Horoscopes for 1-21-2025

“Ay me! For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
But either it was different in blood⁠—“

Lysander in Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night’s Dream (I.i.134-7)

Horoscopes for 1-21-2025

• Sun into Aqu. 1/20/25
• New Moon 9°51’ Aqu. 1/29

Books by Kramer Wetzel: astrofish.net/books…

Aquarius

I had some San Pedro Cactus in my backyard. More a patio plant than anything else. It was just a gift, a cutting, and then, after I did a little looking online, although that hardly qualifies as research, but I did poke around a bit, what I found out? It’s a mildly hallucinogenic plant, holy in some of the desert southwest, not really revered for its uses like peyote, but similar, and I guess, with similar side effects causing vomiting, diarrhea, and so forth. One buddy, “Yeah, I know why you have it.” No, I don’t make it into a tea, and consume it, furthest thought from my mind. I found out that it is a “house guardian” plant. Over the years, though, I also discovered that it doesn’t make it through a hard freeze. Which, when it got cold, I brought in my single strand of the stuff, and left it setting in the front window, not really enough light, but better than freezing it again. As a “house guardian,” the plant is supposed to protect a home, domicile, or other living arrangement. I suppose trailer would be OK, too. It’s the act of bringing it in, and letting it stay inside during improbable cold weather. The spines are not large, and not really a problem, but I do treat it with a degree of caution, as it can be — in theory — hallucinogenic. The reality, and what I was thinking about it’s a simple gesture, just lug a potted plant inside before the freeze hits. Simple idea, simple warning, simple action required from Aquarius. Seems like a simple enough directive, no? Mercury is fast approaching, and both the Sun and Mercury make contact with Pluto, kind of highlights and bookends the week. Bring the plant in.

Pisces

There are numerous quotes that deal with this, the question of ambiguity in the face of adversity. In times of great moral divide, lack of action indicates tacit approval, makes one complicit. In other words? Doing nothing is tacit agreement. I’ve got a handful of sources that use quotes to illustrate this point, from ancient literature to more modern variants, but I’ll leave that up to your Pisces to select the one that works best.

Kramer Wetzel’s little book of transits

There’s a time of moral ambiguity, and right at this moment, this next few days, a Pisces decision would appear important, but defined by a certain amount of indecision. Seems like we might not know everything that we’re supposed to know. Intuitively, I’m pretty sure you have a good idea, but practically? Not so much. There’s a point where just holding off own that big pronouncement, holding off on the big change, holding off on telling the world how you’re going to change it all? For the time being, just, I know, in times of crisis a failure to act is commentary of its own, but in the situation, facing Pisces? Might save you from having to retrace these steps in a few weeks. Might have a better idea, then. Or a better view.

Aries

I bought some packets of seeds at the dollar store. I suppose, dollar stores in and of themselves deserve some kind of sidebar note, how I tend to only buy very few products there, but there are some items, cleaning items, duck bread (bait), and candles that seem least expensive there. In one idle pass, I noticed the packet of seeds, and I grabbed some, planted under the New Moon in Taurus, and I was pleasantly surprised that some of those plants turned out to be perennials. I was equally surprised when those plants survived more than one harsh freeze. I’m not sure my dollar store plants will make it through this winter, but as an Aries afterthought, it’s time to start planning for the next planting season, and that’s easily a quarter turn of the sky away. With the looming New Moon in Aquarius, I was thinking about planning. Great time to see if there are any cheap seed packets, so we are ready to plant when the time arrives, like an Aries or better yet, Taurus New Moon.

• New Moon 9°0’ Ari. Eclipse 3/29…
• New Moon 7°46’ Tau. 4/27…

We’re planning, plotting ,and looking ahead, cheap and thoughtful at the same time. Perfect Aries combination.

Taurus

There is a kind of perfect disorder that works. It’s as simple as that, a perfect Taurus disorder. Mismatched, misplaced, missed attributions, some missed combination of all three? Never can tell, but the out-of-step, out-of-rhythm, even out-of-place? However, I’ve often discovered, the serendipitous avenues are usually the best, and the accidental nature of discovery is what the next week holds for Taurus — embrace that: the accidental nature of discovery. The accidental nature of discovery combines with a kind of perfect disorder. I tend to think of this as the mind at work, more than anything else, but it could show up in any number of sources, locations. It’s about the unexpected, and then, the fluid nature of reality as some people put it. Don’t confuse the fluid nature of thoughts and thought patterns with the actual reality. Realize that there must be a piece or two of empirical evidence to anchor gentle Taurus, but even then, the discoveries are made in the imperfect order.

Gemini

“Is Mercury Retrograde? Arrgh! None of my text messages are going through!” I looked at the phone. I paused. I asked if she minded if I fiddled with it for a second. Darn smart phones really aren’t that smart. Mercury is not retrograde. There are some pejorative influences, but nothing that is terminal. I flicked through the most recent unsent messages. Kind of prying, but not really, more interested in what carrier the messages were going to, as the three big carrier tend to not play nice with each other. Didn’t seem to be an issue. I turned the phone off, waited for a three count, then turned it back on, waiting on it to power up and connect. “Here,” I handed it back, “unlock it.” She did. I went to the unsent messages, pressed “Try to send this message again,” or something like that, and it worked. Stupid smart phones are nothing more than handheld computers, and sometimes, all it takes is a quick reset. Gemini? It’s possible to hit a Gemini reset at any point in your day.

