Let's turn our attention to the word "mortar." I propose that we use it to point out three influences you could benefit from calling on. Here are the definitions of "mortar": 1. a kind of cannon; 2. the plaster employed for binding bricks together; 3. a bowl where healing herbs are ground into powder. Now please meditate, Gemini, on anything you could do that might: 1. deflect your adversaries; 2. cement new unions; 3. make a container -- in other words, create a specific time and place -- where you will work on a cure for your suffering.

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My old philosophy professor Norman O. Brown would periodically interrupt his lectures, tilt his head upward as if tuning in to the whisper of some heavenly voice, and announce in a puckish tone, "It's time for your irregular reminder: We're already living after the end of the world. No need to fret anymore."

The implication was that the worst had already happened. We had lost much of the cultural riches that had given humans meaning for centuries. All that was going to be taken from us had already been taken.

On the bright side, that meant we were utterly free to reinvent ourselves. Living amidst the emptiness, we had nowhere to go but up. What remained was alienating, but it was also fresh.

Working from the hypothesis that you're living after the end of the world, what are you free to do that you weren't able to do before? Who are you free to be?
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The preceding oracle comes from my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.