Gather ’round, children, for it’s time again to read the stars, seek answers in your cards, and let the things which we do not know be known. Nothing is more frightening than the unknown; otherwise, why continually ask the universe just for a glimpse into what lies ahead? We wander and wish for answers, we offer trinkets of “tomorrow” in tiny, minute forms of meaning and understanding. In the end, it might be knowledge that we seek, but it’s comfort in the chaotic universe that we need. Count your dice and lay down the palms. Let’s come together to seek out the potential in what comes next.
Sagittarius
Sweet tidings and ever happy birthdays, dear Sagittarius! The world moves pretty fast, doesn’t it? One day you are all of twelve years old, hoping to just be a bit older, and the next thing you know, you are vastly approaching a landmark passage of age, two or three times that wonderful state of twelve. I’d consider you a regular time traveler. Yes, time traveling, that magical, all too scientific approach to weaving in and out of the mysterious web of the universe. To be clear, time travel is the concept of moving between different points in time in a manner analogous to moving between different points in space. Hypothetically, one could move not only backwards and forwards, but also to the sides, not only experiencing the past and future, but the alternative paradoxes of choices made or not made, each a separate reality unto itself. The possibilities are enough to set one’s mind spinning with the coulda-woulda-shoulda and everything in between. However, in spite of the never-ending possibility of “what if,” I like the approach of Bill Nye, who questions the idea of what is the past or the future at all:
When we see the shadow on our images, are we seeing the time 11 minutes ago on Mars? Or are we seeing the time on Mars as observed from Earth now? It’s like time travel problems in science fiction. When is now; when was then?
Sagittarius, there are trillions upon trillions upon trillions of paths that you could take, each a separate meditation on the past and future. But what about the present? Have you ever thought that perhaps in this moment, right now, you are experiencing both the very recent past and the comeuppance of the future, all in one brief second? That with each breath you take, you are time traveling, whether you like it or not? Take the energy you have from the knowledge of one more year of being alive and instead of time traveling within the coulda-woulda-shoulda, slam on the brakes and invoke the right now, this instant.
Capricorn
December 22 – January 19
Have you ever heard of the Huldra, Capricorn? Perhaps you know her by Swedish name, Tallemaja, or even her Norwegian names, Skogsfru or Skovfrue. Not ringing any bells? Maybe you’re familiar with her the way the Sámi are: Ulda. Still nothing? Okay, well you must know of Eve, that famed naked woman of the Western canon, she who serves as the scapegoat for all who enter the world after her, whilst being just like her. You see my sweet pea, Adam and Eve, while still living in that garden of delights, had many children, all of whom required quite a lot of bathing. On one particular day, God came to visit Eve and her children. Eve had not finished bathing all of them, and hid those that she did not feel were right in the eyes of God. “Are there any more children?” God was said to inquire. Eve, being the representation of all human flaws, of course, lied, “No God, there are no more.” Now, we all know that the God of the older testament was not a very empathetic god, and instead of recognizing Eve’s fear of judgment as a vulnerable human, got mad that Eve dare think she could hide something from him. “Then let all that is hidden, remain hidden,” God bellowed into the land. With this, all those hidden, dirty children became De Underjordiske, roughly translated as “the ones living underground.” These doomed children became the lost souls of forever, wandering ghosts cursed to walk the earth for all eternity. Huldra happens to be one of these lost souls and unlike most of her siblings, quite a beautiful one. Her beauty is such that it is often that passersby, so blinded by her face, do not recognize her cow tail, until they are too close, quickly running from Huldra, leaving her to wander the earth, hoping for more than just brief, shallow human contact. Of course, I can sense that you wonder what it is that a cow-tailed exile from God has to do with you, my dear Capricorn. I would hope you could see the larger lesson in Huldra, of how, just by appearance alone, we assume so much off the physical, often projecting a history of our own making onto what it is we view. Never mind that in spite of the beauty, we cannot see the cow tail, or the banishment, nor the loneliness of wandering without a cause. Let go of the snap judgments this week, Capricorn. What seems so easily gotten, is often not at all and what seems effortless, procured with connections or sweet dreams, is usually never, ever the case. Don’t be so quick to take the Huldra at face value, no matter how sweetly tempting. It’s only when you dig beneath, that you’ll find out what it’s really about, cow tail and all.
