You Think That’s Bad

♈ ARIES March 20-April 19

In the desert of Turkmenistan, the temperature inside the Derweze Crater can reach more than 1,800° Fahrenheit. Locals dub the fire pit the Door to Hell. But maybe they’re missing something important, Aries. Maybe everyone is—you, your friends, your erstwhile manager at Le Linge Français, the three-star restaurant in the City where you were, until very recently, a sous-chef on the rise. Fire is not only a force of destruction, it can also be one of regeneration. As Venus and Mars go head-to-head on July 23, conflict in love, ambition, or both may arise. Yet the Aries Moon offers a moment of clarity and quiet reflection. Whether you let it smolder, spray it with lighter fluid, or, in a frenzy of unchecked emotion, fan the flames of grease-fire freedom, just remember that this month, your healing is the flame.

♉ TAURUS April 20-May 19

A mandala in Buddhist cosmology is an intricate geometric figure that represents the unity and completeness of the universe. Monks spend hours, even days, creating them. Dazzled by their intricacy and the focused effort their creation demands, onlookers gape and gasp when the monks, having completed their designs, immediately destroy them. Although you prefer comfort, routine, and predictability, Taurus, this month you should expect the unexpected, especially in matters of the heart. Whatever shakes loose is meant to. Maybe you drop a bad habit (all-day bong hits), misplace something valuable (a diamond pendant your mother loaned you), and leave behind a dysfunctional relationship (your married lover), though only when you catch him in bed with his wife. (You’re beginning to understand how she must feel.) But what did you lose, Taurus, and how’d you know it was ever really yours? Mercury’s sextile to Venus on July 18 paves the way for clear communication, so broach that conversation with your estranged Marlboro Reds, your despondent mother, your lover’s better half—though not the management of Le Linge Français. Your attorney insists you keep mum while charges are pending. When Venus enters Cancer late in the month, July’s disruptions will be behind you. But practice the Buddhist art of non-attachment: Nothing lasts forever.

♊ GEMINI May 20-June 20 

Bears have an acute sense of smell—forty times more powerful than that of dogs—and they rely on it to forage for food and track prey through alpine forests. They depend upon their instincts for survival, and this month, Gemini, so should you. As Mercury goes retrograde on July 18, less external noise will disrupt your deeper, more intuitive frequencies. Go with your gut—even if doing so may put you at odds with family, especially older siblings. You have to be who you are. If that means you invite a few friends over to your sister’s place, a great house right on the beach where she’s letting you crash while you get your life together after that grease fire kerfuffle, so be it. Maybe you wait until she’s occupied with endless sweaty sun salutations at hot yoga to welcome your buddies over for beer pong and bong hits. Just because you didn’t get permission for your casual get-together, or even think to ask, shouldn’t be grounds for her to kick you to the curb. You’re family! The Moon enters Gemini on July 20, presenting a moment for calm introspection. Accept the offering with gratitude. But don’t spend too much time in your head, cut off from your primal instincts. You don’t want to wind up like your sister.

♋ CANCER June 21-July 21

Monarch butterflies make the most unlikely of journeys. Although tiny, delicate, and gossamer, they migrate 3,000 miles from Canada to Mexico. With Jupiter moving through Cancer, light, love, and grace are flowing to you. And none too soon! Since your sister kicked you out, couch-surfing at one friend’s house after another has left you with a crick in your neck and a kink in your soul. You’re glum and short-tempered and out of work. You think that’s bad. Over a crackly phone connection from somewhere on the Yucatán, your mother, hardly the paragon of stability, coaxes you into counseling. You choose the therapist, she’ll foot the bill—and much else besides. Through word of mouth, you find one named New Moon. As the Sun trines in Neptune, the doc invites you to sow seeds of self-worth, creative courage, and boundless joy. She helps you emerge from your chrysalis and unfold your delicate wings in the sunlight. As Pluto spins into retrograde, New Moon encourages you to let memory be your medicine. You’re stronger than you know. When your mother calls to check in, you assure her that her money’s being well-spent: You feel better already.

