The tarot card for Scorpio is Death.
If you are a fan of tarot, you know that Death does not necessarily mean you or someone you know is headed off this mortal coil. It is, as most tarot readers (who still subsist on happy customers’ tips) are quick to say, not so bad. “The Tower is worse, haha!” we assure our clients desperately, whilst hoping we don’t draw that card for them next.
Scorpios, as I have previously opined, aren’t bad guys; they have a bum wrap as the sexy, destructive, wild child of the Zodiac. But I feel Scorpio simply is able to see in the dark. And what is darkness, but the unknown? Scorpios are unafraid of depths, of the unknowable, of utter transformation.
So Card 13 isn’t bad, per se, but it is extreme. Extremity is where Scorpio thrives.
We are, as a culture, living at a point of extremity. And I’ve been struck over and over again with how October of 2020 is the most extensive collective waiting game I have ever experienced.
People with either vote, or they won’t. They will mask, or they won’t. We’ll get through this, or we won’t.
I have been asked by several clients lately to predict the election. To which I giggle, rather hysterically, and say I have no fucking idea. I don’t know if my anxiety (and its close cousin, depression, whom currently lurks down the street from my current mental state) sees the game as lost, or if my intuition regarding society’s mutual, cooperative improvement is actually one last frantic stab at hope.
So then I thought, what is a witchy concept I can share about coping with this? What do we do when we can only act for ourselves, and wait, and hope? How do we ward off the screaming meemies in the meantime?
What I’ve managed for myself:
Light a candle and sit with how I feel.
Have a notebook nearby for little bursts of lyrical phrase/inspiration. (It feels like its never enough, like I could tap a well of deeper words and stronger songs, but each little bit is all I can come up with right now. And they’re better than nothing.)
Eat well, and savor it.
Alternate distraction with periods of self-examination.
Sometimes I need it stated the other way: alternate periods of self-examination with gentle distractions.
Florida water (the cologne) is a great cleanser.
So is the night air.
Books are always a friend.
To witchily check out:
If you’re going to stare into space, do it while holding a crystal, and listen to where your thoughts go with it. Light a little incense and some candles too. Fuck it, add music. Now you aren’t curled up in a ball of fear; you’re sifting through stillness for different kinds of perception.
I wish you as much peace as possible, dear hearts, and patience besides. Both are rare in this era, but both can be achieved, if just a moment at a time.
Ellen The Red 