Aquarius
January 20 to February 18
Bronnie Ware was an Australian woman who spent several years working as a nurse in end of life palliative care, watching over hospice patients in the last 12 weeks of their lives.Year after year, she watched those who entered with no intentions to leave take their last breaths, eat their last meals, and take in all they could in those fleeting days that were barely promised to them. While taking care of these people, she often bore witness to the last confessions of her patients, small regrets of what the then dying had wished they had really done in their lives. She recorded these confessions down, first on a blog, and then into a book, which she entitled The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. Surprisingly, not many of the regrets had much to do with making more money or working harder in one’s career. In fact, many were such basic sentiments, that it is a wonder that it takes the threat of losing life to realize that it is the simplest acts that often fulfill us the most. From the top:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I wish that I had let myself be happier.
It’s easy, my dear Aquarius, to get so very caught up in the minute nature of the everyday bullshit. Not making enough money. The work squabbles. The banality of commuting. Who didn’t do the dishes again. The ease of which we slide into the habit of grinning and bearing it is quite shocking. I’m not asking for you to blow the lid off all that you have worked for, only suggesting to perhaps make more decisions with the thought of your deathbed on the outer skirts of your mind. Grim, yes, but it’s amazing how just a small shift in perspective can turn that way some stranger talked to you from an incident that needs punishing and dwelling, to something that doesn’t even fucking matter. Find out what fucking matters, my dear Aquarius. Find out what it is you will really regret.
Pisces
February 19 to March 20
Pisces, there are some strange, strange things that happen on this little world of ours, but nothing, and really, I mean nothing, is stranger than our selves. We humans are quit possibly the most baffling of creatures, the most absurd of sentient beings, and certainly the strangest of the strange. Honestly, think of all those habits we take for granted, that taken out of context, are enough to baffle the rest of the animal kingdom. We blush, bringing blood to the dilated veins in our faces, when we feel complimented or shy or even embarrassed. We cry, as a visual means of communicating our distress or need for empathy. We swap spit as a hopeful means to carry own our genetic material and we zone out, flying around in free form as a means of letting our subconscious come out to do a little work. All in all, we are pretty fascinating creatures who tend to ignore a lot of the amazing things our bodies have evolved for, even if it just seems like nothing more than a natural function. This week, Pisces, I implore you to seek the miraculous in the benign. Take a gander in the mirror and look at it all: your teeth, your skin, the blood pumping through your veins, ever so close to the surface. Notice that as you breathe in and out, you send another pump of life into your heart, which in turn sends streams to all your limbs, from the top of your ears to the very bottom of your toes. It’s easy to forget how goddamn miraculous it is to be in such this physical form, but I guarantee you, when you look in that mirror and just try to see it, even for a second, you’ll wonder how it was you never thought about it at all.
Aries
March 21 to April 19
As a lover of reason and the chaotic divine, I’m sure you are familiar with the Witch Fortune Telling Cards, my dear Ram. A set of unusual divinatory cards a bit on the older side, the Witch cards do not belong to the traditional cartomancy of tarot decks and divining cards and is based on ideas created by a famed French cartomancer named Madam Lenormand. Madame Lenormand, known fully as Marie Anne Adelaide Lenormand, was a professional fortune-teller, active for more than 40 years. She worked off mnemonic images on her cards, relying on the idea that the images and meanings of the cards themselves correspond with the suits or numerology, deeming themselves as oracle cards. Thus, the witch deck is your regular run of the mill deck of playing cards, but each card is illustrated with a particular image and the meaning of that image written down. Some people tend to have issues with the deck, as it is a more carefree collection of cards that does not fall in line with traditional symbology. But I tend to find comfort in the basic meaning of the cards, and rather than doing spreads, I prefer pulling one out of a shuffled deck, only to meditate on what the possibility may mean. I’ve pulled two for you this week, my dear Aries: The ten of spades (No.30 The rod) and the three of spades (No. 10 The pig). The rod tends to predict family quarreling, distance, pecuniary loss, while the pig is a sign of abundance and luck, oftentimes great amounts. What to make of these two opposite, yet equal fates? Where to find the balance between abundance of the self and loss of the family and money? Is it possible to obtain both fates or is it selfish to deem so? Only you’ll be able to find the answer this week, my dear Ram. Find the even weight between your rod and your pig.
