Himalayan times scorpio horoscope

Have you found yourself looking too long in the mirror wondering what beauty is and what it can never be? Someone taught you there is only so much of you someone can take. Someone taught you to measure your love out bit by bit. When you make coffee, you take a small spoonful of sugar and drop it in, then add more. You carry the mug with you from room to room and each room inside you feels absolutely necessary. The love inside you fills the house of you like music. You can open the windows, you know. There are certain kinds of nights that make me think of you and last night was one of them.

A blonde woman unknown to both us threw her arms around the two of us as we entered, proclaiming the party officially on because we had just arrived. S moved through the crowd greeting people she knew while I made a nest on the leather couch, the fireplace to my left and the singers to my right. The blonde woman was up there with them too, sort of swaying, her long thin limbs extended toward every person in the room—especially but not exclusively the men.

I leaned over to S and asked her if she thought the Blonde was practicing an unrestrained and playful kind of power or whether she was falling into a deep drunken well of weakness. Watching her fed a whirring thing inside me, a thing I know you understand. It whispers bad ideas in your ear and makes them sound real good. Sagittarius, you and I both know that chaos is cathartic but it is not a cure. And I know the world is crumbling around us.

I know how that crumbing can make you feel like life is too precious to waste and must be lived apologetically now now now. But, Sagittarius, living unapologetically means losing a lot more than you might be ready to lose so you better figure out what you need right now versus what you want. Because whenever I hear the word angel I think of you, who has a name for every angel, and because I missed you, I went to listen to your poems in a dark and shadowy corner of Bryant Park.

And, I felt the crowd immersed in your all-seeing genius, your hard hoofed exploration of the world. What parts of me shake loose dirt. What parts wait until you are bare. My jejune bluegrass, why do I eat your light. There are grasses growing up the shabby fence. All of them fluid blade. We sway. What parts of me are wild. What parts storing up for the choke. How do I tell the difference. It was on us to create the space we wanted and so we did, my IPhone propped against the glass window of the deli we danced outside of.

It was after am and men walked in and out of that deli, young men and homeless men, most of them brown. And there were those who came to interpret us and there were those who yelled out just what our bodies could do for them out their passenger windows. And then, there were those who stood watching, whose eyes for the first time in a long time felt sentinel and without threat. It could have been that we were on every street corner in America and we were the only sirens that mattered. What we manifested in that moment, with our wiggling girl bodies, was a moment of freedom in a country where freedom felt and feels like the deadliest illusion.

But, illusions can be tools too if illusions are ambitions. It is time for you to be ambitious now. And, if you are dancing tonight, Capricorn, I hope your dancing is an ode to your own power. I hope you know that no matter how impossible the word safety is, no matter how often it falls short, you can bend it to your will and make of it what you must.

Today I share these letters with you after a month of long nights typing and erasing, wondering whether any words will do when the world seems heavy with unbearable cruelty and violence. And, it did help to remember that the world has been violent for a very long time and it has also been beautiful just as long. That despite the atomic bomb, Bikini Atoll now boasts an oceanic paradise.

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Sometimes I wonder, when it gets to be this late in the month, if these letters will do you good, if they would mean much. It is then that I stop wondering and become grateful. I love you, I see you, I think of you often, Galactic Rabbit.

Scorpio September Monthly Astrology Horoscope 2019

If you feel moved to donate toward the writing of the horoscopes, you can leave an offering in turn here. A Scorpio. I like it, being inside the song with them, how it feels free and easy which has not been the case this month for anything else. In a karaoke bar somewhere in my recent past, an Aquarius I knew would always choose this song. On stage, she transformed into a lanky glamor of light riding the song like a perfect wave. Something about this advice stuck with me, widened and stretched its meaning.

I wanted to sing the song that was right for me, yeah, but more than that I wanted to know how to get up in front of a spotlight and give a performance that was entirely free of inhibition and modesty. You learn how to be by being, relentlessly. And how do you choose the song of your life? Imagine your child-heart and your wizened future-self, joining hands down the long path. Me, green sea turtles, coral reefs blown to bits by atomic bombs. This is an article about believing in your ability to heal, even thrive, in the aftermath of great trauma dressed up as an article about environmental journalism.

It maintains that reporting on the dire status of the ocean does not seem to better the ocean one bit. People, it turns out, are motivated by an optimistic tone and a hopeful outcome. When we believe our actions are too small to make a difference, we tend to behave in ways that create the conditions in which those expectations are realized.

