Horoscopes from Vacation!

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I'm on vacation, which involves packing a tiny overnight bag each evening, and walking across the hall into one of the vacant bedrooms where I sleep without a care in the world.  Because that's how it is on vacation, people.  It's really fun because it's like travelling to a far away land without all the hassle of sunburns, language barriers and air travel.  I do have to go home to use the bathroom, as someone pointed out, but it doesn't seem like home because the route is different.  I may even leave a chocolate on my pillow tonight, who knows!  Anyway, the thing that makes it especially fun is packing the little overnight bag, planning what I need, and putting it ever so tenderly into my tiny tiny overnight bag.  (Turns out all I ever need is a book.)  I'd recommend this, Pisces.  Take the Staycation concept to new lows.

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):   Does the word, "repurposed" sound pretentious?  I know, Aries, but we must accept and forgive, even when people say utilize.  (Although I will confess that I like how "curate" is being overused.)  Anyway, Aries, here's the deal:  I listened to the most recent magnificent episode of KCRW's Unfictional podcast, in which a guy has been haunted by the ghost of Montgomery Clift for his whole life.  I can think of worse problems, personally, but still, it would be a little weird to have a dead 50's hearthrob lurking all the time.  This week, Aries, see who you're haunted by and welcome them directly into your life.  Say something like, "You, out from the shadows!"  Let me know how it goes.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):   I know someone who has seven Facebook friends, a number that she feels comfortable with.  If she adds anyone else, she'll have to drop someone, because she imagines FB as a rowboat in which there just isn't enough room for everyone.  I know of someone else who will only travel in a three mile radius from her home.  Taurus, aim for spaciousness this year.  We're not in a lifeboat!  We're on a beautiful habitable (for now) planet, being orbited by the coolest moon in the solar system.  (Not to stray from the point, but out of all the planets, that moon chose us!  How lucky we are!) 

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): The thing about magic is the magicians usually know how it's done, so it's not magic, it's trickery.  But here's some real magic, in the video below.  I know what you're thinking -- that's not magic, that's called a faulty connection!  But it is magic to me; try not to judge. I choose to believe that the little light just needs some special transformative attention from me each morning.   It's almost like having a beloved roommate!  Or a dog, without the hassle.  Gemini, offer your magical attention to those around you this week.  It's what the planet needs right now.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I was working for The Man the other day, doing my booty call job, which can be most unpleasant, but I try not to let it be.  Anyway, it involves driving around in a County vehicle, being vulnerable to all the government hate out there -- I might as well wear a giant bullseye and a flashing sign that says, "I REPRESENT OVER-REGULATION AND GOVERNMENT WASTE!"  Anyway, I mostly visit people's property and tell them they can't do what they want, and this usually after they've paid a lot of money and waited a long time.  At any rate, I visited someone the other day and he was all, "Come back any time!  Seriously, I've planted 1,000 bulbs, come visit in the spring!  Or come see my project when it's done.  I'll probably have a house warming party, can I invite you?"  Which was so unexpected that I teared up just a tiny bit.  And it was also pretty weird to imagine coming back in six months, "Hey - remember me?  I just came by to hang out, and maybe see the garage you built!"  But sweet, nevertheless. (I love that word, "nevertheless".  Is it even a word?)  Enjoy the moments this week, Cancer.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Did you hear that thing about how they're recommended that children bring canned goods to school in order to ward off gunmen?  I'm not able to judge the merits of the strategy, but I will note that it's heartbreaking to consider a scenario in which the threat of being shot in school is real enough that we need a plan, and it involves 10 year-olds hurling canned goods at an armed whack-job.  Lordy.  

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  When I first started doing yoga, I spent a lot of time trying to get into a specific pose, agonizing that I couldn't, yadda yadda yadda.  But now I just think about breathing, mostly, and my feet, a little bit.  Are my feet really on the ground?  Wasn't that a sweet breath!  How long will I get to live on this planet, doing this, feet on the ground, going on a vacation every night, doing yoga every day?  Oh man, I hope they don't make me move to outer space!  Yikes, don't make me move to Saturn!  I DON"T WANT TO GO!  My breath is getting squishy.  Oh wait, probably no one is going to make me move to another planet.  Let that thought float on by.  Where are my feet?  How much gravity is on Saturn, again?  Why isn't it habitable?  This amount of gravity is pretty good.   Exhale.  What if I live alone all my life and end up owning a hundred cats, hoarding, with a lightbulb as my closest companion?  Oh wait!  That's happening now and it's really not so bad!  Anyway, it's not about the poses.  Thank you, Virgo, for teaching me that, and for all your generosity and joy.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  We have our own little microbiome inside our bodies -- all our little bacteria that make a village inside our, well, inside our insides, I guess you'd say.  I read something (or did I dream it?) about how our whole house has that same little microbiome.  And you only have to be at a hotel for 3 days for the hotel to have grown the exact microbiome as your house.  I don't know what that means about having a house guest.  Right?  Hey, people, don't leave your microbiome lying around!  But the point, Libra, is this.  I'm speechless, but, I'll confess, curious.  Order!  Let me know how it goes.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I'm reading a great book right now called The Grapes of Math, which attempts to answer that age old question:  does math imitate life, or does life imitate math?  And it addresses things like why is seven so popular, what's important about Euler's number, and so on.  I can't recommend it highly enough.  Let it be a dance you do, Scorpio.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  There's a FB page for our little town, which sounds sweet at first, but it turns out that there's rage lurking right below the surface in so many citizens.  What's up with that?  I'm especially irritated by the people who claim status because they've lived here longer.  There's a lot of, "You must be new."  Which apparently is code for, "You're an idiot."  Having the same address for a long time isn't anything to boast about, Sag.  I look to a day when people will not be judged by the longevity of their address, but by the content of their character, as MLK said.  ish.  

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19):  I recently read this, by one of the famous unitarians, Ralph Waldo E.: 

“I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frost-work, but the solidest thing we know.”  

I'm working on that, Cap.  Treating you with the roughest courage, because it matters. The roughest courage is where caring lives.  It lives in being present and truthful and above all, kind, because even when the truth is painful, it's the most respectful and generous thing we have to offer one another.  May you display rough courage this week.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Do you share my adoration for Ruth Bader Ginsberg?  Of course you do, Aquarius.  Read a little about her, and then claim your inner badass.  Bend the arc of history towards justice this week.  You can do it!