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Free Will Astrology horoscopes for week of February 3, 2000
Aries (March 21-April 19) A dermatologist and historian are lounging on the porch of a lodge at a nudist camp. The historian says, "Have you read Marx?" and the dermatologist replies, "Yes, but I think they're just from the wicker chairs." Moral of the story: As you gather all the momentous answers to the big questions this week, Aries--and there'll be a lot available--be keenly aware of each answerer's biases and be cagily alert for double meanings.
Taurus (April 20-May 20) It would be a good week to create an international organization dedicated to establishing the reign of beauty, truth, and justice on Earth. Oddly enough, it would also be a fabulous time to jump-start a master plan designed to make you impossibly happy, wildly wise, and lyrically effective by May 1, 2001. Coincidence? No way. The interests of your private and public selves are converging; your personal concerns and political passions will increasingly be fed by the same insights.
Gemini (May 21-June 20) You might need to take a course in Italian cinema in order to understand the fresh, hot metaphors that are piling up around you these days. (I stole most of that line from poet Christopher Buckley.) For that matter--this is me speaking now--your ability to understand the next chapter of your life will be sharply improved if you find a new deity or role model to become intoxicated by. You'd also benefit from keeping a picture of a wild woman in your sock and taking a joyride with a spiritual sex machine. In conclusion, Gemini, be voracious for new teachings. The more you seek out foreign stimulation and exotic pleasures, the better able you'll be to see how the future is exploding into the present.
Cancer (June 21-July 22) Let's begin this horoscope with Jane Hirshfield's poem, "Each Happiness Ringed by Lions." Sometimes when I take you into my body I can almost see them--patient, circling. Almost glimpse the moving shadow of the tail, almost hear the hushed pad of retracted claws. It is the moment--of this I am certain-- when they themselves are least sure. It is the moment they could almost let us go free. To complete this horoscope, Cancerian, please visualize the possibility that at this turning point in your history, the lions might actually let you go free.
Leo (July 23-August 22) Diane, a very competitive Leo I know, just took a Lead Class at a climbing gym she belongs to. To pass her final exam, she was required to fall intentionally three times while attached by a rope to the wall. She had to just let go and plummet, in other words--first just a foot, then longer, and finally ten feet. I submit to you, Leo, that the relationship test you'll be taking during the next six weeks will make comparable demands. The trick to succeeding is to learn how to plunge gracefully and to resume climbing immediately after each descent.
Virgo (August 23-September 22) Underdogs are on an upsurge. Topdogs are on a downswing. The supercilious masters may have money and spin doctors on their side, but the ingenious rebels have God. It will therefore be an excellent week for you to lovingly launch strikes, boycotts, and protests. It'll be prime time to grunt NO NO NO NO NO NO for all the most constructive and uplifting reasons. In light of these revelations, Virgo, let me ask you this: Are you going to just sit there passively and grin as some smiling tyrant tries to break off a chunk of your soul and hurl it into the Toilet Zone? Hell, no, you're not! Don't just question authority--give it the third degree.
Libra (September 23-October 22) I dreamed you were a teenage shepherd leading a mass pilgrimage. Hundreds of people with tears of joy streaming down their faces were following you as you trekked over rolling hills through the countryside. In your pocket was a letter you had been given by an angel to deliver to the queen. You also carried a golden staff surmounted by a white flag bearing an image of a red rose. Violet butterflies swarmed above your head. The air smelled of jasmine. And you were singing a song whose chorus went like this: I will fight for the things that I love / with a heart full of fiercest delight / Joy and peace are my holiest duties / Joy and peace are my God-given rights.
Scorpio (October 23-November 21) After an exhaustive analysis of your archetypes and gestalts, I have determined that in the next two weeks you will thrive from associating yourself with two symbols: the ember and the heliotrope. The ember symbolizes fire without flame: primal yet well-contained heat and light. The heliotrope is a flower that turns to follow the course of the sun across the sky. It represents steady, prayerful attentiveness to the radiant source of life. I suggest you devote relaxed time to communing with embers and heliotropes--both in the real world and in the inner landscape of your meditating mind.
Sagittarius (November 22-December 21) When the winds blow at ten miles per hour, a windmill produces eight times more power than it does in a five-mile-per-hour breeze. Let that fun fact be your talisman in the coming days, Sagittarius. It'll keep you focused on how important it is to step up your efforts just a little more than is comfortable. To demonstrate the technique, I will push this horoscope beyond what is merely sufficient. Here's a magic formula, a Norwegian proverb, for you to arm yourself with: Heroism consists of hanging on one minute longer.
Capricorn (December 22-January 19) A survey of 127 traditional astrologers has determined that "bottom line" is your official cliche for the next few weeks. I'm far from being a traditional astrologer, but just this once I happen to agree with the herd. In the coming days you should freely repeat the mantras "What's in it for me?" and "Prove your love, baby." Any time you hear a big talker fling out another wild promise you should scream "Arrrrgggggghhhhhh!" and run away. And don't even think about going with the flow of a feel-good verbal agreement, Capricorn. Spell it all out and write it all down, preferably with ink that's the color of blood. (P.S.: You'll have the blessings of the party gods in March if you scrupulously apply 1001 finishing touches in February.)
Aquarius (January 20- February 18) In honor of the full-blown return of your sweet, virginal innocence, I have culled a number of "thought problems" from the children's magazine, Highlights. Summoning all the intelligence of your inner six-year-old, please respond to the following.
Pisces (February 19-March 20) Physiologist Otto Loewi won the Nobel Prize with the help of clues he got in a dream. Novelist Robert Louis Stevenson credited "little people" in his dreams with providing a great deal of material for his books. Elias Howe's patent for one of the first sewing machines owed much to an inspirational dream he had. And now you, Pisces, are about to follow in this grand tradition. I predict that you'll soon receive a very practical revelation during your nocturnal adventures. Promise me you'll keep a pen and notebook by the bed in case the useful illumination erupts in the middle of the night.
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