To shame the guise o’ th’ world, I will begin
The fashion: less without and more within.
- Posthumous in Shakespeare’s Cymbeline (V.i.32-3)
Horoscopes for 10.10.2019
Libra
Happy birthday. This Full Moon has a couple of extra “kicks” to it. Added emphasis? Extra punch? More power? Not really more power, but this Full Moon and ensuing birthday Libra celebrations has an added pressure, or juice, or an extra electrical current. See, not only does the Full Moon in Aries happen, but that same lunar transit is opposite from Mars — in Libra — then Full, then opposite from Uranus, and none of this sounds fun. It is, but the correct use of the energy is required, a fine, delicate Libra balance, with one too many items weighing on your little soul. Pause, then prioritize what you want the most. Priorities pay off, as long as the list is cosmically correct.
Scorpio
There was an ad for “Game Time Essentials!” In my mind, I was seeing sports equipment. Perhaps some protective padding, shin guards for soccer or that high-contact volleyball, football pads, gear like that. Instead, it was an ad for a big-screen TV. Hardly what I would call a “Game Time Essentials,” but I might not be the correct demographic. A similar comment was from a certain female, “New place for my boyfriend, he doesn’t have a shower curtain, but there are three TV screens in the living room.” Scorpio game time essentials? Before the real birthdays arrive?
I hardly understand, other than in an academic manner, the need for a single, large screen TV for “game time.” If I were to watch a sporting event, I would think that a gathering spot, especially if there are other fans there. I would guess that’s way more fun than alone, at home. As a Scorpio compliant astrologer, I want what’s best for Scorpio. As such, with the full moon and all? Think about game time, and game time readiness. I would guess a gathering spot, like a sport bar, is a far better shrine for your next few days.
Sagittarius
I’m really pleasant unless I’m hungry, angry, lonely, tired, or I can’t find my phone. Back in the bad, old days, that was called, “HALT.” Hungry — Angry — Lonely — Tired. There’s a modern version, guess we’re part of the new group, and if I can’t find my phone? There’s a panic, and the mood is not good. I tend to keep it in my pocket, or set it on the table next to me, or the desk, as I hate having to chase it down when it rings during business hours.
So, as a Sagittarius, I’m okay as long as I’m not hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. Or, if I can’t find my phone. Some of this has a simple solution, like eat, talk, call, or nap. Sleep. For me, I long discovered I get a better night’s rest if my phone is in the other room when I sleep. My phone doesn’t go to bed with me. But I do need to know where I left it. Otherwise? I can be quite cranky. As long as we’re aware of what the signs are? We can do our Sagittarius best to avoid the problems. Can you call me now? I can’t find my phone.
Capricorn
“Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.” I come back to this sentiment, this notion, that “Luck” is some kind of an opportunity where we’ve attracted the good fortune of the planets, or the fates, or the odd gods of the galaxies, whatever it is, we’ve attracted something good into our lives. What I’ve discovered, most “luck” comes from a certain amount of preparedness training, a kind of drill, and routine, so that luck has a lap in which to land. Being lucky, well, as a Capricorn-compliant person, what I tend to hear? “Only luck I’ve had is bad luck.” Grumbling and grousing about it does no good. Your good luck and good fortune, this next couple of days? Dependent upon preparation. Luck, especially, Capricorn good luck? It’s a matter of preparation meets opportunity.
Aquarius
One client had this idea, and I have no sense whether it’s true or not. She was explaining, she can fill an old cough syrup bottle with liquor, so, at work, she can have a shot of “medicine,” with the added bonus, no one gets close enough to learn it’s just liquor. Maybe this is an Aquarius thing, hiding a vice in plain sight. Maybe this is something else that I don’t get.
