Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.
— Sheenagh Pugh
Aries: The paradox of control! Curses! When it’s wrenched away we feel like we’re going to die; but after we’ve let go we’re, well, born again. A Full Moon in Aries. Might as well write: A big bright spotlight on you. What’s it signaling? Time to surrender the unessential. Pluto pulls his Persephone trick and opens the trap door beneath your feet. Down, down you go — to the basement (in dream parlance that would be your unconscious). Are you ready to meet the dragon that needs slaying? Let’s call him Mammon. Sorry Aries, but you’ve got to come to terms with the annoying fact that details, damn them, are important to making the cash pile grow. Start small. A balanced check book, coupons for corn flakes, an itemized outline for winning your dream project or vocation. That’s a start. But discriminating your worth is the rub. Pluto’s angle to your Sun has one predominate message: Develop or die. The key: Employ what you do, to go beyond what you do. See, we are back to paradox again. But that’s OK, what’s life for an Aries without a kick-ass koan? (Don’t argue.)
Taurus: When the Tarot’s Chariot rolls into a reading for a Taurean I know I’ve got to broach the subjects of health, dieting, discipline and the tendency to let sloth rule the day. My gentle reminder (never jab a bull) is always: Beauty must, occasionally, be worked for and maintained. Jupiter and Neptune have goaded your creativity. Inspirations. Visions. Illumination. (Lights, camera, action!) But the Muse can grow weary, hatching fear, doubt and various reasons to rationalize not doing what your body requires to stay in optimal shape. Channel some of your creativity into your exercise regiment: Try some outlandish Martha Graham-like dance routines. Or explore the world of naked yoga. Maybe a private nature hike to your favorite hideaway. Body and nature, you need a solid connection between both. As the Western world comes to an end for each of us — which is really just a new hologram beginning to materialize in place of the old one, it’s Taurus that suffers the hardest. Don’t believe the hype. Best to repeat after Emerson: “…what we pray to ourselves for is always granted.”
Gemini: Staunch and fusty Saturn is dragging his ball and chain to a section of the zodiac that will feel kinder for you, soon, very soon. In fact, can’t you feel the atmosphere beginning to shift and shimmy around you? A pre-party, celebratory giddiness setting in? You’ll notice this first in your chest. Maybe a slight buzzing sensation (that’s Mercury working his way down, from your cranium, to make contact). And do listen carefully. Your heart’s preparing to align with one your most vital private dreams. (Sorry, Gemini, you need to just focus on the one for right now). Saturn’s ironfisted square felt like you were stuck within a sludge of ineffective frustration. Lots of rub and friction and jammed-up byways. But take a moment during tonight’s Full Moon and reflect on the sort of pearl that’s grown in your heart. Sure there is sobriety, but with the temperance comes a new ability to conjure. Hasn’t the pressure been been worth it? Now, how are you going to share your upcoming contentment? That’s the burning question for you tonight.
Cancer: Finally there’s some fire in the sky with tonight’s Full Moon in Aries. So you can channel some of that lunar courage to deal with what I’m about to broach. It’s a complex subject. Mars has been rummaging around your unconscious, opening locked boxes and rending veils. For overly impressionable Cancerians (is that an understatement?) the War God usually stirs up the worst within your nocturnal realm: Insomnia, misplaced projections, dreams about thugs, tyrants or circus animals that have escaped the tent. So let’s talk about it, this odd mix of the human and animal that your unconscious keeps flashing. The poet and raconteur Michael Mead has a reminder for you, he says: “Humans are half animal and half other. The other part can be godlike or else act worse than any animal. Humans are required to bear the presence of inhuman things and experience the extremes of being.” So, get out your leash and harness Cancer; it’s time to put your inner zoo in order. No more free-roaming gorillas and gazelles. Experience those instinctual extremes, by aiming them high: Art. Beauty. Truth. And then bring all of that back to earth: Paint, cook, write, draw, dig. Put those animals to work. Keep in mind Rumi‘s warning too: “Too often we put saddle bags on Jesus and let the donkey run loose in the pasture.”
I started reading the most fascinating book last month. Kim Farnell‘s Flirting with the Zodiac. No, it’s not a tome on dating. Farnell’s book is an incredibly detailed, snappily written, thoroughly engaging history of Sun signs. Yes, those kind — the forecasting columns, almanacs, and goofy Zolar books. You know, that section of the newspaper you lunge for every morning.
Who knew? I thought Linda Goodman invented the craze, (not) but as Farnell tells us, Sun sign astrology dates back to Babylonian times. That’s a long trail of advice for the lovelorn!
Today, Sun sign astrology is ubiquitous, all across the universe. Name a magazine, newspaper or tabloid that doesn’t carry a Sun sign column and I’ll accuse you of being illiterate. (The Jehovah’s Witness’ Watchtower doesn’t count).
Because I’m on the verge of launching my own monthly column in a local newspaper, I thought I’d work with tomorrow’s full moon in Aries and transform my usual globalized interpretation into a — “Wait for it!” (as Sister Wendy Beckett would say) — Sun sign extravaganza. And this will be the real deal people. Not one of those mashups (Ms. Bridgid) where you’re instructed to “also read your rising sign if you know it.” The column will be all about your Sun, baby. Yep, white hot! All Sun, all the time. (Could a Leo rising do it any other way?)
Too, the approach I’ll take with my column is going to be quirky. I won’t be setting up solar charts for my analysis (a technique where you put the Sun sign on the ascendant and then decipher the chart’s transits accordingly.) No, my column will be based on the real, live aspects to the Sun and where it resides by sign. Your sign.
To keep things interesting (and staving off tedium) I will couple my astro delineations with a one-card Tarot draw per sign. Oh the joy! Now, I may or may not talk about the card I pull for my analysis (I mean, imagine you’re a Pisces. Do you really want to know that I drew the Nine of Swords for your forecast? Imagine the drama!) You’ll just have to trust me.
I’ve only got so many words I can conjure per Sun sign, and god knows the battle between insights from the Tarot and the stellar inculcation from the ten planets will be daunting. My hope is that I don’t devolve into a sort of Charles Bukowski-like, Tourette’s-flying basket case. I remember my astrological hero, Dennis Elwell, once warned of the mind-numbing condition of Sun sign writing, so I’ve got to take his caveat and prove him wrong; as every devotee must do, eventually, with the master.
I will also be writing the column from my own everyday observations of friends, associates, family members and Walmart shoppers. I’m one of those old-fashioned astrologers that puts real stock in the question “What sign are you?” It’s a blessing and a curse. Especially when I’m dating. (Sorry all of you Aries and Aquarian men out there.) Read more