Perhaps, something you are learning slowly is that your ability to swim through emotional intensity has granted you the ability to hold emotional space for those around you. Besides, how many thunderstorms can a firebird take before she lies down in the wet ground wincing? Even the act of reaching out, of combatting isolation, is another task on a long list that never seems to get shorter.

Obligations and responsibilities make demands but, Firebird, you were born the fly and make beautiful things. What do you love, in the world, in yourself? Make a commitment to your spirit above all earthly contracts. The gravity of your affection is just tempting enough to ignore your unreasonable demands.

As I surface above the music and search for you, I wonder if you know how loved you are, how celebrated. I wonder if you understand that the moments in life when you have felt ignored or unappreciated, the moments when your heart ran way past the roaming fields and it took days to bring it home, were moments when a community of lovers stood behind you. Lovers and friends and lots of wild animals, all of them guard you, all of them lucky to know you. And did you really have that argument if no one says sorry and no one says I forgive you? And of course those unsaid things that sit so tight against the chest you can barely breathe through them make me think about family and where our negotiations get us.

A Gemini is a double and when there is a double there is a split. Where there is a split there is a wound. When a split self guards both sides of a wound, the wound is both unbothered and untended. When a Gemini is a creature of habit, he makes new wounds and keeps them in a familiar place. The well of wounds grows deeper and widens the space between two guards, who would rather not be so far from each other.

When a Gemini turns inward and tends to the wound, his split selves touch and support one another. You dreamt a house into being. You dreamt light streaming through a window and falling on the pages of a book, the curled back of an animal that was your animal, a room where everything you cherished was protected from rain and time.

You dreamt a life into being and grew into that life, the doorways framing your frame, the kitchen with its endless ritual of making and unmaking. You married an idea and made a vow. You thought you were the house; you forgot how dreams are made. What happened when the house you built no longer fit you? You let the boards sigh while you paced the floor and packed your life. You were neat and then you were messy. You lay on the ground until the difference between you and the ground was very clear. Then you got up and did what you had to do. You are powerful enough to have many dreams, many lives.

The foundation is in you and you build each dream on top of it. You construct a nest of pillows and shift the duvet to make a smooth plane for your limbs. You cover your eyes and are in total darkness. The hypnosis tape assures you that all hypnosis is self-hypnosis. Rediscover our ability to forgive those old hurts says the man on tape who speaks deliberate and slow. Your mind is a span of clouds teased out into skinny threads. Your mind is a mood opening.

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Listen to your own voice, whispers the hand in the clouds, be guided by your own heart. And even though it is hard to hear the whispers, you listen. Some of us spend all our emotional energy figuring out the intricacies of giving ourselves up. We know trust comes in waves: I trust you in confidence, I trust you intimately, I trust you to witness my weakness and still see me as strong. I care. Tell me again, simpler. And it is good to believe we can be honest with one another.

What is seen, acknowledged and what is left to sink heavy to the bottom? If you are not getting what you want from those closest to you, consider this: people learn how to treat you by example, how you treat them and how you let yourself be treated. And this a tenet of trust as well, asking the ones you love to do better, giving them the chance to live up to your image of them—which is an image held together with rare sweetness and good faith.

And, because I trust you to understand me, I offer you these words in hopes that you hear them in your own heart: I trust that you mean to be kind to me, I will be generous when you fail to do so, I will support you by maintaining my boundaries, I will tend to my fire with patience so that it warms us both and burns no one. Every word I say has chains round its ankles; every thought I think is weighted with heavy weights.

Or I succeed in flashes only too damned well. Jean Rhys wrote about the weight of intellectual loneliness but it did not dispel her loneliness, her enduring bewilderment. In the wilds of mental production, nothing we make for the approval of others will ever be good enough to nurture us.

And what is a heart? A muscle that grows weak with age and heavy with time or something unknown to us—scientists and speculators—the way spirit is unknown and felt especially in absence. Tea tree oil cleanses and cedar invites sweet spirits to the table. A few weeks ago, for your birthday, I entered into a many-gendered coven of creators.

