A Full Moon in Scorpio perfects at 2:11pm PDT on Saturday May 18th. A few hours before, Venus meets up with Uranus in the opposite sign of Taurus. In astrology, Venus is the feminine aspect. Wherever Taurus, her domicile, sits in your chart, a Venus transit will nourish that domain of life with the tender work of patient effort, reflective observation, steady hands and extravagant growth. She is lush, vibrant, graceful and balanced. She is receptive, embracing our potential and infusing us with the warmth necessary to create. Uranus on the other hand, is a rebel. A revolutionary. An angry shock wave that thrusts us into willingness whether we’re ready or not. Uranus provokes our power. Positions us to erupt at any moment. Enlightens us to the gravity of obstacles so we can smash through them. Uranus teaches us about the unpredictability of security. About creative genius. About sudden and unexpected change that ultimately leads to incredible social progress. Uranus is an alchemical reaction to unconscionable reality. To rules that imprison rather than encourage our well-being. 

These past few weeks, Venus squared Saturn and Pluto, emphasizing significant power imbalances in the United States. Problematic abortion bills were passed that elevate the authority of the state and attempt to place control over bodies, lives and choices. This Full Moon in Scorpio brings the current energy to a wild climax. Scorpio’s traditional ruler Mars is a master of conflict. In this case, Mars represents the active masculine waging war against feminine power. The modern ruler of Scorpio is Pluto, who turns conflict to compulsion, exploration to obsession, anger to annihilation. Pluto is a planet of power - its benefits and consequences. When used consciously, Pluto is potent transformation into new life.

This month I am thinking about what it means to be transformed by feminine power. Queer power. Spiritual power. The power of oppressed groups and freedom fighters from lineages to whom I have the honor of being a witness and occasionally a part of. The power of collectives. Of bonding together. The power of memory. The strength found in stories of and amidst liberation. Of people fighting for their lives while also still living. I see so much justifiable hurt in my community right now. While this energy is an important part of each of us, I worry we will be consumed by the negative masculine. By anger. By fear. Pluto teaches that we become whatever we focus on. Know that the feminine is full of fight in her own right. The feminine gives, thrives on, and protects life. The feminine creates the story. In Taurus, Uranus turns the soil and Venus brings the seed to blossom. Your horoscopes this month are written as stories, excerpts real and imagined, all inspired by the strength of feminine energy I find in my community.

Scorpio and Taurus fall on the polarity of desire. Thanks, in part to author and activist Adrienne Marie Brown, these meditations intend to reflect pleasure as an elemental principle of activism. They are meant to remind you why you’re here. That to feel the full spectrum of emotion is part of claiming your power. These horoscopes are meant to call you back into your body. A body that is yours to witness in all of its magic. A body that is yours to choose what to do with. Yours to admire and to protect. To nurture and to hold. To stretch and to test your own limits. The more you let your body feel pleasure, the more you claim it as your own. Do not let them trick you into shutting your body off and turning on autopilot. Regardless of your sex, your gender identity, your skin color, your ability - your body is a goldmine of a resource. Reveling in your body is part of the revolution. Remember it.

If you know your rising sign and your sun sign, read both. If you only know your sun sign, that's okay too. If you like, you can read your moon sign for good measure. Horoscopes and forecasts are meant to be read as inspiration. The impact of planetary forces on our lives is more immense than we can see and a horoscope's level of resonance can vary from week to week. I suggest revisiting this page as often as you like while tasting the writing of a few other astrologers. Note which voices uplift your spirit. As always, take what you like and leave the rest. If you find support here, consider making a contribution.

