Pisces (Feb. 19–March 20)
Half a planet may separate you from your greatest desire, but in some ways you're closer to it than you've ever been. In fact, there's no way you can fail to arrive at that metaphorical position—unless you cancel your ticket and decide not to go. Even now, earnest captains are plotting the great circle route that will get you there fastest, unaware that the universe has thrown you (and will throw you) tests, to see how much you want what you say you want. Will you still choose it over fame, wealth, opportunity, or safety? If so, it's yours.
Aries (March 21–April 19)
The glass cubes you've plunked into your beverage may look like ice, but they lack the power to cool it. Appearance, even coupled with fervent belief on your part, isn't enough to make what you wish for actually real. And since there's more at stake here than the coldness of your cocktail, that's very sad indeed. There are at least three important things in your life right now that look almost exactly like something they're not. Don't continue to be deceived by their misleading disguises—see them for what they really are. Then you can decide if you're into them anyway, or if you'd rather ditch them to pursue something that fits your heart's desire, whether it looks like it or not.
Taurus (April 20–May 20)
If I could inculcate you with a metaphorical vision this week, you'd dream you were the Monkey King of Budapest. You'd wear a collar of sparkling silver stars and rich robes in vermilion and indigo, and carry a ceremonial (but still dangerous) platinum cleaver in your prehensile tail. One day, you'd be walking surrounded by your adoring entourage and your mountain of dignity and pomp, when you'd suddenly realize that your opulent collar was connected to a chain gripped by a seedy carny with an accordion, lurking on the edge of your courtiers and cronies. Study this vision long enough and you may arrive at the following conclusions: (1) The things that make you feel rich and important may or may not be illusions. (2) Regardless, they keep you, to some extent, trapped.
Gemini (May 21–June 20)
You are, quite involuntarily, a mental sushi chef this week. The ginsu edges of your thoughts are carving blocks of succulent flesh out of your companions, as well as the boundaries of your own ego, leaving all of you feeling cut up and vulnerable. You may be resented (or resent yourself) for exposing all this rawness to the usually unforgiving and indifferent world. Luckily, what's coming next isn't salt to grind into and sting all your most tender places. It's a soothing balm that will leave them feeling fresher, more alive, healthier, and more sensitive than they were before.
Cancer (June 21–July 22)
Steer things toward a pillow fight. Since you can't avoid conflict this week, you might as well aim for forms of it that won't leave you bleeding and devastated. A pillow fight would not only hurt a lot less than the other alternatives, it might even be fun. So there you have it, the good news and the bad news wrapped up in one feather-filled sack: You can't avoid metaphorically beating the shit out of someone, and vice versa, but at least you can do it in a way that will leave you ecstatic, breathless, and loving each other more as a result.
Leo (July 23–Aug. 22)
Self-doubt is your chief enemy, not outside criticism or attacks. The more you believe in your own might and sexiness, the more validating reflections are aimed your way from the world around you. But insecurities are the kryptonite that cripples or eclipses your belief-driven superpowers. It's very simple, although incredibly insidious: Doubt yourself, and valid reasons to do so will multiply like horny rats and occupy every crevice of your life with malevolent intent. Wield self-faith and confidence, however, and the difference between visionary ambition and imminent accomplishment becomes virtually imperceptible.
Virgo (Aug. 23–Sept. 22)
A friend of mine buys cheap bass guitars to smash onstage when he's playing gigs. This is his high, in a chapter of his life that is drugless and drink-free. I think that's a badass way to go, because it's the kind of thing—unlike chugging a beer or smoking a joint—that tons of other people can get off on watching you do. This week, take your cue from the rock star: Explore conduits for expressing your highs (and, yes, lows) that are healthier, more generous, and far superior to the ones you've used so far.
Libra (Sept. 23–Oct. 22)
There's an asp in your toilet, lurking and waiting to bite your ass when you're at your most exposed and vulnerable. Now that you know, you have a few options. You can choose an attitude of avoidance and avert conflict by keeping out of that bathroom altogether for a while. Or you can put yourself in a position where your venomous adversary continues to believe you to be ignorant and vulnerable, but when he goes for the strike, you'll be ready to capture him and milk him for every drop of poison dripping from his fangs. I recommend the latter option, since it will give you the opportunity not only to render your rival harmless, but to do something even more important—concoct some antivenin.
Scorpio (Oct. 23–Nov. 21)
Every door leading into and out of your soul has hinges so squeaky they can be heard three parallel universes over. No one's going to be sneaking into your inner sanctum for a while, which is too bad, since the best guests are the ones who arrive when you're not expecting visitors. These beautiful people don't want to see the cleaned up version of your house; they want to be family, not visitors. Please invent the possibility of being pleasantly taken by surprise, and lubricate ways into your most intimate soul-spaces. Then forget you did it, because no one's going to show up until you stop expecting them.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22–Dec. 21)
You've given up on Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and babies born in cabbage patches or brought by storks. So why are you clinging to this one particularly fanciful illusion (that, to the rest of us, makes those I've mentioned seem downright realistic and viable)? Yes, your fantasy is gorgeous and compelling. But can't you see that it belongs to the realm of fiction, not reality? I certainly don't want you to quit dreaming big or scale down your imagination to tedious and lazily achievable sizes. However, I do encourage you to start hoping for things that are merely highly unlikely (or, hey, eminently possible) rather than ones that just plain can't ever happen.
Capricorn (Dec. 22–Jan. 19)
There's nothing in your briefcase, but no one else has any way of knowing that. Your ability to bluff is peaking right now. You could easily convince people that you've got a suitcase nuke in there, or a million bucks, or the severed fingertips of all your old lovers. Your credibility limit is as high as your credit limit, so there's virtually nothing you can't successfully pretend. Just be careful how you use your maxed-out con capability; the imminent prospect of radioactive detonation, wealth, or grotesque horror tends to provoke extreme reactions you might not be prepared for.
Aquarius (Jan. 20–Feb. 18)
When you live with a cat, it sheds fur everywhere. You find it occasionally in your food, gathering in unswept corners, coating your furniture and clothing, and littering your bed. It's so pervasive that eventually, after taking all reasonable steps to keep the problem under control, you just get used to it. There's some metaphorical cat hair polluting your existence right now, but you've become so accustomed to it that it's beneath your notice. However, it's alienating others, because they're allergic to the cats you've forgotten you have. Look around, especially at stuff you haven't examined closely in a few months, and determine if there's some metaphorical dander keeping you or those who want to be close to you from breathing deeply or keeping things clean. Then get rid of it, or at least open your windows and give the place a good sweep.