Horoscope for the week ending tomorrow, 30 April 2010

Tomorrow is going to be the best day of the week.  And if this was a good week or you, that could be really something.

It’s not just going to be fantastic because it’s Friday (that may be part of it, but it is not the key factor).  The real reason it’s going to be so wonderful?  Is it the fabric of the day itself – the threads too snug to let in a draft of wrong headedness or dispirited feelings?  Did the day weaver make this one particularly lovingly, thinking of her fella and the time they will spend together at the end of her shift, when the night crew take over, those mysterious ones with their heavy velvets and whispering moonshine?  Or perhaps it’s something a little more prosaic and yet equally unknowable – the weather makers shook a little more sunlight on to the beam belt, cos they were laughing too hard at that one about the rain wranglers and the too-wilful lightning lasso.

Or maybe it’s because you read this blog post, and it made you chuckle and only wince a little at the forced metaphors, and so you walked out the door, straight into a

smile waiting for you in the air, right where

your face goes when it’s raised high enough to

feel the sun on your cheeks cos you

just read something about sun sprinkled like pepper

and even though that doesn’t really happen, still it got into your

sub-conscious and made you

look.

Happy Friday, everyone!  I’m bursting out wishes for a lovely one, for you.

Horoscope for the week beginning 8 February 2010

It’s a week for opening windows and letting the rain gust in.  You’ll always have more towels; but how often do you get the chance to let pure, cool water from the air moisten your lips and curl your hair becomingly over a steaming cup of tea, brewed to meet its maker so thrillingly present in the room?  By Tuesday night, you will have sated yourself on the wonders of dark grey and wetness; by Wednesday you will hardly remember what rain smells like.  But Thursday and Friday you don’t need to dry yourself out; you’ll find fresh attentions from the heavens, watching your steps and deciding to adorn them with puddles for pudding and slides for laughter.  And what else?  Your heart will naturally follow your folly, past careworn analysis and into a final, blessed sleep to join the fairies once more with their darling dream-world behind your shuttered eyes, free at last in the wormhole of your mind.

Horoscope for the year beginning 1 January 2010

Hale and well met, my fellow journeywomen and men of the sometimes paved, sometimes rubbly road to all our favourite things.  This year will see you starting ebullient, smelling of good, sweet caramel (not the cheap sort), your self-sure smile lacing your determined jawline with hope.  You know you will be perfect; nothing more could be truer than your own ability to live this life the way you always meant to. By February, you will look into the creek that chortles next to your path and see your rippled reflection casting shy nods of approbation, at you, at you and no other; in March you will stumble on the rocky landfall that lies in your way, but then congratulate yourself on the well-made shoes you didn’t skimp on back in January.  April, May and June will see the clouds hover but, seeing the glint on your sun-bleached hair from months of being allied with the light, they will whisper and relent; July, August and September will see nothing less than the burgeoning spring in your step, your spirit and the wildflowers that blossom along your trim, paved trail to the top of the mountain from sheer joy at having such a companion.  October is your month of baked goods, where you indulge yourself in the delight of sharing your good fortune of biscuits and brownies with others, who will be gladdened by your passage through their lives and morning tea plates.  November the peak is in sight, and who would have thought it was so far still to go!  But do not despair – you have had a great year, a fine year, a year of imagination and hope and justice and delight – and December and a thousand more footsteps, and you will be there. Where?  You know: there, where you were at the very beginning – on your road, the right road, the good road skipping with all your favourite things.

Happy New Year, my old friend!

Horoscope for the week beginning 14 December 2009

A week of playful indecision.  Forget pronouns: cut straight to the chase.  You like me, or you don’t.  You want to be somewhere for Christmas, or not.  You would rather be wearing perfume and bells than socks and sensible shoes; or you find greatest peace of mind in an apron and trousers and no-nonsense,non-slip slippers (there’s a funny-ism for you).  Whatever the call to action is, by Wednesday, you may have made up your mind and not acted on it.  By Friday, a change in the wind, a stubbornness born of wild indignation at the expectations of others, and you might discover yourself on a plane to Morocco this Yuletide season, your family and friends happier for you than you thought that they would be.

