It’s a good day to begin something pure and complicated.
The very idea of purity is complicated, isn’t it?
What can be possessed? And what is possessed is changed by the possession.
What could possibly be more complicated than a new born baby, or a bride?
What could be more complicated than a dream to… I don’t know… do almost anything… start a business, move to a foreign city, or how about this: have a crush on someone… the very word is a challenge… What will happen because of what you desire?
The faith that someone has placed in you?
The trust that you can not bear to betray no matter the cost to you, or to them?
And Scorpio always thinks about cost.
All choices are complex, but we begin to choose now anyway, as it’s a beginning time.
I’d like to read you a poem by M’Billa Meekers, It’s called
Louis Congo in Love
Louis Congo was a slave owned by the Company of the Indies. In 1725, he was freed to become New Orleans’ first executioner. By taking this post, he was able to negotiate to have his wife live with him in his own house.
For you, my fleur, I toil
on the route of these slaves’ escape:
15 pounds a head, planted on pikes
along the levee’s edge.
You walk past them every day,
but when the skin over their severed necks
curls up like old paper and their lips,
cracked from sun, begin to slacken,
you turn away from the worms,
reaching through their teeth,
and I wish the slaves
had chosen another route to follow,
one through the swampland,
one you’d never find.
Through the window, I watch
you sidestep the rotting magnolias
that mark the path to our home.
I remember then how once you turned
my hands over and over
as through you’d lost something there.
But you never mentioned
the red crust I couldn’t clean
from beneath my nails some nights.
You’d just turn my hands over again
and watch them drop to my sides.
In another way, it’s simple, isn’t it?
When you are brought to the place, you make the choice, snap, one cord is cut and another is woven. Entwined.
Is there such a thing as an inevitable surprise?
Could there be one?
There is a fate maxtrix on this New Moon for sure.
I often think that fate comes to us as a situation.
A place you were always going to arrive.
Your free will is what you do when you get there.
How else do you explain you standing, or sitting, or pacing, or driving, or walking right now?
How else can you account for the tipping point quality of this moment?
Did it have to come to this? Are we so lucky that it has? Does luck even have a meaning, beyond not falling sick on your birthday, or not tumbling down the stairs?
I think -yes- it actually does..
tho it’s hard to see which becomes what until later on.
Could we possibly have induced this to happen?
Isn’t it ever so much more complicated than that?
You do what you do, because you have arrived here, HERE where you were always going to be.
Consider for a moment:
Is there a way in which you are the strongest person you know?
This New Moon contains a jolt, a surprise, could be as simple as a snow day… Surprise.
Could be something with a bit more lasting power.
That’s another Scorpio word. Where do you locate your power?
Between your legs? In your chest?
In something ethereal that straightens your back when you think of it?
Is your power intangible or can you touch it?
In Scorpio season everyone’s power gets touched whether or not you can put it in your hands.
With our New Moon watched over by Saturn and given a sudden Urainian boost, we begin something deep. Deep things by nature have layers, … all the way down to the center of our hot molten earth. People always think of Scorpio as a fire sign, because passion, and autonomy, but it’s liquid sign really, an idea about a complex union, about death which is a certainty, & the synergy at the core of something.
That blood you pump in your heart, sure is wet.
I have another poem, this one by David Whyte, it’s almost a wish, called
The pull is so strong we will not believe
the drawing tide is meant for us,
I mean the gift, the sea,
the place where all the rivers meet.
Easy to forget,
how the great receiving depth
untamed by what we need
needs only what will flow its way.
Easy to feel so far away
and the body so old
it might not even stand the touch.
But what would that be like
feeling the tide rise
out of the numbness inside
toward the place to which we go
washing over our worries of money,
the illusion of being ahead,
the grief of being behind,
our limbs young
rising from such a depth?
What would that be like
even in this century
driving toward work with the others,
moving down the roads
among the thousands swimming upstream,
as if growing toward arrival,
feeling the currents of the great desire,
carrying time toward tomorrow?
Tomorrow seen today, for itself,
the sea where all the rivers meet, unbound,
unbroken for a thousand miles, the surface
of a great silence, the movement of a moment
left completely to itself, to find ourselves adrift,
safe in our unknowing, our very own,
our great tide, our great receiving, our
wordless, fiery, unspoken,
hardly remembered, gift of true longing.
I spent the summer in Maine, and was often at a place where the river met the ocean. I’m not sure if that’s why the poem spoke to me, but there is something in it as if through a progression of water signs… Crab dreams of the security of possession which Scorpio has, and Scorpio dreams of being free and dissolving without danger… which is Pisces…
Of course Scorpio is excellent at being alone, but as alone as you may be, there will always be a fixation; there is always something of value out there to possess and in turn to be possessed by, for we are inhabited by our fixations, our desires. Let’s make them worthy. Worthy of our care and attention, let’s give what is best in us with an open hand…
I think of Mikko Harvey writing:
“The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.”
As we breathe in now, as we are continually breathing, as we breathe together for a moment, we are all intrinsically in motion, inseparable from the limitless power of creation. I’m so happy you are alive and breathing, here with us.