horoscope for aries and aries rising

You gave your daughter a knowing look as you closed the door but the sound of the TV crept through the crack underneath. The boys were watching the Walking Dead, fitting for the evening. Normally you would ask them to turn it down but the noise was welcome cover for your conversation. You pulled the placemats off the kitchen table to wipe it down and she stared as you stacked the napkins, irritated about the exchange of germs between the used linens. You watched her deep in thought as she considered the rationality of her fear. Should sharing bacteria freak you out if it’s with your own DNA? Family is complicated. She sighed, resigned herself to no answer and returned her focus to scrubbing the pan while you put the mats back on the table. Both of you wondered how her father always seemed to get out of kitchen duty. Still, you appreciated the quiet company that stayed to tend the room. The news that week had been wretched. You had recently joined facebook and your feed was infected with stories of the funding that was being pulled from clinics like Planned Parenthood. Your daughter, home just for a few days, was barely paying attention. Old enough to care but young and privileged enough to compartmentalize. She placed the last dish on the drying rack and refilled her glass of water before reclaiming her seat the table. You reveled in the fact that she chose to stay in the room, which wasn’t a response to any invitation you’d made. It was more of a ritual really. The kitchens in your matriarchal lineage always had that effect. When family hadn’t seen each other in too long they would gather where there was food, hungrier for close company than something to nosh on. Conversations would drift for hours between table and fridge. Everyone fixed their own cup of tea. Sometimes, on particularly late nights, they sat on countertops, legs dangling against cabinet doors. Or they plopped on the floor, as if to stake out a spot in non-violent protest of much-needed sleep. Tonight, you were grateful for the container the kitchen held. “I need to tell you something,” you said. She looked up from her water glass, attention rapt as you explained there were stories you wanted to share with the world but felt she deserved to hear first. There is so much she doesn’t know about me, a whole life I lived before she arrived, you thought. You told her about the pregnancy years before she was born. You told her about your abortion and all it meant for you. You told her that if you had to do it all over again you would because otherwise she wouldn’t be here, and if she were, you wouldn’t have had the same resources to raise her. You told her you didn’t always want children but you were so grateful she came into your life the way she did. That you were ready. That it was exactly the right time. You told her you were going to tell the world about your experience as an act of solidarity. She was proud of you, and a little bemused by your delayed arrival on the social media train. Years later, in an even more challenging moment, she would think about the precedent you set. About the way things could have been different. About how grateful she was for all the choices you’d made for yourself. 

Everything you choose Aries, is an affirmation of your vitality. A declaration that explains why you need to come first. Your life will teach you to carry the torch. Will show you how to bear light when cloaked in looming darkness. Some choices you make might mean letting go. Might level up with loss. Might ensure that certain possibilities don’t propagate. Sometimes, the choice to stop something from happening is the most important choice you can make. Is the decision that clears the soil for you to plant the seeds of the rest of yourself. Your resolve sets examples in revolutionary ways. Remember that regret for what doesn’t happen cannot outweigh the brilliance of what you do create. Revel in the force of what you have chosen. Know you have a part to play in forging your future.

horoscope for taurus and taurus rising

You pulled up to the coffee shop in the Castro, all chill and nowhere in particular to be but committed to quieting the rumble of your stomach. You ordered the biggest breakfast they had though it was past 1pm. “Do you have hot sauce?” The waitress eyed your already spicy dish suspiciously as she grabbed a bottle of Cholula from the counter. You doused the plate and began shoveling the food into your mouth, only to leave the bulk of it behind when you became acquainted with the habanero relish. All through this charade you didn’t flinch once. No beats were skipped as you recounted the days previously spent in the desert, dreaming dawn to dusk and delighting in the moon. You left a sweet tip and hugged the quilted white sweatshirt-style jacket close around your shoulders. You hadn’t expected the Bay to be this cold but were committed to thrifting some gems before crawling back to the east coast. The friend accompanying you was someone you’d only met a handful of times but you shared an affinity for underdogs and infiltrating the system. Grateful for the camaraderie of likeness, she proposed a trip to a neighborhood she rarely frequented, replete with vintage boutiques and a stellar crystal shop. You wandered through Love of Ganesha, not without, awe nor as if it were extraordinary. It took the friend all day to realize your easy “chill” was a product of sensing the extraordinary in every second. When the remarkable becomes standard, you had to reign in your stun. This strange sense of balance came off as exceptional to everyone but you, though you felt the world working to understand you better as you blossomed into this new embodied zen. You were patient, judging nothing of the half hour process she went through deciding between two amethyst orbs. She handed them to you and asked your thoughts. “This one has the weight to pull me through incredible grief,” you said bobbing your right hand. “And this one lifts me up, is a higher vibration.” No eyes were rolled when she decided on both while overanalyzing money she maybe didn’t have to spend. It was evident you trusted her gut instinct more than she did. The two of you wandered down Haight street, passing various vintage shops stuffed with over-priced ratty t-shirts. You weren’t snooty - wandered straight into Goodwill and in five minutes found a stellar pair of green satin puppy-printed pajamas that only you could pull off. You were staggeringly lovely, but your calm eccentricity transformed your beauty to have the effect of enhancing the elegance of whoever you were with. You were confident in your small selection. Meanwhile, your friend walked out with more of a wardrobe, a rare occurrence for a normally frugal individual. Maybe you were aware, maybe not, but your presence brought out her power that day. The sureness of your stance, of your heart beaming confidence into a collaborator. All you had to do was be yourself. 