Over honey cake and gluten-free fried chicken, I watched you weave between each person at the table, touching them lightly with your eyes, praising them with big laughs. I realized that it had been a very long time since I had been amongst close strangers who, collectively, were open and welcoming to an outsider and I knew it was you who drew this circle with its shifting circumference. I know what I meant and I meant what I said You can think what you want but the truth is, at the end, you read me wrong.

With such a gift for friendship, it can be hard to reckon with misunderstanding. The power you have to communicate with love and acceptance is not to be taken lightly or taken for granted. You are perceptive, discerning, and generous all in good measure. When communication breaks down, it is important to step to the side of the words themselves lest they distract you.

Words, after all, often get in the way of meanings. Ask yourself, instead, what you hope to achieve in the exchange you are in and what actions will communicate that most clearly. Focus on the word exchange. And even though we could have been in conversation this whole time, had the means to be anyway, we act as if in seeing each other we experience a lost pleasure. I am a lamp in the night too, and flickering. What I like is how neither of us has the answers. All of a sudden I want to tell you how love is just like clouds, how it takes shape over us and changes and changes and darkens and releases and recedes.

In my shady bedroom, everything that should be on the walls is resting on the floor, waiting. I lugged the can of light for miles from Home Depot, the handle digging into my grip and the hot sun beating down. Exhausted from what some might call a small physical task and glad to be home, I had to admit it felt good to choose something and make it happen. After my arduous afternoon, I left for a movie with some of closest friends. It was a movie about women who, in different ways, were invested in their own depletion. We watched a lawyer endure a male client who imposed himself into her car and wept.

Things only got worse. And why would we want to give up the little things we know, when we know so little? Sometimes, the most daunting aspect of change is thinking about it. The one book I kept coming back to, on the chance that I might have read too quickly and missed something, was Brownies by ZZ Packer.

I read Brownies for a week, sitting with each story, changing locations and times of day. What stuck with me to this day was the striking final paragraphs where the narrator, a young black girl, began to reckon with systemic racism: the trauma she was to inherit and her relationship to that trauma, her role in it. When I think about the books that have taught me what identity is and how it shapes us, how it splinters us into painful irreconcilable bits, I realize that the writers have often been Capricorns Woman Hollering Creek and Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros come to mind here.

But, know this, somewhere along the path toward reconciliation and dare I say it justice, there are women who are waiting for you to walk with them and clear the way for others. Today I bring you these letters, a small harvest I collected under the light of your stars. How your Lisa Frank folders and trapper keeper, particular mechanical pencils and three-colored pens, would raise your cool factor and make new friends a breeze. My friend reminded me that in addition to the excitement, there was terror and isolation, fear of being found out for whoever we were then, and inevitably who we wound up being now.

If you would like to contribute to the writing of these horoscopes, you can donate at my PayPal. I remember the state of your guitar particularly. Like, Karen Carpenter wholesome. And I loved her bright clear voice like I loved your guitar, earnestly swinging behind you. When I saw you last, you were living in a house that might as well have had a white picket fence. You were in love, teaching music, you took me to a small town gay bar and I saw the best drag show of my life. The kind of letter you write to keep a memory intact then tuck into the corner of a musty cabinet.

But, if you are reading this, I want you to know that I remember you powerful. In my mind you are never lost, never unclear of the path you must choose toward feeling strong and free. It was something that embarrassed me but I had excuses: my father was disabled and unable to teach me in that running-behind hands-on way, my brother never offered to, my friends would always stop being my friends etc etc.

It took me a long time to commit to learning, to decide I deserved that particular kind of freedom. The first person who helped me help myself was a dear Pisces friend.

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For a couple of hours on a cool summer day she ran beside me as I tentatively pedaled her bike back and forth along Flatbush Ave. Later that year, I found a Kelly green Schwinn abandoned in an old shed behind a college house I was living in. I cleared it of cobwebs and claimed it. This is a letter about the moment when, riding around town with a girl I had been seeing on and off, I glanced behind me and in her face saw a happiness I dared to hold between my two open hands.

About trusting yourself to brake when you need to, to take turns well and with grace. The freedom this new venture offers you, you deserve it and you know what to do with it. Wear a helmet, get on and ride. When a small animal is put in our hands, we are given delicate instructions. We accommodate its wriggling squirm and scramble, shifting our arms this way and that. Fragility is the obvious thing, the small bones and thin skin mewling.

