Horoscopes starting 8.10.2017

    Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern’d, as the sea is, by the moon.
    Prince Hal in Shakespeare’s
    Henry IV, part 1 (I.ii.37)

Mercury goes “Retrograde,” moving east, from August 12 to September 5, with the pattern starting at 11 Virgo, and sinking back as far as 28 Leo before it’s all said and done. Again.

Eclipse patterns and eclipse notes.

Horoscopes starting 8.10.2017

The Leo:

The Leo

The Leo

The Leo? Probably the very best Fixed Fire Sign there is. However, with the Moon where she is? Then pesky Mr. Mars causing Leo irritations? I have a notation from a trip to the big city, once upon a time. It was about a special “underground” club, a musical legend, started careers, was the place to see and be seen, back in the day , and still seems to be rocking, even now. However, pause, Leo dear, and think about that. If this place has been in business for 20 years, or more, is it really an “underground” club? Legendary? Sure. Pivotal? Sure. Launched careers? Again, you can guess my answer. However, pause, Leo dear, don’t you see the irony therein? “Underground?” Might not be totally mainstream, but it kind of is. As the Leo birthdays, usually best birthday ever, as those roll on around?

Mars brings up a point that only you — maybe me, too — but probably, only a Leo can see the inconsistent issue here. Instead of doing a Leo thing and calling attention to the inconsistencies? You know? Remember, Mars? Let it ride. Other folks will figure it soon enough. They’re just not as quick as The Leo.


One parapsychologist professional I’ve worked alongside for years, it is the same line every Mercury Retrograde, “Slow down, take a chill pill.” That does work, to certain extent, but I complied a whole book’s worth of advice about Mercury Retrograde, and this one? Takes more than, “Slow down and chill” pill. Besides, what self-respecting Virgo would ever “Chill” when a perfectly punctuated panic layered with a side of drama is a lot more fun? I’m thinking, “Zombie Apocalypse” scenario, am I right?

The “Zombie Apocalypse” scenario describes the way the energy feels. It hardly describes a viable solution, and especially, not for Virgo. However, like that namesake for this energy, the dreaded “Undead?” There’s a shuffling corpse, a nightmare scenario, a Halloween apparition back from the dead, as the graves yawned open, and it’s from the Virgo subconscious. It’s very scary. You guys dream up weirder and weirder material each time this happens. This is about interpreting the images, the symbols and the dreams — so when I see a rotting corpse? Or the image of one, as a zombie, for example? Ex-wives come to mind. That’s what it means to me. Scariest thing possible. What to do with it? Acknowledge, as this one isn’t going away, not soon.

That crazy, old Mercury in Retrograde, huh.


Remember Aqua-Fest? Aqua-Fest was an Austin-Specific event, usually ran in August. There were speedboat races on the river, then called Town Lake, there was a North Austin, South Austin tug of war across the lake one year, and around the old auditorium? Motorcycle races. Just good fun. Carnival and other festivities, too. Probably music and bass and stuff, but the memories are mired in what used to be, not what is, now.

This short trip down memory lane is sponsored by Mercury in Retrograde, in Virgo, the sign that precedes Libra, and that, my little Libra friends, is the root cause the issues.

Core memories, or, in my case, memories that can’t be properly excavated? Perhaps, these are memories that aren’t really memories, just stuff I’m stringing together to try and have it make sense? As Libra, you have an ability to remember what you want to remember, and some days, this is a powerful ally. Other times, like the next few weeks, but especially this week? This next ten days, plus or minus? That trip down memory lane can be marked with problems, issues, and perhaps, remembering events that might not be quite like you remember them.

Remember Aquafest in Austin, back in the day?


A lesson that gets repeated, over and over, is that I can learn from anyone. Just because someone doesn’t know a lot about a topic that I’m fairly conversant in, let’s say, “Shakespeare,” that doesn’t mean there’s not an insight to garner from listening.