Some things, like love, are not finite resources Taurus. You don’t need to collect and save them as if they’ll run out. The more you tender your time, the more it turns back to you. The more you shower others with kindness, the more benevolence blossoms. The more you embrace your own understanding, the richer you’ll be in awareness. This is about learning how to cash in. About understanding that beauty doesn’t expire. About bolstering yourself to believe. Believing in the abilities of others doesn’t mean you don’t also back your own capacity. Belief is an evolving exchange with spirit. A trade for whatever strength you need at the moment you need it. If you raise your vibration, the universe will match it. Revel in the way the world reflects itself through you. Abundance arrives when you expand, not when you contract. Share and tumble into yourself tenfold.

horoscope for gemini and gemini rising

She lay still on her side on the bed, trying not to wince as you carefully poked the needle into the skin. Wind slipped through the screen of the window, rustling leaves of the ficus trees and ferns that littered every otherwise empty surface in the room. The curve of her shoulder shielded her face so you couldn’t see. Her voice rang out husky from hours of reading poems inspired by an ancestry that wasn’t yours, but reflected similar flights and a certain taste of freedom. You noted how your queerness tied you together. How your stories ran divergent but also the same. How the energy in the space entwined your souls like the awkward thread of the strange spider you inked into her skin. The vibration between her recitation and your hands seemed to bend time the way gender wants to curve itself around a compliment. Occasionally, a verse moved you so profoundly it roused a murmur. Mostly, you were focused, midwifing the drawing of the weaver on her right side-body. You asked her to shift, turning her toward you so you could concentrate on the spot that covered the collar bone. A rash was spreading over that area from being worked on the most. From free-handing and erasing and changing until you got it right. The rubbing reminded you of the start of erosion; of pebbles that wandered down slopes, hard and jagged edges prodding the earth the way your needle dotted the skin. All this called forth the mountain of the weaver’s crown, the hip of the crone, the arch of her back and the angle of the elbow of the arm that offered spun silk. A never-ending narrative. You pulled the needle away from a particularly puncturing series, noting but saying nothing of the shortness you heard in her breath. Still, subtly, as if without thinking about it, you caressed the pained skin while you leaned away to inspect your work. She relaxed and you gazed in wonder at the mirage in the making. At the way it changed depending on what you were looking for. The rivers and valleys opening themselves like a mouth. A breast. A wheel. A well. A ridge-line. Steadily, you devoted yourself to returning. You thought about discovering your dog in the streets of Oaxaca. The scratches around her face, ribs protruding out from her pelt as you helped her find food. You thought about your cat who wasn’t lost, but needed you to call for her regardless in the redwoods. How she found her way home when she was ready. You thought about all the creatures that teach you. About this woman on the bed, deep in the process of grieving and also birthing. You thought about your own births. How you wandered through the dunes of Point Reyes till dawn. How the lines in the sand were also illustrations of your spirit. 

The lines you draw, consciously and unconsciously, connect the cycles of your life dear Gemini. You are a marvelous storyteller. You spin words in wonderful ways - transforming seemingly ordinary experiences into animated spirits. This quality you with which you infuse the world comes from your incredible devotion to change. Your very essence shows others how much healing even a little shift can extend. Your tale comes alive when someone decides to steer it. To take the wheel and turn down whatever road is summoning. It’s easy to get lost in the latticework of another’s story. Don’t forget to see how much your own is a service. How your lifelines clarify themselves when you claim your right to choose. When you face a decision, rely on the future of your story to help you make it. How do you want to inspire yourself? What do you want to be able to say you did? You are always in the act of weaving Gemini. It’s okay to rework it, to wish upon it, to call for more thread, to rest at your loom so long as you don’t abandon it.

horoscope for cancer and cancer rising

Your fingers trailed across the trackpad, clicking play with the mouse to initiate the rhythm you’d arrived at after weeks of late-night composing. In the other room, you heard the rip of tape. Pausing the music, you pulled yourself away to help your friend who was re-framing the photograph that hung above your bed. You watched, mildly distracted by the lyrics in your head as she carefully pursed her lips, using breath to blow away the dust. “It won’t be perfect,” she said confidently. “I’m not an archival museum.” You said nothing, unbothered by imperfection. The piece meant something because of the years of camaraderie that had gifted it to you. Because of the rites of passage it represented; the naked figure coated in blue and orange light, contours of mountains and sea relaying the relationship between mother and earth. Creator and creation and the implied power therein. She replaced the glass, diligently wrapping tape around it to protect the piece from dirt and inserted the layers back in the frame. You returned to your desk, marveling as you thought over the list of your friends. Hearing the framing wire find the hook on the wall, you considered all the various creatives that seem to surround you with their talent. Inspired souls with drive and followthrough that can’t be tamed or conditioned. You pressed play again, waiting for your own hook, beginning an ode to everyone you’ve ever loved. To the practice and process of falling. To the all the ways you’ve been propelled into passion. Your friend found a spot on the carpet next to your desk, crossing her legs before rising back up into hero’s pose, bum on her feet, alert now. Sensing awe and encouragement, you tossed your voice on the beat, rapping to the shifting rhythm, excited to share the beginning of your explorations with this new medium. You noticed her serious, rapt attention soften into a smile out of the corner of your eye and you joined her joy with a smirk as you crooned the names of people you both knew. 

