Horoscopes for 3-18-2025

“The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on,”

Clifford in Shakespeare’s Henry 6.3 (2.2.17)

Horoscopes for 3-18-2025

• Mercury RX 9°33’ Ari. 3/16
• Sun into Aries 3/21
• Sun into Ari. 3/20 4:02 AM
• New Moon 9°0’ Ari. Eclipse 3/29

Venus in apparent retrograde motion, and the Portable Mercury Retrograde, March eclipse season…

Horoscopes for 3-18-2025

Caesura: A caesure is metrical pause in a line of poetry, but it can also be understood as a line break, for effect.

Aries

Locally, for me, the Sun enters Aries, looks like around 4 in the morning — just before sunrise — March 20. This is also an example of how this material works, there are two listed dates for the Spring Equinox, and one GMT while the other is local for me. Which one should we use? Whatever works for Aries, as this is the perfect example of astrological timing, and the problems this presents, and why, so often, I ask, “Where were you born?” It’s for a time zone. We all need a starting place, for Aries, that starting place is now, but be aware, with the planets thusly configured? That “start” is more of a general direction, not a specific goal, nor a particular target. Look: birthdays are here or, at least, on approach. Take the time off, make note of the general direction, and ease towards a specific goal. “Over there,” or “that way, I think” are good comments to follow, as there’s enough leeway that will be much-needed once the planets sort themselves out. Happy birthday.

Taurus

There’s a local writer’s group that pops up from time to time, on my various feeds. Every spring, and summer, there’s some kind of intensive poetry workshop, and every year, I pause — caesura — to consider joining. It’s not the fee, but the class times, and then the expected class work. In my mind, I think I would love to take a poetry writing class, not for credit, but as a way to expand my own horizons. However, I have commitments. I have commitments, offices expected of me, and frankly, I don’t want to drive halfway across town to sit in a classroom. If it was closer? I don’t think the geography is really the problem. For Taurus? This is about the topography of the mind.

I’m not a poet, nor, for that matter, am I a painter. I understand what my limits are, and while I’m willing to challenge myself, I’ve found that I can’t compact my prose to poetical standards. I’m willing to learn new tricks, but I also know that this isn’t the time to embarking on an entirely new field of sturdy, not for me, and not, especially, for Taurus. Stretching the wings, exploring the edges of the comfort zone is a good idea. Doing a big dive into a new field without a safety net, as long as we’re dealing with Mercury and Venus in apparent retrograde motion? Maybe not at this time.

Gemini

I ran across the term, “caesura,” noted above. I saved it for a use, and then, looking at very specific Gemini influences, most notably, the retrograde planets and Jupiter? That pause, that line break, that interruption in the flow, a dramatic pause that leaves it all hanging? I can hear that one Gemini screaming into the void, “I can’t take a break right now!” If one doesn’t pause? Then a pause gets inserted in an untimely fashion. This isn’t like a big break, it’s just a pause, a moment, a heart beat, or? I like it when I try to read Shakespeare lines aloud, as I sound school-book stupid. Instead of letting the language move in its mellifluous flow, I do the sing-song, pedantic pacing as defined by the lines themselves. Let the breath marks guide you, let the natural and organic breaks take places. Pause, as need be. Gemini: just pause…

Cancer

Once upon a time, I came up with a phrase, applied to a couple of friends I worked alongside for years, I called them “Kitchen Table Psychics.” Readers and seers of various ilks, with an odd collection of intuitive skills, maybe some witchy ways? The term derived from — this was me, too, at one time — working at a kitchen table rather than an office. Doing readings, and the first of these were tarot card readers whose names got passed around like a free-agent ball-player. It goes back to the old days when the way to see one of us was with a phone call and an almost clandestine meeting then the session was conducted around a kitchen table — maybe some hot sauce and salt’n’pepper on a doily in a corner, then the cards laid out in a meaningful array. I prefer astrology charts and working with birthdays, but essence is similar. Old friend reminded me of this the other afternoon, the term, “Kitchen Table Psychics,” made me think back to roots, adornments, and for me? A relative lack of office. Much as I enjoy face-to-face, I don’t do it outside of certain venues. There are two pieces in here: know your limits and keep it casual. Respect what your own, Cancer, Moon Children limits might be, and don’t waste too much time on formal dressings.

The Leo

There aren’t many but I have few texts that I reread, periodically. When faced with the retrograde patterns, like now? Instead of the magnificent Leo embarking on a new voyage with fresh material? Look over the list of “classics” that you like. Doesn’t have to be erudite and educated, can easily be trashy fun, but something that your wonderful Leo self takes pleasure in, as well as serves to edify. It’s a simple challenge, and one that I — myself — meet a number of ways, as well. My current favorite is usually Marcus Aurelius and his Meditations, but the correct process for The Leo? Same way I do it, I’ll flip through a paperback copy, usually a “new age” version, and look for a quote that answers what I’m asking. Hint: I don’t land on it right away, and there’s a bit of serendipitous cherry picking involved. The act of looking, in and of itself, it’s a physical act that helps serve as a meditation. With a copy of Meditations, cute? The idea is that leafing through a book, or magazine, casually glancing at material online serves as a way to make the necessary Leo mental connections that these retrogrades present.

