Taurus (April 20-May 20): I thought of you all day yesterday. At 6 a.m. I was atop Haleakala, Maui's dormant volcano. The gorgeous rainbow splendor of the sunrise as it splashed onto the crater reminded me of the gorgeous panoramic visions you'll soon be blessed with. I spent the next few hours coasting downhill on a mountain bike. The low-level endorphin rush that burbled in me for those 38 miles called to mind the ease and grace that'll be streaming your way in the weeks ahead. As I meditated on how hard I've worked this year, and how much I deserved all this pleasure, I realized the exact same thing can be said about you.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): In old Hawaii, families periodically carried out the ho'oponopono, or "setting relationships right." In his book Hawaiian Religion and Magic, Scott Cunningham describes this as a "prayerful family conference designed to discuss problems, find their root causes, solve them, and forgive all concerned." Given the fact that you're currently at a crossroads in your domestic history, I recommend such a ritual. Your tribe's reactive, unsacred style of addressing its difficulties needs more soul.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): The flight attendant on the morning jaunt from San Francisco to Hawaii told me she was scheduled to spend an hour in Honolulu and then return to the Bay Area by nightfall. Her fate reminds me of what you're in danger of doing: making visits to exotic frontiers without exploring them. It's as if you have just enough courage to push yourself to the verge of great adventures, but not quite enough to take the plunge. Unless of course you're so pissed off by what I just said that you'll find the extra juice to prove me wrong.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): In my eternal quest to stay fresh for you, I've journeyed to Maui, hoping to collect new fables and folklore for my prophecies. Here I've discovered the indigenous concept of mana. Ultimately untranslatable, the term might best be rendered as "spiritual power" or "mojo." In old Hawaii, the chiefs were regarded as having the most, but everyone had his share. Possession of the stuff carried responsibilities. A healer who did a half-assed job curing his patients might suffer the loss of the mana that inspired him to become a healer in the first place. What's this have to do with you? I think it's time you examined the possibility that you're not fully exploiting some of the mana you've been blessed with. Your motto: Use it or lose it.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The Kumulipo is an old Hawaiian prayer chant that poetically describes the creation of the world. The word kumulipo literally means "beginning in deep darkness." Here darkness does not connote gloom and evil and death. Rather, it's about the inscrutability of the embryonic state; the obscure chaos that reigns before germination. That's why I'm able to be so cheerful as I predict that your week ahead will be very kumulipo. I believe you're harboring a seed that to the naked eye is invisible and dormant. But in fact that baby's got a plan, a complete set of instructions to grow to maturity. All you have to do is give it lots of light and love.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): "Owie! Waaaa! I got a boo-boo!" Libra was so eager to jump into the Forbidden Zone and play, she got careless as she crawled over the protective barrier. Rip. Scratch. Back she ran to comfort, feeling prematurely beaten. But all she really needed was a big hug and a little first aid applied by loving hands. Soon she was all better, and made her way back into the heart of the fascinating uproar -- more cautiously this time.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I'm thinking of one of your neglected needs right now -- a need that has been chronically ignored, underestimated, or belittled, both by yourself and others. And I'm also thinking that this achy longing will finally get its due very soon. How? I believe you're about to forgive yourself for the way you've focused solely on the shameful aspects of this special need. As a result, you'll be able to see its hidden beauty and value. Suddenly, everyone and his brother -- even you yourself -- will be eager to nurture it.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): As a professional prophet, I'm always on the lookout for new legends and lore that'll inspire me to see the world like a Martian anthropologist. This week I learned that in old Hawaii there were many kapu, or spiritually based taboos. For instance, it was kapu for commoners to mess with stuff belonging to the chiefs. Touch a big kahuna's pillow, or even walk across the dude's shadow, and you were toast. This might be funny if it weren't for the fact that we modern folks are under the sway of numerous unwritten taboos, some of which rival the most severe kapu. I bring this up, Sagittarius, because it's now a favorable time for you to violate dumb prohibitions. Go ahead and step on your boss' shadow.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): My friend Tony, who fled California for Maui six years ago, says people migrate to the blessed isle for two reasons: to heal or to run away. By my astrological reckoning, you need a place like Maui right now -- a sanctuary where you can hide out for a while and lick your wounds; or a temporary place of exile where you can pretend the rest of the world -- and maybe your past, too -- doesn't exist. You may not have to go as far as Maui to find your escape hatch, Capricorn. But find it you must.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): There's a cynical, wise-ass voice deep inside me that's trying to taint my Hawaiian sojourn with comments like "Paradise sucks!" Even the Pollyanna in me has to admit that it ain't easy coming up with my usual razor-sharp insights when my senses are ceaselessly barraged with pristine waterfalls, intoxicating smells, and dazzling sunsets. Still, I'm grateful for a sabbatical from my usual addiction to struggle. Luckily for you, you'll have no such problem getting your brain to work at peak efficiency. The twisty tests and trials due in the next month will build your character (and intelligence!) more than in the past six months combined.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): I'm on my annual "Oracular Scavenger Hunt," traveling around trolling for fresh metaphors to fuel my auguries. Just now, while basking on a Hawaiian beach and sipping some sweet goo, I turned my thoughts to your horoscope. "Send me a sign, O Neptune," I prayed in the direction of the sea. As if in reply, I overheard the folks next to me discussing Hawaii's average yearly rainfall. They said that Honolulu registers 24 inches, while the Manoa Valley, just five miles away, gets over 12 feet. I immediately intuited that you're in a predicament that resembles a spot halfway between those two places. In one direction, there's barely enough moisture -- that is to say, intimacy and emotion; in the other, there's so much as to be maybe too much.