“But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams
That shake us nightly.”

King MacBeth (3.2.17-9)

Horoscopes for 5-9-2023

• 5/9/23 Sun conjunct Uranus 18° 54’ Taurus
• 5/13/23 Venus trine Saturn
• 5/14/23 Mercury goes direct at 5° Taurus
• 5/19/23 New Moon 28° Taurus

Taurus

I watched a woman walk into the room. I was tracking her with my eyes, after a careful up-down appraisal. Age, body shape, body mass index, style, cost of attire, sensible shoes, no wedding band, understated elegance, and then, I became fixated on her chest area. Prurient comments aside, there was light blue cab (cabochon) set in a silver-looking wire-wrap design, and more than anything else, that caught my eyes. It was not gold or brass, and subsequent conversation revealed it to be a platinum wire wrap, and the stone was a rare lapis that looked more like blue lace agate or similar light blue stones. Flipping the pendant over, there was a thin vein of ferrous oxide running through the stone, definitely a weird shade of lapis. Unexpected. Metaphysically pure. Thoroughly intriguing. For Taurus on the tail end of the retrograde pattern, birthdays, and all that? Simple instructions, observe, note, and then? Flip it over, see what’s on the backside.

Gemini

Playing poker at an early age, I learned that the house always has the advantage. Years later, playing cards with an old girlfriend and family? I learned that some families are serious cutthroats, card sharks, and cheats in an allegedly friendly game of cards. At one point, I had to wonder if there was a mirror behind me as they were guessing and undercutting me pretty well. I suspected cheating, and later, I realized that there was glass-fronted bookcase at my back. Don’t know if they could see the cards, though.

I was losing, repeatedly, in a game that felt rigged. Did they cheat? I have no absolute proof, but it felt like it. Were the odds stacked against me? Yes. Had that family been playing cards together for years? Yes. Did they know each other’s secret tells? Sure. Could they have been conspiring to humiliate me? I guess. As an outsider and an interloper, did I have much of chance? Not really. Not unlike many casinos, the odds favor the house, and betting against the house — not a good play for Gemini — not now.

“Oh Kramer, you never had a chance, not against them.”

Gemini: now they tell me.

Cancer

“Tick, tick, tick,” there’s always stuff going in the back of my head. Mars and Venus, still in residence in the Crab’s sign, gentle Cancer, and at the back of my head, I keep hearing a slight ticking, a reminder that I’m missing something. Punch that Mars and Venus up against Mercury? You hear it, too. “I hope the noise in my head doesn’t bother you,” always a favorite line. Anyway, can’t shut the noise off, and until we all get a little further away from Mercury and its hideous little retrograde? Whatever is the source of that ticking noise won’t be apparent. It’s still there, and it’s still an apparent issue, but no one can identify it at the moment. Can’t figure it out? Stop making yourself crazy.

The Leo

One buddy, he’s a super salesman. One of his pitches, he had the key to ramp up and seal all online sales. It was the perfect background color for a web page, mobile app, and any other digital media. That’s the way his pitch worked. I bought it. He’s a super-salesman, spelled out in his chart. Charismatic, attractive, sounds erudite, charming, witty, engaging, just glad he never started a cult. I bought, or, in fishing terms? I bit. Got hooked. Swept away and then? I never found out what that color code was. The rest of this all murky, but it was about selling, buying, and then, closing with a promise that might never be fulfilled. I never did get the hexadecimal color code, nor a Pantone number, no name. Nothing. My mistake, and this is both a reminder for a promised delivery and reminder for all gentle Leo, the promised delivery? Make sure you get it. Don’t get swept up in the moment like I was. Dude, you still owe me.

Virgo

It’s that perfect note, that perfect tone, that word, line, phrase you’ve been seeking. I was thinking in terms of guitar players. Alas, I’m no longer confused with being a guitar player. However, a musical buddy was talking about various Texas guitar-slingers, and there was one, maybe more legend than reality, but there was one, and he could pick up any stringed instrument, and get “the tone.” Years spent honing a craft, time spent practicing an art form, or just natural talent? I’m unsure. Guy was from Houston, originally. Anyway, the myth, tangentially supported by facts and stories, tales of the unknown, but myth might hold up. Now, let’s apply that musical legend to Virgo dear… . It’s that special tone you’re looking for, the word, phrase, the concise combination of either musical or visual delivery that works. I’m pretty sure you hear it this week, in your head, only, when you say it aloud, play it, print it, however you publish your ideas? Doesn’t look the same or sound the same. “Yeah, that sounded a lot better in my head.” Which is the problem — and the answer.

Libra

There’s always that association some of us make. There’s that — rather human — foible to identify ourselves with our “job.” My “job” doesn’t define who I am as a person. That’s more dependent on some kind of internal barometer, measures my pressure as a person. My “job” doesn’t define who I am. In the last hundred years or so, though, especially in modern American culture, one’s “job” became the defining element. Along came the highly transient generations that refuse the applicable titles and the way a “job” defines a person. However, there is that echo, that suggestion, that leftover essence that there’s a missing element, and using a “job” to define who we are is misnomer. This can be an easy lesson or this can be a tough cookie to crack, to mix my metaphors. This surfaces in response to recent Mercury (retrograde) machinations. What this does is push that to the forefront for Libra. The question is about how one defines one’s self, and what that metric is. There are no definitive answers at the moment, but maybe, examining the stick you use to measure yourself, maybe that’s where the answer will be?