I’m guessing, I don’t know, but I’m guessing, what, Creme de Menthe, the green crap? That might work rather well and be a good camouflage — just, I can’t see a mere tablespoon being enough. Maybe this isn’t a vice, ever think of that? Maybe this is a valid coping mechanism for certain days when — days like this next week. I’m no longer any kind of expert, but there are situations, so I’ve been assured, that demand a little day-drinking. Not my area of expertise, so I couldn’t say for sure. The old fashioned way was the “three martini lunch,” and I have no idea what that looks like now. Cough syrup to hide the liquor — at the day job. Might not be a good idea, not really, and I suspect if you’re in situation where being impaired, well, that might not work best.
Cough, cough.
Pisces
For too many years, I lived in a situation, situations, where I had no real “yard.” Sure, the old trailer park, but that was a long time ago. Finally, in a house with a yard, one of my first undertakings was a compost pit. In my case, it was compost bin. Just four sides with a lid, open to the dirt, and I fill it with leftover food, shredded papers, coffee grounds, used tea bags, rinds, husks, peanut shells, and whatever else I might have. Leaves and lawn clippings can go in there, too. But I don’t rake leaves, and I don’t have a lawn to mow. The other day, I lifted the top of the compost bin, as I was about add my coffee grounds from that morning. The compost, in the center of a mass of shredded paper, there was a churning motion. Some kind of insect larvae was feasting. I have no idea what it was, exactly, and I’m not really willing to learn too much about insects, other than they were certainly munching away. Probably generating heat, and making good, dark soil to use as landfill. Part of this — this kind of compost isn’t really good for a garden because who knows what is in the shredded papers. But the material is great for floral beds, trees, and as personal landfill. The image of the worms — or whatever — grinding away on the organic, bio-food? Then, the short video clip of the surface of the shredded papers, like, slowly boiling? Could be right out of the special effects of a horror film, but I took it as a good sign. A great sign. The stuff is working the way it is supposed to. I hope it is not larvae feasting in your backyard, but I do hope Pisces gets a good sign this week. You’re over-due.
Aries
After my last move? I don’t know why it happened this time, but after my last move? My heels began to crack when the weather cooled off. Maybe the prospect of finally wearing boots instead of sandals, perhaps that scared my feet. The deal is, I got these huge callouses on my heels, most from barefoot (cf. www.BareFootAstrology.com) adventures, but somehow, also, a function of location. What I discovered? After trying a ton of holistic, chemical, artificial, and bogus remedies, I listened to one girlfriend’s doctor, and he suggested a pumice stone. Cheap. No electricity or batteries required. Keep mine in the shower stall, and I try to recall that I must scrape my heels every time I bath. Mostly. As often as I recall. Pretty much daily. What this did, as I used to get these great, painful tears in the dried flesh on my calloused heels, and I would hobble along, for days at a time.
“Are you OK?” Wincing, “Yes, I’m fine. Ouch.”
Here’s the trick, for this to work now? I have to start about three, maybe six months in advance. After a few years of pain, any number of quick nostrums that didn’t really work, I started in the spring, so by the time the winter is coming? Like now? My heels are smooth and crack-free, no pain. As an Aries challenge? What do we need to look at starting, soon, so next spring is good?
Taurus
Old proverb, I think. Dubious origins, might not even be a real proverb. “The best time to plant a tree is 21 years ago. The second best time to plant a tree is now.” This is less about physically planting a tree, and more about the idea of longer-term work, and less about action, and more about thinking about it.
My old pappy used to have a saying, “It’s too late to drain the swamp when you’re up to your ass in alligators.”
Between those two expression, though, there’s a fine kind of middle ground. This full moon brings about a compromise and chance to change the Taurus plans for the future, like planting a tree, gets that idea germinated. The seed is sown, but now might not be the best time to act. So this is about something you should’ve done, maybe 20 years ago, and possibly regret not doing? What’s the near future hold if you take that action, well, not now, but soon? Think about it.
Gemini
It’s a voyage of discovery. It’s an adventure. It’s another week with the fun of being a Gemini. That Gemini energy is infected with new discovery. However, hey, how good is your history? Think about the old days when it took three weeks in a small boat to cross the ocean, that kind of a voyage of discovery. The analogy holds up as there would long times in the boats, not much to do, sailing along, and then, brief moments of “Land ho!” Those brief moments could be punctuated with riches and great discoveries, but the voyage of discovery itself? Long hours, days, weeks, sailing along, kind of boring.