What does it mean to be a maker? You excel in artistry because it derives from an urge you can’t ignore. You know to stop some pieces from coming to fruition because your gut tells you when they aren’t aligned. Or when it’s simply not their time. You propel other projects onward, birthing because it’s both an impulse and a choice and you’re confident that it’s yours. That it’s an affirmation of your essential being. There are so many ways to be a mother Cancer. So many kinds of children. So many ideas and loves to bear. You are best when you allow your visions. When you express your own virtue through them. Remember that you wake up with your artist every day. That you create first and foremost for you. That making is an act of self-love. An opportunity to witness what arises within you. While you may be inspired by others, the fire of your making is your own. You are the only one tasked with feeding it. Carve out space to express yourself. Whether by you or someone else, let yourself be witnessed with the kind of awe that admires bringing anything into being.

horoscope for leo and leo rising

You sauntered down the hall to the top of the steps under the dark light of the blue bulb in the hallway. Peering down at the diamond shaped window above your front door, you attempted to see who was standing on your stoop. Whoever it was looked down, rummaging in their bag. You cursed quietly, frustrated always at the nerve of folks who don’t have the decency to show you their face when they ring your doorbell. Why would you answer when you don’t know if it’s safe? Because it might be important and your warmth gets the best and worst of you. As you started down the stairs you recognized the pale jacket, thick collar folding over itself and you let out a sigh of resignation to this reappearing roller-coaster. You unbolted the tricky lock with ease, years of muscle memory unveiling themselves in your fingers. The door opened inward and she looked up, expectantly as if you’d known she was coming. You realized you hadn’t checked your phone in ages, since you last sent an invitation. So much had happened in the waiting hours at the house you weren’t sure you could call home. She stepped over the threshold and you closed the door hurriedly, climbing single file to the top of the steps. She set down her bag and carefully removed her shoes. There was a rhythm to her arrival you both tried to get right. Standing up straight and awkward, she stared at you, her body opening like Pandora’s box. Hesitantly, you conceded, wrapping your left arm over her right shoulder, right arm under her left. Heart to heart. Most of the time it took minutes to sink into that kind of hug. For your inner hearth to swell from embers to flames. You thought that this spell was one reason she still came, the reason anyone did. You pulled her closer and your chests expanded with breath, like two mushrooms growing into each other. The softness settled you for a moment. This could have been a foundation. You drew yourself away and walked back toward the kitchen, turned on the stove, and poured quinoa into a bath of water. “I don’t have much food in the house.” She shrugged, undisturbed and you didn’t let her see how grateful you were. That she’d come for you and not for dinner. She might have driven you nuts until you knew she felt secure but once you were sure she did, the gift of co-presence was unparalleled. The quinoa took forever to cook. She sat on the linoleum floor, bolstering her back against the refrigerator, the cool metal lending an illusion of protection. She was tired from a long day and so were you. You didn’t talk much but you pulled out your ukulele. The clock crept past midnight. It was Tuesday now and you serenaded the both of you with love songs, each chord its own verse because you were just learning how to play.

Strong foundations aren’t built on fighting Leo. Aren’t found when you look for what hurts. Can’t establish stability when you focus on cold hard fears. Your home needs to hear you call to it like a child calls its mother. Needs you to believe it will hold you. Needs you to trust the arms with which it wants to embrace you. Lean on your lineage, whichever one you choose to honor. Ask for help from the ancestors that were resilient in their heat. The ones that sustained the flame that bore you. That tamed and braided your mane and taught you how to own it when you let it fly free. Take a moment to tend your own private fire. What vision presents itself when you meditate on your inspiration? What kind of home do you want to grow? When you aspire to meet the world with love, it will aim to love you back. When you build your fire, remember the point is to keep yourself warm.

