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LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): "Success is dangerous," said Picasso. "One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility." Sorry to start your horoscope with a warning, Leo, especially given how much beautiful success you've generated recently. But the astrological omens suggest you may soon be tempted to turn your spontaneous outpourings into pat formulas. And that would be a shame. There's still a lot more fresh hot mojo brewing within you, and it'll reach its highest expression if it keeps surprising you. Trust what's fresh, uncategorizable, and at the frontiers of your understanding.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): When big egos bluster and bounce off the walls, you're a master at cleaning up the messes. When glory hogs get careless about the details, you're good at patching up the resulting holes. And when people with stunted emotional intelligence try to assert their control-freak fantasies without acknowledging anyone's feelings, you can be the savior who steps in to prevent full-blown chaos from breaking out. I admire these skills of yours, Virgo, and I hope that you invoke them if necessary in the coming week. But I also want to make sure you know that you've been granted a poetic license to have a bigger ego than usual, and to flirt with being a benevolent glory hog, and to maybe even play around lightheartedly with your own control-freak fantasies.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Someone calculated the mass of all the data that flows over the Internet in the course of a year. The trillions of terabytes of information tip the scales at a mere .00004 ounce. I suspect that a similar disjunction will occur in your life during the coming days. Maybe you'll create a weightless miracle with incredible staying power. Or perhaps you will oversee a potent and intense and profound change that will be difficult to measure and almost invisible to casual observers.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): It's an excellent time to clearly and precisely define what heaven on earth would look like for you. So study the following mission statement, written by my reader Darla Fremos, then compose your own. "In my perfect world," says Darla, "I'd spend the mornings lying in long grass filled with fragrant flowers at the edge of a lake high on a hill above a sleepy town. I'd read books that tickled my soul, eat snacks that satisfied my wildest hunger, and use my eyes to make love with clouds, hummingbirds, breezes, and other temporary allies. After a noon siesta, I'd take a leisurely walk along a birch-lined road to my command center, where I'd join my team of associates as we spent the next eight hours managing my global network of activists working to end poverty and hunger."