Taurus (April 20-May 20): My favorite response to arrogant astrology-debunkers is to tell them about New York's Arch Crawford. Called "Wall Street's best astrologer" by Barron's, he uses planetary movements to help predict the ebb and flow of the stock market. His highly successful newsletter, The Crawford Perspectives, was ranked the No. 1 market timer by the Hulbert Financial Digest for the period 1991-1996. I'm mentioning this, Taurus, because you're entering a phase when your financial luck is likely to soar. You'd be smart to try everything you can to get richer quicker, from meticulous economic analysis to outright magic.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): I believe that when you chatter carelessly about a big change that's in the works, you drain it of some of its potency. So I don't want to trumpet or gossip about the splendor that's on its way to you. I'll just mention that it's coming, and leave you to prepare a clean, well-lit place for it to land. Here's a hint: It could, among other things, turn a dark secret in your past into a glimmering asset.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): In bemoaning how misinformed people are about basic scientific facts, the National Science Foundation issued a report that asserted, "[F]ewer than half [of all adults] know that Earth rotates around the sun once a year." I guffawed when I read that blooper. Any halfway literate person understands that while the Earth rotates on its axis, it revolves -- not rotates -- around the sun. Moral of the story: Even when the know-it-alls bitch about the ignorance of the innocents, they may be propagating the ignorance. Keep this in mind, Cancer, during your encounters with authorities and experts this week. In other words, trust no one. The truth is not out there; it's in here. (I'm pointing to your heart right now.)
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): In an annual survey, researchers at a human rights organization rank the intensity of suffering around the world. The current heavyweight champions of misery are the Rwandan people. Americans, Canadians, and Australians are in the bottom 10. Inspired by this kinky effort to quantify discomfort, I've decided to regularly tabulate a "Pain Index" for the zodiac. My first accounting shows that you Leos are currently the least anguished of all the signs. (To prevent panic elsewhere, I'll refrain from mentioning which sign is hurting most.) Given, then, that you're in a period of unprecedented grace, what great works and fabulous thrills are you planning?
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Most of us live our entire lives without being seen for exactly who we really are. If we're lucky, a few intimate companions may now and then have a lucid vision of a fraction of our totality. But most of the time we're surrounded by people who harbor partial and distorted images of us. On the other hand, the next few weeks could contradict everything I just said. You may very well be mirrored and appreciated with more clarity than you ever thought possible.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): It's a good week to devour more chocolate cookies, but not to eat them off silver platters served by love slaves. It's a great time to punch an inflatable doll with a sand-weighted base and great bounce-back action, but not to scream bloody curses at people who thrive on acting out their revenge fantasies. It's a fabulous moment to dream and scheme about taking a quantum leap of faith, but not to actually execute it yet unless you've first erected a sturdy safety net at the bottom of the chasm.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): If you're like most people, you regard "sacrifice" as a dirty word denoting deprivation. You make sacrifices because you're forced to, or maybe because you're feeling generous and are willing to incur a loss in order to help a loved one. But this modern sense of the word is different from the original meaning, which was "giving up something valuable in order that something even more valuable might be obtained." This is the definition I suggest you keep in mind when you perform a sacrifice this week. Remember, too, where the English term comes from: the Latin sacrificium, translated as "to make sacred." In the old days, it meant sublimating one's instincts in order to become closer to God.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): I will probably never set foot on a golf course as long as I live, and I hate sports metaphors. And yet I find myself driven this week to offer you an oracle that draws its inspiration from that weird game yuppie executives play with metal clubs and little white balls on manicured grass. Sorry, but that's what the muse ordered me to do. So here's the deal, Sagittarius. Imagine you've hit your ball off the tee and it's landed behind a tree a couple of hundred yards away. If you could just pick up the damn thing and move it over a mere three feet, you'd have a clear shot at the green; everything would be so easy. But I'm afraid that would be cheating. Moral of the story: You've got to play your ball exactly where it lies.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): As I contemplate your week ahead, I'm reminded of two Yiddish terms my Capricorn friend Bob Landsburg has always been fond of using. "Schlemiel," according to Bob, refers to someone who spills a bowl of soup on himself at a fancy dinner party. A "schlimazel," on the other hand, is someone who spills a bowl of soup on the person sitting next to him at a fancy dinner party. By my astrological calculations, you're destined to be either a schlemiel or a schlimazel in the next week or so; there's little you can do to avert the spilling of the soup. What you might be able to do, though, is tilt in the direction of being the schlemiel. That'll be much better for your karmic debt.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Puppies, Popsicles, and puppets may well play a crucial role in your spiritual evolution this week. Then again, they may not. I wish they would, though. Much depends on your willingness to get silly. To be cracked. To act loopy. That's why I'm advising you to head down to the toy store and buy a doctor's kit. Gobble down all the pink sugar pills, then invite a friend over who'd like to help cure you of your terminal adulthood.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): It's high time to put a metaphorical scarecrow in your metaphorical garden, if you know what I mean. Maybe even erect a barbed wire fence and install a guardian pit bull to boot. Your goodies need protection, in other words. You've got to upgrade your environment to the status of a sanctuary. Though I've been known in the past to protest your fondness for concealment and disguise, this is one time I'd approve of an extra-thick veil of secrecy. Your work in progress is in too delicate a state to allow just any old interloper to trespass.
