To stall is to procrastinate. That’s the usual connotation of the word stall. And procrastination implies a conscious kind of non-action on the part of the procrastinator. But there is another definition taken from the world of aviation. A mechanical stall is a malfunction in the flight of an aircraft in which there is a sudden loss of lift that results in a downward plunge. “The plane went into a stall and I couldn’t control it.”

Can you relate?

With both Saturn (the prime mover) and Mars (the feisty shaker) in retrograde motion, our direction, our sense of time, our desire (Mars) for a forward momentum (Saturn) — all of our leaning toward and lunging for is, well, suspended — left dangling. So when someone asks you, “What are you up to?” You can say, in all honesty, “Just hanging around.” Or if you’re a more melodramatic type: “Man, I’m going down.”

So, while you’re falling why not pick a card — any card.

Of all the various versions of the Tarot’s Hanged Man (Pamela Colman Smith’s glowing, haloed figure or Aleister Crowley‘s eerie ankh-hung Spiderman) I like the simplicity of Robert Place‘s rendering — taken from his Alchemical Tarot deck — the best. I also think Place’s Hanged Man is more true to the initial stages of frustration that one experiences when she first notices that her airplane has gone into a stall.

Place animates his Hanged Man with a thrashing motion of the body and an angry, perplexed countenance. The man is definitely rebelling against his predicament. And all that he has acquired within the normal, forward motion of time, is falling from his hands. Read more

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.”

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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

If you’ve wondered about the legitimacy of working with the Sabian symbols today’s Pisces Full Moon should quell any doubts. The images are kick-in-the-gut cogent. For 13 degrees Virgo, where the Sun resides, we have the image: “A powerful statesman overcomes a state of political hysteria.”

For the Moon’s degree in Pisces, the symbol depicts: “An ancient sword, used in many battles, is displayed in a museum.” Both of these emblems portend much, hold a dynamic promise (or debacle) — especially as Obama prepares what will be a last-ditch, make-or-break speech addressing both houses of Congress next week. And I’ll talk a bit more about this below. Read more

Douglas Rushkoff outlines the roots of our current debacle, from the late Middle Ages to today. From the founding of the chartered monopoly to the branding of the self; from the invention of central currency to the privatization of banking; from the birth of the modern, self-interested individual to his exploitation through the false ideal of the single-family home; from the Victorian Great Exhibition to the solipsism of MySpace; the corporation has infiltrated all aspects of our daily lives. Life Inc. exposes why we see our homes as investments rather than places to live, our 401k plans as the ultimate measure of success, and the Internet as just another place to do business.

The ongoing transit of Neptune and Jupiter over the United State’s Moon in Aquarius is creating an opportunity for us to begin to envision, collectively, a new way of sustaining our culture. Rushkoff’s illuminates both how we’ve become disconnected from our world, and how we can reconnect to our towns, to the value we can create, and mostly, to one another — aligning with the Aquarian concept of life as one interconnected web, a sense of connection that eventually opens the individual to the experience of unicity or Oneness.

Wednesday’s New Moon is a tipping point solar eclipse. Its duration, nearly seven minutes long, makes it the longest eclipse of the 21st century. There’s a particular potency to any celestial gathering around the last degrees of any zodiacal sign, and today’s lunation hits, exactly, the cusp between Cancer and Leo. A mysterious zone indeed.

This is a segment of time akin to the moments prior to a pregnant woman’s labor. Full-to-bursting, when the baby is ready to roll, the mother taps into an instinctual process that carries her along until the birth is complete. She can’t do it with her mind — surrender is implicit. You could say today’s eclipse atmosphere is charged with a persistent pressure to relax, release and welcome the unknown. A process is underway, geared to undo our grip on the familiar — but only if we’re willing to forgo expectations and preferences.

More than ushering in something new, this eclipse highlights the manner in which we surrender our concepts about the future. The opportunity? To test a new expression of trust and not allow the past to crowd out open-ended potentialities. To understand more clearly, study the two signs involved. What does the cusp between two signs signify? It’s a mysterious zone, yes? A stunning demarcation between one world and another. Read more