“Then fate o’errules, that one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.”
- Puck in A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream (3.2.92-3)
The sun moves into the Tropical Zodiac Sign of Gemini on May 20, 2022, at 8:23 PM (local).
May 15, 11:13 PM Total Eclipse 25° Taurus/Scorpio
- Mars enters Aries May 25.
- New Moon in Gemini May 30.
- Mercury is retrograde until June 3, turning direct at 26° Taurus.
- Saturn turns retrograde at 25° Aquarius on June 4.
- Venus conjuncts Uranus at 16° Taurus on June 11.
- Full Moon Gemini/Sagittarius June 13.
- Mercury moves back into Gemini on June 14.
- Pluto is “retrograde” at 28° Capricorn for the whole of Gemini.
The Sun moves into Cancer June 21, 2022.
Horoscopes for Gemini 2022
Puck is a perfect Gemini character. He’s neither good nor bad, in my current understanding, more a player who does what he’s told. Towards that end, he tells his boss, Oberon, “I did like you said, boss.” The current condition of Mercury, and the fact that it doesn’t truly bounce back through all of Gemini is merely an indication what is ahead. None of this is bad, but a certain caution is urged. Then, too, there’s the unsettling yet wonderfully evocative Venus and Uranus alignment, and that promises something bubbling up — unbidden — from the Gemini subconscious. Happy birthday, baby. You can’t look for it, you can’t expect it, and you can’t really be prepared, but there is a way to anticipate the action. The definition of luck, and I’ve used this before, but the definition of luck is a free-floating equation of “Preparation meets opportunity.” So what are we preparing for, in Gemini? I don’t know. Varies from chart to chart to chart, but the essential theme is an influence hitherto unexpected. Can’t nail that down. Since it can’t be nailed down, the long trip from now until mid-summer’s eve is about being ready to adjust, quickly, efficiently, and with as little squawking about the problems of having to adjust at the last minute to some new data set that’s just come online. See: if Gemini adapts to the new information, as it becomes available? The month following the birthday month gets a smooth ride. Still, can’t say I didn’t tell you about what’s just up ahead. Be prepared to be surprised.
I have one, beaten unto death, copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare. More sentimental then anything else, although there are notes. I’ll use it, maybe once or twice a year, more from a sense of nostalgia than any valid academic reason. Think it only has 37 plays in it, too. Interesting, in that respect, as the Shakespeare apocrypha grows over the years with the computer and computer-aided textual analysis revealing more and more about words that were probably written over 400 years ago. Some suggest Shakespeare’s body of dramatic work is the first of the modern era. I tend not to use the real, paper versions of the plays, not much, at least, these days. That image of the book is maybe five years old, and it was 30 years old at the time, by the dated inscription. Bouncing that data around just makes me feel old. This isn’t about my apparent age, but it’s about the The Moon Children, the Cancer slice of the heavens, and what that message is about.
It’s about digging into the old books, the old texts, echoing back to a time before, working with some long dead material to see what can be resurrected. With that weird Venus/Uranus jumpstart, and the relative position of Jupiter? There’s a long-dormant idea that suddenly get new life. “Reborn” is a questionable term, but a second shot at life, or a new life, from some repurposed material? That’s the way this goes. I didn’t suggest that this happens all at once, but the idea is there, and just before the true Mid-Summer’s Eve arrives? That will become clear. Don’t be afraid to dig around in the old material, see what might be useful in a new light, up and coming.
Bit of advice for The Leo? Stay away from people who invalidate your feelings. “No, don’t be sad, be happy!” That’s an exact example of what I mean. “You should be more worried about this,” is another example. Someplace between happiness and fear, someplace between complacency, agitations, and excitement? There is a happy medium for The Leo, but getting there is a tricky bit. Then, too, understand that other people always think, or feel like they think that they know what’s best for you. Not how this works. Not how this works at all. It’s a matter of steering clear of the people who argue with what you say you feel. The Leo has some weird pressure from almost unknown quadrants, and this shows up with testy people testing. Testing your inherent Leo strength, your innate sense of self, and the most important part? Testing your strength of heart. This is the emotional heart, different, some days, than the physical heart, although, in theory, located in the same place in your chest cavity. The way through this mess of astrological data? Steer clear of those who attempt to tell you how to feel, or worse, invalidate whatever you’re feeling at the time. “But I feel fine!” No, no you don’t. That’s what I mean. Stay away from those folks.