Scorpio

For many long years in old Austin, I thought of a certain large bookstore as a library, eschewing the usual Austin Public Libraries in favor of buying more dead trees. Gradually, as my reading — and spending — habits have changed? Drifting further southward? Then too, there’s the limited shelf space that I have, but I learned a kind of enforced economy of book-buying, preferring to support the local public library. While I was slow to embrace reading “digital” books, that’s all changed. However, what I learned, what I practiced, and what might be an idea for Scorpio? Imagine that big bookstore, and imagine wandering along through the store, idly looking at book titles, and guessing at content, perhaps pulling a book off the shelf to look at the cover art, read the blurb inside the front cover, look at the picture of the author on the back? Except for a handful of select authors, I prefer to either support my public library, or “recycle” the books. Still, a bookstore is as much of a valid resource as a library. What’s current, what’s hot, and what’s popping in the metaphysical realms? I think of this as “idea shopping” rather than book buying. More than shopping for a book, this is about looking for that next Scorpio idea, but we’re not there. “We’re not there, yet.”

Sagittarius

I can’t find it now, but there was, at one time, a very simple website, “Is Mercury Retrograde?” The original format? It was a “yes” or “no” answer with “no” answer followed by some extraneous text. That text was something like, “Mercury isn’t retrograde; it’s your own damn fault.” So for Sagittarius? Since we know Mercury is in apparent retrograde motion, basically, for the duration? We can adjust as need be. Even though Mercury’s synodic actions are currently dictating a kind frenzied hysteria, there is no reason for our good Sagittarius selves to get embroiled in this mess. Easy for me to say, as I have the years — and scars — to show for learning the hard way. The most difficult route isn’t always the best, and any of the younger Sagittarius brethren and sistern who want to learn from my errors? Simple: don’t get embroiled. It’s not going to work out, and we can clearly see that, and I understand there’s an issue that means something, but is this really a place you want to stake a permanent claim? Starts with an empathetic and enthusiastic affirmative, but pause, maybe wait before jumping in, at least think it through?

Capricorn

I’ve been wearing the same two brands of sandals for over a decade now. One type, over two decades, on my third pair, and I can get them re-soled every year or so. I like that. However, after the sandals come back from being “repaired,” I have to be careful. “Repair” is a “Retrograde” event, right? I slipped on the most recent repairs, and took off on a walk. I’ve found that walking, more than any other activity, gives my head a chance to clear, and lets me focus on what’s important, most important, or just trivial — at the time. The problem with the new sandals, the new old sandals? I was walking along, head in the clouds, so to speak, and as I put one foot forward the front of the new sole caught on the pavement. I staggered a little, then sat down in a hurry. Less than graceful, but not really a fall, just a sudden directional change exacerbated by the way the front of the sandal’s sole caught the pavement. The new sole. Not an old soul. I sat down quickly, unceremoniously, and looked around, then down at my watch. The “fall detection” didn’t activate so I took that as a good sign. Just an abrupt shift in my momentum, because the new-old sandals weren’t properly acclimated to me. Wasn’t my fault. Moving into this next week in Capricorn? What to watch out for? Tripping over “new” and “improved.” Or getting tripped up by a good idea, a repair that went well, but you’re used to the old one.

Aquarius

As a writer, as an artist of sorts, but mostly? As a writer? The most influential commentary was an aphorism from some author, about how a writer’s job is to mine the past. No source, too lazy. Probably collected in the blog or Pink Cake. However, watching, listening, observing as this Mercury ticks along in Taurus, that expression, “Mining the past,” kept popping up. I am unsure of the destination, or, for that matter, what this is that we’re looking for in the Aquarius past, but that’s where it is. Clues for the Aquarius future are firmly rooted in the Aquarius past. Aquarius history, or better yet? Aquarius pre-history contain the generational, elemental, deep-seated memories that help unlock — and explain — what is going on, even now. To me, this looks like ancestral memories, and mining those? At least starting to? That’s what the rest of this Mercury-retrograde fuel is for.

Pisces

There’s a series of books I enjoyed, and off to one side? The setting was old London, with the grey, grit, and grime present in those texts. Adapted to the screen, the series seemed to include some of that grime, grit, and grey in the visual presentation. That’s a wintery mix of London weather, building facades, train stations, and the ineffable grit. Not quite soot, not quite dirt, just a thin layer of a black dust on everything. Feels like coal dust from a previous age, or even the diesel aerosol effluvia from the black cab era. For me, this is more memory rather than recently observed, but also, that was my impression from that series of books and its equally textured video version. That grime, that grey, that grit, like a dust that can’t be removed? That’s the inclusion of Saturn. You can scrub and scrub; it still doesn’t feel like it goes away. Use that grit, grime, and grey as the perfect backdrop to paint that Pisces picture.

Aries

Happened again. I was sorting through some e-mail, and happened across a sales flyer. A device I don’t really need, but at a very attractive price, like buying last year’s model car. Clicked through and looked. Color, configuration, right-hand drive, had it all. Probably had enough horsepower to punch through a brick wall. Now we start with the logic. Do I need a new one? No. Do I want a new one? Yes. Would I regret it as soon as I bought it? No. Maybe. Probably not, but buyer’s remorse would set in before too long, as it was late model, but not up to current specifications. Close. But? Not quite. Follow my decision process, gentle Aries, follow along. Apply, as need be, in your own process. Desire runs strong, but logically?

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