It is the lesser blot, modesty finds,
Women to change their shapes than men their minds.

Julia in Shakespeare’s
The Two Gentlemen of Verona (5.iv.105)

Horoscopes for Leo 2023

The Sun enters the Tropical Zodiac Sign of The Leo July 22, 2023 at 8:57 PM (local).

• Venus goes Retrograde July 23 at 28° Leo.
• Pluto retrogrades to 28° Capricorn July 26.
• Mercury enters Virgo July 29.
• Full Moon August 1 at 9° Leo/Aquarius.
• New Moon August 15 at 22° Leo.

The Sun enters the Tropical Zodiac Sign of Virgo August 23, 2023 at 4:02 AM (local).

• Mercury turns Retrograde August 23 at 21° Virgo
• Mars enters Libra on August 28.
• Venus turns direct on September 4 at 12° of Leo.

The Leo

In the unlikely event that the message isn’t clear, this is the time. The time to ask the tough questions. Ask Your Leo Self the tough Leo questions. I would like everything in your Leo Life to wondrous and filled with joy, but given a few disturbing aspects? We run into the obstacles that tend to feel like the work of other people. “Ain’t a thang,” easiest local expression that covers how The Majestic Leo can best address this weirdness. Yeah, “Ain’t a thang, you know?” Ask the questions, but as a resolution? Probably not yet. Tough questions, but the big deal? “Ain’t a thang, y’know?”

Virgo

Mars is about action and for the bulk of the Virgo Sun Signs, anyone born in September? Mars is on top of you at some point in the next month. Mars is about action, but with the Sun, Mercury, and Venus lagging behind in Leo? That creates a weird energy where decisions are not always properly considered. Think about this as a prep time for the next Mercury in Retrograde, up and coming and to be properly prepared? Have to build in extra time, and Mr. Mars?

He’s hell-bent on making sure you don’t consider any more than one option before moving forward. Tries his best to make you jump first, then think about building the parachute on the way down. Does that ever work for Virgo? Never seen it work in my experience, not with wonderfully analytical Virgo, but there is a moment, with Mr. Mars? You jump. And like dictated by cartoon physics, you don’t realize there is no support until you look down, then plummet. “Hmm, should’ve thought about that, first.” Which is my precise suggestion.

Libra

It’s mostly Mars. OK, let’s blame Venus in its motions, but Mars, too, can be a culprit. This is about stirring up trouble where there isn’t any. The hardest part of the next month is “leaving well enough alone.” Typically, a decent Libra can leave well enough alone. Typically. Usually. Normally. But are these normal times? Not so much, and that means? We’re going to try something new for Libra. I realize you want to hop in here and fix, ameliorate, or otherwise amend matters. Seems like some stuff just goes reeling out of your control, and you know what works best? Nothing. “Nothing,” you ask. Nothing. Or, to be a little too blunt for those delicate Libra senses, “Don’t do a damn thing about it.” Or, to make it simple, easy to understand? Libra: leave well enough alone. You can thank me in 60 to 90 days, for action not taken now.

Scorpio

I woke up to a summer shower. Weird summer weather as a freak rainstorm marched through the other morning. Looking outside, expecting hot, dry, and sunny? It was wet, and it appeared wintery. Flash flood alert. Swollen creek beds that were dry, just a few days ago. In bed, listening to the sky open up and rain down with increasingly angry force? I thought through my schedule for the day, and nothing required I be outside. I snuggled up under the covers, and dozed off in a meditative state. An angry Aztec god, dismayed by my apparent sloth, rattled the heavens overhead, and the crack of thunder was more like a crack of doom, and the sudden — loud — noise jolted me right out of bed. “I’m up; I’m up,” I addressed the thunder gods. Listen to the bidding, and follow accordingly.