Small boat with a bunch of smelly sailors? Yeah, not my idea of fun. Not the Gemini idea of fun, either. You enjoy the moment of great ideas, wonderful new discoveries, and learning new crap. That’s the fun part. In this next few days, there are a few high points punctuated with great new discoveries. Yeah, it’s the — feels like — three weeks’ of voyaging in between the discoveries that is so detrimental to that Gemini psyche. It’s only a few days, but to a Gemini like yourself? “I got three weeks of this? You suck!” Promise the next few days is punctuated with academic, intellectual, even adventuresome discoveries. Fun stuff. Just feels like three weeks of boring in between.
Cancer
A Shakespeare performance podcast cycled through my feed the other day. The hour-long show included various dramatic readings of famous bits from Shakespeare’s plays. Favorite passages, not really professionally done, but certainly way better than I could do.
What’s of interest, Full Moon and all? The way two of the passages were read — and interpreted. Famous, set pieces, dragging a bit of a speech out of a play, out of context, and reading, or reciting, the material as if it were stand-alone, either with, or without, context. Interesting because those two examples, I have a preconceived version in my own head, based either upon the text of the play itself, or the way I’ve seen the material performed in the past, or some combination of the two.
What this amounts to? In my mind? There’s a certain way it should be performed. That simple, my way. That’s the only way the material can be preformed, right? One of the joys I get from Shakespeare studies is the never ending interpretations, nuances, depth, and meaning that is easily teased out. It can be a question, or it can be questioned? Notice the different emphasis? Small example, but one, as the week unfolds and the Moon gets really Full, then we all hit the after full moon blues? Understand that the exact same words can be read, and interpreted in a number of different ways. Don’t let the confusion confuse you. Be willing to accept a new version, as it might be better. Same words, new (the to he Moon Children) presentation.
The Leo
Artwork that has forever changed my life? The lightbulb. The image can be iconic or humorous, or humorously ironic at times, but the image of a lightbulb, going off, being tuned on, shining brightly in the night, the concept of the “Lightbulb moment,” when the idea suddenly pops? That’s this week’s message and energy in the sign of The Leo. Iconic, ironic, humorous, serious, one — or more — of those.
The clearest image I get is the Full Moon, and The Leo with that cartoon-looking thought-bubble over The Leo’s head, and the lightbulb moment. It can occur. It will occur, and it might have already occurred, but there’s an edit to the idea. The idea is a spark, and this current set of lunar transgressions serves to ignite that Leo spark, much like flipping on the light switch, hence, a lightbulb moment. In the next few days, with a rush of suddden energy, the dear, sweet Leo will be able to see where there was once darkness and confusion. It’s a lightbulb moment.
Virgo
Last week, I tried a running gag to make the horoscopes interesting. Didn’t really work. I would ask, as a trivial pursuits kind of question, from whence that original running gag was derived. It’s from a piece of fiction from the last millennia, fiction that mattered. In part, it’s too easy to see, as that was part of one literature’s great, opening lines, and, in part, I’m being obscure. Some would suggest deliberate obfuscation. I would never do that, not deliberately, to a Virgo.
Google and the internet has ruined my games of trivia, as the data is usually easy to arrive at, with a few taps.
Running gags are hard to maintain, and yet, there’s a need for a kind of consistency in order to make sense of a crazy world.
Virgo loves order out of chaos. Virgo tends to favor consistency. Most of the Very Virgo characters I know, though, don’t favor mirth and frivolity, especially not when something serious is occurring, like now. My idea of a running gag to keep Virgo amused? It isn’t going to work. That inside joke I’ve shared with so many Virgo folks, over and over? I mean, I’ve dated more Virgo than other sign, so you’d think, never mind. Running gags are funny, to me, but this isn’t a week to try and hustle that humor passed a Virgo. Stick to facts, and be as plain spoken as possible.
“Reminds me of a funny story…”
I know, I know, I’ll shut up, now.
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