♌ LEO July 22-August 22

In Iceland, the Vatnajökull glacier extends over eight percent of the country’s landmass and covers Hvannadalshnúkur, the highest mountain. While scientists believe the glacier is shrinking up to three feet per year and will eventually disappear, it remains more than a mile thick in some places, its ice more than a thousand years old. Talk about the deep freeze. With the Sun in your sign, followed quickly by the New Moon, July is all about rebirth for you, Leo. But being born again is about personal transformation, not becoming someone new. Honor who you are—which would be much easier without the obstacles you face, including a wet-blanket sister who won’t respond to your multiple attempts to apologize by text message, social media posts, and voicemail. You don’t even think you’ve done anything wrong. Still, you hope to get back into her good graces. It’s important to your mother, as she’s made clear on any number of occasions since you were both little girls. You’re sisters, she’d say. Sisters stick by each other. Why, then, does your sibling, overly serious at times to the point of humorlessness, continue to give you the cold shoulder? Her heart is icier than the Vatnajökull glacier. Even as Mercury retrogrades through Leo near mid-month, she continues to freeze you out, never mind that you show up on her doorstep, begging for forgiveness. It was just a casual get-together, and almost nothing got broken. Perhaps, Leo, this moment is a cosmic call for you to rethink how you speak your truth. Be clearer and more self-conscious, not louder. Let compassion guide your roar.

♍ VIRGO August 23-September 21

In China’s remote Gansu Province lies Danxia, an area of jagged red landforms streaked with an otherworldly rainbow of colors, yellow, green, and blue. Over millions of years, sandstone and mineral deposits were compressed into rock layers that tectonic force folded vertically, creating the striped mountains. While you cannot always see other people’s kaleidoscope striations, Virgo, let this month remind you that we are all made up of many layers that accrete over time and form under pressure. Sometimes that pressure comes from outside forces, such as the credit agencies and bankruptcy lawyers hounding your mother. Other times it’s internal, such as your sister’s self-imposed, unreachably high standards. (She’s so uptight, she could turn dinosaurs into diesel.) The Full Moon in Capricorn on July 10 presents you with a moment of quiet clarity. Be an archaeologist of the soul. Only by exploring your own multi-layered self can you begin to map your understanding of others.

♎ LIBRA September 22-October 22

In the village of Tamri on the west coast of Morocco, goats are more common in trees than birds. Motivated by their love of olivelike argan berries, the Tamri goats work their way up into treetops as high as 30 feet off the ground. They’re not showing off. Such gravity-defying feats come as naturally to them as breathing. With their cloven hooves and curiosity, these nonstop nibblers simply love to climb, especially if they can cadge a meal. As Venus conjuncts Uranus in Taurus, be true to your original nature, Libra. Listen with an open heart when New Moon, your therapist (who prefers cosmic healer), reminds you to find your center and your balance. Maybe that comes from skinny-dipping at midnight with a new man or smoking a bowl on a sunny afternoon with your roommates. It might even emerge from a moment of quiet introspection on the front porch with a borrowed six-string and a few beers. At mid-month, the Full Moon shines attention on your personal foundations, especially family and home. Don’t worry that your sister’s still giving you the silent treatment. You’ve rented a room in a sweet bungalow just down the beach, and one day soon, you’ll invite her over to hang out with your new friends. Maybe she’s an uptight goody-goody, but you know she’ll come around. She always does.

♏ SCORPIO October 23-November 21

Sherpas in Nepal follow an important ritual before embarking on a Mt. Everest ascent. Led by a Buddhist lama, they perform a ceremony to honor the sacred nature of the mountain, pray for grace during the climb, and request a safe return. As the Moon enters your sign on July 4, Scorpio, make gratitude your attitude. Understand that you accomplish nothing without the help of others. As Venus trines Pluto near the middle of the month, don’t fret over plans gone awry. Whose plans were they to begin with? So maybe you were asked to leave the mind-numbing job at the bookstore your mom guilted your sister into pulling some strings to get you. So what? It’s not like her friend really needed the help—which is why there was so little for you to do. Boh-ring! You’re grateful for the newfound freedom this layoff-furlough type situation has presented you. As New Moon insists, When one door closes, another opens. Right now, that means the chance to surf more, party like it’s 1999, and live your best life. Your twenties won’t last forever. So as you eye the peaks ahead of you, Scorpio, remember that you never scale the mountain alone. Namaste.

