Loading ...Its been a while since we’ve done Rob’s weekly horoscopes. They’ve just been boring. Boring I say! But this week is a first. Those beloved Libras of the rose-colored glasses and the horoscopes of everything good and fluffy and wonderful, actually aren’t so rose-colored this week. Someone must have complained to Rob. Some disgruntled Scorpio. Or perhaps a Sagittarius tired of dropping his pants every week.
Sagittarian: Hey Rob - why do the Libras get all the good Horoscopes, and all I ever do is drop my pants?
Rob: Come here and I’ll show ya.
So for Bas this week:
Have you ever heard of the First Law of Holes? It says that if you get in a hole, you should stop digging. Please obey that law in the coming week, Libra. Once you realize there’s no other place to go but down if you continue your course of action, nothing — not even your pride — should keep you committed to that course. Now here’s the Second Law of Holes: If you are able to scramble up out of the hole before it gets too deep, you should then spend some time filling it in so that you don’t fall into it if you come back that way later in the dark.
He makes holes sound so undesirable. Sometimes, you know, if you did a hole, you might find buried treasure. I say go for the treasure.
And for Mojo:
The largest rubber duck race in history took place last year on Ireland’s River Liffey, with 150,000 yellow vinyl contestants vying to cross the finish line first. It was a charity event to raise money for sick children. I mention this, Sagittarius, because if anyone could organize an adventure that would top that extravaganza, it would be you in your current state. You’re at the peak of your power to marshal the forces of playfulness in a holy cause.
And you should attend this rubber-duck race with your pants down.
Richard is sounding more spiritual than usual this week:
“I’m interested in the boundaries where things change into other things,” writes Orene, one of my MySpace friends. Those boundaries should be your primary hang-out in the coming weeks, Aquarius. They are where all the most interesting action will be, as well as the teachings you need most. Would you like some foreshadowing about what things will be changing into other things? Pay close attention to your dreams for clues, and muse on this list: goodbyes that morph into awakenings; banishments that become pilgrimages; adversaries who transform into allies; decay that alchemizes into splendor; and serpent energy that turns into spiritual fire.
I also find it telling that Rob is on MySpace.
I know Shelley is offline recuperating at the moment, but we’ll save up her horoscopes for her (get well Shelley!). This week, her horoscope comes from a dolphin:
While snorkeling in the ocean off the coast of Hawaii’s Big Island, I had a conversation with a dolphin. She gave me clarity concerning a question I’ve been wondering about. I asked her, “What can Pisceans do to make sure their overflowing emotions don’t cause the kind of chaos that undermines their ability to get things done?” I swear the dolphin answered me telepathically, because even though I couldn’t understand the hubbub of shrieks and clicks she unleashed in response to my inquiry, my mind was suddenly filled with the following thoughts: Pisceans must love their oceanic emotions unconditionally . . . must see their endless inundation as a privilege and a blessing . . . must learn to surf the endless tidal wave not with a fearful sense of being a victim but with an exhilarated gratitude for the primal power of the adventure.
I think maybe the dolphin’s horoscope is a tad better than Rob’s usual Pisces horoscopes. From now on, Rob, let the dolphin write.
Okay for Stefficus:
“Here’s how you can tell if you have a bad psychotherapist or counselor,” says my friend Laura. “She or he buys into all your BS, never questions your delusions, and builds your self-esteem even if that makes you into an a**hole.” I agree with Laura’s assessment, which is why I’m going to spend our short time together today calling you on your BS, prodding you to get introspective about your delusions, and not pumping up the parts of your ego that really should be melted down. Next week maybe we’ll get back to gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes, but right now you’ll benefit from some tough love.
I’ve seen Rob get horoscopes off of bathroom walls, so relying on dolphins, friends, and MySpace buddies is really a step up.
And finally, me. Though I hate being last, I’ll just pretend like I’m a grand finale or something. The dessert of horoscopes. Savin’ the best for last:
American poet William Stafford, winner of the National Book Award in 1963, wrote a poem every morning for 40 years. “I keep following the hidden river of my life,” he said. “And I don’t have any sense of its coming to a crescendo, or of its petering out either. It is just going steadily along.” I’d like to nominate Stafford to be your honorary role model, Gemini. Here’s your assignment: Every morning for the next 20 days, carry out a brief ritual (no more than a few minutes long) that feeds your lust for life and engenders a blessing for yourself or someone you care about.
Some grand finale. Snooze.
You want a grand finale? Here’s a grand finale.
Rob has a band. Oh yes. I discovered this while harvesting our horoscopes for the week. Check out that album cover (more therianthropes for our collection, Steff). And my favorite song title: Furnace of Nuclear Love.
