The Time of Scorpio is Here!

(image courtesy of BBC)

“Nothing Lasts Forever and We Both Know Hearts Can Change”

Axel Rose’s star power has certainly waned even with the cornrows but the power of these lyrics remains as we all continue negotiating the existentially tough and heartbreaking terrain of early November. Make no mistake about it; November is a time of change and plenty of death. The leaves fall resulting in an ever-expanding shroud of gray. Relatives get sick. The rains crash down harsh and cold, as we look for some kind of deliverance from the skies. For myself, I tend not to believe in deliverance, instead; I like to cozy up to understanding and simple experience.

What is the experience of November? It’s all about Scorpio, a sign of the zodiac symbolized by the eagle or the scorpion. Scorpio is reputed to be the strongest sign. Think Hillary Clinton. Behold Bill Gates. Ingest the salary and trail of broken hearts behind Julia Roberts. These Scorpio folks are not small potatoes. There is money, power and forward movement within these mythic characters. The edginess and intensity of November as a sudden death-like transition drives these clever strategists onward into the mist and gloom where others fear to tread.

OK, I know all of you also have heard that there is a link between Scorpio and the sex drive. Suffice it to say that the karmic words of a Scorpio person, place or thing are “I desire.” If you have read your Freud, then the point to this is self-evident.

Scorpio as represented by the eagle is capable of soaring to the highest heights, albeit usually with a dead rabbit or deceased ideal or life path held within its bloodied talons. Scorpio as the scorpion is intense and wiry with a ready stinger trained on you from which there is no escape.

What does all of this have to do with November? Well, think about it. Suddenly the landscape has become bare and the icy winds are swirling. Cutting decisions and ideas must now suddenly be realized intensely and precisely or mercilessly destroyed. This is not the time of year when babies are outside chasing butterflies.

I believe it was the poet Wallace Stevens who said of November: “When the leaves fall, it is a time for the end of imagination.” The starkness outside contains both life and death; harvest time is over and it is time to ponder the very nature of the crop. The Scorpionic eagle flies above the desolation searching for opportunity and new life validations. No one will escape the keen eye of the eagle.