I was, at the time, driving a Honda Civic Hybrid, over 200K miles on it, and I was listening to the three parts of Shakespeare’s Henry VI plays. Recent scholarship has suggested that other authors might have a hand in those plays, but certain passages are clearly marked as “by Shakespeare.” Commuting to and from Austin for work, I had an hour each way, and that was time to get into the plays themselves, and then to listen to various podcasts about the plays, and gradually develops some sense of the material, of my own. While not an original thought, the three plays, Henry VI, parts 1, 2, and 3? There’s evidence of the wordsmith, dramatic tensions, the supernatural, and other devices showing the authorial hand, and what’s to come in one of the greatest villains in literature, Shakespeare’s Richard III. The car reverted back to the old girlfriend, think she sold it, and the plays were eventually covered by a highly esteemed podcast, getting into the nitty gritty of the action, the language and who does what to whom in the plays. By the end of the third play, looks like the Henry 6 was bossed around by his wife. Just one suggestion. Then, too, Richard III is easily presaged, as what will be the end of the civil unrest and war-torn strife. One critic, to borrow from an accepted body of literary criticism, suggests that the Henry 6 plays are a laboratory for incubating the majesty of criminality in Richard 3. I’ll take it, and it fits, and when I was driving, back and forth, listening to those plays read aloud, I thought I could hear what the critic suggested. This was over a period of years that I toyed with this material, not something I did all at once, or right away. Nor, for that matter, did I ever achieve any level of mastery over the plays and their contents, just a cursory understanding. Doesn’t stop me from marveling at how the triptych of Henry 6 plays leads to the Tragedy of Richard III. This month, when the sun is in the sign of Gemini? This is the preview, the rewind, the wind-up, the advance, the laboratory wherein Virgo is getting prepared for a majestic and triumphal issue. Whether this is tragedy or comedy? Kind of depends on how you play those parts while we’re working in this astrological laboratory.
Yeah, I looked this one over, and with both Mars and Jupiter in Aries? Don’t get greedy. Self-serving, and self-centered avails you naught. That being noted, first? In May, while Mercury is currently deshabille, I’d make a list of wants and needs. More like “wants” rather needs. We need food, shelter, cover. We want nice things. Mars, once ensconced in Aries drives those desires higher, perhaps more unrealistic, but pushes them forward. One of the old axioms I adhere to? “Reach for the stars, but keep your feet firmly planted on the ground.” Now, to spin this up? While Mercury is backwards in its apparent orbit? Reach back into the Libra bag of tricks, and pull out some old dreams. People, positions, places. Point of interest? Goals, and desires, and now, as the month slides forward, and once we get over the June “hump” it will be possible to revise those dreams and desires, and see which ones are actually obtainable — like — you can hit one — or more — goals before the summer sun hits that zenith. When I lived in Austin, I always wanted to sit out a Gulf Coast Hurricane, along the water’s edge. As I’ve gotten older, and moved further south? I’m less interested in such an experience. At this point, what was an old goal, I never realized, to sit out a hurricane in the hurricane itself? As I’ve gotten closer, I’ve realized that it’s not a goal, anymore. That’s what this time is about, adjusting those goals. See how that works for dragging out the old bag of dreams and desires, and looking at what’s there, now?
