Taurus (April 20-May 20): Caution: The light at the end of the tunnel may resemble a supernova. Better be wearing at least five pairs of sunglasses as you come shooting out of the darkness you've grown so accustomed to. Remember what happened to the mortal woman Semele when she was allowed to gaze upon the god Zeus in his full shining glory. In your case, at least, the dazzling radiance is likely to be more feminine in nature, and therefore more nurturing. But don't you dare try to drink it all in at once.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): It seems your imagination's rioting for Haagen-Dazs while your willpower's screaming out for you to go easy on the creamy excesses. Meanwhile, the child in you is hoping to get a little sick in order to be excused from the big test you have to take, while the adult in you is ready to grab the kid in you and pour medicine down his or her little gullet. What do you think the Buddha would do in a situation like this? I believe he'd make you some ice cream-flavored medicine.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): Gradually, my fellow Cancerian, so gradually you may not have realized it, you have acquired a much better set of problems than you've ever had before. They're more interesting, less a product of bad old habits, and a greater challenge to your intelligence. In the past, you wasted way too much time solving puzzles that were truly beneath you, but these new models are beautiful to behold. So congratulations. I suggest you throw yourself a big old graduation party.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): I vividly recall the moment many years ago when a gush of thrilling chills erupted in my spine, revealing that the new woman I'd been dating, Jeannette, was the soul twin I had been waiting for forever. A month later, though, after a breathtaking series of boring arguments had broken us up, I was berating myself with the thought, "What did I ever see in her?" Moral of the story: Just because a stirring event rouses goose bumps doesn't necessarily mean you should treat it as if it were a mandate direct from God. With this lesson in mind, Leo, I have studied your own recent brush with tingling amazement. You'll be pleased to know that unlike mine, yours was the Real Thing -- a mandate direct from God.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Now and then overly serious readers suffering from stunted imaginations take offense at my wild flights and dash off an angry letter. "What were you smoking when you came up with that nonsense?" they fume. I could tell them that meditation and dreamwork allow me to tap into the richness of my wild mind without the use of drugs and alcohol, but it wouldn't do any good. Most pathologically literal people are unable to appreciate the fact that some forms of irrationality are fertile and life-affirming. They resist any suggestion that beautiful truths may come from flirting with crazy wisdom. I hope you're not one of these grossly materialistic souls, Virgo. This week my prescription for you includes a host of poetic excursions into la-la land.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): In the pagan calendar, May Day is one of the power points of the year. Halfway between the spring equinox and summer solstice, it is an exuberant fertility festival urging us to celebrate and participate in the great bloom that the sun is calling forth in the earth. Naturally, the approach of this high holiday always puts me in a sublime yet giddy mood. I look forward to it as a chance to integrate my highest spiritual aspirations and my deepest erotic drives. Oddly enough, you're in prime time to do this yourself, Libra, even if you're no more pagan than the Pope. Your libido is peaking at the same time as your knack for communing with the Divine Yow.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): In 1985, the mayors of Rome and Carthage finally got around to signing a peace treaty. This put a formal end to the Third Punic War, which had begun in 149 B.C. -- 2,134 years earlier. If these ancient combatants could finally set aside their hostilities, Scorpio, certainly you too can break the spell of the longest-running dispute in your own life. It won't be easy, but that's exactly why it'll be a potent way to build your willpower. You'll pump up your volitional muscles to the max as you muster one hell of a potent dose of forgiveness and overcome the equivalent of a thousand years of inertia.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Many Sagittarians I know keep two lists going in their minds at all times. Are you like that? On List A are all the people who think you're great and who have helped you or might someday help you. On List B are all the people that crossed you once or who failed to live up to your high expectations. At least half the people on List B were at one time on List A. If this describes you, Sagittarius, I'm here to inform you that it's Amnesty Week. Consider transferring some of the names on List B to List A. The Goddess will give you a big you-know-what if you do.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): A new, improved version of innocence is beckoning you, Capricorn. Believe it or not, it's actually a smarter and more mature perspective than the cynicism you've grown so used to relying on. Now study this valuable clue from Clarissa Pinkola-Estes: "Ignorance is not knowing anything and being attracted to the good. Innocence is knowing everything and still being attracted to the good."
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): In The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, Songyal Rinpoche describes a kind of laziness that is peculiar to the Western world. It consists, he says, of frenzied activity. In other words, people in our culture fill their lives up with nonstop busywork and mind games so as to avoid the far more deeply demanding discipline of cultivating their souls. Luckily for you, Aquarius, you're entering a phase when you'll find it comparatively easy to get your lazy ass in gear by slowing way, way
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Guess what you get to be this week, Pisces? A gadfly, for one. A wise guy, for two. A muckraker, bridge-builder, and gossip therapist, for three, four, and five. In case you don't understand the term "gossip therapist," it means you'll be required to heal but not hurt people by spreading gossip. If you're man or woman enough to handle all these jobs, you'll be given an even more glorious assignment: to dive into a heap of mismatched fragments and assemble them into a beautiful whatchamacallit.