HOROSCOPES FOR THE WEEK OF 11/27.
By Laura Tormos
On Saturday, Venus moves from Scorpio into Sagittarius, and you may feel your love shifting, your energy changing course. On Sunday, Mercury goes retrograde. If your feelings lose their focus, rewind, rekindle, they can gain an expansive light. How can your love grow bigger than your body? How can your love grow bigger than the sky?
In the fall, first the trees change, then the sky changes, then your vision opens up. There’s a different kind of light, a different weight in the air, a different way to move through space. You can be good to yourself without giving up your strangeness. You can be good to yourself without giving up your sorrow. There are no dead ends here, there are no ruts. Some days are just easier than others. Some days the air just feels gentler on your skin.
This is a week for following your instincts; it’s a week for following what you know to be true. This sounds simple, but it’s not— instincts can get drowned out in this noisy world, and other voices echo loud, and it is so, so easy just to follow someone else’s beat. Still, you hold an honesty that will always bring you back to yourself. There are risks worth taking, and you’ll know what they are. Enough love will call a road into being. Even when it refuses to be found, there is always a compass pointing north.
If you could really do what you wanted to do, what would that look like? There’s so much more haze in this world than there is clarity. There’s so little solid ground. This isn’t a bad thing, just a challenge and a call. This week, you might have the sense that you’re standing at the top of a mountain, the sky swallowing you in its vastness. Ahead of you, there’s only strangeness, and not knowing it isn’t a bad thing, either: it means there’s possibility for joy.
It can feel hard to know if you’re really making the most of your time, when you can’t see it, and can’t touch it, and can only feel it like a looming urgency pressing on your shoulders. All these days keep bending and swirling and changing. Time doesn’t feel like a ticking clock, or like soft sand in an hourglass, and this is good, too. This means you aren’t stuck. You don’t need to race whatever wild force you’re trying to race. This means there’s still enough time.
If the world feels messy this week, or cold, or cruel, stay close to the people that believe you. Stay close to the people that make you feel understood. This isn’t a week for building a bridge over every wide river. This is a week for tending to your own foundation, for caring for your own wild heart and letting it beat, for now, in safety. There’s enough time and love in the world for you to allow yourself this kindness. There is more than one way to be true to yourself when the world becomes strange.
This week, think about what you’re mourning, what you’re missing, what you need the most. There’s always enough room for the world to change. There are pockets where joy can bubble up unexpectedly. Somewhere, there is tenderness like nothing you’ve yet known. This week, work on clearing space in your life to hold emotion like this. It won’t be easy. Even now you can create your own life; you can set your own fire. If you turn your music loud enough, you can hear it even in your dreams.
This week, the world around you might not make sense. Your life is entirely yours, but there’s still so much that’s not yours to control. This is as it should be. This is where bright surprises come from. The world comes into focus slowly, and the truth reveals itself piece by piece. If you don’t pay attention, you could almost miss the sweetness of a life like this. Watch the morning sun climb quiet and pink above the horizon. Listen to the radio play songs about longing and songs about joy.
The world is made up of so many parts. There are cold places and warm places, safe places and strange places. There are skies and cliffs and colors. There’s so much to see and it keeps ending up weirder, hazier, less settled than you expected. You don’t need to have it all figured out this week. Sometimes trust is as illuminating as doubt. Sometimes a guess is as good as a map. It can be hard to believe that the patterns of your life will become clear so long as you keep looking, but they will. This week, forgive yourself for all you don’t yet know. Allow yourself not to be enough.
This is a week for paying attention to the rhythms around you; it’s a week for paying attention to what your body really needs. Think of all the wild days that have brought you here. Think of all the sunshine and sweetness you’ve stored for the winter. The world is full of forests and plains and cities, and the night is full of mysteries and dreams. Watch the migrating birds across the sky. If you really listen, if you keep your heart open, you can know what to do next.
You might feel distant this week. This isn’t wrong. Some weeks are just for wandering. Some weeks are for seeking clarity that can’t be found this close to home. Remember: you don’t need to stay just for the sake of staying. You don’t need to muffle the beating of your own heart. If you don’t know what to do with all these dreams, just hold them, for now. Eventually they’ll tell you how to move, and teach you to get home again.
You don’t have to care about everything that’s ever happened, and you don’t need to hold onto your dread until it devours you. This is your body, your home, your life. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you it’s not. Sometimes walking away is an act of courage. Sometimes speaking your secrets aloud renders them harmless. Open the windows this week, take a walk. There is love as bright and as vast as the moon. There are so many ways to be free.
There are so many selves you could have grown into instead of this one, but you didn’t. You’re you and you’re this and you’re now. You still carry parts of them, though, because these multitudes are also you. It can be hard, from where you stand inside your own life, to see how much you’re capable of—but there are so many ways to interact with the world. There are so many bright surfaces to see your own life reflected back to you. Some dreams feel like dreams, and some feel solid, like truth: both can help you remember who you are, and who you can be.