There’s always an odd connection between Scorpio and Gemini. When the Sun is in Gemini, there’s weird kind of free-floating anxiety mixed with a certain kind happiness, then layered over all of that is the extra dose of Scorpio suspicion. Because the Sun, in the sign of the Twins, tends to double the effect, and as this applies to Scorpio? Doubly suspicious of good deeds that are amply rewarded. The relative energies tend to excoriate the Scorpio sentiment for most this the month-long time. While none of this is “bad,” there’s always that interpretation when events don’t seem to follow a prescribed plan? That chaotic energy infuriates the good Scorpio. So the simple solution? Understand that there are twins of everything, and all those energies are multiplied, then bisected, and bifurcated, and divided up, and most of this can be good — only none of it will be according to the established Scorpio plan. I would guess, if I had to, that’s the problem. The image I hold, is that of a prism, refracting light and splitting it up into its component pieces. The problem with the image? That’s an orderly, measured division. Between Mercury, Gemini, and the Scorpio desire for peace, calm, and control? There’s a problem with the chaos, but if you ride it out, it will work. Just might not work the way you expected it to work, but take the win, Scorpio dear, take the win, however it shows up. Scorpio: take the win.
There’s a cautionary tone that comes with the various planet transits and how those affect dear Sagittarius. Simplest, shortest suggestion, it’s about flirtatious behavior. I’m at that odd age, too old for women to care and too young for medicare (borrowing from another Texas Scorpio scribe). This is about dealing with other people, and having a mistaken communication get misconstrued. There’s an implied intimacy within my body of work. But that implied intimacy doesn’t mean that we are really going to be best of friends for ever and ever, although, yes, that has occurred. Because I was raised “southern” as in roots in classical Southern Gothic? I was brought up saying “darlin’, sweetie,” and similar terms of endearments as a form of social grease. On more than one occasion, that phrasing is a source of problems as there seems to be a disconnect between my intention, which is friendly and jovial, and the recipient’s understanding, which is more intimate in nature. It’s merely social discourse, and the nature of what I do strides a thin line between overtly friendly and covertly objective, and other one really applies to me. However, as a guide, while the Sun resides in Gemini, as our Sagittarius selves are ebullient, jocular, and friendly — good chance that gets mistaken for being too friendly, too happy, too flirtatious, or that someone wants to call our Sagittarius bluff. Easiest suggestion? Tone down our delivery, and if that doesn’t work, entirely? Make sure there’s a wink, a nod, a touch that warns that we’re not that serious. Unless we are.
See fineprint for details.
One buddy, not a Capricorn, suggested to me that “A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind.” There was recent, pretty much just an online magazine-type of an article, all about writers and their favorite places, that cozy nook every writer has in his or her home, where we can curl up with a book, or what our “writing” space looks like. I flipped through the images. My buddy’s comment echoed in my mind. Each space was careful arranged, a single book was open, there was a pencil holder with one pen in it, a blank pad of paper, a single lamp illuminating a small spot on the desk. Maybe a keyboard, a mouse, but not much else. Rather zen-like and all-together too clean. Rather unrealistic. I have scattered papers, an envelope with a single word and hand-drawn image, two, no, now three folding knives, a key to what I-don’t-know, paper clips, post-it notes, a small mineral sample of something metaphysical, a pill container with a pill I can’t identify, and then there’s other free-floating materials. Sort of tidy, but then not at all. Nothing like the pictures. Should I feel badly because I don’t look like the staged and choreographed images online? Nope. I know that they are unrealistic images, except for one, since it was the author of the article, a previously unknown person? Sure, that space can be minimal and eloquent, but for the rest of the real working writers? Think about it. It’s managed chaos, of sorts. That’s on good day. This next season is fraught with changes for Capricorn, and trying to compare your real, working space with this idealized, de-cluttered, posed, poised images of other peoples’ fantasy workspaces? It’s not realistic. Therein is the clue for the approach to the start of the real summer season, for Capricorn — it’s not fair trying to live up to idealized conditions that we know are frankly fake. Staged. Stop comparing yourself to some impossible ideal.
There’s a clue about this. A style of action to gracefully ease your Aquarius way through the next few weeks. It’s about that zen-like attitude. Easy for me to suggest, I’m not suffering with the malevolence of the mercurial mayhem, right? But I am, and and I understand what’s happening, although, for me, it’s not quite as bad — because I paid attention before it got here. A good course of action is no action, at least for Aquarius as action just begets a worried and then harried, and even hurried attitude that spins around and around in one place, making no discernible progress. What I suggest is a blank “piece of paper” each morning. No goals, no direction, no unrelated expectations that then get shattered, and end in heartbreak. Start blank, each morning, May then June. “It’a new day, let’s see what it might hold.” That’s a much more successful approach rather than intricate plans — given the way things are? Yeah, those intricate plans might not work the way you think they should. With that knowledge in Aquarius hand? Start with a blank sheet of paper, lowered expectations are much easier to meet and exceed.