horoscope for virgo and virgo rising

The water sloshed over the already moist oats in the bottom of the Vitamix and you kept your distance, not wanting to disturb her process but knowing the measurements were off. You were trying to make batches for both of you, a generally impossible task, because it involved manufacturing contentment in two people who were always on the opposite side of the same page. After walking your eyes up her arm, lingering for a moment at the tufts of pit-hair peeking out from under her tank, you let your gaze fall from the nape of her neck to the floor when she didn’t turn to recognize you. You busied yourself searching for a cheesecloth that you wouldn’t find because it wasn’t there. Frustrated, you looked up from the open drawer of utensils and inquired, words lost in the hurricane of the blender. She said she didn’t know and admitted she messed up the ratios while she pulled out the strainer. She raised her eyes to meet you, the skin around her jaw contracting in a way that wanted to ask for help but didn’t know how. Braced for criticism but offering consent, she shifted her hips to allow you into the corner of the counter. With the confidence of a kitchen witch who’d made the mistake a hundred times, you sighed as you divided the batch between the blender and the ball jar. She stood back, wanting to separate the air that had gone stale under the veil of unvoiced “I told you so’s.” You poured the oat-milk through the strainer, collecting the thick pieces that wouldn’t dissolve and took a sip. The texture of liquid stone-ground chocolate - you didn’t hate it but it wasn’t right. You turned and offered her the jar to taste test, “It’s glutenous.” She insisted the oats were gluten-free, though she’d kick herself weeks later when she discovered they weren’t. She pulled the jar away from her face, a mustache of oats loitering on her upper lip, offering you the glint of an opening you didn’t know you were waiting for. You leaned in slow motion, your body contorting naturally into the shape of a question mark as a grin crept its way across your face. You licked her upper lip and she giggled, shoulders swiftly releasing their apprehension. 

Being right won’t make you happy in your relating dear Virgo. We know you know the details. We watch you resist the urge to fix a problem when you see an equation out of balance. We know how desperately you want to serve us with your skillset. You are so talented at keeping your head down and doing the humble work that is obvious to you. Sometimes, it’s important to remember humility derives from the same root as human. As in mortal. As in totally imperfect. As easy as analysis comes, it can also cause you to struggle when you want to be in the flow of connection. Of all the signs, remember that you, Virgo, know patience best. Waiting is a difficult skill to master and in this, you are gifted. You organically understand the power of pausing, breathing, meditating till it’s time. Don’t forget that the fruit of patience ripens when you marry it to presence. Admire every detail before you judge it. See the opportunity offered by accidents. Use your patience as a path to what is genuine for you. Notice how in this, the real and ordinary also manifests what is genius.  

horoscope for libra and libra rising

You pulled the last five dollar bill out of your wallet and sighed. The man behind the counter handed you thirty-seven cents and you grabbed the carton of eggs, hurrying out of the bodega on 16th and Mission to scurry back to your rent-controlled apartment. “How did shit get to be so expensive?” you wondered. You thought about how lucky you were that you’d been here so long and how unfortunate it was that the city had changed so much. That the balance shifted in favor of the tech-bros who hijacked the lawn at Dolores Park on the weekend, smoking expensive strains of weed probably nowhere near as good as what your friends grew in their gardens in East Bay. You took solace in the fact that you were still here. That there were still so many good ones underground. You thought about the years you and your ex survived on only spaghetti, trading off who would buy pasta and who would get the sauce. Sometimes you splurged and split a soft-serve from Bi-Rite. Your partner now cooks simple but extraordinary dishes, infused with herbs and spices passed down through her lineage. You thought about your first date. How you’d forgotten your wallet and how genuine she was when she offered to pay for your matcha. How you could sense that she trusted you weren’t trying to mooch. You were humble, accepting, but bit your lip when she went to the bathroom and tried to remind yourself there was no shame in such a silly accident. You realize how that exchange helped you trust her. Showed you she saw the world the way you did. Or at least that she could teach you about reciprocity. That she wouldn’t punish you for any painful relationship to resources. You thought about the trip you’d taken to the island with your friend, how it emptied your bank account but filled your heart to finally see your homeland. You thought about how it also broke it. You remembered the woman weaving a basket around the fire, boiling water so she could offer you something safe to drink. You remembered her hands, fingers thick with wrinkles but nimble with experience as she braided the pieces together. How when she looked up, the lines around her eyes deepened, telling a story about a smile that had seen so much. You admired her. Even though you could draw a thousand conclusions from the environment, you restrained your judgement. You pulled away from pity and opened your heart to receive the wisdom she wanted to offer as you sat down at the steaming cup to listen.

You are not the sum of your belongings Libra. Not an equation of access that needs to be solved. Not a series of unfortunate events. Measuring yourself is useful but remember how much you’ve been able to accomplish against all the odds. You can’t compare pain but you can always offer yourself and others compassion. You can’t fix a world that is unfair but you can affirm the value you see in everyone you meet. You don’t have to pretend problems aren’t real but you can find balance in the perspective you choose. There are so many ways to be wealthy Libra. You can be rich in time, in friends, in knowledge, in love. Richness is almost always there if you look for it. Wants to be recognized. What do you need to put in your bank for a rainy day? What are your most valuable resources? Remember that if you’ve been given something, you have something to give.