We know a woman can love a suckling pig and bring that pig to slaughter. That is a tenderness too, no matter its conclusion. Where does such tenderness come from? Asks Marina Tsvetsaeva of Mandelstam and his eyelashes although his love for her was hardly tender, often cruel and dismissive. Sometimes, I have encountered women who moved me toward tenderness as if by compulsion—a dull ache in my hand to tuck her loose hair back behind her ear, to smooth the tension from her neck with a light stroke. More rare were the times I felt tender toward myself, stroked myself from collarbone to pelvis like a long worry stone.

Each day you abandon yourself is a day you become less soft and less able to love others. We were there the moment Miriam opened for breakfast, a young woman propping the door with one hand and gesturing us in with the other. What is life and how do we think our way through it? You scanned the menu and I knew what both of us wanted. Well, how does it feel to have returned? So many of your responsibilities, roles you anticipated and waited years for. We are not that kind. We were made to re-imagine to world, the clear a path through it as a hoofed land animal might—moving persistent through tall obscuring grass.

We were bathing in the dim light of morning and warmth of endless coffee re-fills. I said I feel too aware of the world—too aware of the intentions of others—what they mean versus what they say. You said I have always been this way, all my life. And, I knew that was where your strength came from, your ability to push through and onward toward a wide and more ample landscape. I have a funny feeling about moons. And, there I was, naked in a Hampton Bay waiting for bioluminescent transcendence, thwarted by the greedy light of the big full moon.

I thought about how lucky I was to be swimming with my love, my friends and strangers, queers of various ages and races—free under the hooded eye of night. Maybe life is all about chance, a double-sided coin that falls how it may—despite everything we learned about odds and probability. Yes or no, go or stay, this way or that. Whichever power governs our lives, we stand square in the midst of these forces and we are culpable in their outcomes. We are the ones tossing the coin, looking toward the sky for answers and choosing whether or not to listen.

If you are walking through a dark path, let your eyes adjust to the dark. Be patient with yourself and the moon, it will light your way softly for a long time. CANCER A while ago I read an article that encouraged those of us going through heartbreak to lie down on the ground and feel it all, submit to Kali, Hindu goddess of chaos.

Write it down, Cancer, a page of what you mean to surrender. How the man with the gold flag welcomed us into a ramshackle alley and two foreigners looked us over as if we were the experiment? We could have never known, hours before, that we would be perched on stacked pallets getting the veins in our feet traced by their paintbrushes. How quietly we folded into the demands of that universe, how easily we played along—teaching the foreigners a hand clapping game we both knew from childhood. The folds in our lives are sometimes slight and sometimes so sharp they change the shape of the page entirely.

You might be surprised to find that you never needed it the way it was. Your book. You laugh and seem to understand perfectly, tufts of my hair fall on your chest and make you wooly. Hair is an intimacy, I think, my mother saved my long Russian braid from when I was a child. I would open up her chest looking for costume jewelry or handkerchiefs and come upon my own hair, a golden color it will never be again.

When I think about what the stars say I think compromise, suppression, a lasting wound that shapes you. How does one parse themselves from themselves, a bruise on the heart from all other bruises? Yes, we talked about the falsity of tender things and, yes, we know some bruises fade.

But what do the living owe the dead? What do you owe the ghosts of relationships past, the girl you thought you were and the women you discovered you are? On the news all morning the North Dakota Pipeline protestors representing tribes near and far, on horseback and on foot, children and elders chanting go away go away pushing attack dogs back with their big voices. What comes to mind is the summer we drove through the Dakotas.

The fields now flat now undulating, the sky true blue and so wide I felt like we could drive right off the earth. Wheels of golden hay punctuated the landscape and we saw a horse faint from heat. You told me how you dreamed of coming back here, to help kids who might or might not be your relations—teaching them animation skills so they might tell their stories. Today the protestors are out there again. People on horses and one man is wearing a Russian scarf around his neck for protection against mace. I imagine I am that scarf, glittering, sentinel.

I imagine you there too, your strong legs braced, your shoulders squared against menacing oncomers. Then, I imagine you wherever you are in this world, watching this same video, wondering what you can do from where you are. Just make sure the help you give is an offering in response to a need, a need wider than your own. That was probably how I found you, with your long black hair layered in thick wisps, your always perfect pearlescent nails, the waist band of your Adidas running pants flush against your narrow hips.