Virgo

I’ve got an old tackle box; my grandfather gave it to me. I rarely use it, and the material contained therein is usually of sentimental value rather than actually useful for fishing. I finally realized, after a few years, what it was best for: the gear that I will no longer actively use when I fish, but material that I have too strong of a personal attachment to, it could be sentimental, or more frequently, I remember when that lure was catching fish at the lake, on the coast, dock-side, bay-side, or just lakeside. There was, also a special aroma that the tackle box still has, to this day. It smells like old bait, lead weights, tired fishing line, and a single practice slug, I used to learn how to cast. All of this is packed in a small box, and one I’m unwilling to let go of, just yet. For now, it’s a great place to store memories, and when I open it, that distinct aroma carries me back to childhood, when managing my fishing tackle was all that mattered. Memories, and managing their touchstones, what this is about.

Libra

As the Sun makes contact with the little retrograde planets, Mercury and Venus? It highlights an area that needs gentle Libra attention. I cannot stress this enough, this requires gentle Libra attention. There’s a nugget, a tiny pebble, an idea, loose in the Libra mind that suggests a little yelling, screaming, ranting, raving, and otherwise making a big scene? There’s a portion of the brain that suggests a big deal would help move matters along, quicker. Quickly. Quicker in movement. Sure, looks that way, and under normal conditions, it would work that way. This is not normal time, despite what this suggests, what that contact with other planets means, and moving yourself forward? Moving us all forward? Gentle Libra attention. Smooth is slow and slow is fast, and we want smooth, no ruffled feathers. Or just don’t ruffle anything. Operative phrase? “Gentle Libra attention.”

Scorpio

Watching a documentary about chili peppers, I noticed that one of the main characters always wore shorts. In part, it might have to do with the time it was filmed, in part, it might have to do with the topic, and in part, like me, the character might be more about comfort than high style. I finally figured out that where I live, I can get away with shorts almost year-round. There are a couple of frigid, arctic blasts when it’s not possible, but those who don’t recall? We get freezing temperatures for a few days, like every 3rd year or so. Kills the bugs, drives the water bills up, and makes the plumbers happy. But then? It’s back to cold nights but days when it is warm enough to get by in just a pair of shorts. Works for me. Warm days but cool nights. I’m not sure where you’re at, Scorpio, but dress like you want to dress. My biggest problem has always been that I appear aggressively casual. It wasn’t until I watched that documentary did I realize it was OK to be stylishly casual. It’s about the content, and for now? Planets in retrograde? It’s about content of the character, not what he looks like.

Sagittarius

I was making filter coffee the other morning. In the cold, winter’s morning darkness? I somehow seemed to get a single grain of ground coffee outside the filter. From the grinder, to a missed pour, or trying to squeeze some coffee out, one way or another? I could clearly see a single coffee ground-particle in the bottom of my morning go-juice. Not bad, wasn’t expensive coffee, and that single speck of coffee grounds wasn’t offensive. I wasn’t sure how it escaped the filter, pour-over set-up, but it did. What I did? I’m Sagittarius, too, remember? What I did was sip the coffee until I could clearly see the offending speck, then just fill the cup up again. It’s a work-around. It’s a stop-gap measure. It’s a lame way to deal with a possible problem, and in the bigger picture, not really that bad of a deal. I’ve had too much French Press coffee to worry about a single grain of ground coffee, yeah, “Just strain it through your teeth,” ha. But it did illuminate the kind of problems this week ahead holds for us gentle archer-types, or Archer archetypes. Small problem. Work around it. Don’t suck it up or suck it down, as that just creates further issues, down the line.

Capricorn

When I lived in a trailer, I had a strict, necessary, policy of not buying anything new unless I was removing one or two old ones. It was a space issue, enforced economy due to the available square footage. That was then. This is now. That enforced economy has served me well, over the years. I learned not to make a big purchase if there was no room for it. To add some balance, no bringing anything in until I had taken something out. While I’ve moved around, grown, contracted, made more, lived on less, all the usual modern foibles, the idea has stuck with me about not bringing in anything new unless I’ve let go of something in its place. This is an idea, and for this week’s Capricorn energies? This methodology has merit. Looking at those retrogrades? I was thinking of time to let some items go in order to make room for new, better, and more enjoyable. But first? Got to make room for the new.

Aquarius

There is a high probability that you’re going to be grossly misunderstood. I tend to see this as rather dry delivery, a common characteristic amongst my Aquarius friends and cohorts. The extra-dry delivery is what hangs you up, just a bit. I imagine that you’re trying to tag every Aquarius commentary with a make-believe LOL at the end of the statement, just so folks know that it’s supposed to be amusing and wry, not biting and sarcastic. The biggest issue? That imagainary “LOL” isn’t visible, and therefore, most folks don’t get it. You come across as bitter, not darkly comedic. I’ll note, just adding “LOL” doesn’t make it better, and what’s more important, you know the drills here, between Mercury and Venus? Maybe being plain-spoken with no attempt at being funny might help.

“Just kidding!”

See? Doesn’t really work now. Blame the planets.

Pisces

I got in habit of making some of my own protection oil. It’s a proprietary blend of herbs and spices, really, two kinds of essential oils, some garden herbs, a thin sliver of cinnamon bark, and a drop of holy water. Last time I was mixing it, the last bit, the single drop of holy water? I bought that stuff at a cathedral gift shop, and the bottle claimed it as holy water, but that one drop? It clouded my concoction until I shook the bottle. Think some of the Holy Spirit didn’t like the other materials? In reality, it was the oil-based essences not mixing well with water. Eventually, over time, the two components, all of the pieces and parts in the mix? They all get to know each other and blend, after a fashion. Likewise, we got a couple of elements in Pisces that seem to have clouded an issue (or two). Shake it up. Blend the mixture. It will — eventually — become a coherent whole, unless of course, you get rejected by that holy water.