horoscope for scorpio and scorpio rising

She professed her love to you on the most northern bench in a park in Bed-Stuy. Your heart wrestled with itself, cramping up from over-flow of feelings you didn’t want to be ready for. You needed time. Space from the crazy ride you’d just gotten off of. A pause on the path so you could pick right at the fork to finding yourself again. You stared at the ground, wringing out your fingers one by one as you friend-zoned her. Blood rushed into her cheeks and shoulders, tingling with truth she didn’t want to hear. Amidst all her bracing you sensed something else. Relief settling into her body like the dusk beginning to dance over Brooklyn. The space that had been freed up by simply naming the thing. The feeling of a worst fear arriving and nothing happening beyond it. The realization of how irrational terror is when you don’t get what you want but the world is still kind. Neither of you knew where to go from that place. Lights were blinking on in the apartment buildings nearby. “I need to bake this sweet potato,” you said, almost like a question. Tentatively, she accepted the invitation. By the time you tramped up to the fourth floor, the chatter was loud enough to absorb the stomp of your Blundstones echoing in the stairwell. You opened the door and kicked off your boots at the same time. You strode down the long hall and she entered softly, wandering through the small space, gently touching tiny trinkets, picking up stones, shells, bones you’d collected over the years. You watched the light reflect from her soulful eyes as she paused on the large sheet of paper taped above the bed. Weeks before, you’d started on it with thick, wild streaks of red paint, outlining antlers and the head of a deer. You turned away and began pulling kale out of the refrigerator. She followed you. Together you bumbled around the kitchen, turning on the stove, olive oil skating around the pan. She searched for the spatula, pulled out the drawer before you could stop her and jumped three feet back at the sight of the roaches crawling around inside. “Beebeez!” you cried, watching her face shift from surprise, to horror, then cracking into a full throated laugh, erupting out through the window of the hot New York summer night.

Love is like the breath Scorpio. You can choose how to breathe but you can’t stop breathing. You can change it, shape it, slow it down or run wild with it. You can pant heavily, with the intensity held in your heart. You can take it in light, sweet inspirations. You can hold it still for seconds, minutes even, but eventually its cycle will find you. You can expel it away, attempt to push everything out, but the inhale will find some crevice to keep you alive. Remember your resilience. Remember how you find joy in the life of all that this world deems most ugly. Remember how much you delight in the juxtaposition of the unpleasant and the appealing. Remember you get to choose how you love but you don’t get to choose not to. Loving yourself in your life is a bold lesson. Learn to love all the ways you and life take each other by surprise.


horoscope for sagittarius and sagittarius rising

You feel your shoulders begin to pulse as you come to the crest of the long and winding Oakland hill. Bracing yourself to embrace the view, you whisper prayers of gratitude for the gauntlet you didn’t know you were approaching. Prayers to the wind behind you and the sun casting shadows under your brow. Prayers as affirmations of how far you’ve come. Prayers that beg permission to keep praying until you teach yourself to live them. To invoke a wish until you’ve embodied it. Your core caves into a dull ache at the small of your back, muscles contracting as you rise to meet yourself. The ground begins to level and you slow, relishing the breeze that caresses the hair at the nape of your neck. You wheel your chair onto the slope of grass and stretch for a moment, lifting your arms slowly, pulling your right elbow to hug your ear with your left hand, then reverse. You tug the lever that releases the footholds and delight as the grass grazes the bottoms of your hanging bare feet. The allure of your solitary quest enchants you as much as the stories that carried you here. You stare out at the Golden Gate Bridge, connecting the space between coasts. You admire the simplicity offered in isolation and all the complexity that arises when your awareness is activated in this way. When you get to consider the people who’ve moved you and what that means in the context of your own unfurling. You think back to your last night in New York. To the broom that passed itself among many hands that swept the floor of your bare apartment. To the hour you spent crying on the sidewalk at 2am, gently wiping tears from the cheeks of your best friend’s face and thinking you shouldn’t have already packed the tissues. To the day weeks prior, when you danced in the room she left empty just so you could all take up space to move. So you could roll and tilt your chair while you pulled each other, balancing in the cycle of your bodies in conversation. You remember her lifting you up, laughing together as the sound of Cardi B and Bad Bunny burst through the windows and down the streets of South Slope. You think of the first night you arrived in San Francisco and all the hills you’ve ascended since. You remember realizing you were at the top of Twin Peaks after you’d already left and also realizing its legacy didn’t mean much to you and that was okay. You consider the last sunset on Bernal Hill, in the company of a love you would lose twice and the thrill of not knowing what was next. You think about all the times you lost something and how it’s always been part of the process of finding yourself.

