Find out what the stars have in store for you.

It is the new year per the Gregorian calendar, and the solar system is celebrating. About once a year, all planets move direct in orbit. This is happening now until February 6th. Many may be feeling clear-eyed as 2017 kicks off, but there are different ways forward. Some may make a fuss (like vigilant Virgo), some compress and tighten like a bullet (is that you, Capricorn?), and others balloon their presence into otherwise compartmentalized life arenas (hello, Pisces). In this headlong throttle, the moon is like a lighthouse. Camouflaged into the day or cutting into the night, its constant and ebbing presence guides us like an omniscient, blinking eye.

January 27th’s new moon is like a telescope poised to be reset. As it clicks into focus, more and more tiny creeks appear in our lives, carving a lifeway shaping itself in steps. Vladimir Nabokov described the “fire of his loins” in steps: Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. As a boy, he slept with his door ajar to a slit — to catch the morning’s light or his parents’ secret conversations. This is what is happening now. Our conscious parts are consulting with our subconscious parts and we may feel compelled to eavesdrop like children, left only with snippets that leaven and color our crawling forward.

January’s horoscopes speak to a perceptive rewiring…with enough pop culture references to fill weeks of #TBT posts. Check out your sun sign to see what’s in store.


There was a meme going around last year poking fun at the Baroqueish, oil-pastel-looking eyebrows gracing the many young faces of Instagram. But you, Aries, don’t really care if those eyebrows you see are Picasso’s or da Vinci’s. You care about the answers found in those tiny hairs and brushstrokes when you step up close. And your face is pressed up to January’s glass window. Your eyelashes are leaving smudges on your smartphone screen. Or you’re just using the zoom feature a lot. You see, Da Vinci and Picasso’s talents ran so deep that while both could recreate each other’s work to an eerie perfection, they chose styles that best fit their identities and gained them fame. This is what you are doing now, Aries. You are unapologetically honing your style while giving others’ artistry the wild acceptance it deserves. Is that so blasphemous? Even if it is, who cares, fame is fame.

Your affirmation: I am unafraid to hold, expand, and examine my space.


The Notorious B.I.G. rapped this to his crush: I know you see me on the video/I know you heard me on the radio/But you still don’t pay me no attention/Listenin’ to what your girlfriends mention. Like Biggie, you are the zodiac’s unexpected poet. You purpose words to show the latticed power inside you, scoring you abilities to tap into others’ consciousness. It’s with this warm persistence that your power animal exhausts literature: in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, a bull in a ring glides and trots with the matador in a sensual exchange. This is how your January looks, Taurus: a rumbling perception churning like magma, ready to pierce the earth. Any actions you take will be wrought with class and majesty. You’ve never made sweat look so scrumptious. There is a brightness coursing through your veins.

Your affirmation: I trust my gut perceptions. I trust what I am unable to rationalize.


Lo-lee-ta. Remember Nabokov’s three steps? You are the third step of the zodiac, Gemini, that last open prong on a triangle chime before it releases its vibrations. Each astrological placement symbolizes a life phase. While Aries is the swaddled newborn and Taurus the baby in the cradle, you are the gracious and curious child. You are gifted with discernment. There’s an ease with which you can swiftly pick a needle out of a haystack. When someone drops their keys in the dark, it’s you who catches that glint of steel and brings your find to attention.

You can use this power to soothe your more scattered friends this month, like Pisces and Leo, who will talk so circularly that only you will be able to intuit the comfort they may need. You’re that third step, Gemini, releasing one footstep, then the other, before both legs face the wild, open air. Then, the rest is up to the universe. But you knew that already.

Your affirmation: When moments scatter like pieces in a puzzle box, I am energized and grounded.


Hi, luna love. Moon-faced baby babe. OK, I’ve dated some Cancers. And I’m sporting a Cheshire grin as I remember that luna is the root of lunatic. I’m not bitter, I swear. Anyway, if this month was a chapter in your psychosocial development, Erik Erikson would classify it as Industry vs. Inferiority. Professionally, 2016 was rapturous and you’re proud of your accomplishments. But I see a slowing down, sweet Cancer. Don’t doubt your abilities while you baby yourself and re-evaluate. I just want to be happy. I know that’s what you’re thinking. At least, that’s what my last partner said to me around the same time last year, lamenting a prestigious yet unfulfilling job. You know how you like to watch puppies in the park chase their tails? They’re not the only ones moving in circles — their faces sliced by wide, lunatic smiles. It’s a perfect time to peek at your wrinkled reflection in the water bowl post tail-chase, swabbing your tongue in those sweet splashes.

Your affirmation: My sensitivity leads me toward deeper self-love and forgiveness.


You love yourself more than any lover could, and you love that about yourself. Love lovin’ love cause I love what I do. That’s what Q-Tip said. You laid that love on so thick on all those 2016 lovers of yours that you feel a little haggard come 2017. You may be feeling depleted. So ask yourself what fills you now. How does your external world feed you? Is it the Sydney Opera House that mirrors your soul’s architecture? Maybe the way the conical tips shear the sky is a testament to your intellect. Maybe you wear your prickly scarf instead of the chiffon one, because you want to be reminded of your skin’s tingle in even the most mundane of interactions. Your world is to be taken in teaspoons right now, tablespoons if you were born between August 13–22 (of the more intense decanates). You’ll lick the spoons with lip smack; always a sensual one, you.

Your affirmation: My body continues to smile when no one’s looking.


