Taurus (April 20-May 20): Your psyche often responds better to action than words. I mean I could harangue you about how fun and important it'll be this week to connect and combine things. But here's an idea about how to drive home the message to your subconsciousness more concretely. Go buy a bunch of different kinds of glue: Elmer's, Krazy Glue, Plumber's Goop, Weldwood contact cement, DAP Kwik Seal, 3M Super 77 spray adhesive. Then on Sunday, when the sun sextiles Saturn, stage a full-scale Bonding (not Bondage) Ritual. Glue M&M's to rubber duckies, roses to mirrors, photos of yourself to dollar bills. The wackier and more unlikely the joinings the better. If you do it right, it'll encourage your deep mind to blend parts of your life that have always seemed irreconcilable.
Gemini (May 21-June 20): As the international spokesmodel for the Anarchistic Hedonists' Think Tank, I may not seem to be the most credible advocate of the virtues of steely resolve, careful preparation, and rigorous organization. But if I've learned anything from hanging out with my fellow anarchistic hedonists, it's that there doesn't have to be a contradiction between being self-disciplined and seeking uproarious thrills. This is especially true for you now, Gemini. If I'm reading the planetary omens correctly, the intensity and duration of your play will increase in direct proportion to the precision and savvy of your work.
Cancer (June 21-July 22): Some of the other signs of the zodiac have given pride a bad name. You Cancerians, on the other hand, have perfected an almost lovable form of self- glorification. It's crafty, not bombastic. It's well-earned, not inflated. If anyone can swagger unpretentiously, you can. Which is why I feel no compunction about giving you one ego trip on the house this week. Show how indescribably wonderful you are -- in your typically humble fashion.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): You're nearing the end of that part of your astrological cycle when incoherency is the rule rather than the exception. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone and everything else around you seems to be inhabiting a demented fantasy world. In light of these circumstances, I think it's safe to conclude that there's no use for you to be a beacon of sanity and rationality yourself. I suggest, rather, that you take the homeopathic approach to dealing with the silly season. In other words -- as David Byrne once advised -- "stop making sense."
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): "Dear Dr. Brezsny: I'm a Virgo with moon in Cancer. She's a Sagittarius with moon in Aquarius. I'm a hermetic sculptor with a day job as a computer geek. She's a rodeo cowboy training to be a helicopter pilot. I'm a devout Baptist who calls my mom once a week. She's a wild-eyed Jewish pagan whose mantra is 'No such thing as yesterday.' Is there any hope for a long-term relationship? -- Blinded by Love."
Dear Blinded: Marriage, probably not; synergistic friendship, most definitely. The stars suggest you should rebel against your usual affinities in order to expand your network of inspiring allies, not to feed your romantic compulsions.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): There's a quality about you Libras that is potentially both an awesome asset and a debilitating liability. Described in its most positive expression, it's your ability to stand apart from the flow of life and analyze all the complex goings-on with detached objectivity. More darkly, it's your tendency to become so addicted to the role of observer that you refrain from plunging into the heart of the action. During the next few weeks, though, I predict you'll be activating most of the good and not much of the bad side of this quality. I believe you'll have the necessary agility to be both an alert watcher and a dynamic doer.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): The new coach of the San Francisco 49ers, Steve Mariucci, is a Scorpio. The dude shocked his players at their first get-together when he brazenly stepped on the team logo at the center of the practice field. It seems the previous coach, George Seifert, thought it was bad luck for the head honcho to ever touch that sacred spot. I urge all you other Scorpios to draw inspiration from Mariucci's example. Rise up and overthrow superstition wherever you find it -- especially in yourself. Your murkiest, most unwarranted fears are ripe to be mocked and dethroned.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): If you've been waiting for the most favorable moment to pledge your love forever, or buy a dream house with an imposing mortgage, or tattoo a likeness of your favorite anti-hero on your butt, this is pretty close to it. Even if you've merely been thinking about asking you-know-who to go steady, or plastering an edgy bumper sticker on your car, or signing a six-month lease, you couldn't pick a better time. Commitment is never a day at the beach for you Sagittarians, but right now it's at least not a permanent exile to arctic wastes.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): If the first minimiracle occurs, it'll be in a place where your hippest acquaintances wouldn't be caught dead. The second minimiracle is most likely to transpire in a setting you could rightly call the "spinning room." And the third minimiracle, if it unfolds at all, would arrive in a context where you were once disguised or half-invisible, but not anymore. Note that while every one of these wondrous events could take place, it's also possible that only some or none of them will. It all may depend on how completely you can turn down the wailing demands of your pride and tune in to the quiet inquiries of your heart.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): I can't promise that the hand of God will reach down and offer you a bowl of fresh strawberries and cream this week. Nor can I guarantee that that hand will pluck you out of a tight spot when you've just made a statement that is the exact opposite of what you actually feel. But I am at liberty to suggest that the foot of God might trip you up and send you sprawling in the nick of time -- preventing you from reaching a destination you'll be very glad, in retrospect, not to have reached. And a divine kick in the butt isn't out of the question either.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Even if you were an orphan raised by mean nuns in a Catholic boarding school, you'd feel at home in the world this week. Even if you were a latchkey kid who ate microwaved french fries and Pepsi for dinner every night from age 11 till 17, you'd be filled with a sense of belonging. And even if you've spent the last five years slaving away for a tyrant who'd sooner shoot off his own foot than hand you a compliment, you're about to get a portion of the love and approval you've been denied. So just think of how fabulous life'll be if you didn't suffer any of those deprivations.
