Five people crowded into a borrowed back room planning something, and yours is the hand flat on the printout, the one that keeps the meeting from drifting. You were born with Mars in your eleventh house, the house of the circle of friends and the long arc of a future not yet built, so the drive turns outward into the group. You organize. You stir things up. You are the one who will not let a campaign go quiet just because everyone else got tired. The causes you pick take far more of your life than you tally at the time, so choose them with that in mind. When no enemy is in sight, the pull is to turn the heat on your own people, picking the fight at home because the body needs a fight and the real one is out of reach. Aim the fire where it belongs, outward, at the thing actually in the way. The world you keep imagining is reachable, but only with the friends you trust enough to disagree with you in private and stay.