ARIES (March 21-April 19): At one point in his book The Divine Comedy, the Italian poet Dante is travelling through purgatory on his way to paradise. American poet T.S. Eliot describes the scene: "The people there were inside the flames expurgating their errors and sins. And there was one incident when Dante was talking to an unknown woman in her flame. As she answered Dante's questions, she had to step out of her flame to talk to him, until at last she was compelled to say to Dante, 'Would you please hurry up with your questions so I can get on with my burning?'" I bring this to your attention, Aries, because I love the way you've been expurgating your own errors and sins lately. Don't let anything interfere with your brilliant work. Keep burning till you're done. (Source: "A New Type of Intellectual: Contemplative Withdrawal and Four Quartets," by Kenneth P. Kramer.)
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): If you've been holding yourself back in any way, Taurus, now's the time to unlock and unleash yourself. If you have been compromising your high standards or selling yourself short, I hope you will give yourself permission to grow bigger and stronger and brighter. If you've been hiding your beauty or hedging your bets or rationing your access to the mother lode, you have officially arrived at the perfect moment to stop that nonsense.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In the cult blaxploitation film The Human Tornado, the main character Dolemite brags about his prowess. "I chained down thunder and handcuffed lightning!" he raves. "I used an earthquake to mix my milkshake! I eat an avalanche when I want ice cream! I punched a hurricane and made it a breeze! I swallowed an iceberg and didn't freeze!" This is the way I want to hear you talk in the coming week, Gemini. Given the current astrological configurations, you have every right to. Furthermore, I think it'll be healthy for you.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Astrologer Antero Alli theorizes that the placement of the sign Cancer in a person's chart may indicate what he or she tends to whine about. In his own chart, he says, Cancer rules his ninth house, so he whines about obsolete beliefs and bad education and stale dogmas that cause people to shun firsthand experience as a source of authority. I hereby declare these issues to be supremely honorable reasons for you to whine in the coming week. You also have cosmic permission to complain vociferously about the following: injustices perpetrated by small-minded people; short sighted thinking that ignores the big picture; and greedy self-interest that disdains the future. On the other hand, you don't have clearance to whine about crying babies, rude clerks, or traffic jams.