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Free Will Astrology

Week of February 22-March 1, 2007



By Rob Brezsny

ARIES (March 21-April 19): Have no fear of the damp and the dark and the cramped. In a place fitting that description, you can track down clues to a mystery that will inflame your curiosity and educate your soul; you can tap into a fresh surge of courage that'll render at least some of your suffering irrelevant. Expect a miracle to appear in the shadows, Aries. It could resemble a cornucopia spilling over with diamonds and potatoes, or maybe a charred fireman's helmet bedecked with sexual roses and fresh $20 bills.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Don't you dare get superstitious on me, Taurus. Just because you've had more than your fair share of luck lately doesn't mean that you're now going to get less than your share. It is possible that you'll have to work harder to continue benefiting from what has been coming pretty easily. And it may be the case that you'll be pushed to take on responsibilities that you assumed were covered by other people. But that doesn't mean you should lower your expectations. If anything, you should ask for even more fun, fascination, and freedom.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): Calling all you big fish languishing in small ponds, all you flashy amateurs who've been avoiding tougher audiences, all you closet geniuses who have used shyness as an excuse to keep your idiosyncratic brilliance under wraps: This is your wake-up call. Sneak or saunter or leap up to the next level of excellence—or else! Or else what? Or else your pretty fantasies will start to decay. Sorry to be so pushy, but I'm aching to see you seize the starring role in the unlived chapters of your life story.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): Question: Which part of you is too tame, overcivilized, and super-domesticated, and what are you going to do about it? Answer, from Jason R., a Cancerian reader: "I was like a mole in a suburban backyard. I had just one little path I trod each day: to the compost pile and back. I chewed on orange rinds and leftover cabbage. I was tamed by the comfort of my familiar environment, content to have a narrow vision. But then I was eaten by a hawk, and became part of a wild, free body. Now I perch on the tops of trees and the peaks of roofs. I survey giddy-wide horizons, from the river to the mesa and far beyond. I have a wealth of choices. Where to fly? What to hunt? Who are my allies? My thoughts breathe deep, like the slow explosion of sun on the morning lake."