Listening is an important Scorpio tool, especially with tis Mercury in Retrograde time.

Teachers tend to appear in the strangest of places. I listened while an unlettered, untutored individual held forth about a particulare theme in a play. Always be willing to listen. I gathered a particle of insight that I wouldn’t otherwise have, because I was willing to listen.

When I looked at this week’s unmitigated disaster of a planetary array, all I could think of to remind Scorpio? Remember to listen, first.


Yes. No. Not yet. I’m anticipating my questions from this week’s weirdness, and those are my answers, in that order. If you’re a Sagittarius — like me — and if you’ve got some leftover unanswered questions? Those are the answers, now.

“Yes. No. Not yet.”

Simply stated, simply surmounted, and I’m not sure how else I can spell this out. If the answers I’ve provided don’t exactly fit your questions? Because Mercury is headed into a weirdness factor of 11 kinds of retrograde patterns?

“Yes. No. Not yet.”

You might have to adjust how the Sagittarius questions are staged to get them to line up with the correct answers, but those are the answers to this week’s astrology conundrum.


The stuff was called “Surprise Pie.” Labeled “Fresh Blackberry,” I picked it up at a farmer’s market, which meant, the name, “Fresh Blackberry Surprise Pie” was handwritten on the top of the makeshift label and the pie itself? Looked very homemade. The title, “Surprise Pie” reminds me of other, excellent pies I’ve had over the years. This stuff, though, it was different. Quite different in flavor and texture. I’m pretty sure it was a Strawberry Rhubarb pie. The next week? I asked about the title, the Blackberry Surprise Pie. “Yeah, when I was labeling them, I wasn’t sure which was which, so I guessed. Guess I guessed wrong.”

This is a week for “Surprise Pie.” Might not be a farmer’s market kind of baked goods, but it can be from any number of places. While I was expecting fresh blackberry, that one baker’s strawberry rhubarb is an amazing pie. There is no downside, just not what was expected.

Mercury in Retrograde


Buy flowers. That’s my shorthand for this week’s unruly energy. “Buy flowers.” When I say, “Buy flowers,” I don’t mean the trite expression of really buying flowers because you’ve made a mistake with a significant other. However, the shortest version of this week’s weirdness quotient, which, even for an Aquarius, you have to admit, it’s pretty weird. Mars, opposite, along with the lunar phase, Sun still in Leo, and then, Mercury — one of Mercury’s signs is Virgo — so there’s a retrograde pattern starting in its home, which, as you might surmise, doesn’t bode well for the usual suspects.

What I used to do? I used to have flowers in a trailer — in South Austin — as a way to keep me cheery. No big deal, just a spark of color in an otherwise drab existence. I’d buy flowers for myself.

Simple solution, appease the gods, or whatever you believe in?

“Buy flowers.”

Meditation Audio


There are as couple of points in the Pisces chart that get triggered by this Mercury in Retrograde thing. Event. Timing. While, technically, it’s not directly opposite from Neptune, there is still an escapist urge caused by this particular synodic pass from Mercury. This is also a time when old girlfriends (or old boyfriends, but I’m thinking about me), when they all seem to line up to “Check back in, see where we left things.”

“We” left things with them being an ex, all the rights, privileges, and concomitant emotional baggage that entails.

Me? Best way to deal with this? “Bless them and let them go.”

As one southern matron is famed for saying, “Well, bless their little hearts.”

Works better with a drawl. With this energy so prevalent in Pisces, it’s a matter of working with what all is there. Recognize the escapist yearnings, and grasp at understanding the term, “I’m doing this for me?” Get a grip on that term, and wonder whether it’s something you want to do or is it something you need to do.

Mercury will confuse and conflate the issue.


“So,” an Aries started with me, “according to your stars, I’m pretty much screwed for the next month, right?”

Right and wrong. Mostly wrong. Mercury’s period of apparent aberrant behavior lasts more like three weeks, and it’s not all bad, but there’s a very Aries caution I will pass on. Watch it.