Hell I haven’t even listened to the music yet, because I’m still recovering from that album cover.
Buy me a beer!
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This entry was posted on Thursday, August 30th, 2007 at 12:05 pm and is filed under mystical. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Boundaries where things change into other things.
Sounds like an answer on the $25,000 pyramid.
“Caterpillars. Seeds. Dying Doctor Whos.”
“Um. Things that turn into other things?”
I’ll be looking forward to that. Especially if that boundary is the place where relatively financially strapped researchers turn into Megamillion lottery winners.
I’m all for that metamorphosis.
Ha ha! You said to Bas “If you did a hole.”
I know plenty of people who would like to “do” a hole. In fact, a whole lot of holes.
If they are into religious people (like pontiffs) they’d like to do a whole lot of holy holes.
Maybe it was a freudian slip. Maybe it was a typo.
Of course, Librans are the only people in the zodiac who could dig a hole and find treasure. The rest of us would just end up with… a hole.
But my mom wouldn’t find treasure. She’s a Libra, but she’s like some sort of weird, miserable, unlucky anti-Libra. I think she must be like the sin-eaters of Libras. She eats all the bad luck of all the other Libras, and takes it upon herself, so that all the Libras can hold it over our heads how lucky and wonderful they are.
Or something like that.
My head is going in weird directions tonight. Lack of sleep.
see, i think i need the libra horoscope this time. “hey, shit-fer-brains. don’t keep shoveling and wonder why can’t see the sky.” maybe it’s a stubborn aries thing.
or maybe i’m just secretly jealous of first place.
I love Libras. Really, just about every Libra I’ve ever known I quite like. Maybe I’m just basking in their good luck… but oh well.
My mom and Che’s mom are similar in that they go contrary to their signs. My mom is a Leo (and so is her mother and so is her husband!) but she doesn’t act like much of a Leo except the ‘always right’ part. Oddly, I find Leos a bit more difficult to take for long periods of time. In small doses, they are fine and can be quite interesting. But over the long haul, a smacking is often in order… just sayin’.
OK, off to the supermarket. Running out of toilet paper is not a good thing.
Oh, and I’ll be keeping my pants ON, thank you very much Rob.
i don’t know why everyone wants to keep their pants on. i mean, herm over there doesn’t have them at all, and we all agree with that decision.
of course, that’s easy for me to say. i’m not going to the store.
I’m with you steff, I think wearing pants is overrated. And true the Hermes decision. It should be a crime for any bod like that to be covered.
And Mojo, I love Libras too. But sometimes it seems like they’re TOO good. They’re air signs, so they’re intelligent, witty conversationalists, and generally quite fun, and they’re ruled by Venus, so they’re nice to look at, they’re cultured, refined, and sensual. Whats not to love?
The wishy washiness!
Who needs balance when you can have righteous rigidity?!
Hmmm… true. The balance. And that whole ’sense of justice’ thing.
Darn tootin’!
No lack of love for Libras implied or acknowledged.
Of course not - I love Libras. And I’m willing to overlook that whole balance/justice thing, if they’re okay with my whole lack of balance/running from justice thing.
Once at work, I was complaining about how much I hated my boss to a Libra co-worker and friend. She listened briefly and then listed the steps I could take (in her mind) to see a solution to the problem.
I stopped her and said, “I know those things. But this is the time for righteous indignation! We’ll do the balanced thing later.”
We need a t-shirt that says, “Nows the time for righteous indignation!”
We wear it only in the company of libras.
and, while wearing it, we must always walk about with our hands on our hips and fire in our eyes!
…ok, maybe the firey eyes is just my aries talking.
I got a little dyslexic and thought you wrote “My arsie talking.”
Ha ha.
heh. i’ve been known to talk out of my arse, yes. it’s amazing how many people fail to notice that, though.
And.. I hate to admit.. Rob’s got a really good point this week!
Eerie really…
It’s just that over my hole hovers the most friendly and benevolent guy i ever met.. and he’s pulling me out to the lime of life.
Mmm… Well, we just shared a good few pints of Guinness together again..
I rest my head. Boom.
Bas, I have to admit that I imagined dirty things when you said, “Over my hole hovers the most friendly and benevolent guy I ever met.”
I would say if someone was hovering over your hole, you would certainly hope that he was friendly!
Or a little sexy.
Or both.
All right. That’s enough of being an adolescent.
Teehee… there’s nothing like a benevolent hole-hoverer.
Tee heee!
hoevering is just teasing.
…which is loads of fun, as long as there’s an eventual payoff.