Thanks to my friend Dawn for sending this my way.

I'm definitely Taurus this month... Holy crap, Rob Brezsny...


TAURUS (April 20-May 20): According to astronomer Mark Whittle, the
Big Bang began in silence. Soon it crescendoed into a majestic major third
chord 50 octaves below middle A. Then it transformed, over the course
of a million years, into a wistful minor third chord. In my vision of the first
two-thirds of 2010, the music of your life will have a similar pattern: It
begins with silence. Next, it progresses into a lush major feel, with spirited
and complex contrapuntal themes. Then in June, it evolves into a dreamy,
contemplative phase. By late September, however -- unlike the Big Bang --
you will move into a third act, in which the music of your life returns to
the lively mood it had at the start, only now with the gravitas that the
reflective phase has instilled.

I'll tell you where the best place is:

Next to this man:

There is not a day that I don't look forward to crawling into our fabulous bed (my first adult mattress that is not a futon) next to him.
No matter what kind of day I've had, the best place to be is always in my baby's arms.

Stars

by Freya Manfred

What matters most? It's a foolish question because I'm hanging on,
just like you. No, I'm past hanging on. It's after midnight and I'm falling
toward four a.m., the best time for ghosts, terror, and lost hopes.

No one says anything of significance to me. I don't care if the President's
a two year old, and the Vice President's four. I don't care if you're
cashing in your stocks or building homes for the homeless.

I was a caring person. I would make soup and grow you many flowers.
I would enter your world, my hands open to catch your tears,
my lips on your lips in case we both went deaf and blind.

But I don't care about your birthday, or Christmas, or lover's lane,
or even you, not as much as I pretend. Ah, I was about to say,

"I don't care about the stars" -- but I had to stop my pen.
Sometimes, out in the silent black Wisconsin countryside
I glance up and see everything that's not on earth, glowing, pulsing,
each star so close to the next and yet so far away.

Oh, the stars. In lines and curves, with fainter, more mysterious
designs beyond, and again, beyond. The longer I look, the more I see,
and the more I see, the deeper the universe grows.

I have a long way to go, and I'm starting now --
out in the silent black Wisconsin countryside.

"Stars" by Freya Manfred, from Swimming with a Hundred Year Old Snapping Turtle.

This is pretty awesome.