Taurus (April 20-May 20): It's not like you to gobble down your dessert before the main course. Nevertheless, that seems to be a metaphor you'll make liberal use of in the coming week. Does that mean you'll also be doing things like reading the last page of books first, and postponing foreplay until after the climax? Not necessarily. But even you Tauruses like to depart from the script on occasion, and you probably couldn't pick a better moment than now to mess around with the predictable old rhythms.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): My friend Jeff Greenwald wrote a book called Shopping for Buddhas. It's an account of his adventures as he searched the Indian subcontinent for the statue that would best serve as an evocative symbol for his personal brand of spiritual longing. I'm reminded of his quest as I meditate on you this week. I think you need to get earthier in your pursuit of the divine source of life and love. Maybe you could get salacious with a saint. Or use your hard-earned bucks to treat yourself to a workshop that'll feed your soul. Or greedily scour consumer temples for your own holy talisman.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): As I arrived home one recent afternoon, my heart filled with joy at the spectacle unfolding in the middle of the street. My next-door neighbor, a 38-year-old accountant and mother of two, was skateboarding recklessly, dodging potholes and flying over curbs, as she gabbed animatedly on her cell phone about magical realism in Latin American literature. "Hallelujah!" I thought to myself. "This woman is a living celebration! Freewheeling, slap-happy, and carefree despite her daunting responsibilities!" Guess what sign this masterpiece is, dear readers? She's one of us: a Crab. I trust your mood matches hers this week. By all astrological reckoning, it should.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Ask an astronomer about Venus and she'll describe hell: The planet is a scorching desert oppressed by thick clouds of sulfuric acid. Seek an astrologer's views on Venus and she'll tell you it's the planet of love; that it rules deep emotion and passionate attraction. So what gives? How could the two conceptions be so out of phase? Let's turn to the mystical writer Dion Fortune for help: "There is an old proverb, 'Lucky in love, unlucky in cards,' which is but another way of saying that the person who is attractive is in perpetual hot water. Venus is a disturbing influence in worldly affairs. She distracts from the serious business of life." I think you instinctively understand all of this, Leo. Your life lately could probably serve as a case study for it.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Who's in your tribe, Virgo, and what are your common values? It's prime time to take inventory of this part of your life -- and act to bring your tribe closer together. To jump-start your imagination, I'll describe the members of my tribe. My people are spiritual but aren't tied to any traditional religion. They're politically active but regard the normal political process as a sham and therefore work outside of it. They honor science and its triumphs but resist its excesses and arrogance. And they look at people who are different with fascination, not fear.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): The horoscope you're reading appears in publications on four continents, including Singapore and Hong Kong in Asia, Caracas in South America, Sydney in Australia, and over 90 cities in Canada and the United States. What accounts for my ability to appeal to such a wide audience? I suspect it has a lot to do with the three planets I have in Libra in my natal chart. Like you, I listen well, have a knack for reading others' moods, can harmonize with many different types of folks, and am able to articulate complex truths in ways that a broad spectrum of people can understand. But enough about me. Are you ready to marshal all these talents we share into a bold new stroke that'll double your clout and triple your personal authority? I think you are.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Let's address the problem of astrology abuse. It occurs whenever an otherwise intelligent person acts as if astrologers are all-knowing experts, as if invisible cosmic forces rule her life, as if she has little power over what happens to her. I must say, though, in fairness to astrologers, that they're less hazardous to your health than more dangerous "experts" like priests, politicians, scientists, and journalists. Many of the latter groups are even more eager than astrologers to convince you that invisible forces control your life and that you have little power over what happens to you. Why am I bringing this up now? Because the cosmic omens say this is the best time in many moons for you to shake off the static cling of all the manipulative authorities in your life.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): If your product or invention will ever in your life be selected to appear in a featured showcase on the shopping channel, it would probably be sometime in the next three weeks. For that matter, if you were ever going to dream up a product or invention that would eventually win a coveted spot on the shopping channel, it would be now too. Why am I so sure? The astrological omens say your financial biorhythms and creative brilliance are peaking simultaneously.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Despite my devotion to healthy organic food, I've always said that feeling guilty and stressed-out about scarfing down preservative-laden Twinkies is actually worse for me than eating the junk. Furthermore, I like to apply this principle to all my most high-minded pursuits. There's something about being fanatically, maniacally pure that's gross and defiling in itself. Please keep this in mind as you slip into the heart of the obsessive time of year.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): I'm going to tell you a story I read in Funny Times. Study it. Memorize it. AND THEN MAKE DAMN SURE YOU DO NOTHING THAT EVEN REMOTELY RESEMBLES IT IN THE NEXT FEW WEEKS! It seems that three performing dolphins made a clean getaway from their pens in an aquatic park in Key Largo. A few days later they resurfaced 20 miles away in a lagoon adjacent to a golf course. Every day at 10 a.m., 2 p.m., and 4 p.m., they assumed their stage personas and acted out all the tricks they'd learned during their former incarceration -- hoping, apparently, to be rewarded with food. Moral of the story (do I really have to spell it out?!): Don't drag your prison with you when you escape.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Lately you've reminded me of that CD by Lori Carlson called Everything I Touch Runs Wild. Your grace and delight have been overflowing like tidal waves of love potion. You've been a living, breathing magic spell that's awakened the groggy kundalini in innocent bystanders and intimate friends alike. Up until now, dear Pisces, most of your effects have been benevolent. If you'd like to keep it that way, I urge you to start reining yourself in a little. Start being a bit more discriminating about where you point your mojo.