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.”
Leo: Oh. I’m not going to mention the card I drew for you, Leo. It’s a challenge whenever the Three of Swords appears in a … oh shit, I just … well, so the lion’s out of the bag. Here’s what the Three of Swords telegraphs: The mind has done the best it can to make sense of the disappointment that has dogged you throughout the year. But it’s not the mind’s job to feel. Let your heart break. Allow it. Revel in it (just a bit). Feeling facilitates healing — and puts you back on track for being your big ole radiant self again. As Leonard Cohen says: ‘There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” I’m guessing this has to do with your love life? I mean, Jupiter and Neptune keep fuzzing up your perception of what it means to align with ‘other.’ And there are all those whisperings about the perfect, ideal lover. Yes? Well, to remedy that con, start by checking your mirror. Looks pretty lovable, yes? As for everyone else, well, ask yourself: Are they worthy of your fierce, big-hearted devotion? Perhaps. But there’s a time for being alone, a time for the urge to merge. You’re learning to discriminate between the two.
Virgo: I could tell you, out of laziness, to read Gemini’s spiel — there’s a very similar theme in place for you as well — a sense of pending lift-off and release. So go ahead and read it, Gemini would have told you all about it anyway. Repeatedly. Your Tarot card, by the way, is the Page of Cups. And, well, as I ask of my clients when I point to this card in a spread: “What do you think the fish symbolizes? The one that’s popping up from the bottom of the Page’s cup?” My guess? You’re willing to become a novice again. A student of your heart’s desire. Exploring new knowledge and technique brings out the best in your nature. Makes your heart happy. (This is a cup card is it not?) Show me a Virgin not studying and learning something new and I’ll show you a jaded Harlot — a terrible, terrible sight. So, like Gemini, as Saturn begins to move away from your Sun, you can proudly declare yourself ‘new’ again. “Touched for the very first time.”
Libra: What’s up with Mom? You’re withholding, so she’s withholding. But if you study the dance you’ll see that you’re both playing into some sort of counter-transference or collusion. I wonder if you should try and interrupt that polarity, yes? Keep in mind that ‘Mom’ is more than just the woman who gave you life. Mother, as a symbol, can be anything (one) that we desire deeply, but feel either unworthy of possessing or too old to still hanker for. Work on deciphering this untruth Libra. See if there’s self-sabotage at work. You deserve your heart’s desire, regardless your age, just like all god’s children. The quirky thing about harmony loving Libras is the way they oppose just about everyone. It’s maddening. This is related to their childhood; how they were taught to be such adorable and adoring angels. By the time the kid’s an adult they’ve got a grudge the size of Rhode Island to contend with. So, for tonight’s Full Moon, unraveling mom (and mother related symbols) is the key. Make the effort and you’re ready to, as one famous Libran, John Lennon, put it: “Give peace a chance.”
Scorpio: Whenever I pull the Knight of Wands from the Tarot deck, as I did for you tonight, the fiery warrior just about leaps free from my grip, this makes his appearance all the more dramatic. Either that or I look down at the table and see a little salamander disappear into a puff of smoke. Right. Before. My. Eyes. Where’d it go? On a crusade. A mission for The Truth. Yes, magic dear Scorpio, one of your favorite subjects — and your love of wielding it — that’s what this month is about. Now you see it. Now you don’t. The planet Uranus is zapping away at your deepest tethers. You can almost hear the binding snap. It’s time to pull up stakes (from your comfort zone) and commence your search for the Grail. That magical elixir will solve your most perplexing riddle: Who am I? A caveat: Self-discovery for Scorpio usually involves surrender. (I’m sorry to remind you of this). I’m advising that you enact a scenario, in your imaginal or dream realm, a scenario that has you relinquishing control, laying down your guns and — good god! — surviving. In 12 Step they refer to this as getting right with a Higher Power. Can you dig it? Keep in mind that the Grail is only really won during one’s second attempt to claim it. Ask yourself: Is this your first try or…?
Sagittarius: You dream. You wake up. You dream. You wake up. Or is it really that this life is actually one big interminable dream? Sure, I can tell you this, but you’ll embody this truth when you start to see how your plans, schemes, hopes — and yes dreams — keep fading to black because you’ve abandoned them too quickly. Your card this month is the Queen of Cups. Coupled with the line-up of planets in Virgo, you’re still learning the lesson of humility coupled with dogged determination. Like the Queen staring down her chalice, you’ve got to muster your ability to envision, despite having lost some of your charm and optimism (you’ll get all that back soon enough). Shakespeare said: “Assume a virtue if you have it not.” When you see that acting and ‘real life’ aren’t that different, you’ll begin to seal the split between what you imagine and what is ‘real.’ It’s such a mysterious process, but one worthy of your utmost devotion.
Capricorn: Dear Capricorn. You walk the walk better than anyone else. But when it comes to talking the ‘talk’ you get waylaid by the voices in your head, that chatter can be so damning. A good self-defense? Tell the voices to fuck off! You’re going to do what you’re going to do anyway. This is a good exercise to practice as Pluto is only a scant one degree into your sign, and you’ll want to become versed at disarming the negative propaganda. You’ve heard of Pluto? Yes? That galvanizing planetary force of rebirth (and rebellion.) Pluto extinguishes much of what, heretofore, you’ve held tried and true in your life. But I don’t want to frighten you. Goats become skittish when they’re approaching the summit. But then I pulled your Tarot card, the Ace of Swords, and I knew I’d have to broach the topic of lopping off one phase of your life to allow the untried part of your nature (maybe it’s related to that fish tail that you mysteriously possess) to swim the waters of the unconscious. Think of the Sword as the Tibetans do; as an emblem of the force that defends truth, a cleaving instrument that frees us from what is false or dead — no longer real, vital. Then you’ll be on the right track — or proper end of the swimming pool.
Aquarius: Lean into your monitor Aquarius. Here’s the keyword for you this month. Are you ready? I’ll whisper it: Sex. Now, I’ll translate this in a completely abstract way, the style Aquarians crave. Gurdjieff once noted that there can be love without sex. And there can be sex without love. Sometimes both simultaneously, but it’s not always necessary. Think about that for minute. I remember working with my spiritual teacher once, bitching to him about not feeling connected to people, not feeling appreciated, having trouble with my digestion, my landlady, my temper. He finally, almost quietly, leaned over to me and said: “You know, why don’t you just go out and get laid?” There’s something wonderful about admitting your humanity, Aquarius — your urge as a mammal to get together with other mammals and just hang out. Maybe get a back rub. Maybe get laid! You’re suffering a bit of the ole Alice through the looking-glass syndrome. Up. Down. Round ‘n round. Eat me! Drink me! Who to listen to? Who to trust? The answer: Your instincts my child, your instincts. Stop the over-thinking. Off with your head!
Pisces: Poor pummeled Pisces. What a year it’s been, huh? Two years actually, if you must (must you?) recall the unrelenting grind of 2008. And knowing all I do about your tender center, well, I’m sure every drub, bump and reverberation has been meticulously registered. You’ve tried hard to hit the right note, but with Saturn opposing your Sun it often arrives flat — or worse, censored. It’s important though, as Saturn prepares to make his exit (for a spell) from Virgo, that you understand what, exactly, his lessons have wrought. Here’s the issue that needs your fiercest inquiry: What place have you carved out for yourself in the world? And is its foundation solid? But don’t listen to me. Mary Oliver wrote a poem for Pisces; though she wasn’t aware of this dedication at the time. (I’ll notify her as soon as I’m done transcribing). Poetry and Pisces — is there a difference? You decide:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.