Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil his due.

Prince Hal in Shakespeare’s
Henry IV, part 1 (1.2.37)

Horoscopes starting 11.10.2016

Scorpio:

Possibly one of the first occurrences of the term, “Give the devil his due.” There is much hanging about in the Scorpio World, and, even though there are birthdays a-plenty, there is still pesky Mars in even more pesky Aquarius. The trick to this week’s occasionally unruly energies? Like the snippet suggests, “Give the devil his due.”

Consider it begrudging respect. Consider it a lesser sign than Scorpio who, for this example and occasion, has earned Scorpio praise. Yes, there are happy birthdays. Yes, there are glad tidings, yes, yes, yes; all good. But as a tickler, as a gentle reminder from me to you, as we enjoy the most solemn birthdays? Remember to acknowledge the rival, enemy, sparring buddy, or obnoxious astrologer, as need be.

“Give the devil his due,” like it says.

Sagittarius:

One client’s kid, at the time he was a cute, gap-toothed six-year old boy with tousled hair, he used to say that I spoke in rhyme. The old joke about me thinking I was Shakespeare in a past life comes to mind, too. That was from a propensity to quote The Bard, or I would occasionally burst into random recitations. I doubt I speak in rhyme unless I’m quoting it. Even then, I have, at best, a ham-fisted approach to high poetry. Way it is.

As Mars describes the beginning of an arc through the chart usually called Aquarius? This lends flowing, flowery wording to our sometime voluble and loquacious Sagittarius stream of delivery. The trend is to use too many words and try to make it all sound pretty. Saturn is about economy. Perhaps striving for an economy words that sound pretty would serve us best.

“If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance? Baffle them with BS?”

Not this week, Sagittarius. Not this week.

Capricorn:

There’s an inherent loneliness that comes from Saturn in Sagittarius, at least, that what some Capricorn buds are reporting. It’s less about loneliness — more about a little down time with the impending holiday crush almost upon us. There’s the Xmas list, it’s never too early to fret about holiday cards and how to finance gifts, after all, Xmas started last July. You did start planning? I didn’t, but that’s me. I am my father’s child, and there will be no Xmas in my home until after T-Day. Sad fact. But I’m not that lonely-feeling Capricorn. Therein is my challenge and possible solution, as Venus, in a day or two, will enter Capricorn, and that loneliness will dissolve. The notion of a single planet hardly constitutes a time for a new beginning, but as I toyed with the planetary placements in your chart, what I thought about was planning for Xmas, just ideas. Maybe brain storm.

“More like brain fart, way things are.”

That until Venus arrives. She’s a harbinger of happier times, just up ahead. Make a list. maybe make a list of stuff you need to make lists of, you know, for the impending holiday doom. I mean, impending holiday glee.

Aquarius:

While I adore my yoga teacher, she’s Aquarius, as this week unfolds with a some extra Mars-laden drama? That yoga-mama, she’s going to want to teach a lesson and her medium will be “interpretive dance.” I’m open-minded. I’ve seen a lot of art forms that might, or might not, be considered high art. The problem with Mars is that he heats up the Aquarius mind, gets the blood flowing, gets the ideas racing, but the interpretation is usually problematic, at best.

The actions set in motion? As long as the Sun is in Scorpio, this is a tension angle. Hence the problems and herein is my solution, that “interpretive dance recital” you were planning? Maybe, just an idea for the Aquarius yoga chick, you know, just as an idea, maybe run some of the routine past an objective friend before unleashing the whole thing on some unsuspecting audience. I’m unsure of how much of your dance recital would be understood, I mean, by the rest of us who don’t always “get” the Aquarius Way. The physical routine might need some more refinements before you’re ready for the big show. Maybe a program with pointers so the rest of us can follow along?

Pisces:

The fixed nature of the Full Moon makes it, well, makes for some folks who feel stuck. Pisces, as a whole and individually? Yeah, no, yes. Sort of. No, but maybe. This is a systemic problem in Pisces. Pisces, not normally stymied or “stuck” by this kind of energy, there’s going to feel like a blockage of some sort. Not really a blockage, just an impediment to good, forward direction.

“Right. ‘When life gives you lemons,’ you’re going with that one, right?”

No. And I’m not going to point out that most obstacles are cleverly disguised learning opportunities. No, that’s not it, either. This is a time for Pisces Patience, and the rattling nature of the Full Moon makes this feel like the Pisces Patience is sorely tested. Much put upon. The sage Texas advice, is “When life gives lemons, look for a bottle of tequila.” I can’t openly condone such behavior, but that does buy some time, and in the aftermath of the Full Moon, there will be clarity of purpose and direction, for the gentle Pisces. If you’re patient, at first.

Aries:

It’s a special deal, just five minutes, all you need, an extra five minutes. Not a big deal, but to make this work properly? Instead of begging for “Five more minutes,” on the tail end of the task? Arrive five minutes earlier. Build this in on the front end.

Takes some forethought, and I’m here to help you remember this. On the front end. Build it in. Add five minutes to the clock. One buddy of mine, she keeps her truck’s clock set 15 minutes fast, so she gets in a panic, and then arriving 15 minutes late, she’s right on time. The problem with this system, her system a red-headed Aries at that, the problem? She knows the truck’s clock is 15 minutes fast, so she can be late.

