This Week's Horoscope

There's no excuse to sit on the couch eating bonbons, Pisces-at least not this week. With the sun's nuclear force fueling you and Mercury and Neptune engaged in a mind-meld almost entirely for your benefit, communicating your ideas in a way that inspires you and others to actually do something about them has rarely been simpler. Don't waste your Tony Robbins-esque motivational might-especially since your message is so relevant to so many in your life, on numerous levels. We need you to lovingly kick our asses with your sweet wisdom. Get up on that soapbox and preach, please. Amen, hallelujah.

Aries (March 21-April 19)

My last fight made me think of you. I actually lost my temper (a rare event) and threw a cup of lukewarm chai at someone. Although that ridiculously juvenile and pathetic gesture didn't win me any points, I have to admit it felt sort of good. This week, as you enter the crossroads I just left, consider your options: One fork, down which you keep your cool, will more likely advance your agenda-if in a totally lame, anticlimactic way. The other fork, the one where you blow your lid and vent emotional steam, won't win your argument for you. It's a tough choice. Think about it this way: It's nice to get what you want, but they say that people who express their anger live longer. It's your call.

Taurus (April 20-May 20)

Sweetness is the way to go. Forget a lame, linear agenda of always getting your way or exactly what you want (sweetness alone rarely works for that). But if you're up for attempting a deeper game-a more evolved schema-like simply aiming for a positive/constructive outcome to any given situation, honey will work better than vinegar. This less selfish goal allows for surprising scenarios that rock; that are, in fact, far superior to the ones you'd have manifested on your own. This week, channel as much rich, molasses-thick kindness as you can-forgetting the clenched, fake sweet of saccharin or the harsh tang of vinegar-and you're more likely to get more deeply satisfying shit than the stuff you thought you wanted before.

Gemini (May 21-June 20)

My dad used to play this joke in which he'd rub a jalapeño pepper along the rims of others' drinking glasses. As they sought to quench the burning with their beverages, they'd only aggravate the problem. Someone's played this kind of juvenile prank on you, Gem. Don't fall for it. The first two solutions your jittery brain will come up with can only exacerbate the situation, not ameliorate it. When you start feeling the sting, don't frantically flail trying to extinguish it. If you resist your initial panic, you'll notice the pain isn't as intense as it initially seemed-and you'll be able to find a realistic answer to it-one that will actually work.

Cancer (June 21-July 22)

You are honestly the hardest sign to write a weekly horoscope for, Cancer. The problem: your ruling planet is the moon, which slips from sign to sign with slutty abandon every two and half days, and has myriad anonymous encounters with other planets along the way. During that time, you're likely to experience any number of shifting moods, which might or might not mutate or catalyze significant events in your life. I try to look at the bigger stuff, but sometimes-as you know-the little shit is what's most important-like this week. Ignore the tsunamis that come your way. It's the little waves before or after that are more likely to knock you down.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)

Building a rock wall is an art. You can't just haphazardly stack stone; your structure will collapse repeatedly into a shifting and dangerous mound of heavy granite. The size, shape and heft of each stone has to be carefully evaluated and considered in reference to the others to ensure a tight, stable fit. Constructing the inevitably variable but necessarily dependable boundaries that define the edges of your life is an even more painstaking process. As you develop and delineate the emotional frontiers in your closest relationships this week, be careful. Don't just stack stone. Breathe deeply, take your time and do it right.

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)

University of Tokyo's Engineering Professor Susumu Tachi has developed invisibility technology. He's created retroreflective material that mirrors whatever's behind it, giving the illusion of transparency. Even though donning a cloak of invisibility may seem just too Harry Potterish for you to take seriously, you might wish you had one, anyway, this week. The more ably you fly under the radar and avoid any and all notice, the better off you'll be. Luckily for you, you have your own form of imperceptibility that works without magic or cutting-edge technology, since it's based entirely on your own sense of timing, tact and gut instinct. Use it.

Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)

Light acts as both particle and wave, depending on the situation-but never both at the same time; it can only be observed in one state or the other at any given moment. This essential paradox resembles the koan of your existence right now. (A koan is a riddle Zen Buddhists use to focus the mind during meditation and enhance their intuitive powers.) Stop flipping your shit trying to wrap your head around it. It's something you can only understand with your heart. Once you do, you'll realize that not only can you be more than one apparently contradictory thing-you have to be.

Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)

You have fleas, scabies and crabs. Although they're manifesting more on the psychological plane than the physical one, they're no less injurious and real. These tiny parasites have been burrowing under your spiritual armor for way too long now. At first they seemed such a minor nuisance that you lazily refused to go through the admittedly excessive hassle of actually ridding yourself of them. But now their numerous, miniscule bites and irritations have mounted to an agonizing itch that threatens to cloud every thought and obscure every action. Exterminating them once and for all may be tortuous and complicated, but it's never going to get easier. Better now than later.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)

It's like you'd almost quit smoking. You'd done the patch/ inhaler/gum thing, and finally kicked the physical cravings, if not the psychological ones. You were just starting to actually taste food again. Your lungs had just begun to heal. That's why it's so upsetting to see you fall off that wagon. What's missing from your disciplinary regime? A real decision-the kind people make when they find out they're pregnant or have cancer. Don't wait until your situation gets that extreme. If it's a decision you'd make under those circumstances, it's one you should make in any case. Please do so.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)

I'm no Zeus. Rarely do ideas spring, like goddesses, fully formed from my forehead. Instead, they're usually born as tiny, barely discernible seeds that only develop into actually workable concepts after much nourishment and care. Many of them never sprout at all, but I water every one, just in case. Although you've experienced the occasional epiphany, your creative methods usually resemble mine, out of necessity-which is why I'm surprised to see you neglecting so many idea-plantlets. Stop waiting for an Athena-quality brainchild to be born-even by spiritual C-section. Instead nourish the promise of each germ of an idea you already have-there's no other way to discover if it'll end up teeny or titanic.

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)

You bounce between impractical genius and grounded brilliance; usually the trick is timing-knowing which to utilize when. That's where I can help. For instance, this is a lousy week for mundane affairs, like balancing your checkbook, looking for a job or negotiating a business deal. It's much better for magnificent leaps of imagination: learning to live happily on practically no money; envisioning a lucrative career doing only what you want; or traversing the chaotic emotional terrain between you and your fellow human beings. It's like you're farsighted, instead of myopically focused on local minutiae-the more out there something is this week, the better you can navigate it. Save the routine trivia for later (or never).

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