Man, seeing a headline like “How will 2026 be for Virgo?” just, you know, makes you stop and think. It really takes me back. Not to 2026, obviously, we ain’t there yet, but to a time, not too long ago, when that exact kind of question would have sent me down a rabbit hole. A deep, dark, astrology-filled rabbit hole. My “practice record” back then was basically me living by the stars, or at least, trying my absolute best to.
I remember this one period, it must have been around late 2023, heading into 2024. I was really feeling stuck, both with my day job and just life in general. Every day felt the same, and I was desperate for some kind of sign, some direction. So, what did I do? I dove headfirst into all the astrological forecasts. I mean, all of them. I started tracking planetary movements, reading up on retrogrades, looking at ascendants and houses – you name it, I probably looked at it.
My ritual back then started bright and early. I’d wake up, grab my coffee, and before even checking emails, I’d pull up about five different horoscope sites. I had a whole system. I’d read my sun sign, then my moon sign, then my rising sign. Then, because I’m extra, I’d check my partner’s signs too, just to see if our daily “energies” would align or clash. It was almost like a morning briefing for my emotions. If the horoscope said “expect challenges,” I’d walk around all day with a frown, bracing for impact. If it said “opportunities ahead,” I’d bounce around, convinced something great was just around the corner, even if it was just finding a good parking spot.
The real “practice” part came when I decided to take it a step further. I wasn’t just consuming; I wanted to understand the why. I bought a couple of those beginner astrology books, the ones with all the pretty charts and symbols. I even downloaded some apps to calculate my own birth chart down to the minute. I started journaling, trying to match up what the forecasts said with what actually happened in my day. I’d write things like, “Forecast: communication breakdown. Reality: Fought with the cable company for an hour.” Or, “Forecast: unexpected good news. Reality: Found a twenty-dollar bill in an old jacket.” It was silly, but I was serious about it. I was trying to find a pattern, a secret code to life.
I remember one specific week, the forecast for my sign was incredibly vague. Something about “introspection and quiet contemplation.” Meanwhile, my work was going absolutely bonkers. Deadlines piled up, my boss was breathing down my neck, and the whole office was in a state of controlled chaos. I tried to “contemplate” while simultaneously juggling three urgent projects, and let me tell you, it did not work. I felt guilty for not being able to slow down, for not aligning with my celestial destiny. I was getting stressed out not just by the work, but by the nagging feeling that I was failing my horoscope.
That was a bit of a turning point. It made me realize I was letting these vague predictions dictate my mood and even my actions, instead of just living my life. I was actively searching for things to fit the narrative, rather than just observing what was actually happening. The “practice” of trying to match my reality to the stars started to feel like a straightjacket, not a guide.
So, slowly, I started to pull back. The morning ritual got shorter. First, I dropped the partner’s horoscopes. Then, I cut down to just my sun sign. Eventually, I just stopped checking every day. It wasn’t a sudden, dramatic break, but more of a gentle drifting away. What replaced it? Well, I started paying more attention to what was right in front of me.
Instead of reading about what the stars predicted for my financial life, I actually sat down and looked at my bank statements. Instead of hoping for a “chance encounter” that might lead to a new connection, I started reaching out to old friends and making plans myself. The “practice” shifted. It became less about decoding the universe and more about actively engaging with my own choices. It was a messy, sometimes uncomfortable process of realizing that waiting for cosmic guidance was a lot less effective than just, you know, doing stuff.
Now, when I see a headline like “How will 2026 be for Virgo?”, I still pause. But it’s not because I’m scrambling to find out. It’s because it reminds me of that journey, of how I used to pore over those words, and how I eventually learned to put that energy into shaping my own damn 2026, whatever sign I happen to be. It’s a reminder that the best predictions often come from the plans you make and the work you put in, not from a generalized paragraph written for millions of people.
My new “practice record” is pretty simple: Wake up. Make coffee. Then, figure out what I want to make happen today, this week, this year. And for me, that’s been a much more reliable forecast.
