Everything you need to know about the Earth opening up and swallowing your planets or the other way around.
Horoscopes by Corina Dross
Brace yourself for a stormy month.
Cue a chorus of cellphone ringtones playing “Flight of the Bumblebee” in an off-tempo roundelay. Add the voices of commuters loudly declaring that they are on the trolley and you’d better keep an eye on your sister till they get back. Add the singeing smell of electricity in the air, and the rollicking screech of the trolley as it pulls against the wires that keep it plugged into the matrix. We are all beginning to feel that first cup of coffee, we’re all waking up mid-sprint.
There are a million points of entry, but we can’t track the possible conclusions. They branch out like flashes of lightning, then fade. Books and sentences are left unfinished; fireflies and satellites dance above us, zipping around the dizzy globe. The best lack all concentration, while the worst are full of passionate intensity. Every answer returns to its infancy as a question. Our alarm clocks revolt and sing out all the hours at once: there is never a moment not to wake up!
With a rowdy cohort of planets in Gemini this month, our energy is likely to be quick, curious, and easily distracted. Add a month-long conjunction of Mars and the Sun, and our over-caffeinated state can quickly turn stormy. Meanwhile, a retrograde Mercury (until the 11th) is compulsively over-processing with Neptune (planet of longing and confusion) with Saturn trying to referee the match. Which is to say: we feel pressed upon to speak, but we may get the words all wrong. Clarifying conversations could quickly get muddy. Logic may slip away while pretending it’s still paying attention. Keep testing what’s real – feel for what’s true like it’s the last step on a flight of stairs in dark house. Be suspicious of anything that looks too much like one of your standard hopes or fears, especially if it seems really familiar. Keep your eyes open, keep experimenting, and let yourself be surprised.
A quarter of America is a dramatic, tense, violent country, exploding with contradictions, full of brutal, physiological vitality, and that is the America that I have really loved and love. But a good half of it is a country of boredom, emptiness, monotony, brainless production, and brainless consumption, and this is the American inferno.
If you’ve been known to jump into a maelstrom of venom on social media that leaves you twitchy and paranoid for days after, you’d be better off unplugging from everything this month. The same goes for interactions with housemates, landmates, classmates, and other daily associates: words are your weapon this month, and playful shittalking can escalate quickly into serious conflict. Imagine a paintball fight where one gun actually fires bullets. If you’ve come to fight, fight fair. If you’re merely restless, the world is abundant in bottles to be smashed – far, far away from the people you have to interact with everyday. If you’re trying to connect with someone through playful teasing or competition, make sure you’re not accidentally holding a loaded gun.
It does seem like an ideal time to tunnel through the earth and fulfill that childhood fantasy of reaching the Antipodes (as they were called by Europeans in colonial days: those lands across the globe that directly parallel the ground you stand on now). But unless you live in Argentina, Chile, New Zealand, or China, odds are that all you’ll find at your antipodal point is vast, sharky ocean. What’s behind that longing for the foreign yet familiar country you can only imagine as a counterpoint to your own? Is it the desire for a world where you can be your exact opposite, your culture’s values will be upended, or everything about you that is now reviled will be lovingly cherished? If you had to build that country here, where would you begin?
Your birthday present this month is the ability to win a rap battle with a mockingbird – even the urban mockingbird, who have mastered the rhythms of car alarms and sirens. Whoever you’re facing down, your verbal stylings will be prolific and divinely inspired right now. They may not be totally linear, though, or provide an accurate picture of what you really believe. Don’t mistake enthusiasm for conviction: just because it’s exciting to say now doesn’t mean you’ll stand by it tomorrow. With Neptune opposing the ruler of your sign until the 26th, accept the gift of oracular flow you’ve been graced with, and resist the urge to know anything for sure just yet, or prove yourself right.
You don’t have to know yet what it is that’s waking you up nights and making you wander out into the garden, barefoot and slipping on the iridescent trails of slugs following the moon, or what to tell your concerned friends who look up from their pipes and newspapers at the breakfast table when you stumble in from the terrace with muddy feet and a wild expression. You don’t owe anyone an explanation yet. All you need to know is you have business with those realms; you’re plotting out a new course that doesn’t yet have a name. Keep eating breakfast, nap when you can, and be ready to make some amazing things happen when the fog lifts.
