TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Each of us can draw on the powers of all of the signs. For instance, I am primarily a Cancer with a Libran accent, but I regularly call on help from the Aries archetype. I find that it fuels my rebellious yearning to change everything for the better. It ensures that my anger is directed at the right targets and inspires me not just to complain but to actually put my ass on the line in behalf of my ideals. And what does this have to do with you, Taurus? Well, I believe you're wading into a potential morass disguised as a comfy pit stop. To prepare yourself, I recommend that you cultivate a clear, hot, Aries-style feistiness.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): If you're an evangelical Christian, I bet you'll be inspired in the coming week to speak in tongues and writhe on the floor for hours laughing hysterically at God's jokes. If you're a dotcom geek, I predict you'll be able to sublimate and channel some of your sexual prowess into dreaming up business ideas that may ultimately turn you into a jillionaire. And if you're just a plain, old, ordinary seeker, Gemini, the days ahead could bring you ya-yas that render you so ga-ga you'll have no trouble understanding the term "spiritual orgasm."
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Rationality junkies scornfully call me a fortune-teller. They say I pander to people's superstition and narcissism. They lump me in the same category as the hacks who write the generic horrorscopes for daily newspapers. But I reject these descriptions. I call myself a poetic depth-psychologist working to jiggle your imagination with late-breaking news from the realm of the soul. Take a cue from me, my fellow Cancerian, and don't let others define who you are or what you do. Seize the power to name yourself. Refuse to be squeezed into any categories, expectations or images — except those that squeeze you just the way you like.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Did you hear about the experiment testing the benefits of visualization exercises? Two groups were enlisted for a month-long program to boost their accuracy at shooting a basketball. One group practiced 20 minutes a day. Those in the other group didn't actually practice, but visualized themselves shooting baskets for 20 minutes a day. Results? The group that literally practiced improved 56 percent. The visualizers jacked up their average an amazing 52 percent. Moral of the story, as far as you Leos are concerned: If you're too lazy or busy this week to actually upgrade your communication habits, at least visualize yourself scheduling powwows and making lots of phone calls and writing long-postponed letters.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): You know the real golden rule: He who owns the gold, rules. And though it hurts me, as a spiritually correct seeker, to formally recognize this lying truth of hypercapitalism, it's also my obligation as your kamikaze therapist to give you a Zen whack in the pocketbook now and then — especially when your poverty consciousness threatens to squelch your pressing need to stretch your abilities. I desperately want you to do more of what you love, Virgo. So get out there and scare up the resources you need to do it. The cosmos will provide unexpected help if you can just find a way to believe passionately in the seemingly impossible.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Should I get three new piercings or a tattoo of my consort Suzanne's astrological chart on my arm? Should I shave the sides of my head and grow a goatee or should I buff up my pecs and buy 10 sessions at a tanning salon? These are some of the deep spiritual questions that are swimming around my meditations these days. I hope to goddess you're concerned with equally heady matters, Libra. For instance, should you merely alter your image or should you radically reinvent it? Should you get your teeth whitened, your hair tinted and your wardrobe revamped? Or should you try cosmetic surgery, buy a platinum blond wig and adopt a new nickname? One way or another, I believe it's time to have fun experimenting with your persona.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): What would you do if you were lost in a strange country, with miles of wilderness stretching out before you on all sides? In her autobiography, Eudora Welty recounted the counsel her father gave her as a child. "‘Look for where the sky is brightest along the horizon,’ he said. ‘That reflects the nearest river. Strike out for a river and you will find habitation.’" Keep that in mind, Scorpio, if you find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere in the coming weeks. And by the way, that's good advice even if you're securely ensconced at home but feeling adrift in a metaphorical sense. Make your way to the mighty river that runs through the heart of your vision of paradise.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Quoting leading geneticists, writer Guy Murchie says we're all family. You have at least a million relatives as close as 10th cousin, and no one on Earth is any farther removed than your 50th cousin. Murchie also describes our kinship through an analysis of how deeply we share the air. With each breath, you take into your body 10 sextillion atoms, and — owing to the wind's ceaseless circulation — over a year's time you have intimate relations with oxygen molecules exhaled by every person alive, as well as by everyone who ever lived. At this moment, you may be carrying atoms that were once inside the lungs of Malcolm X, Janis Joplin, Christopher Columbus and Cleopatra. I bring this up, Sagittarius, because it's the perfect astrological moment to contemplate, celebrate, and exploit your interrelatedness.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Many people who claim to believe in God really believe in nothing more than the image of an austere, finger-shaking father figure that lives solely in their own minds. (Which is not to say a sexier God doesn't exist.) Other people enthrone an equally crude phantasm, but call it by different names, like Conscience or Inner Critic. However you refer to it, Capricorn, it'll be out to lunch this week — possibly even on sabbatical. Which is great news for you if you want to try things it doesn't think you can or should do.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Cue the footage of the Earth from space with the soundtrack from Mozart's "Jupiter" symphony. Now fade to a 1,000-foot waterfall plunging from a rainbow-crowned mountain. Zoom to a crystal ball resting in pure white snow at one end of the rainbow. Focus in on a close-up inside the crystal ball, revealing Aquarius standing on tiptoes on the mountaintop, arms thrust in the air toward a bald eagle swooping overhead. Cue Aquarius laughing fiercely, followed by triumphant shouts of "I can see for miles and miles and miles."
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Right-wing religious zealots suffer from the bizarre hallucination that homosexuals can and should be converted into heterosexuals. Their fanatical ignorance stirs childhood memories of my grandparents' wacky attempts to get my brother and sister to stop being left-handed and switch over to the One True Way of right-handedness. Maybe you've never been subjected to cruel manipulations as literal as these examples, Pisces, but no doubt you've had to endure some other idiotic pressure to change an aspect of your nature that came natural. This is the time and place to heal and correct for that false "correction." My docufiction memoir, The Televisionary Oracle, is now on sale in many stores and at www.amazon.com. Please help me finance the alimony I have to pay to the woman I was married to until I wrote the
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