Sagittarius

It’s trite advice. It’s shopworn. Overused, according to some, but as we bake through this summer? The old ways might prove to be the best. I have a ragged collection of loud print shirts, nominally, “Hawaiian shirts.” In one circle, I am not known by name, but by the simple moniker, “Beach Shirt guy.” I’m guessing that the kids were corrected, a true Hawaiian shirt should come from Hawaii, and the shirt should have coconut-hull carved buttons. Just what I’ve been told, don’t think I own anything near that nice or near that price. But call it what you may? The idea is simple. It’s a loud print shirt that will never, ever be fashionable except on a beach, a beach-like setting, or a Jimmy Buffett show. Places I like to inhabit, to tell the truth, not that I can, but I do enjoy. As as note for Sagittarius and the impending doom of the planets and their patterns? Instead of trying to fit in? Try doing as I do. I don’t try to be flashy, but a simple Hawaiian shirt goes a long way in not being fashionable, while still being simple. Besides, I don’t have to worry about getting anything “color-coordinated,” because, let’s face it, this next month? That’s not a goal our Sagittarius selves can come close to accomplishing. Be out of date, out of fashion, and comfortable with the fit. It’s not how you look, but how you feel.

Capricorn

I joke about it, frequently, the defining lack of taste that Capricorn is noted for. Capricorn lack of taste? It’s done as irony, where I suggest one sentiment but really mean the opposite. Verbal irony, when I delivery this in person, or written, as in the frequent allusion to this lack of taste, over the years. You and me, Mr. Smart-Ass Astrology guy, and you, the decent Capricorn, we both know it’s totally not true. But let’s look at the stars, the planets, really, as we approach the Month of Leo, and how that plays out against the Capricorn soul and psyche.

Pretend, just for once, pretend that I am correct, and there’s distinct lack of fashionable sense in current Capricorn. Just pretend, humor me. Then, as we go along, instead of making those drastic design decisions, and aesthetic answers — normally? The Capricorn taste would be sublime, but given certain upcoming and ongoing trends? Maybe not so much, not now. Great time to mine the Capricorn old soul for ideas, but as far as actually putting those ideas into play? Think rough sketches, drafts, and failed first attempts. Not a done deal, but the ideas of brilliance are still there, just not in finished form, not this month ahead.

Aquarius

Some time back I bought a replacement watch band. Kind of pricey for what it was, a simple cloth label on “hook and loop” (velcro) with the proprietary links. The band it replaced was a replacement for a broken watchband, an “endless loop” that snapped in two when I was hastily pulling it on. The sturdy, velcro closure band took some time to get used to, as it was different. It was infinitely adjustable. It was also precisely adjustable to any size, well, within reason, but sure, in its range? Infinitely adjustable, the beauty of the “hook and loop” design. Simple, deceptively simple, yet, complex because of that infinite adjustment. That’s the problem, and while we’re in the Sign of the The Leo, that adjustable attribute is what annoys Aquarius the most. “I can’t get it to fit anything,” which his precisely the problem. We’re looking for a simpler, “One Size Fits All” kind of a deal, not something that can be adjusted down to the sizes that I am unable to even measure. While, we all know, one size does not fit all, there is a relief when that material isn’t infinitely adjustable. You’re not stuck twiddling with the pieces tryin g to make it perfect, because, like that watchband? The correct size first thing in the morning changes after a day of expectations in the hot Summer (Leo) Sun.

Pisces

I woke up early, sort of naturally, before the Summer Sun had hit “full broil.” I had a list of goals, in my head, that I want to accomplish. As the sun crested the horizon, a sunrise full off promise, I knew that it was going to be hot day, and that if I wanted to get anything done, at all, it had to happen soon. I could spend the better portion of the day, cowering in the tree-shaded, AC comfort of an office, and be perfectly happy. A book, a beverage, quiet summer afternoon, the cicadas yammering their incessant screech from the trees, but yeah, the long list I woke up with? That long list of items that I wanted, and needed to get accomplished by the summer’s day’s end? Close of business that day? Didn’t happen. None of the goals got accomplished other than I managed to retain my cool, after a fashion. I miss walking to Barton Springs and swimming in the creek’s cold water. I don’t miss the maddening crowds, the summer’s gadflies. That long list that gentle Pisces wants to get attended to? That long list of, “I really should do this, now?” If it doesn’t happen these next few days? Don’t get all caught up in a world of hurt that you generate for yourself. “Man, I should’ve done that by now.” But you didn’t and the delay is inevitable given that planetary procession, so that means? If it gets done, it’s a victory, and if it doesn’t get done? You have a valid excuse. “It was so hot, like, I was overheating.”