The summer is a dripping honeycomb, and you are the queen bee. Venus enters your sign on the 5th of the month, and will hold court there for the next four months. It will be easy to get what you want in relationships, so be careful with that power: fantasies of minions fanning you with the delicate wings of euphemia butterflies could seriously materialize, and then you’ll have to ask yourself why you still feel empty. Don’t merely gorge yourself on sweetness: what we don’t need is highly addictive. Instead, remember that you are happiest when you are pushed to be stronger, smarter, and more proficient. Surround yourself with honest critics this month, and dazzle us. You know you can if you try.
If ever you’ve wanted to pull off a daring heist, now is the time. What has been holding you back from a life of crime – fear of getting caught? Moral qualms? Or do you not see yourself as the hero (or antihero) of your own life? It’s time to reconsider that careful role you play in friendships and society at large. It’s become something of a straitjacket this year, tightening each time you have to defend your behavior and your pure intentions. In your situation there is no clear right or wrong. Everyone’s hands are dirty, even yours. Forget about being perfect – what if you don’t even have to be good? If you can let go of the need for moral high ground, you’ll be able to really make use of your intelligence. And if you care to try, you could make a really good criminal mastermind.
In a parallel world where science never quite caught on but Freud wrote books nonetheless, you may find yourself curled up with a copy of “Alchemy and its Discontents.” Pay particular attention to this theory (on p. 12): our oceanic sense of connection with the infinite is something we can return to only in cycles, after we pass through calcination, fermentation, and other chemical transformations.
We all have that deep, dark closet where we’ve stuffed a few bodies over the years – usually younger versions of ourselves, gone stiff from shame and disuse. As Saturn (lord of “clean up that mess!”) moved through your sign over the last few years, you’ve had to exhume these corpses: some for a proper burial, others to be resuscitated and brought round, with all the pins and needles associated with coming back to life. This unpleasant but necessary endeavor seemed to be over – but this month Saturn backs up into your sign for one last hurrah. If you’ve been thorough in your purging and integrating old patterns, expect this summer to confirm the path you’re on now. If you haven’t, be ready to go back and do it right.
The more you try to hold on to the world you knew, the faster it’s going to slip away. It’s okay to let it go, as gut-wrenching as it might feel sometimes. If you don’t, you run the risk of imitating the monkey in Tales of the Dervishes: grasping a handful of cherries in a jar, you can neither pull them out to enjoy them nor let them go to find another treasure. If it helps, tell yourself the story of this time as that dark period just before you found out how to really live well (because it will be). Imagine what you would have missed out on if you’d kept running in those same small circles. Get as big as you need to be to summon this perspective: call on maps of the solar system, call on generations ahead of and behind you. With one foot in the 1400s and your head in the Kuiper Belt, you’ll be able to see this moment in your life for what it is: a brief, beautiful metamorphosis.
Everything comes in threes this month: An opportunity, a challenge, a resolution. A desire, a fear, a messenger. A dream, a strategy, a homecoming. Don’t trust your first impressions, and don’t be hasty to sigh “is that all there is?” – especially after the first flush of excitement, when reality seems to be stabilizing into the same old sad song. There is a third act, if you wait for it. It may not be as dreamy as you imagined, or as dreary as you feared, but it will be interesting.
You deserve to not be bored. You have permission to turn the predictable into a puzzle. Your restlessness is not a problem: the stagnation around you is. In the words of Oscar Wilde, “Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.” What’s keeping you tied to those habits that drain your energy? Why aren’t you writing a new song every day? Wherever you can carve a space to re-enchant the world with your own strange convictions, we will all be the better for it.
Meditating on why we’re human instead of laurel trees, Rilke spoke of experiences here that we can never take with us, that will not translate into another form: “Not the art of looking, which is learned so slowly, and nothing that happened here. Nothing. The sufferings, then. And above all, the heaviness, and the long experience of love – just what is wholly unsayable.” It is this unsayable sense of gathering, experiencing, and long unfolding in time that you are here to behold this month. And when you have soaked it in, when you are heavy and humid and large as a thunderhead, you’ll need to share what you’ve gathered, in whatever language sounds most like rain.