Taurus
April 20 to May 20
Ah yes Taurus, this week I can see you have already taken steps like the Encantado, aka, “the enchanted one.” While there are many incarnations of the Encantado, I’d like you to ponder the Brazilian version, which refers to the creatures from the underwater paradise realm of Encante. The Encantado is a shapeshifting spirit, often transforming into snakes or, more commonly, the freshwater dolphin known as the Boto, found primarily in the deeper Amazonian rivers. The Encantado are known for their cooing musical ability, which would soften even the hardest heart, their seductive nature, as they are accused of everything from luring to kidnapping, and finally, their love of sex, mostly for the means of procreation. Much like a latter-day Cinderella, the Encantado is known to drop into large parties, disguised as a human, imbibing in all the physical pleasures that entail the human experience. At some point, it will be time for the Encantado to shift back into its state, despite the pleas of party guests who drink in the spirit of the creature. Often times, it hurries back to the river, quickly changing back into Boto form. The only way one can tell if one of your joyful party guest is an Encantado? The creature cannot change its blowhole and often wears a hat to hide the sign of its true self. Instead of looking for the blowhole, my dear Taurus, why not just enjoy the magic? People pop in and out of our lives quicker than we can explain it, and sometimes, it’s better to just take it in while we can. Let the people in your life be an enchanting presence this week, rather than just those bodies you continue to know.
Gemini
May 21 to June 20
Double entendres are the stuff of your life, huh, Gemini? You can’t help it. You are the duo, the twins, the forever linked pieces, functioning as an individual. While most born within the scope of “I” might have a hard time seeing through this, you pity those who do not share the most sacred and ritual of intertwined circumstances. It is you who defines the double entendre, the shared meaning of words. Whether it’s Ruth Brown telling you, “If I Can’t Sell It I’m Going To Sit On It” by saying that if “I can’t sell it I’m just going to sit on it. Ain’t gonna give it away,” or Bessie Smith saying ”My daddy was no jockey oh but he could ride/My daddy was no jockey but sho’ could ride,” you know the power of a dual meaning. You work in metaphor; that’s part of your dual self and you’ll never be easily nailed down, never taken at face value, not because you are untrustworthy, but because you are a layered self. Never easy to follow, never easy for a quick fix, and certainly never, ever, one singular thing. This week, when you speak in your tongues, don’t worry if “they” got it or not. Those who do, always will, and those who don’t, well, you can’t care about that. Let your devised tongue be subtle enough for those who care to listen for the dual meanings and for those who don’t to stay far away.
Cancer
June 21 to July 22
Marilynne Robinson published her very first novel, Housekeeping, in 1980. It was a story that explored the relationship of Ruth and her sister Lucy, under the care of a wayward network of family that includes everything but their actual mother. Their mother, they hope, is dead, but unfortunately, it is far worse. Their mother is very much alive, only, she has abandoned them, those unwanted children, left to fend for themselves. They carry around the engulfing holes that having no family or love might ever fill. Robinson set out to create a story where one could put words to the experience of longing, that bittersweet feeling of both desperate need and no actual ending.
“To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow,” says Ruth. “For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it?And here again is a foreshadowing — the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one’s hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again.”
Buddhism warns us against craving, as it leads to suffering, but Cancer, I want you to crave this week. I want you to long, to relish for, to deeply need. You scuttle around, as if want and need are not fixed emotions within our selves, more extracurricular activities that sometimes we shamefully participate in. Dive down into the deepest part of yourself, where that needy, longing child is. Let her out. Let her want and need and keep needing whatever it is that cannot be filled. Perhaps if you can admit that there is such a hole, you will be able to discover the very steps needed to fill it.
Leo
July 23 to August 22
I’m sharing a secret family recipe with you Leo — be sure to tell no one about it. The recipe is for one of the most delicious and famous dishes around: scrapple. You will need one hog head, five quarts cold water, three cups ground yellow cornmeal, five teaspoons of salt, five teaspoons of sugar, a dust of sage, a sqwuinch of rosemary, and lastly, a pinch of garlic powder. Separate the hog’s head into halves — make sure to remove both the eyes and brains. Scrape head, cleaning thoroughly. Place cleaned head into a large kettle and cover with the five quarts of cold water. Simmer on low for around for three hours — you want the meat to be falling from the bones. Skim the top grease carefully from the surface. Then, remove the meat, and chop fine. Season with salt, sugar, and the rest of your herbs to taste. Sift in corn meal, stirring constantly, until the mixture reaches a thick mush. Cook mush over low heat for one hour. When sufficiently cooked, pour into a greased pan and store until ready to use. Cut in thin slices and fry until crisp and brown. Serve. This recipe should make about six or seven pounds of scrapple for you, though certain measurements can be substituted for more or less. It may sound unappetizing, but if you call it by its other name, Pon Haus, suddenly the meaty mixture doesn’t seem to bad, now does it? It’s amazing the difference a name can make, changing the same damn item from a poor man’s food to artisanal foreign delicacy, all in the matter of minutes.This week, my sweet lion, before you go making faces based solely on names, ask yourself what it really is all the fuss is about. Are you paying sacks of money for what has been on the pauper’s table under another name? Are you throwing out the delicacies of the masses because it does not roll off the tongue like magic? Check what it is that is drawing you to your choices this week. Your language might be letting you down more than you know.
