Pilot's Log

If you were ever going to win a contest that awarded you a free vacation to an exotic sanctuary, it would probably happen during the next three weeks. If a toy company would ever approach you about developing a line of action figures and kids' books based on your life, it might also be sometime soon. And if you have ever had hopes of converting your adversaries into allies, or getting support and backing for your good original ideas, or finding unexpected inspiration to fix one of your not-so-good habits, those opportunities are now more likely than they have been for some time.

It has been a long time since I posted one of these.

Who wants to fly with the Wild Geese?

You can bake your shoes in the oven at 350 degrees for 40 minutes, but that won't turn them into loaves of bread. Know what I'm saying, Sagittarius? Just because a chicken has wings doesn't mean it can fly over the rainbow. Catch my drift? You'll never create a silk purse out of dental floss and dead leaves. That's why I offer you the following advice: In the next two weeks, do your best to avoid paper tigers, red herrings, fool's gold, fake news, Trojan horses, straw men, pink elephants, convincing pretenders, and invisible bridges. There'll be a reward if you do: close encounters with shockingly beautiful honesty and authenticity that will be among your most useful blessings of 2017.

I have a bunch of song lyrics to quote but I won't as a service to you.

Soon I'll be off on my first vacation in 18 months. At first glance it might seem odd for an astrologer like myself to have selected two Sagittarians to be my housesitters. Members of your sign are reputed to be among the least home-nurturing people in the zodiac. But I'm confident that by the time I return, raccoons won't be living in my kitchen, nor will my plants be dead or my snailmail stolen or my TV broken. The current astrological omens suggest that most of you Centaurs, at least for the foreseeable future, will display an uncommon aptitude for the domestic arts.

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Not me.  Today I committed culinary treason by loading an English Muffin with Swiss and American cheese.

The coming weeks will be one of the best times ever for wrestling with God or tussling with Fate or grappling with karma. Why do I say that? Because you're likely to emerge triumphant! That's right, you lucky, plucky contender. More than I've seen in a long time, you have the potential to draw on the crafty power and unruly wisdom and resilient compassion you would need to be an unambiguous winner. A winner of what? You tell me. What dilemma would you most like to resolve? What test would you most like to ace? At what game would you most like to be victorious? Now is the time.

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I caught my subconscious in a lie this morning when my sleep cycle was coming to a close.  Maybe I ought to trade it in on a new model.

I regularly travel back through time from the year 2036 so as to be here with you. It's tough to be away from the thrilling transformations that are underway there. But it's in a good cause. The bedraggled era that you live in needs frequent doses of the vigorous optimism that's so widespread in 2036, and I'm happy to disseminate it. Why am I confessing this? Because I suspect you now have an extra talent for gazing into the unknown and exploring undiscovered possibilities. You also have an unprecedented power to set definite intentions about the life you want to be living in the future. Who will you be five years from today? Ten years? Twenty years? Be brave. Be visionary. Be precise.

Twenty years from now (assuming I survive these times) I'll be sixty nine, the same age my dad was the year I had my last regular paying job.  In theory I'd be enjoying retirement but I still don't have a career to provide me one.  I'm screwed.

Aphorist James Guida contemplates the good results that can come from not imposing expectations on the raw reality that's on its way. "Not to count chickens before they're hatched," he muses, "or eggs before they're laid, chickens who might possibly lay eggs, birds who from afar might be confused with chickens." I recommend this strategy for you in the coming weeks, Sagittarius. Experiment with the pleasure of being wide open to surprises. Cultivate a mood of welcoming one-of-a-kind people, things, and events. Be so empty you have ample room to accommodate an influx of new dispensations. As James Guida concludes: "Not to count or think of chickens."

Breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions.

Asking you Sagittarians to be patient may be akin to ordering a bonfire to burn more politely. But it's my duty to inform you of the cosmic tendencies, so I will request your forbearance for now. How about some nuances to make it more palatable? Here's a quote from author David G. Allen: "Patience is the calm acceptance that things can happen in a different order than the one you have in mind." Novelist Gustave Flaubert: "Talent is a long patience." French playwright Moliere: "Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit." Writer Ann Lamott: "Hope is a revolutionary patience." I've saved the best for last, from Russian novelist Irene Nemirovsky: "Waiting is erotic."

Because Time won't give me Time...

Do you want more money, Sagittarius? Are there treasures you wish you could have, but you can't afford them? Do any exciting experiences and life-enhancing adventures remain off-limits because of limited resources? If your answer to any of these questions is yes, now would be an excellent time to formulate plans and take action to gather increased wealth. I don't guarantee total success if you do, but I promise that your chance to make progress will be higher than usual. Cosmic tendencies are leaning in the direction of you getting richer quicker, and if you collaborate with those tendencies, financial magic could materialize.

Oddly enough I'm not playing Powerball.  Not because of any moral issue, just that I'm even more broke than usual and can think of many better ways of spending mad money if I had it.

My old friend Jeff started working at a gambling casino in Atlantic City. "You've gone over to the dark side!" I kidded. He acknowledged that 90 percent of the casino's visitors lose money gambling. On the bright side, he said, 95 percent of them leave happy. I don't encourage you to do this kind of gambling in the near future, Sagittarius. It's true that you will be riding a lucky streak. But smarter, surer risks will be a better way to channel your good fortune. So here's the bottom line: In whatever way you choose to bet or speculate, don't let your lively spirits trick you into relying on pure impulsiveness. Do the research. Perform your due diligence. It's not enough just to be entertained. The goal is to both have fun and be successful.

Last night I dreamt that there had been a rumor going round that I lost a hand--and people responded by sending me hands in the hopes that one of them could be transplanted on my arm.  Perhaps my view is that while the goodness of people persists, they are being undermined by a lack of truth in the right places.