You are the sum of all of your endings Sagittarius. Every cycle that wraps itself around you is an ode to how whole you’re becoming. Every ache of your heart is a recognition of how much you are able to feel. The extent of your pain reflects your potent capacity for joy. Remember that you can also thrive in the liminal space. That you find profound definition of yourself when you accept the waves of grief and are able to witness them as one style of the tide. Remember that you can be sensitive and entertained simultaneously. That your presence is meaningful to the other in all your relationships but that kind of meaning isn’t how you measure yourself. Remember that the significance of your experiences often explains itself in the aftermath, even after the emergence of something new. This part of your story is not a separation or a conclusion but a gateway. The evidence you find in your past is a hand you can hold as you wander through.

horoscope for capricorn and capricorn rising

You heard the thrum of fingers on the door at the same moment you saw your phone screen light up from the text that had arrived a few minutes prior. Silently cursing at your lack of attention, you ran to let her in from the cold and rainy East Bay wind. You opened the door cautiously, repressing a laugh as you watched her bounce up from the hammock swing into which she hadn’t quite settled. She grinned broadly, shoulders thrust back as if there weren’t a single thing in the world to fear. You wondered what it was like to hold that kind of brightness in your body. She stepped over the threshold, here to recollect her water bottle, a straggler forgotten from the previous evening. You considered the night before for a moment. You were a solid host. Everything had been in its place. Snacks spread over the coffee table, cushions and blankets ready to receive a collection of individuals who belonged because they shared something that didn’t want to be shared in public. You were always strong when it came to creating a container. Now, the pillows had been fluffed and the wood surface was bare, shining in the diffused cloudy light from the window. You stood awkwardly for about five minutes, chatting, mostly listening, before you finally interrupted her mid-sentence and clumsily asked if she’d like to chill and have some tea. “Yes! I just want to lay on your bed!” she exclaimed with a sureness of which you were envious. You smiled to yourself as you put water on, finding solace in the fact that your space was inviting even when you struggled. She asked which side of the bed you preferred and you said it didn’t matter. If it were night you would have claimed the window. You joined her, sliding onto your right side on top of the comforter, pillow propping up your ear so you could look at each other face to face. You lay like that for some time, chatting about nothing in particular but everything important, the foot and a half of space between you holding the unknown like a seer cupping a crystal ball in her palms. You could blame your most recent break-up or just admit that regardless, the comfort of touch between strangers always felt more strange than comfortable. Maybe it’s conditioning. Maybe it comes from your keen sense of knowing when and how a container is held with the trust of time. Maybe knowing that you didn’t know is exactly what you needed. Maybe the point was only to notice that when your knees kissed, she leaned in rather than away. And when your toes touched, you felt a little warmth but didn’t desperately long for any more. Maybe all that was important was the freshness of friendship and the possibility of a future you could have a choice in.

You are wiser than you give yourself credit for Capricorn. Kinder than you often allow others to see for fear of breaking a boundary. This protective layer is not unnecessary but can always be examined. You are stronger in your own power than you will ever realize, perhaps precisely because you don’t know it. Sometimes it takes a caravan to carry your warmth to you. A village to pull you away from work long enough to remember what you’re working for. A collective of synchronous moments before you finally accept that the universe is rooting for you. That the world desires your success but doesn’t define it by your standard of self-reliance. Notice who is arriving in your life. Pay attention to the people calling you out of an ocean of sadness. The ones asking for the power inherent in your presence. The ones rejecting the responsibility you feel when you can’t repair every rupture. Some things are meant to break and not be fixed. You of all signs know how to build from the bottom up. How to face hardship. How to start again slowly, with stamina and feeling. You are so skilled at creating a secure container for others to function. Sometimes, you need to learn to let yourself be held. You can call the shot that says you won’t call anything for a while. You can decide to watch what happens when you let the world embrace you. 

horoscope for aquarius and aquarius rising

You leave long before the sun goes down. Five friends shielding eyes from the wind as you pull the sheets off of poles made from long sticks found in the dunes. Taking the fort apart was always the marker of a day well-established that didn’t want to end. Maybe it was thanks to the hands that built the shield from the sun, or the fingers that dyed the fabric with flowers. You tuck the linens into your backpack next to strawberry tops saved for Ditmas Park compost. It was useless at this point to keep the sand from scattering itself in the seams. Later it would be a reminder of the resonance you find in the call of the ocean. You picture yourself shaking it out next week while you prep for the rally at city hall. After a moment you decide you’ll leave the traces of grain there anyway - allies to bring out your salty side in case you need it. Solemnly, you redress yourself in the layers required beyond Riis beach borders, noting that covering up your skin all at once feels like an act of repression and protection. Zoë playfully snaps the tip of her shirt over Izzy’s bare butt. You joyfully keep your compersion to yourself as you peer one last time toward the crash of high-tide. Reveling for a moment in the wildness of the waves, you wonder how many times a shell has to turn over in the shore before its surface runs smooth. The bottoms of your heels struggle through the shifting sand as you hike together out to the bike racks by the boardwalk. There’s discussion of bridge-crossings and veggie burgers and whose roof has the best view for fireworks. U-locks are opened and stuffed in pockets. Lights you won’t need for a few hours are hooked over handlebars. Baseball caps attach to zippers with carabiners. Legs throw themselves over frames and hips lift higher than hearts as ten wheels whirr and bump past the bathrooms down the dirt road. One of you shoots out left, breaking the line of the caravan to dive into an empty parking lot. The other four reorient, following like a flock of birds weaving between dissolution and organized formation. You loop-de-loop over cracks in the pavement and one of you starts to sing “Twenty-five years and my life is still, tryna get up that great big hill of hope, for a destinaationnn…” The group’s circles grow wider, claiming a wild weird space in the desolation of the lot. One by one you begin to join in “…and I pray! oh my god do I pray! I pray every siingle daaaaay, for a revoluutionnn.” Now hips are gyrating in the air. Hearts are thrusting themselves forward. Sadie’s doing wheelies while you belt 4 Non Blondes at the sky “I wake up in the morning and I step outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs What’s going oooooon?”