New York is a small town, all of it. That butterfly is always open to the world, she is young-hearted and easy to love. A poet I admire, a Scorpio skilled at seeing, recently complained that in her Myers-Briggs profile, she had morphed from J to P, judging to perceiving.

She asserted that the P made her vulnerable in her empathy. When a Scorpio is young in their spirit, they are said to be scorpions—stingers—moved by instinct. The truth of the scorpion is a truth that pours from fear means to wound others. When a Scorpio begins to walk their path with mindfulness, they are said to be eagles. They are interested in self-awareness and precision. These are the Scorpios that hold their truth for a long time before burning one large and final bridge. The third Scorpio is said to be a phoenix. This is Scorpio that lays its judgment down in favor of perception.

It does not mean to tell you how you are; rather, it means to see you for who you are. This is the Scorpio that knows how care for someone by caring for their damn self, how to love someone even as they let them go. Scorpio, because fall is coming and that is kind of walking towards death—not mortal but seasonal, spiritual—I want you to think about the kind of Scorpio you are.

What has your commitment to judgments about yourself, about your life, even your workspace held you back from? Maybe freedom begins by learning to see the many complicated truths you are capable of. The bed I sleep in has ropes for slats. My friend informs me that these ropes have never been replaced and I go to sleep thinking about how long a good rope can last.

I did not come to test ropes or stroke Sycamores, I came because of a donkey named Romeo. At the pasture where Romeo grazes, I behold a Bay horse. What I want is to be close. Neither animal is afraid but the more we touch them the more they seem to recognize us. The horse knows our nature now, he nudges my friend to fetch him grass, he wants to be stroked along his back.

The horse makes me think of you, how there are times when you appear reserved by nature. Or, how you reserve yourself, afraid to give away your softness lest it makes you soft indefinitely—vulnerable and bad at lying. Like the horse, you project a kind of wall but lean softly towards a hand with sweet offerings.

Imagine what life would be like, Sagittarius, if for a while you trusted the universe to protect you and you let your reserve down. What if, for while, it was you who made the offerings? Someone begins to wonder about power and fear, how each relates and where they diverge. Who am I without you? Asks each from the other. A Hegelian puzzle: who is powerful without having power over? Who is weak? There is book of the collected writings and statements of Louise Bourgeois lying on the table and so I pick it up and let it fall where it may.

A statement she made about spirals strikes me and I read out loud:. The spiral is an attempt at controlling the chaos. It has two directions. Where do you place yourself, at the periphery or at the vortex? Beginning at the outside is the fear of losing control; the winding in is a tightening, a retreating, a compacting to the point of disappearance. Beginning at the centre is affirmation, the move outward is a representation of giving, and giving up control: of trust, positive energy, of life itself. Although these words attend to power, they are not interested in what power does to us.

Rather, they want to know how you place yourself in relation to control, seeking or surrendering. I want to know how you place yourself at all, Capricorn, in this moment, which is a spiral like any other.

Anyway, I love you. The Moon loves you. Guard your secrets and polish your ambitions. Today is July 19 th and there is a full moon in Capricorn. My father was already disabled when we came to America. He had a vulnerable heart and spent most of his time being my caregiver, organizing the apartment, and hiding needful things in useful places where we never found them again. He spent a lot of time alone in this country and when he died, his death was just like his life here—neglected by doctors, numerical, shrouded in a language he never understood.

When I think about my place in this country, as a refugee turned citizen, as a Jew fleeing violence and a girl too gay to ever go back, I wonder what it feels like to belong anywhere and at what cost? Citizenship is dissociation, the art of forgetting: to belong in America is to forget America. What wars has this country waged for its citizens and against them? We fill our tanks, we pay our taxes.

Who walks blithely over the graves black and brown bodies make—men and women both, named and unnamed? This toxic whiteness—which is not new but is also not inevitable—is a pollution we accept, build houses on, grow food in, swim. It is a thriving not in spite of death but because of it.

That, too, is a mythology our money has made real. I spend my days unraveling, following a thread of violence and suppression that only has to whisper its presence in order to expel power over me and who I believe I am meant to be in this world. And what about you, reader? What have you agreed to so that you might feel this free?

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You can support the writing of these astro-loveletters at my paypal site OR. In New York City, we organize local grassroots campaigns to fight police harassment and violence and increased access to safe public space for LGBTQ youth. I needed an ideology that would define his behavior in context.