Horoscope for the week beginning 15 November 2009 (yesterday)

And what a week it is!  Friends from out of town will blow you away with how much they care about you, and there you were, wondering if anyone still remembered your hopeful face.  Chocolate coated tulips are just the beginning of their imaginative ways of telling you that you are loved.  By Wednesday, in your very own choose-your-own-adventure life, you can decide to either chew them and spit out the leaves, grumbling disconsolately about the freshness of flowers these days; or you can pluck the petals and throw them to the wind for others in greater need of grace to find them.  Up to you, really.  But I know you; I know your worth.  Gardening may not be your strong point, but if loaves and fishes can feed five thousand, then one small petal of love can doubtless swing an army from hatred to kindness, and all it will take is a flick of your generous wrist.

Horoscope for the Week beginning 9 November 2009

This week, you will find the backbone you never knew you had as it transforms from spaghetti into kevlar in one, fell motion. Adversaries, believing until now that they had your number, fall back, confused and, suddenly, afraid. But you don’t need to wait around for them to re-group – you are on your way, donning the brash new colours of your courage and heading straight for the moral high ground. From up there, where mere mortals fear to tread, you might see someone who looks just like you, far, far below. Squint through your telescope – it’s not you, it’s (gasp) your mortal enemy, pushing against the same stone wall you used to prop up with your daily efforts, but from the other side. You used to wear the exact same pooh-brown shoes. Even your hair looks the same coffee colour from up here. Funny – down there, all you could see was how different you were; up here, all you can see are different shades of brown.

Horoscope for week beginning 26 October 2009

Monday will find you expectant.  Without even realising it, you have been waiting, bated breath, for just this sunrise, just this lunch hour, just this, and this, and this.  But because you didn’t fully imagine it, you won’t be disappointed; instead, your expectation was more in the vein of a gentle humming, a thrumming in the back of your mind, a flutter in your belly.  By Wednesday, you will have pocketfuls of rainbows; by Thursday, your sleeves will be lined with forget-me-nots and memories of secret blushes amoxicillin online.  Friday and you will sigh, full of soft, rainy evenings and siren sun-drenched avenues, your stomach full and your muscles floppy with energy well-spent in the conquest of happiness.

(PS – Thanks for the well wishes for the wedding. I am now, officially, Mrs Happily Ever After (double brackets – thanks jLo for the card which gave me this spot-on name!))

Horoscope for the Week 7 September 2009

This week will take you by surprise.  Sugary lips will find yours and kiss you silly with caramel cake and chocolate buttons.  Your friends will look at you strangely, your eyes red with too much energy to burn.  It’s nothing to hide from: it’s your opportunity to tear up the park between your place and theirs with your uncaged ideas; the impossible will light up the pavement.  By Wednesday, you will have painted your mind royal green, your walls reflecting the bright new spring.  By Thursday, words will cover your clothes, reminiscent of the brilliance of the World’s first electric bulb; by Friday, you will fall into a contented heap, toes varnished with flowers, ready for summer.

Horsocope for Week Beginning 24 August 2009

A week of beginnings.  A week of close shaves with false fates.  If you walk too slowly, you’ll fall into another destiny headlong.  There may be spluttering brilliance; it’s hard to see through the smoke.  If you walk too quickly, you might trip over into the arms of a Spanish lover, whose embrace lasts long enough to create an everlasting pinch of Sehnsucht but not long enough to satisfy it.

Of course, if you run…

or perchance, sleep…

you might find your dreams spindling into gold right before your eyes – not the kind of gold you want to grasp, but the kind made of sunshine and yolks and sunflowers and buttercup curtains on a rain-spotted window.  And what a beautiful fate that would be!  So sleep, or run; but don’t busy your head with timing your paces just so, or you might miss the one thing that happens to lead to another.

Horoscope for the Week beginning 20 July 2009

And what a week it will be, well, it already is!

The sky, in its blue imitation of infinity, will shower nonsense poetry into the heads of all those of a mind to heed it.  There are some wonderful sounds to be had this week: words like gumdrop, pernickety, codswallop, and shiny, mixed with a good amount of rumble, trickster, riot and grouch.  By tomorrow, you will have ears as big as open doors, flapping to catch all the good things to hear.  By Wednedsay, this infection will have swept through your friends, causing spontaneous outbreaks of poetic proselytising and moments of pure genius buried amongst the sheer, teeming volume of words pouring out of every known orifice.  By Thursday, you will have ridden the hump of it, now with time on your hands to murmur the occasional, unbidden haiku as you side-saddle your way to Friday, when, all tuckered out, you make camp in a room empty of all words, where the tweets of birds and trees twirling in the wind remind you of the silence that belies all language and leaves you simple, sated, serene, sssh.