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21 March 2007 @ 01:35 pm
 
This week, Brezsny tells the Gemini:

This would be a good week to take a class at clown school, give out free ice cream to the underprivileged, or sing show tunes to a captive audience at a retirement home. In fact, the cosmos will be very favorably disposed toward you if you do anything to increase the pleasure you bring people. Here are some other ways you might proceed: Listen raptly to allies who've lost their way; think deeply about what a loved one needs most; deliver sincere praise to people you've never praised before; say a rowdy prayer for an acquaintance who could use a jolt of inspiration; or do a good deed anonymously, ensuring that the recipient of your blessing doesn't know who gave it.

Hm. I'll think on this.

And he tells Leo (that's my moon sign):

The water you drink is three billion years old, give or take five million years. The stuff your body is made of is at least ten billion years old, probably older, and has been as far away as 100,000 light years from where it is right now. The air you breathe has, in the course of its travels, been literally everywhere on the planet, and has slipped in and out of the lungs of almost every human being who has ever lived. There's much more evidence I could offer to prove to you that you're an infinite and eternal creature, Leo, but suffice it to say that you're much greater and older and bigger and wilder and freer than you have ever imagined. The experiences you'll soon have will give you a deeply felt sense of how true that is.

A powerful sentiment, and one I like a lot. Leo's sacred advertisement is perhaps more ominous when combined with this:

Have you ever played the game of "Tell me the story of your scars?" It's best to do it with a skilled empath who is curious about your fate's riddles and skilled at helping you find redemption in your wounds.

"How'd you get that blotch on your knee?" he or she might begin, and you describe the time in childhood when you fell on the sidewalk. Then maybe he or she would say, "Why do you always look so sad when you hear that song?" And you narrate the tale of how it was playing when an old lover broke your heart. The questions and answers continue until you unveil the history of your hurts, both physical and psychic. Treat yourself to this game soon.
 
 
 
taoflaherty on March 21st, 2007 10:56 pm (UTC)
In general, the cosmos is always more favorably disposed to you if you do anything to increase the pleasure you bring people. Why?
The thing for Leo may be the prettiest way I've ever heard it expressed that everything is connected to everything else.
I used to be a big fan of "Tell me the story of your scars?" but for some reason I never found it to ever lead anywhere good.
Noahangelbob on March 21st, 2007 11:45 pm (UTC)
In general, the cosmos is always more favorably disposed to you if you do anything to increase the pleasure you bring people. Why?

People are more favorably disposed to you if you do so, and that tends to put you in a better mood. I'm not sure if there's more to it than that or not.

The "tell me the story of your scars" game is better if played with people who, though scarred, are mostly whole. Played with people who are too broken, you lose some of the intended rapport, and you stir a lot more bitterness.
(Deleted comment)
Noahangelbob on March 22nd, 2007 07:08 pm (UTC)
Is there a middle ground of people, where the traumas are at least interesting but the tellers aren't crazy enough to beat you up afterwards?

I think so. Tom has his chihuahua scar and I have my chicken scar and mini-golfing scar. Neither of us do any beating people up.