The black movement had given me an ideology that helped explain his colorism he did fall in love with my mother partly because she was so light; he never denied it. Feminism helped explain his sexism. I was relieved to know his sexist behavior was not something uniquely his own, but rather an imitation of the behavior of the society around us.

All partisan movements add to the fullness of our understanding of society as a whole. They never detract; or, in any case, one must not allow them to do so. Experience adds to experience. Our books only teach us so much. And countries too, with their invented histories, their every-day pleasures and heaps of garbage, what can they tell you about your purpose in this world? Your reflection glimmers beautiful in shop windows and is gone. I want to believe, given all this war and death and violent denial, that this summer has been easy for no one.

Still, time presses down on us with her thumb and demands work, demands we eat, demands we smile when someone takes a picture of us standing under a waterfall. And you must go to the waterfall, Aquarius, no matter how broken the world. You must go to the waterfall and watch the cataract beat down on the rocks at its foot, watch the water shape them.

In what other types of suffering is beauty born? And when is beauty a seed? And when is beauty a burden? You run the hot water over the dishes in the sink, of which there are many. They are evidence of a beautiful morning, a morning making food for a lover or a friend or your kid—who is coloring now in the other room and really only sometimes on the table instead of the paper—which is to say, evidence of your life. There is soap too, in this water, breaking down grease from butter and meat and from meals before this meal.

Small tasks adding up to a daily life, which is not removed, which has today to worry about and tend to. You tend to it. You pluck each dish from the hot basin and think about gloves, about needing some. You can do this. You can clean each separate thing, sometimes gently and sometimes with your elbow deep in it. This work is an offering, a gratitude, a time to think about the rest of the day and the many meals that follow this one. Not all of them will be beautiful but each one will be a choice you have made in response to some kind of hunger.

Once, life was a different room everyday. You walked in and walked out, you were always changing but nothing felt changed. These days, you walk into the same room and it is the room of yourself. In this room, you let the right ones in and you know you are strong to care and be cared for, both.

In this room, you do the work, you get dirty and you come clean. For the past few weeks your generosity has drained you. In order to care for those who depend on you, you split your world into two: creator and nurturer. Aries, you maker of new possibilities, rest up and let your collective visions return to you. Imagine a life where the nurturer in you has boundaries that rise up out of love and never out of fear, where the creator in you makes art that is a reason to live in this world. In another world we are walking shoulder to shoulder through an exhibit called Twice Militant.

We want to honor her brilliance of course, to scan her ingenious arguments for the liberation of women, black and gay in particular, her commitment to being exceptional and her suffering from it. Her suffering feels very present in the room the way genius can change the air when it is made visible. What holds onto us, what always holds, are the secret things. The lists she wrote privately, her likes and dislikes, her contradictions and her clear river of want:.

I regret That love is really as elusive as everybody over 30 knows it to be …. The shallowness of the people who have come into and lately been expelled from my life. I like 69 when it really works The first scotch The fact that I almost never want the third or even the second when I am alone. Praise fate! I am proud that I am losing some of those fears that I struggle to work hard against many, many things and on my own of my people.

I should like … to be utterly, utterly in love to work and finish something. Mercury trines Saturn on 16th and Pluto on 18th. Mercury squares Neptune on 30th. They never fall to the depth; they never rise to any heights. Their life is a dull affair, a drab thing, monotonous — with no peaks, no valleys, no nights, no days.

They just live in a grey world, without colours… Never ask that life should be without risk, and never ask for security, because that is asking for death. Live dangerously — because that is the only way to live. Moon in Libra 14thth. Major aspects for Libra : Venus squares Saturn on 7th and Pluto on 8th. Venus trines Jupiter on 8th and conjuncts Uranus on 18th.

Once the mind knows that the decision is ultimate, final, suddenly you will find that the thinking and the fantasies disappear. Then there may be millions of people but there is no man except your lover; there is no woman except your beloved… Then love takes a deep jump into being… Every day more and more and higher and higher peaks will be available, but they are available only to those to whom love is a commitment.

Relevant Planetary Positions : Pluto retrograde in Capricorn. Moon in Scorpio 16thth May. Full Moon in Scorpio on 18th. Moon in Scorpio conjuncts Pluto on 23rd. But have you observed — no creation is possible without destruction; no destruction is meaningful unless it is for creation. So now you can destroy if you are going to create, then there is no problem… Destruction is absorbed by the creation; then it is beautiful, then it is part of the creative process… When destruction claims that it is the whole then it is the devil; when destruction is part of a greater whole, creation, then it is divine.