Aries

Depends on how one counts, but there are between 38 and 42 “Shakespeare” plays. I sorted out an opening quote based on the planets, and then, realizing much later, there was an even better quote, but just one for Aries and the incumbent Aries energies; however, I can’t just rewrite all 12 signs for just a single Aries quote and literary reference, cute that it might be. There’s the usual problematic, but not fatalistic, retrograde patterns. This is a set-up, a chance to rectify some previous errors, or just add an Aries errata as a final page. Just note that the quote on one page was wrong, or that the attribution for another piece of data might not be correct, and that publisher is probably at fault, or the copy editor, but perish the thought it was an actual Aries error. Way I’ve seen this before? Publisher sends out a page with the corrected data on it.

Taurus

If there is an announcement to make, then this next few days would be the time to get that out, but I question whether you want to do that before the next Mercury Retrograde. With the conditions being what they are? There’s a current crop of Taurus hesitancy, and that’s not unfounded. Sure be a great idea right now, but pause and think, is it the best idea? As an element of timing, I’ve found that a gentle pause for the bigger, typically louder issues? A little bit of a well-timed pause helps, and that applies directly to the Taurus elements as this “buys us a little time.” That’s the factor, and that’s the important idea. Concept. Notion? Just see about putting it off, if it is the big deal, and there are no other extraneous and outside influences to account for, and if there is no other mercurial judgments to factor in with this mess? Maybe put it off for a little while. There’s one Taurus with that insistent noise, “It has to be NOW!” Other than that singular personage of good Taurus countenance? Other than the loud one, it doesn’t have to be right now, and padding in some extra time for review and revision, ahead of Mr. Mercury’s transition? It helps.

Gemini

Still some distant, it does suggest that this Leo time would be best spent in preparation for what’s ahead. I was in a fishing camp, down at the coast, and it was a large, extended party, three generations or more from various families, and it was a good time. I got inshore fishing, pictures are elsewhere. Not what this is about. The bug spray, the standard issue, orange can with a round top? Supposedly repels mosquitoes even in the tropical infested jungles? Good stuff, but nasty. Likewise, sun block, all I tend to use, a generic, looks like a brand name, it’s just grocery store generic? Orange can, round top. See where this is going? I grabbed an orange can, stepped onto the porch and liberally sprayed my head, forehead, arms, legs, all over, with what I thought was the fruit-flavored sunscreen. I got a mouthful of bug spray, unbeknownst to me. Hours later, on a bay boat, the horse flies didn’t bother me, but I wound up more burned than I like. It’s a simple mistake, in the early, predawn, pre-coffee dark, an easy mistake. As a lover of all things Gemini? Read the label, carefully, before applying.

Cancer

Mexican Vanilla is special flavor, for me. It’s a unique blend of strong, vanilla bean, typically harvested in the tropics, just south of here. I started my adoration for Mexican Vanilla, many years back concurrent with this horoscopic career, so there’s that connection, deeply imbued with time — and flavor. The trick when I use Mexican Vanilla? Just a drop. Just a smidgen. Just a hint. Hot summer — and I was mixing up some iced coffee. Yesterday’s brewed coffee, about a cup and half left over, cooling on the stove overnight? Poured that over a tumbler of ice, and I added, just a single drop, of Mexican Vanilla. Made all the difference. Just a hint, barely noticeable, and to my more unrefined pallet, maybe I didn’t even notice it all. However, locally, the witch doctors (curanderas) trumpet the use of vanilla for clearings, for an alleged metaphysical quality. Just a few drops in a spray bottle of water will negate any evil intentions. There’s another version of this tale dates back to a diner that is no longer there, in old Austin, ah the memories, but it also is a notion that something simple, something clean — and easy — is a Cancer/Moon Children solution to the ongoing troubles. While it won’t solve everything, it does work to make life just a tad bit better, and that’s what this next month is about, making it better with a less bitter response. Try the Mexican Vanilla — or whatever fits best.

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