There is a gladness in the morning air on a high ridge, the whole valley opening below and a day of walking ahead. That largeness is the shape of your ease, and it lands when you commit to a meaning and start moving toward it. Your Part of Fortune in Sagittarius marks where it lives. It is not a planet but a point you arrive at by measuring the distance between your Sun, your Moon and your Ascendant, traced one way if you were born to a day chart and another to a night chart, and it lands on the spot where your contentment comes easiest. Sagittarius pins it to vision, to the longer story, to the nerve to stake a meaning before all the data has assembled itself. Jupiter colors the joy: the book that reframed your year, the conversation that crossed a border, the long-term plan that gathered its own momentum, the teaching given and received. The catch is mistaking the horizon for arrival, always reaching for the next ridge and never quite living on the one you stand on. This marks a place, not a destination forever out ahead. You tend to flourish in active study, in the rhythm of going out and coming home to integrate before setting off again, in a meaning kept honest by your willingness to keep walking. Aim at something large. The walking is the gladness.