Relevant Planetary Positions : Jupiter retrograde in Sagittarius. Moon in Sagittarius 19thst. Major Aspects for Sagittarius : Mars opposes Jupiter on 5th. Moon in Sagittarius conjuncts Jupiter on 20th. You simply allow your total being to go into it. Moon in Capricorn 21strd May. Moon in Capricorn conjuncts Saturn on 22nd. An ambitious mind cannot love. It is impossible, because he has first to fulfil his ambitions.

He has to sacrifice everything for it. He will go on sacrificing his love… Love is a phenomenon of here and now. Love exists only in the present, ambition exists in the future: love and ambition never meet… Love is a forgetfulness of the past and the future and a remembrance of this moment, this throbbing moment, this alive moment. Moon conjuncts Uranus on 24th. It is like a blind man thinking about light. He can go on thinking for eternity — just by thinking about and about he is not going to find light.

Nonetheless, a structured holiday will be their first preference rather than going for an unexpected weekend escape. The Scorpios are one of the most passionate and philosophical travellers and loves to stick to a diverse landscape. Travelling with a Scorpio, you may at times have to be intense and overcome challenges. They can withstand any climatic conditions.

In reality they are the most talkative people you will come across but when they are travelling they seek for peace. The Sagittarians are inborn travellers and love both adventure and leisure holidays.

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As a traveller you will enjoy their company as the traveller in a Sagittarius will drive you to some unexplored places like the remote Zanskar region, Kutch in Gujarat and far North East India. They also love to explore new culture and try to learn when travelling. They are free birds and hence taking such burdens is not their cup of tea. As I said that they look for peace while travelling and hence tries to escape the crowd. When you are travelling with a Capri then make sure that you are having some good time.

Well, the Capris love to be accompanied by hi-fi people… not just they need a company. As they love things to happen in an organized way, they will prefer people who are organized and knowledgeable. Similarly, they love to travel those places where things are easily available. So if you ask a Capri to spend a couple of days in the remote Zanskar region with only a few packets of Maggie and bread for meals… then things may not match with you. In other terms, like any typical traveller, the Capris like unexpected things and outdoor activities.

A Spa and Ayurvedic holiday in Kerala is what motivates an Aquarian. Although their interest varies a lot when it comes to travel, they mostly seek for a leisure holiday in the midst of a vast ecosphere. So a backwater cruise in Allepppey may strike them the most rather than houseboats in Srinagar. They are the real stargazers and you will often notice that they will start to correlate the real world with the scene they saw once in a motion picture. Being progressive by nature… the Aqua often fights against injustice. So traveling to places like Nigeria and Middle East countries are always on the menu.

In other terms, a traveller in an Aqua is always a planner but at the same time they are dependent on their travel companion. They are hardly solo travellers. They love to remain simple as by their nature. The Pisces are the kindest travellers you will come across and often you will find them helping out others. So on their way, even if they are travelling somewhere and notice a sick animal, they will try their best to aid them. Well… the Pisces travellers do not have any specific choice of destination.

They love both adventure and leisure but will often look for peace where ever they go. For adventure they will stick to easy treks in the Garhwal Himalaya … hence the valley of flowers trek is in their adventure activities menu. If you are accompanied by a Pisces then make sure that you are able to adjust to their imaginative world and emotional nature. They are romantics and love to spend time in the midst of diversified nature. So a budget holiday in Spain is perfect for them. Hence from their travel diary you can pick some foreign locations like Ireland and British Columbian Coast. So… what do you think?

Who is your right travel partner? Brought up from the cultural capital of India, Kolkata, Swairik Das is a passionate traveller who seeks to travel and explore the length and breadth of the country. He is also a dedicated travel writer, blogger and photographer who by heart is also an adventure freak. His focus is mostly into exploring and writing on trekking, jungle safaris and several adventure activities; religion, festival, heritage, people and cuisine. Recommended Tours. Aries March 21 — April 19 Endowed with the ability to overcome all obstacles that comes their way, the Aries are the most active travellers.

Gemini May 21 — June 20 The Gemini is gregarious in nature and so likes to travel with their friends and family. Cancer June 21 — July 22 The lady here is a mermaid and man here is a sailor.