Everything you need to know about the Earth opening up and swallowing your planets or the other way around.
Past Horoscopes Entries
Horoscopes by Corina Dross
2017 is here, but it won’t save us from 2016. All the catastrophes set in motion are still whirling like tops careening across the polished surface of some megalomaniac’s desk. This year will demand much of us: much love, much courage, much faith, much insight. And while there is no astrological significance to this change in years, we have seen the end of 2016’s most difficult aspect – the year-long tension between Saturn (reality, limitation) and Neptune (dreams and delusions). The shadow side of both Saturn and Neptune is fear: Saturn brings fear of scarcity, fear of betrayal, and activates our core survival instinct that makes us hoard our resources and turn our backs on strangers. Shadow Neptune brings the fear that our compassionate natures will be taken advantage of, that our idealism is foolish, that there is no real magic in the world. When Saturn is grinding us down, we turn to Neptunian escapism, seeking anything that will take us out of this world for a time. When Neptune feels suspect, we turn to Saturnian conviction that life is essentially grim and cold. Saturn is the instinct for self-preservation that makes us shut down and close off when we feel threatened. Neptune is the release valve that lets us drift somewhere else when this world is too painful. This year, they’ve enhanced our collective confusion about what’s possible or impossible, what’s true or false, and what it looks like to integrate our pragmatism with our idealism.
Whatever these planets have unearthed for you personally this year, we’re collectively sorting through some hard truths about the gap between the world we’re in and the worlds we dream of – and who we are and who we’d like to become. Saturn and Neptune also teach us how to live. Saturn helps us patiently grow and structure a life in which we can survive by conserving our resources. Neptune opens us to communion through transcendent experience of love, devotion, and imagination. As Mars and Venus pass over Neptune this month, squaring Saturn, we’ll have a few more opportunities to reorient ourselves to this new terrain. Sometimes an opportunity looks like a crisis. It’s easy to believe that in times of crisis, survival mode is the only approach that makes any sense. But let us remember that fear is never an adequate foundation for the world we’re trying to build. When very little feels possible, when we’re losing what ground we’ve claimed, it’s time to be profligate with our capacity to love, to dream, and to create. We must invest our lives with meaning, even as they try to tear it away from us.
Luckily, the astrological map of 2017 favors creativity, risk, passion, and energetic engagement with life. But we need to accept this invitation. Begin with whatever you love most in this world, and proliferate it. Risk loss. Risk visibility. Dream big, and let even your failures be spectacular. Last month, I reflected back to y’all the revolutionary strength of your zodiac signs. This month I’m offering you talismans. Use them to stay engaged with what is magical and potent in your life. Read them quickly, at night, when you’re sleepy enough to weave them into your dreams and wake up with a sense of bringing a gift with you into the next day.
As always, take these horoscopes as suggestions more than concrete premonitions. If you have some astro-savvy, read your rising sign first, followed by your Sun and Moon signs. I’m also offering a free resource on Skills for Sensitives to help folks with particular skills and challenges develop resilience for the struggle ahead. The recording will be available on January 12th, as a free resource from a larger course I’m launching in the spring. Good luck out there this month, friends! You can always holler for a reading, too! I’m still offering shorter Discounted Readings for Comrade if you want a focused look at the best ways you can show up for yourself and change the world for all of us.
“And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold...”
This month seizes the boxcutter from your hand and replaces it with steam. If it’s not a boxcutter, it could be a kitchen knife, multi-tool, awl – whatever sharp tool helps you cut through obstacles quickly. And when I say steam, I’m not talking about tea-kettles or steam-cleaners or even steam-engines – just steam. How does a blade become formless mist? That’s part of the mystery of this month, one you might solve if you pay attention. And if you’re patient, you’ll learn how to harness this different form of power. Whatever is blocking you right now, reorient yourself to dissolving it rather than cutting through it.
This month you find a key trapped in amber or ice. This hard, smooth lump creates new desires. Before there was this key, you may not have known there was something you wanted to open and explore. If the key were easy to access, you may be even less curious. But the challenge of this month is that it gives you peeks and glimpses into a promising world, but no clear path. Whether your key is trapped in amber or ice has everything to do with how easy you find it to move between worlds: wherever you feel stuck right now, can you free yourself quickly, with a little heat and patience? Or do you require a diamond-tipped saw and a very careful hand? Whichever method you need, and however stuck you might feel, know that you can trust your internal forces that propel you toward freeing what has become trapped.
Reaching into your bag for your bicycle pump, you discover something quite different: reams and reams of parachute silk, all stitched together and connected by firm, sleek cords to a large basket. Don’t be frustrated, this month, about flat tires – you’ve got mysterious support available for your most ambitious schemes. Why bike when you can fly? Your resilience, your perspective, and your ability to outwit your most cunning enemies (even those in your own mind and memory) will help you achieve lift off.