Kramer Wetzel’s little book of transits

Cancer

I had fun with a certain translation of an ancient Roman writer, one of the stoics. Wasn’t my usual Marcus Aurelius Meditations, but a different writer. The text I used was English with copious notes on the one side, and then, when necessary, the original Latin on the facing page. Because the structure of the notes, the book itself was mostly notes, emendations, and clarifications about the original content. Interesting way to study it, and fun, in itself, from a purely academic pursuit point-of-view. The ancients followed the stars, as I do, and the wisdom was intertwined with that text. As a way to look at stuff, what’s up ahead for the gentle sign of the crab, the Moon Children, Cancer? Look for original material then find a scholar who can translate the material.

The Leo

There is always one hold-out. Always the one who claims, “But I’m different!” “Of course you are,” said with my most condescending tone, “of course you’re different.” This isn’t about The Leo being different, but that’s an expression you will want to use to explain what’s happening. The challenge? Even though other people insist that this is not like anything we’ve ever seen before, use that magnificent Leo mind to reach back and remember, you’ve seen this before. Analogies, parallels, similarities — plain as can be to the perspicacious mighty Leo. Problem: no one else sees this right away. My suggestion? Make note, take a picture, or otherwise memorialize the notion that you’ve seen this before, and wait. Couple of weeks?

The sweetest commentary, “I told you so.”

Virgo

For the first couple of decades, I was trying to make my horoscopes look otherworldly. I wanted a style that looked like “space” or “outer space,” even possibly, “spooky.” Then, over time, as styles changed, I wanted a slim, sleek look. A typical Virgo wants a tight, organized, clear, and clean appearance. I’m for that. My one nod to my own disheveled mind? I would employ hand-draw the astrology glyphs that I would use to define the 12 signs. I’m trying to meld together hand-drawn, anachronistic, and archaic symbolism with the digital format. Virgo think, “analog.” The science of where the planets are? Straight-up precise to a second. The meaning of this locations? Subject to interpretations over time. There is an element in precise Virgo-land that the good Virgo wants illuminated, defined, and measured with a degree of exactitude. Like my hand-drawn glyphs, though, that degree isn’t always available. Close counts. “Near miss” counts. My personal favorite? “It’s in the neighborhood.”

Kramer Wetzel’s little book of transits

Libra

One of my standard comments from years and years of personal consultations, one of the observed phenomena, one of my more common expressions? “It’s personal, but I think it’s better if you get married before you make babies.” I’ve delivered that expression in a number of different forms, and while it bows to an older set of beliefs, what I’ve found? Repeatedly? Being legally married before the baby — or babies — is easier on the couple raising the child, or children. Just helps. It’s not my own belief system, and getting religion and legal entities of the state involved in the relationship is questionable, and I tend to steer away from those questions. In North America, “married” then “babies” is easier for a number of reasons. Not enough space here to enumerate it all, but the notion that doing this in a particular order is happier for some? For most? That’s what we’re all about, making everyone happiest, given the conditions, and to do that? Do it in the proper sequence. Hint: I don’t make the rules, just try to follow them.

Scorpio

Exactly once, many years distant, has a woman — in a fit of pique — ripped open one of my (faux) pearl snap shirts to initiate physical activities. I can only recall once, the shirt, getting ripped up the snaps popping open, and I’m not sure what happened next, but if I recall, and I don’t, there was probably an intimate exchange. Best left as a blurry memory. But the act of the shirt getting ripped open, the pearl snaps making their distinctive noises? The stuff of legend. Like I said, modestly, just once that’s happened to me. However, cold winter’s morning, and I was changing from sleepwear to go-out-side clothing, I was about to make a similar motion, because I was holding, in my hand, a pearl snap shirt I was about to put on, only, the flannel shirt I had on? No snaps, just buttons. Ripping it open would cause the buttons to fly off, and while that might work as a cinematic event? In the real world, that’s waste of good, Scorpio energy. This is related to the location and disposition of Mars, vis-a-vis Scorpio. “Ripping the band-aid off,” or just trying to open a button-up shirt like a pearl-snap shirt? Neither works well, unless it’s for dramatic effect. Regrettably, there’s very little chance of drama in gentle Scorpio — at the moment.

Sagittarius

Most common expression? “I’ve got a ton of great ideas, I just can’t seem to focus,” with a rhetorical nod, “is Mercury retrograde?” Can’t really blame Mercury’s relative position on this one, no its roots are deeper. At the very end of this horoscope Mercury moves from Capricorn into Aquarius, quickly aligning with Planet Pluto. This week is a set-up for the rest of the seasonal changes ahead, for our dear archers, Sagittarius. We would like to move something into a “permanent” position, only, given our dexterous and flighty nature, “permanent” is a loose definition. As a Sagittarius myself, but with the relative wisdom of years of mistakes, this is less about a permanent structure, and more about loose affiliation that works for the rest of the season. Think about it like that. Good things ahead, don’t get stuck on how it has to be just one way. That “one way” will likely change ’ere long.

Kramer Wetzel’s little book of transits

Capricorn

A fairly consistent meme that cycles through, time to time? It shows four characters, each one outfitted quite differently, each with a local city title. Dallas is well-dressed, suited up and buttoned up. Ft. Worth is all-cowboy. Houston is “business casual,” with Austin currently being shown as cutting-edge, avant-garde high style. Last time this cycled through? San Antonio was a Bill Murray figure in wrinkled cargo shorts, sandals with socks, and loud-print (Hawaiian) shirt. I’m old enough with a deep enough well for memories to recall when Austin was the odd one out, and San Antonio would’ve been a mariachi. This is about change, and how the timbre of the times switches up places. What was once weird, is now quotidian. What was once odd, is now normal. What was once off-beat is now more mainstream. As weird little Aquarius starts, for Capricorn, this is a time to understand the general and gentle shift.

“Who’s the wierdo now?”

As I’ve been known to intone, a quote from literature?

“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”