“Watch it,” especially at work. It helps to double-check your double-check. It helps to run over the presentation, rehearse, one more time. Anticipate un-anticipated challenges. Realize that it’s not bad, just material needs a second, third, possibly even fourth look before letting it go live. The other option? In software history, there was the “Pie” edition of a certain piece of universal software. It went from Version 3 to version 3.01, to 3.011, with incremental updates, until the final version was around 3.14. At one time, that legendary software was referred to as the “Biggest beta ever released.”

It’s not bad, it’s just not all the ready for prime time, not without a few rehearsals, and maybe, as soon you hit the release? Realize there’s one more significant change that might be required.

So are you “screwed,” like my buddy suggested? No. Understand what’s in play and work within those boundaries.


Earlier in my career, I made a passing comment, more an observation, that I am not painter. Like, I don’t paint pictures with oils, brushes, and, although I do tend to use the phrase, “Broad brush strokes” with frequency, I’m not painter. I’m not a visual artist by any stretch of the imagination. Not my thing. I know this. No illusions.

I’m not a painter.

That expression turned into an essay about why I’m not a painter. This is a matter of knowing what I can, and can’t, do. Limits. Understanding where my strengths and potential weakness might be. I enjoy the artistic process. I enjoy visual arts. I can be quite moved by a painting, for example. I have been. However, I also know that my skill set doesn’t include pen, pencil, ink, paint, on paper. I keep rough sketches of ideas, and design notes, but that’s just for a very rough draft. Which, if you think about this week’s Mercury transitions? Maybe that’s what this week is about, a very rough draft, a quick sketch of an idea. There are times when working in an unfamiliar medium like painting? Sometimes, that’s a good way to shake the images out of you.

Mercury in Retrograde


There’s always an obvious solution. Sometimes, Gemini, dear one, sometimes my little Gemini friend? That obvious solution is the one what is right in front of you. One of the more popular internet memes usually involves clouds, or mountaintops, or a seated statue of a buddha, with some innocuous phase that reminds us all the best answers are inward. A moment of silence from a Gemini — Mercury in Retrograde — a moment of silence can buy you a lifetime of answers. Pause. Pause long enough for someone else to say something. Pause long enough for silence to envelop your Gemini self. Pause. Find some of those cute internet meme images, the ones that all say something calming, and suggesting that inward reflection, in quiet and solitude is what is best.

My best mediation runs about 20 minutes. I have a version that might be perfect for Gemini, a ten-minute version, and you know what? We can even cut that down to three or four minutes. Still, a few seconds of inward reflection will save you from a Mercury is Retrograde mistake.


(Ten minutes to a better you.)


In the waiting room, maybe it was a departure lounge, I watched the silent TV. Cooking show. Think it was a BBQ celebrity, but I’m not sure. A brisket was salted, then a half–cup of pepper was added as a dry rub, and that was it. Large slab of meat, or something that looked like meat to me, and I’m guessing as the volume was off. The brisket was rubbed and then something else was done to it, looked like a loving caress of some sort, popped into a pan, then with no break, a pan right next to where the first pan was shoved into an oven? A second pan came out with a perfectly roasted meal. Cooking shows reminded me of fishing shows, guy makes one cast and catches a fish, and in the 20 minutes or so of the show, he will catch a half-dozen big game fish. Sure. Last time I fished, we had similar results but it took almost ten hours on the water to get that many fish, and that was split three ways. It was the cooking show that made me think of this week’s starry array in Cancer. The TV shows make it look so easy. “Just do this, and presto, ten seconds later, we have picture-perfect results! See?”

There are gaffs, blunders, mistakes, and, as always, a blooper reel, so remember that. Can’t compare Cancer results with what it looks like on TV, or some other medium. Might take longer.

Remember: on TV, especially? Notice how they compress time? Like sliding the raw meal in and pulling out the finished meal in the same frame?



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

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