By Rob Brezsny
ARIES (March 21-April 19): "When are your cats old enough to learn about Jesus?" asks The Onion , America's finest newspaper. Think about that question for a while, Aries. Then, once you've worked yourself up into a riddle-solving frame of mind, move on to these other, more pressing brain-teasers: When will you finally be old enough to figure out what you want to do when you grow up? When will it be the right time to reveal your secret super-powers to the world? How long are you going to wait before you get around to being completely committed to what you were born to do?
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Should we attribute any oracular significance to the fact that hundreds of flowers bloomed on a cherry tree in Brooklyn during the first week of winter? Is it a portentous marvel akin to, say, the births of three white buffalos on a farm in Janesville, Wisconsin? (The odds of a single white buffalo are a million to one.) I don't know for sure, Taurus, but my meditations do suggest that the Brooklyn miracle is an apt metaphor for a scenario you'll soon be experiencing: an early ripening of a possibility that you had assumed wouldn't be ready or available for quite some time.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In 1958 Chinese dictator Mao Zedong declared sparrows to be enemies of the state. Because their diet included farmers' crops, he said, they were a threat that had to be eliminated. Under his orders, the Chinese people spent 72 consecutive hours scaring the birds with loud noises, preventing them from landing and causing hundreds of thousands to die from exhaustion. An unforeseen consequence arose later, though, when there was a population explosion among the insects that the dead sparrows would have eaten. Plagues of grain-devouring bugs swept the countryside, leading to mass starvation among the human population. The moral of the story, as far as you're concerned: Learn to tolerate and even love a mild pest that has redeeming qualities and whose influence keeps away a truly noxious pest.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Let me clarify your situation for you, Cancerian. Up until a short time ago, you'd been wandering through halls of mirrors, metaphorically speaking. Then you spied a hammer on the floor, got seized by a rash impulse, and proceeded to smash a lot of glass--again, metaphorically speaking. That was the first step to finding your way out of the labyrinth. Now you're ready for the next step: actually escaping. As you head out, I advise you to be careful that you don't cut yourself on all the shards. Liberation is near enough; there's no need to rush. Walk calmly and carefully towards the sound of the heartbeat you hear in the distance, metaphorically speaking.