Taurus (April 20-May 20): Here's a foolproof way to avoid being hassled if you're a woman walking by a crew of construction workers: Pick your nose. Experiments have proven this is a strong deterrent. Speaking of holding evil at bay, my teacher always counsels me that the best way to neutralize the devil is to laugh at him. Satan's most effective recruiting technique, after all, is to get people to take themselves too damn seriously. I hope these bits of advice help you, Taurus, as you negotiate that last little stretch on your way out of the dank labyrinth.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): When you're not lounging on satin pillows at garden parties in your leopard-skin pajamas and exchanging scintillating witticisms with celebrities' ex-bodyguards, I hope you'll find time to commune with dandelions and frogs and clouds. While it will certainly be smart to cash in on all the schmoozadelic rewards the cosmos is making available, you should keep in mind that you have an appointment to take a big spiritual test in the near future. And a great way to cram for that rite of passage will be to do an intensive workshop at the University of Mother Nature.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): Let's see what goads we can dream up to get you to stop stalling in the middle of the crossroads. How about this: When you were still an embryo about the size of the dot at the end of this sentence, you already had a date with destiny scheduled for April 1999. Or how about this: If you don't get off your procrastinating ass by April 25, I swear I will advise you to sell all your possessions, skulk off into the wilderness, and build a stone tower by hand.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): Thanks for contacting Dream Doctors, the service that offers out-of-body house calls by trained psychic physicians. If you're in a spiritual emergency and would like one of our staff to make an astral projection directly into your bedroom, contact us telepathically before you go to sleep any night. In your transmission, describe the nature of your unfathomable yearning and the type of help you desperately need. Before morning, one of our Dream Doctors will appear in your dreams, prepared to midwife the divine intervention that's just right for you. There is no fee for this treatment, but we ask that as soon as you are cured you give a blessing to the first starving soul you see.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Commenting on his own painting, Wheatfield With a Reaper, van Gogh said, "I see in this reaper ... the image of death, in the sense that humanity might be the wheat he is reaping. ... But there's nothing sad in this death, it goes its way in broad daylight with the sun flooding everything with a light of pure gold." Van Gogh's description inspired me to make a wish for you, Virgo. I hope you will seek out a rite of passage that is both a metaphorical death and a rich harvest. In my mind's eye, I see you cutting down and gathering in a beautiful "crop" that you yourself planted and have been cultivating for some time.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): It'll be good week to use your third eye to watch TV, to cry for the pain of someone who can't do anything nice for you, and to pile up photos of old flames in a vacant lot and drive a monster truck over them. On the other hand, it won't be such a great time to dissect your teddy bear, mistake a garden hose for a poisonous snake, or worry yourself to death about an invitation that's not quite ripe. Is that enough advice, Libra, or can you handle more? Read on if you dare. Don't wait for fate to throw you off balance at some inopportune moment; instead, throw yourself off balance, as soon as possible, and do it in the direction of an extreme that'll interest and educate you.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): This week will mess with your mind, Scorpio. If you ask me, though, that's cause for celebration. You need to have your mind messed with, and I say that with no rancor or superiority. Yes, you will howl, but not out of anguish. You will be thrown off course, but not by a bad influence. You will be rewarded, but not in the medium you thought you wanted. By the time we meet again next week, I predict you will be lost in just the right place.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): You are good at influencing people with words. Your friends find you fascinating. You like change and adventure, and if they're not happening, you create them. You are kind, thoughtful, romantic, and can be a crusader for the underdog. Thoroughly self-sufficient, you would be unhappy in a routine job. You try to make the best of every situation. On infrequent occasions, like now, you do have a tendency to manically indulge in excessive gambling, weird sex, public drunkenness, obnoxious pranks, and flagrant jaywalking. But you're such a sweetheart the rest of the time, how could anyone possibly complain?
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): The white-hot electrical pulse that's starting to flood into you from the Great Beyond has no ethical charge. It's pure, amoral superenergy ... divine carelessness ... a glowing gray magic that could work wonders or terrors. With this as your fuel, you could very well act like either a saint or a monster in the coming weeks. But I have a suggestion that I believe will allow you to manage your prodigious gift without getting blown away by it: Consistently try to figure out how to get your own way by giving people their own way. As my teacher says, "You can have anything you want if you'll just ask for it in an unselfish tone of voice."
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Vladimir, the umpire of the softball league I play in, claims to be a former patient at the same mental institution as Baryshnikov's mistress. While I'm at the plate, he gives me brilliant advice that is helpful but unnerving. I've had to learn to split my awareness in two, maintaining my concentration on smacking the ball as he's discoursing about some subtle insight he's gleaned about me. I believe you'll face a more ultimate version of this challenge in the week ahead, Aquarius. Can you register all the useful information you'll be receiving about yourself even as you have to pull off a most demanding task?
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Crazy Horse got ready for his showdown with Gen. Custer by painting white hailstones on his torso and tying a brown pebble behind one ear. In preparing to break up with a crazy old girlfriend, I memorized 10 poems by Sufi holy man Rumi and practiced singing them for hours in both a loud bellow and a lyric moan. In gearing up for your wrestling match with your elusive and intriguing "adversary," you should teach yourself to spit beer great distances and convince yourself that it's wise to risk being a fool for love.