish sniffing a bait I’ve spit upon, “Wow, looks like Kramer likes it. Nom-nom.”

Perhaps it’s about pre-moistening the bait, and maybe there’s some kind of fishy science I’m not aware of, but as a ritual, it has both merit and utilitarian usage. To some, this might be disgusting, but it can just be an example, not something you have to actually do. Ritual, there’s a simple ritual you’ve been avoiding. Might not be complicated, could be easy. Might not make sense to some, and then? Just shrug, “It’s a little thing I do.”