♐ SAGITTARIUS November 22-December 21

In Zen, a satori is a moment of profound clarity, a flash of truth about our cosmic interconnectedness. As Neptune retrogrades in Aries, allowing for a calm moment of introspection, you may wonder where to shoot your hunter’s arrow. No matter your target, wouldn’t you be aiming at yourself? But this isn’t a paradox, it’s a recalibration. The Full Moon in Capricorn illuminates your values and priorities, and you double down on your sessions with New Moon, who works out of her home, exploring your thing for older, unavailable men. Your cosmic healer attributes this penchant to your absent father. It’s not a spirited or insightful conclusion—you came to it yourself when you were still a teenager. New Moon seems aloof and distracted today, perhaps a product of your doodling, a practice you began during your first session together. It relaxes you, helps you focus. Now you sketch New Moon’s partner Leif, who you’ve run into several times now, his sinewy surfer bod, his thick, salt-and-pepper coif, his sweet smile and lovely crow’s feet. Even as the New Moon in Leo sparks your faith in the future, New Moon, your healer, squints and scowls, then says, I need you to stop doodling during our sessions. Perhaps you’re a better artist than you realized, Sagittarius. It seems someone has had a satori of her own.

♑ CAPRICORN December 22-January 19

Stalactites, those stony, icicle-like formations that hang from the roofs of caves, develop over thousands of years, as dripping water slowly deposits minerals that collect and harden. They operate on geologic time and cannot be rushed. The Full Moon in your sign bathes you and all you’ve endured in a warm glow. Why, then, must your mother co-opt the moment to question your motives? You can’t keep wasting the money I give you on weed, okay? As Saturn stations retrograde on July 14, you begin reassessing the foundations of your identity. Change is rarely sudden. In fact, lasting transformation takes time. You know you’re making progress with New Moon, you can feel it, and Leif isn’t shy about returning your suggestive glances. Even your stuffed-shirt sister has started to come around, returning your calls at last, agreeing to meet for pizza at Upper Crust, your treat. As the Sun trines Saturn, you’re convinced that this momentary cosmic tilt is righting itself to level. But July demands sincerity, Capricorn, not speed. Take stalactites as your touchstone.

♒ AQUARIUS January 20-February 17

The I Ching, or Book of Changes, is the oldest of the Chinese Five Classics and has been the basis for divination practice across the Far East for centuries. It anticipates philosophical, psychological, and material transformations through the opposing forces of yin and yang. Although change is your middle name, Aquarius, this month even you might prefer the status quo. As Uranus shifts into Gemini, you sketch absently, listening to New Moon’s cosmic claptrap. You’ve been a true believer, but so far none of her advice has done you much good. Now she seems to be repeating herself. The future’s calling, she says, and that future is now. Saturn begins its retrograde in Aries on July 14, turning your world topsy-turvy. Leif, New Moon’s hunky partner, slips inside, shirtless, tanned, and smelling of salt and surf. You both know it’s only a matter of time, such as the next time New Moon wanders away, yoga mat in tow, for sun salutations with her favorite yogi Qwest. Saturn in Leo illuminates your connections, current and future. Didn’t I ask you not to doodle during our sessions? says your cosmic healer. She snatches your sketchbook, face turning to stone. Are you drawing caricatures of me? The Sun’s trine to Saturn paves the way for a recalibration. Your therapist says you’ve broken her trust, and now your path lies elsewhere. Please don’t come back. It all demonstrates that you can never step into the same river twice. The only constant, Aquarius, is change.

♓ PISCES February 18-March 19

In Tonglen, a type of Tibetan Buddhist meditation, you imagine inhaling people’s suffering and exhaling healing compassion. It’s more than play-pretend, Pisces. You manifest your will in the world. Early in the month, Neptune begins a slow descent back into your familiar waters. Since New Moon dumped you, your illusions—and delusions—about your identity dissolve, and the residue is crystalline and acrid. The Sun trines Neptune, encouraging you to take stock. Why waste any more time? Now is the opportune moment to meditate Tonglen, Pisces. Breathe in disappointment, pain, and suffering. Smoke another bowl. Consider all the bridges you’ve burned and rebuilt from the ashes. Breathe out patience, empathy, and compassion. Answer that email from your mom’s friend who runs La Courgette and needs a sous-chef. Or book a flight to the Himalayas. It’s the universe. She’s calling you. Trust her and go.