This came from a workshop from a friend. The workshop was based on leadership skills derived from military tacticians. Wisdom handed down from one successful leader to another, at least, that’s how it was packaged, and then sold, resold, and finally wound up with a buddy of mine. The acronym was OODA, and it stands for Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. “Yeah, in wartime, this is the difference between life and death,” and I didn’t follow the rest. However, I noted that acronym and wanted to abbreviate it for Pisces, especially during the times ahead. Instead of OODA? Let’s try OOD. Break it on down? Observe. Some would suggest “Mindful,” but I’m sticking with observe, as in look at the situation in front of you. All the players, all the pieces of the puzzle, where we are at? Observe. Then Orient, as in get that data, the observations, understand where the proper places are. Or where they are not. Get oriented towards that Pisces prize. Finally, according to me and the way I see your stars? Decide. You gathered the data, arrived at an apparently viable conclusion, and now we pick a course of action. OOD. You reach a decision. Here’s the plan, and the way the month of Gemini works out for Pisces: gather data, analyze, get it in its place, then pick a course of action. In no version, despite the pressure from Mars in Aries, maybe, yeah, no, not a good month to take that action. Assess, decide. Maybe figure out what to do.
Goes totally against the idea that we should all clear out any extraneous crap from our Aries lives, but the idea? Wrong time to throw anything away. I didn’t say, “Don’t clean,” but I was amending that notion with the idea that we don’t throw out anything that might be serviceable, especially at a later time. There’s a wholesale, clear-cutting, “scorched earth” policy that emerges due to the Aries and Mars flavors, and combine that with the errant Mercury? I just had this one image, from back in the computer days? I had this one secretary (administrative assistant) who used the “trash” on the work computer as the way to file data that might — or might not — be useful at a later time. The problem being, a significant consultant like me, with a touch of OCD? I tend to make sure that the computer’s “trash” gets emptied on a regular basis, like, almost immediately. Technically, the data is merely removed from the computers directory and the information is not “destroyed” when the trash is emptied, but for that one admin, that was a back-up storage spot. So the message, long-winded that I might be? Like that one admin, it’s quite alright to stack material we think we want to get rid of, OK to put it all in the recycle bin. Don’t roll that recycle bin out to the curb, or hit the “Empty trash” button, or whatever action makes it all go away for, like forever. Might need to look at some of that again, before the Summer Solstice arrives.
Between the start of Gemini, and the Taurus — Venus/Uranus conjunction on June 11? Almost two-thirds of the Gemini time? It’s about preparing. It’s about preparation. It’s about doing what you can do to be ready. I live a simple life. When I go to the lake to fish, I typically carry only two fishing poles. Each one is rigged in a different manner, and each one is “Fish appropriate” for wherever I’m heading, but I do just carry the two. Hanging on the wall here, I’ve got maybe a dozen or more fishing poles, but I don’t unlimber the whole outfit; that’s too much trouble. While this is merely an example, one pole will have a topwater lure, and the other pole will have a worm hook and small split weight. In the summer, it’s really too late for kicking topwater action, but in the summer? The fish tend to hide at the bottom, and doesn’t take much to get down there, but just in case, like, really early in the morning, there’s always a chance of some topwater action. So I’m ready. I’m prepared. I watched the weather and made a reasonable guess as to what the conditions might be, and I’ve got two poles, ready to go. Prepared, as as I’ve suggested. Doesn’t take much. The other morning, I was up early, and walking along the shoreline, poles in hand. I set the one down and flipped that topwater out. Fish took a swipe at it then disappeared under the water. I set the topwater down, leaned it against an aging and bent willow, then tossed that worm with its sinker. Mercury Retrograde success, pictures on the web someplace. Simple preparation. Not complicated.