Virgo
August 23 to September 22
You know what keeps me up at night, Virgo? Dark Matter, that unknown large part of mass that appears to be missing from the universe, and yet, completely makes up all matter of what we know. According to most standard definitions, dark matter’s “existence is inferred from gravitational effects on visible matter and gravitational lensing of background radiation, and was originally hypothesized to account for discrepancies between calculations of the mass of galaxies, clusters of galaxies and the entire universe made through dynamical and general relativistic means, and calculations based on the mass of the visible ‘luminous’ matter these objects contain: stars and the gas and dust of the interstellar and intergalactic medium.” Huh. How about that? Stranger, is the fact that Earth, unlike most other planets, is surrounded by a thick band of dark matter, which, of course, we cannot see, but nonetheless, there it is, inherent everything it is we do. What is your own dark matter, dear Virgo? What is the invisible, yet all-defining matter that makes up your life? Each crumb you drop or decision you make, there it is, always with you. You may not be able to see it, nor reach out and touch it. But you must know it is there. Whether it is the will to go forward or the power to let go, surround yourself like our tiny little earth with your dark matter. Let it be your anchor, your shield, your inner workings that forever tug hold onto you. Let it be the stuff of your life.
Libra
September 23 to October 22
Libra, please allow me to introduce you to the Entoloma hochstetteri, most commonly known by its street name: The Sky Blue Mushroom. The fungi is a standout from its other seemingly dull relatives, predominantly due to its ethereal blue color. Why such a delightful colored mushroom? Azulene. Azulene is a pigment that is found in nature, not only as a part of the makeup of these mushrooms, but also in most marine invertebrates. AKA, sponges, cnidarians, lophophorates, mollusks, arthropods, and please do not forget the hemichordates. The Smurf-tinted mushroom can only found in two places of the world: New Zealand and India, unless you also count the imaginations of artists or Lewis Carroll a world unto itself. While beautiful, the mushroom is most likely to be indeed poisonous, though no one has yet to tell the tale. However, that has not stopped New Zealanders from honoring the dainty blue fungi, and they have gone so far as to emblazon it not only on a postage stamp, but on the back of the country’s $50 note. Libra, is there a beautiful, yet deadly force that you can tame through the domestic arts? I don’t mean to go looking for trouble, but I do think a little allowance for honoring those scary, yet alluring things in your life is necessary. Perhaps you can grab one of those romantic, yet dreadful fears and emblazon your own currency with it, exchanging money for goods, trading fear and zeal for something new. Perhaps you too, will embrace the fungi blue.
Scorpio
October 23 to November 21
If there is one thing I love more than anything else, it’s a good funeral celebration. That might call on you to pause, for what seems less likely to go together than death and celebration? Not everyone in the world is as terrified of death as we tend to think. In fact, most see it as a way to go out in style. Take the vintage Argentine funeral Cadillacs, a dedication to what it means to go out in style. Discovered by a man named Fernando Aguerre, the native Argentine was exploring some old barns in the countryside when he discovered the strangest thing he had ever seen: a fleet of wood-carved funeral Cadillacs. According to Atlas Obscura, “these hand crafted funeral cars originated as 1942 Cadillac Fleetwood Series 60 Special four-door sedans, each with a 133-inch wheelbase. They were converted into a flower car and hearse, possibly inspired by two horse-drawn carriages that were found nearby. Each car is adorned with a hand-carved wood body with intricate swirl and wave patterns. A metal plaque affixed to one of the cars bears the name of an Argentine coachbuilder, ‘Hermida y Nazzi.’ The origins of the cars and their maker remain unknown.” Chances are, we will never know whoever it was that created the fleet of fine automobiles, only that they had a vision, which was, to go out in style. You don’t need to prepare for your funeral, Scorpio, but I would like to see you add a little more class to your general step. Far be it for me to subscribe what that means, since class means little more than what you do to stay on top, but I’d like to see you face the world with a little more pep in your visual step. Add some sweet to your wild, or even a little wild to your sweet. Bring your own Cadillac home.
ADVISEMENT FOR ALL THE SIGNS THIS WEEK: Omar Little, that poet provocateur and subversive notion of manhood, once said “At the end of the day, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.” Keep this in mind during the week which families, whether close or not, gather round the table, sharing food, drink, and ever-present issues. It’s tempting, so very tempting, to blow one out somewhere between the cranberry and the potatoes, but instead of seeing adversaries, just remember, both pieces end up back in the same place. Breathe this in and out. It soon will be over.