Hoboscopes: August 2, 2023

LEO

It’s hot, Leo, and you need a pool! That’s all you need. Just a pool and maybe a towel. And a lemonade. But that’s it Leo. Just those three things. The pool, the lemonade, the towel. And of course some sunglasses. But that’s all. That’s the last thing. Except an inner-tube with speakers and a retractable umbrella and a little propellor that makes it go around the pool. But that’s it, Leo. That’s the last thing. And this sunscreen. Sometimes, Leo, you want to simplify your life. And sometimes it’s harder than you expected. Take the sunscreen (just the sunscreen) and go sit by the pool and think about what you really need.

VIRGO

It gets complicated, Virgo. We want to forgive. We need to, for our own heart’s sake. But we also want to feel safe and protected and valued and understood. And there’s a popular kind of rushed and sloppy forgiveness that’s the opposite of those things. On this particular journey, Virgo, you’re allowed to take it slower than that. In fact, there’s not even a destination. Try this one. Just say “Today, I’m not going to punish myself for what others have done to me.” And, later, when you feel the resentment and anger start to build up, just say it again. That’s a kind of forgiveness that’s safe and self-respecting and can be a big relief.

LIBRA

We are officially denying your request to be left to your own devices, Libra. Honestly, we didn’t realize just how many devices you have. There’s the phone and the tablet and the laptop and the watch. That’s already enough devices to keep you so distracted you won’t ever even get to your gadgets, much less your gizmos. And so we’ve decided that for every hour you give to your devices, you need to give an equal hour back to yourself. Take a walk, cook a time-consuming meal, watch the vultures in the yard, sit down with a friend over milk shakes. Your request for a richer life has been approved.

SCORPIO

In this swimming pool, we believe: No running or glass bottles. No roughhousing. No yelling. No diving or bellyflopping into the pool. No splashing or spitting out of the pool. No breath-holding. No wishing you were somebody else who was not at this pool. No cynically pretending not to care about the things you care about. No spiraling with regret in this pool. No cannonballs, Scorpio. No SCUBA gear. No forgetting your gratitude for life at this pool. No horseplay.

SAGITTARIUS

How does Darwin’s theory of natural-selection account for that muscle in my body that pulls me toward my phone screen whenever I get even a little bit uncomfortable? I suspect that there was a moment when our prehistoric ancestors were watching the tremendous blazing fire that they’d only invented 45 minutes before. And there was one in the circle, let’s call her “Murgg,” who picked up a small rectangular rock, stared at, it and said, “Is there anything else on?” We are all Murgg’s descendants, Sagittarius. But next time you feel that pull toward distraction, try giving it just a 10-count (Murgg could have tried this, but “10” hadn’t been invented yet.) See how long you can let that muscle tense without moving. I think you’re getting stronger.

CAPRICORN

All my life, Capricorn, I’ve never wanted to tell anybody what I’m doing, but I’ve desperately wanted them to know. So I sit alone where they can see me and I just hope they come over and ask. “Really!” they’ll say, “you’re interpreting the astrological wisdom inherent in the universe and turning it into digestible life-advice for the public? You must be so interesting!” But honestly, Capricorn, nobody ever asks. So I sit over here composing horoscopes in the drizzle while they all finish another round of Uno under the awning and eat Chex Mix that I wish somebody would offer me. I’m doomed, Capricorn, but you can do better. Tell the world what you’re about today. Anything less is silly.

AQUARIUS

It seems possible to me, Aquarius, that all you need are some floaties. You know those little inflatable doughnut-sleeves that kids wear on their arms when they want to get in the pool but they don’t know how to swim yet? Yeah, get yourself a set of those. Wear them every day. Not literally, of course (unless you already did before you got to this sentence, in which case, rock-on.). I’m talking about floaties of the soul. We all need a little support to stay buoyant. For you, I’d recommend a couple of friends. One for each arm. Maybe ones you haven’t talked to in a while. Reach out. See if they might help to hold you up.

PISCES

How long before the next stop, Pisces? The exit we just passed said it had food, gas and clean restrooms. Should we try to turn around? I mean, it’s not an emergency yet, but I could definitely use the break. I know, I should have said something sooner. Everybody in this van is ready for you to stop for a breather. And I know you’re just trying to get us all to where we need to be. But you might find out that you need a recess just as much as the rest of us. Pull off at this next one, Pisces. I’ll buy you a pecan log.

ARIES

Greetings from the sunny future, Aries! Wish you were here. You’ll notice there’s no picture on the front of this postcard. There’s not really much of a postcard either. I know it’s unconventional, but you actually have to make it yourself. Go ahead. All you need is a 4×6 piece of paper and the willingness to move forward through time. Imagine the kind of future you’d be glad to be in and make that picture. When you’re done imagining and creating, start walking that direction.

TAURUS

When I was a kid, I used to go swimming every chance I got. I loved it. I could stay in the pool for hours. We’d play games, we’d race, we’d splash and spin and float. But sometimes I’d get that creepy feeling in the base of my brain that there was something down there in the water. Maybe a shark. Maybe a giant squid. Maybe the long neck of a extinct sea-serpent bending around to take a bite of me. I knew there couldn’t possibly be anything in the pool except me and my pals, but it’s hard to trust what you know over what you feel. If your fear of the improbable is keeping you from enjoying the reality of this moment, Taurus, maybe step out of the pool for a second, remember where you are and who you’re with. Remember that you’re safe.

GEMINI

What’s gonna be the next big thing in technology, Gemini? Like, first we had radio and then TV came along. Then there were computers then the internet then cell phones. Now we’ve got social media and AI. What could be better? Given this progression, I’m pretty sure the next big thing will be rebuilding society from the ashes of global catastrophe using only our wits and compassion. Come to think of it, Gemini, we can just start now.ve.”

CANCER

I think I just passed you on the highway, Cancer. You had the roof of the car piled with bags and a canoe and two bikes and some skis. You were towing an ATV and what looked like an un-inflated bouncy castle. I waved and honked but you were drumming intensely on the steering wheel and shout-singing what appeared to be the words “come sail away!” repeatedly. It looks to me like you’re finally getting some time off, and I’ve got to say you deserve it. While you’re out there, though, do me a favor. Take a break from the activities for a few minutes every day. Sit, breathe and think about who you’ve been since the last time you were here.