What are you up to, undercover mystic? Hoarding tins full of teas and unclipping your loose-leafed Rumi collection, just about to settle into your armchair? Hm, just about — there is an agitation that stirs you. Not to worry, it’s residual from last year. The world’s wars awakened you to the ones inside you. After this month’s new moon, you will stop fighting, Virgo. Do you know a black hole holds our galaxy together? Do you know in Persian tradition, leftover coffee grounds are interpreted like inkblots? There is a creative knowing in those black balms, like the one you will find in the invisible new moon. This knowing will lead you to action — you may take a meditation or yoga course. As the month rolls on, the abating stir in your core will create a nourishing upwelling in the pathways connecting your brain to your heart to your gut. It will be wonderful for your health and immunity.

Your affirmation: I see my wisdom reflected in everything I acquire and everyone I run into.


Only your horoscope could be written like a love letter. Who’d you leave behind in 2016 as you lithely traversed forward, Libra? I think they miss you. It’s so hard for your friends and lovers to shake you off. You know this. But can you give them a moment without ghosting, dear avoidant dear? So speculative and hesitant you can be. You lose your admirers that way. You’ve got the shiniest eyes and longest lashes, enshrouding bleary irises like stone buttresses. Who’s the bell ringer calling to behind the rods and cones of your eyes? Out of any other sign, I am most recommending new year’s resolutions for you. Resolutions help ground you in intention, maybe set a goal that might lead you back to the ones who live in your heart. This month, just consider it. Around March, you’ll be moved toward your lover again.

Your affirmation: I have a springboard in my stomach that launches me at my purpose.


On a hot summer day, I watched a wasp molt and escape its skin in my driveway. I heard all the clicks and gooeyness as it struggled out. I was disgusted and amazed. I knew I had seen something major. This is often how people feel about you, Scorpio. The best thing about you, though, is that you don’t give a damn. There is no one who owns their intensity like you do. A year after the molting incident, in that same spot, I saw a dead bird with its gutted tendrils neatly laying outside of its body. I don’t think it’s a coincidence I saw so many deaths and rebirths there, a homecoming before I even got to my entry door. That is a metaphor for your life right now, Scorpio. You have seen and felt so much, and you are unstoppable because of it. You know this about yourself. This self-assuredness will follow you well into the year.

Your affirmation: I get closer to my spiritual mastery by studying the classic laws of my life.


Mercury is going direct by first entering your part of the sky, Sagittarius. This opens lines for communication and things finally going your way after a rough patch. And like an archer sprung on her heels as she keels her bow, you are focused and prosperous. What is it about an archer that makes her free and restrained at the same time? She is like a fox. Lithe and amber tailed. As 311 said, amber is the color of your energy, Sagittarius. The guy who sang that song dated Nicole Scherzinger in the 90s. I wonder how many of 311’s songs were for her. I want to think their love left a legacy. Mercury going direct in your sign is the start of an unexpected legacy that may pull in an obscure fandom at first, later becoming a novel part of your history once your fame blasts off.

Your affirmation: I walk with ease, even when I may find myself as a fox among wolves.


Happy Birthday, January Capricorns. In January, people set new goals, ruminate on the past, and make a way forward — all actions ruled by Capricorn. Forget an arrow’s rod or a ship’s bow. You are the vector the arrow follows. You are the magnet that makes a compass spin. You are the steady course. Even in the blackest of nights, there has been a way. You have already gone through those tribulations, Capricorn. And you’ve noticed who’s strengthened or weakened your force field, who’s shown up and disappeared in the brightest and darkest of times. Every year, you take social inventory. And your gut has never been more right about who gets to stay in your life and who needs to go. As a visionary who completes any goal you set your mind to, you are not immune to an evil eye or two. Allow your instincts to lead you as you cherry pick who gets a visit to your penthouse in the clouds.

Your affirmation: My accomplishments festoon highways like bastions, where drivers chase the sun on their evening commutes.


On January 20th, the sun enters Aquarius. We all enter that space you inhabit, the one of the observer and the participateur. You’re that texter who sends emojis and periodic “hahaha’s” in group texts, happy to be there, happy to be alive, and letting chronic caps lock usage glide past you as you engage in something else — a novella, a sexcapade, or potion-making in empty shampoo bottles. No one will see you attached to your phone, waiting. There are so many who desire that kind of detachment, Aquarius. You may not realize it, but there is something about your quiet aloofness that is calming to those around you. And while you still function so intensely on the inside, don’t lose sight of how much your presence is required in this world right now. While a Leo presence is like a flashlight, an Aquarian presence is like a pool of candlelight on a Ouija board. Because of course it’s a Ouija board. An Aquarius has no business in Monopoly.

Your affirmation: I use my grace as a balm for my strengthening solar plexus, ripping like new muscles, then resting smooth.


Listen, I know you want to make love to all your thousand crushes, all at once, and then be fanned and fed grapes after. That’s what Venus and Mars gallivanting in Pisces feels like. Whew, it’s hot. It’s embodied. It’s power. Your love knows no boundaries but you still must learn them. That’s the lesson in impulsivity. All humans possess dormant or active psychoses. For any Piscean past infancy, chances are their psychoses have likely been shown to the world at least a thousand times already. It’s these bewitching spells that pull everything and everyone around you in like magnets. After all, the ocean rules you, and it’s everywhere. In people’s bodies, even — we are mostly water. But the ocean can bubble, it can convoy, it can be killer or it can be calm. This month, I would advise you to remain conscious of your impulses because so much of you is water, and that chemical makeup inside of you will drive your health and interactions.

Your affirmation: I do not shame myself when my inner pendulum swings towards darkness. I celebrate it.