This month leaves a gift for you on your bedside table as you sleep: what looks like a music-box, but when you wind it you hear the susurration of wind through trees. You will be pulled outside, into the hubbub, into the wild wind and up the dizzy precipices, whether or not you feel ready. Don’t worry about being unprepared – you will always feel a little unprepared. Learn the song of the wind as you sleep, carry it in your pocket as you clean the house, and when the vast world beckons you’ll know exactly how to harmonize with their gusty tempo.
You have a camera that can only record the truth. Most cameras can be tricked – yours won’t be. This means flattering light and angles won’t hide what’s raw and worn; but that you’ll also be able to measure vast distances accurately. Don’t be afraid of what you’ll learn if you begin a process of documentation and self-exposure – there is more beauty and magic in the truth than in the half-truths we invent to protect ourselves from what’s real. You can see what others cannot right now, and it’s your mission (if you choose to accept it) to share your discoveries.
You get to choose this month between asking for a shovel or a chaise lounge. You may feel stuck somewhere this month – mired down, trapped, and maybe flailing about, trying to dig yourself out. But the problem isn’t so much that your environment is boggy, it’s that something inside you is weighing you down, trying to hold you still long enough that you become more aware of what is here with you. Instead of trying to thrash yourself free, imagine how it would feel to share this place with someone you love. If you are stuck in a ditch, it would become your shared ditch: a story, a problem to solve together, or even an adventure to puruse. You’ll get more out of this month if you pay less attention to planning an escape, and more to inviting someone to share this ridiculous experience.
You find a wind-up toy this month of a polar bear, dressed warmly in a winter scarf and jaunty cap, sawing through a tiny log. The miniature log is real wood, the saw has sharp little teeth, and the mechanical bear leans his weight into the saw as he sways back and forth, at first with vigor, then slowing as the toy unwinds. Where is your allegiance in this balance of tension? Are you satisfied that the bear has a job to do and is doing it, however slowly? Do you want to free him from his servitude? Or are you impatient for that painfully slow sawing to speed up, splitting the log and ending the story? This toy is your gauge for how satisfied you are with your current choices. Wind it up every time you need to understand what needs to change for you this month.
This month brings you a pile of love letters. They’ve all blown together against a chain-link fence a few houses down from yours, and each one bears your name in familiar writing. But they’re not all from the same admirer – some are signed, but some end merely with a drawing or a pressed dandelion. It becomes clear as you sift through the impressions and ideas that there is no request, no desperation, no tragedy – each letter offers you only some small moment that the writer wanted to share with you, some reflection on how you’ve shaped them or instilled them with courage and wonder. It may not be immediately apparent what you should do with this voluntary outpouring of affection and goodwill; for now, don’t feel bound to respond in any particular way. Your own true path is all anyone asks you to continue, and if that path is isolating right now, your admireers will be waiting for you when you complete it.
This month, you find a book of matches with one golden match. Publicity stunt for some new nightclub? Secret token of a Mammonist cult? A sign that you’ve been chosen, somehow – or that you need to make a choice? You place it on your bedside table and dream of other things. Eventually it becomes ordinary enough that you begin to use the normal matches, which all function normally. When only the golden match is left, you dream that you are at the center of a twenty fires, and in their heat you are melting into something pure and brilliant – not transformed, not even purified, but allowed some glorious fluidity. Let yourself be completely transformed this month, even if you cannot name what has changed.
A crow is beating at your window every night this month, demanding your attention. Often it happens when you’ve just fallen asleep, and you wake with a gasp, fearing the worst. It may be freezing outside, but if you keep your window closed the crow will keep battering its sharp beak against it until the glass breaks, or the bird grows weary and numb. Leave the window open and your messenger will be free to bring you all manner of small treasures. Risk getting a little frostbitten in order to receive the gifts and messages coming through right now.
This month a plant you’ve been tending patiently all year, that has survived both frosts and floods, will offer up a single seed. It may feel anti-climactic. It may feel like it’s not nearly enough – especially if the plant itself has begun to wither and die. But this seed is the condensed potential for something more miraculous to grow in the future, something that could never have come into being without all the work you’ve already done, now invisible. Trust in the invisible this month, and trust what you’ve been tending.
Today your mirror reflects not your own face, but the faces of everyone you’ve loved or will love. It’s quite a crowd. Their breath smudges the surface of the glass, so it’s not always clear who’s who. Consider the crowd of voices, urges, and impressions you carry within you. Consider how you are composed of everyone who has loved you. What can you accomplish as a crowd, a cohort, a conspiracy, that you would never dream of attempting alone?