Sagittarius (Nov. 22–Dec. 21)

You’re like a member of a band who’s spent weeks practicing for a gig where only five people show up. Your band is barely outnumbered by its audience. You could, of course, pack up your instruments and go back to the garage where you practice. Or you could do a wimpy, abbreviated version of the set you planned. Or you could play your hearts out as if the place were packed to the gills with screaming fans. I think it’s a no-brainer which you should do. Give it your all for the sake of giving it your all this week, regardless of who might (or might not) benefit.

Capricorn (Dec. 22–Jan. 19)

I know you like being an observer, and watching certain situations from the outside in. But don’t tell me that it doesn’t hurt when you consequently get overlooked or forgotten. It’s not a slight that you didn’t get that invitation in the mail; it’s just an oversight. Still, that probably doesn’t make it

feel much better. The situation right in front of you, for instance—are you really enjoying being the almost-invisible outsider? Why not wade in and get your hands dirty? Go get noticed. I’m betting the attention will be mostly (but probably not entirely) positive. Get involved. The fly-on-the-wall thing is getting old.

Aquarius (Jan. 20–Feb. 18)

Quick, contact the authorities. You’ve surely beat the world record for holding your breath. How long’s it been since you took in a proper lungful of fresh, cool, clean, refreshing air? A few months, at least. Whatever constrictive force has restrained you from truly breathing and relaxing is about to let up, whether it’s a self-inflicted emotional corset or a predatory metaphorical boa constrictor. Your ribs might crack, and it might hurt to draw in that first delicious breath—but you’ll know it’s the good kind of hurt. Yawn, gasp, sigh, and pant—and know that things will have to be at least a little easier from now on.

Pisces (Feb. 19–March 20)

It’s truly hard to create happy art. Making people experience pure joy isn’t impossible, but it’s way more difficult than disturbing, upsetting, or depressing them. It’s weird how people have more walls up to wonder than to horror, more resistance to happiness than misery. It takes a special talent to successfully subvert, penetrate, and transcend those tall, thick, invisible barriers and help people to experience delight in spite of their unconscious determination not to. You, my dear, whether you know it or not, have that talent. To not practice it—especially this week—would be a crime.

Aries (March 21–April 19)

Venture to the dirtiest part of your home, that cubby, cabinet, corner, closet, or crawl space where you never go and rarely clean, home to dirt, dust bunnies, and dead bugs. Scrub and scour it, even if it means slithering under the bed with a headlamp and a bucket, or moving stacks of boxes. Not only might you find something you thought was lost forever, but it’ll be beneficial to your mental health. People have places just like this inside their heads. It’s good to occasionally relate that to the real world, where concrete actions can have

psychological repercussions. Getting rid of all that crud can and will help you eliminate some of the internal crap, too. Clean it up, then shower. You’ll feel a million times lighter, happier, and just plain better, guaranteed.

Taurus (April 20–May 20)

Just like any lazy bull, the only person who can move you is you. When necessary, though, you

can move fast. I’ve seen it. And those decisions, sometimes made on a whim, can have life-changing consequences, due to your extreme spiritual inertia—which translates into real-world stick-to-itiveness. I know a Taurean who was too lazy to go out and buy a pack of cigarettes, so he decided to quit. Ten years later, he still hasn’t had a smoke. You can change your life (and others’ lives) even when you’re just phoning it in. What might you accomplish (especially this week) if you actually set your mind to it?

Gemini (May 21–June 20)

I overwrite. When composing anything—e-mail, horoscope, novel—I write too much. Then I have to go back and pare it down, make it more succinct and simple than my original text. I suck at sprucing things up. It’s better for me to go too far and then pull back. My strategy ought to work well for you this week. Take whatever you’re doing—whether it’s writing a love letter, putting up Christmas decorations, or planning a Thanksgiving menu—to the nth degree. Then rewrite the letter, take down half the decorations, and cross out a third of the menu, keeping only the best parts. I guarantee you’ll end up with something better than if you’d stopped at the point you thought was “just right.”

Cancer (June 21–July 22)