Besides, with these planets? It’s not a matter of leaving 15 minutes earlier, all I’m asking for is 5 minutes. A measly five minutes on the front end. I’m not sure, I can’t be more specific without looking at an individual chart, but in a general way? Pad five minutes on the front side of the task, the trip, the goal, then add five minutes to the allotted time to get it done, to get there, to do whatever it is that’s pressing, as the Moon gets full. Five minutes. At the beginning.

Taurus:

Music not to play on hold? Robert Smith’s The Cure. Almost any of that, none of it. The Cure was dolorous and vaguely depressing in an iconic way, good music. But as far as hold music? Gothic with the term that implies pasty white skin and black clothes, heavy eye-liner, and all of that.

Sure, it works. Perhaps this speaks to certain era, and music that I’m unsure of how it will be classified, but there’s a sense that some of the more myopic, inverted, and frankly dark material — maybe that isn’t music to play on hold. It was California-based company, when I heard it the first time, but that was a little too sad. Not good music for the “hold time.”

Gemini:

On of my buddies gave me a speaking slot at an event I was working at. Speaking slot was the next to the last hour, on Sunday afternoon. The last time frame is “The closer,” and that is usually reserved for someone without a lot of product to sell, or with a surfeit of material for sale at the back of the room, but no need to connect otherwise. Me? I prefer to connect, which, when given an option, I prefer opening speaking slots, early in the program.

My buddy was trying to do me a favor, giving me a nearly coveted spot for speaking, I tend to do a short a lecture and look at the planets in the next year, going with a few “macro” themes, and like I suggested, my buddy was doing me a solid; only, it’s not really. Not really a solid.

As a Gemini, you can gather up minions, mount up that high horse, looks like a hobby horse to me, and you can sail into battle with that friend over a perceived slight like that, the wrong speaking slot, or, as an enlightened Gemini, you can calmly give the talk at the scheduled time, and then, at the conclusion? Ask your buddy to change it next time. I’m a big fan of changing it for next time. Makes it easier. You can turn this into a battle, but that just means, next gig? Next event? No speaking slot. You’re a Gemini; you want a speaking slot.

Cancer:

“It doesn’t have to be this way, you know?” It’s one of those scenes wherein the protagonist is trying to talk the bad guy out of making a bad situation get much worse. All part of the story, and I imagine this is like a video clip short-short film. The good guy, our hero, nominally Cancer, am I right, the hero is trying to prevent the bad guy from making a mistake from which there is no recovery. It’s “That line,” and once “that line” is crossed? There is no turning back. No hope for redemption. No way to get back that which is lost.

Way I see the planets, Moon, too, but the planets and Cancer? Chances are you’re the good guy, and you’re trying to talk some bad guy out of committing that last act for which there is no way back.

Now, if you’re the bad guy? And you know this is wrong, and there is zero chance of redemption, later? Perhaps I’m the wrong person to ask. I’d say, “Go ahead and do it!”

Might be the wrong thing to say. So it depends on where you fall on that line, which side, but remember, “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

The Leo:

Local weather is always a topic of concern and yet, for all the talk, nothing can be done about it. Here, more so than any other place I’ve lived, here, the weathermen are pretty much useless. We’ll have long summers of nothing but hot sun and few clouds, and yes, that’s easy, “Going to be hot again tomorrow.” Then we get these fall patterns wherein nothing makes sense. Predicted, with almost absolute surety, rain, in the next hour.

Sun popped out, and I’m in shorts, headed towards a fishing hole. I assume the connection is I was weatherman in a past life, because those guys can be wrong, publicly wrong, and yet, no one chides them, no accountability. Me? I get raked over hot coals with every incorrect prognostication.

This next week has some incendiary times for magnificent Leo. Like me, you can’t afford to be wrong. Like me, you’re liable to be held accountable. Like me, you’re going to assume this has something to do with a past life because nothing else makes sense. Unlike the local weatherman who don’t seem to study where they’ve been, the Good Leo knows exactly where they’ve been and as such? Makes plotting a forward course easier. Dance around the hot topics that are sure to piss some folks off. You don’t need the grief this week.

Past life as local weatherman — it just makes sense.

Virgo:

Illusion and promise. I’ll promise there’s an illusion? Going up to the Full Moon, this week, there is a promise of great fulfillment in the Life of Virgo. The world is rosy! There is hope! Evil-doers will be vanquished! There is an emerging and immediate sense of relief!

Alas, this gets washed away after the Moon is no longer full, as there’s a growing awareness that the sense of well-being was nothing more than an empty promise, like so much political hot air, which, over time, dissipates into nothingness.

“The good stuff, I’m sure of it? Now it’s nothing but empty politician’s promises? No!”

Denial is useful as a coping mechanism, but with the current stellar array, planetary, mostly, the lunar cycle? The promises are washed down the drain. As a Virgo, though, did you believe all the illusions or were you more pragmatic?

“No baby, I promise, this time I’ll be different.”

Libra:

“Oh honey, I was raised in Texas. I’ve dated cowboys. I did what any good girl would do. I took it to a pawn shop to see if it was real.” Yes, as it turned out, it was real. First pawn shop offered a low amount, but the second pawn shop offered quite a bit. As a Libra, there needs to be something to back up the claims. Charm and wit only go so far. Need something to back up the claims. What this is about, right?

This example, I can’t name the source, but it wasn’t a client, just one of those pieces of conversation I’ve picked up. Then, too, after hearing that, I did inquire, as is my style. Libra. Sure figures, and therein is this week’s message. Back up the claim with facts. If it’s an engagement ring that is supposedly real but might seem a little suspicious? Hop on over to the pawn shop and see what they say.