Part of your personal revolution is learning to take up space Aquarius. Part of being “part of” lies in the practice of being yourself in public. Part of belonging is letting yourself be valued for being unique. Try not to fight the paradox you were born into. Of owning your oddity while also finding your expression through everyone else. Learn that you can clear space for others and still distinguish yourself with the deafening roar of your difference. Learn that your private reflections hold profound importance when woven with communal work. Learn that life behind the scenes is fuel for your fight. Reveling in your own rebellious nature won’t ruin your reputation. There’s no shame in showing the world how full you are because you’re naturally inclined towards sharing it.

horoscope for pisces and pisces rising

You walked through the doors of the church with caution. The gathering wasn’t supposed to be religious but you were taught to feel the creeps in places like this. Loud chatter waltzed into the foyer, wrapping itself around you like a blanket you wake up under but didn’t remember covering yourself with. You descend the half flight of stairs, peering through the glass doors. Paint is peeling from the moldings recalling years of use and money that was spent on community rather than superficial elegance. The room beyond is large. Its walls are covered in printer paper painted by preschoolers, the space crowded with people who you assume are mostly women. Couples of friends are tucked in corners. Groups of three or four stand around chatting. Some sit alone on an array of plastic, wood and metal chairs, set up in a large circle that traces the perimeter of the room. An androgynous individual enters from behind you and saunters over to one of the groups, exchanging tight hugs with everyone. A doorway on the opposite wall reveals a table of snacks and a femme walks through, hands cupped around a mug of tea. Someone near what you think is the front raises a stick and beats three times on a leather drum. The crowd begins to separate, taking seats, many establishing themselves on the ground as conversation thins. You find a spot in front of an elder woman with hair that reaches in a long braid down her back. Settling onto the wood floor, you remove your jacket but pull your scarf tight around your shoulders. As you stare around the circle you notice the fervor of light in many of the eyes, like heat rising from a fire on a cold night. Four women with different sized drums begin to play, slow and intent. You think to yourself that they are unshakable, the steadiness of their rhythm pulling you into gravity, tying you to the floor, entranced at your own rooting. When they finish, someone starts to speak, welcoming the old and the new, defining the format that keeps everyone safe. There is a social contract that you agree to when you enter this space. You sit respectfully at attention, noting every detail in this list. No comments. No questions of others to start. Only check-ins. Only speak for yourself. Only speak when you hold the speaking stick. When you’re not speaking, lean into the power that listening lends. Look for your story. When you leave, take what you learned. Betray no names. Organically, they begin to share. Excerpts of lives. Strained conversations. Children who struggle. Narratives of shame with which you are well-acquainted. Everyone takes up space. Everyone holds a container. Everyone is welcome. You feel a warm hand gently clasp your shoulder and in the corner of your eye you see a braid swinging next to the wrinkled skin. You turn your chin up to the left. The woman looks at you with profound grace gleaming in her eyes. Overcome, you realize your cheeks have turned to valleys, flooding with a river of tears. 

There is resonance in witnessing what is hidden Pisces. In seeking faith behind the scenes. You are no stranger to suffering. Not a newcomer to the need for secrets. But if you find yourself hiding everything with no-one to tell, your inner victim might be rising. Confusion can be a gage that tells you whether or not you are okay. When you trust in your own knowing, you are safe. You know when something hurts. You know when you are healing. When you don’t know, you can walk away from whatever illudes you. Seek guidance where the sea is clear and warm. You can’t try to save someone who is drowning unless you’re willing to drown too. You have an inner compass that can discern safety in a space. You can sense when spirit is held with respect. Let go of the ideas that you were taught about religion. About gods and goddesses, nuns and monks, shamans, cults and misinterpreted texts. All that matter is what resonates. When tenderness resounds like a drum in your heart you have found what you need.