Lessons in Impermanence

Scorpio rules death. At death, according to the venerable Buddhist teacher, Patrul Rinpoche, the fierce wind of your past actions will be chasing after you, while in front a terrifying black darkness rushes toward you. A scary picture-unreal as a dream. Who can digest and accept its truth? If you're like me, you harbor a wee voice inside, small but hardy in its hope that somehow for you death will be gentle, even kind. And that just maybe you'll get to take a few of the good things, the things you love, along with you. Despite that fantasy, each year Scorpio's season arrives, cycling us into an experience of death so that we might remember the inevitable, and learn how to endure what's coming. To accomplish this, Scorpio generally arrives, like death, in ways we could never foresee. As my friend Karri Ann Allrich has said, "It is a time to take the year's lessons to heart and face our inner world alone."

I had gone to see Mystic River. Earlier that day I'd enjoyed a spiritual celebration of my new home with two good friends. We'd smudged ourselves with sage, invoked the blessings of the goddess and the buddhas, shared from our hearts in a ritual circle, concluding with delicious food, and each of us planting small jewel offerings-pearls, crystals, amethysts and garnets from an old necklace--in the secret corners of my home. Later that night, when I got home from the movie, I was greeted by a devastating surprise. My new window shutters were in splinters.

They were the expensive faux wood ones, the ones I'd waited over a month for, suffering the indignity of sheets over my windows throughout the jittery disorientation of unpacking boxes, painting walls, trying to create my new sanctuary. The blinds that weren't splintered on the carpet, drooped from the windows, in a defeated, hopeless slant. A fierce wind chased me…before me stretched a terrifying darkness of endless unhappiness. The splintered blinds seemed to be sending a message: I would never have a home that felt happy or safe.

Scorpio's agent--and my guru--was my dog Jupiter. He cowered in the corner, knowing what he'd done was "bad dog" stuff. He couldn't know about the hundreds of dollars it would cost to replace the shutters, not to mention the weeks of waiting, along with having to schedule and pay for someone to hang them again. Nor could he know how deeply it would slay me, how I would wake up that night feeling ridiculously suicidal. You see, I had been trying to get everything perfect, trying to create such a safe, harmonious place. The shutters were one of the final ingredients in my longed-for sanctuary. I had put my heart and soul into this project, like perhaps it would save me. But of course, it only brought me straight to the truth: that life is impermanent. We will never get it to stand perfectly, beautifully still. And just as we must acknowledge the reality of our own death, we must learn to face and embrace all of life's little deaths. We must open our hearts to loss, just as wide as we open our hearts to joy.

Years ago, during another Scorpio season, I received a similar lesson. My attachment was to something even more ridiculous than window shutters, but my emotional fragility was the same. I had spent hours raking the leaves around my apartment. I was going through a difficult time in my life, and that day, raking the leaves represented a huge accomplishment. Perhaps I'd failed at grad school, I couldn't get a job, or succeed in my marriage, but I could make the yard clean. Minutes after I'd finished, a sudden wind storm rose up. Ten minutes later, the yard was strewn with more leaves than when I'd begun. I dissolved into tears.

Scorpio's trials are meant to promote emotional endurance. That day I learned that after you rake the leaves, you will probably have to rake them again. And this season, when I allowed myself to sink into despair with the mindfulness I've been trying to acquire ever since that episode with the leaves, I learned again that despair subsides, that new shutters can be purchased, and that the sun will shine through them again. But even better, having gone through all that, I had inadvertently created another "home-blessing ceremony," less beautiful than the one with my friends, but no less powerful. I emerged with less fear, a bit more inner strength, and a healthier sense of humor.

As for Jupiter, the pet psychic said he only wanted to play. She said it was his job to teach me to be more playful-that he did, though it was by a strange Scorpionic route! I've found myself laughing and singing with him quite a bit these past few days. The pet psychic also mentioned that Jupiter was missing his orange ball (left at the old house), missing the liveliness there, and mirroring my own disarray. And I learned, he is very proud of his long tail. I guess even the animal kingdom has its attachments!

What should you release this cycle?

Astrology typically answers "what" questions by looking at houses. Look to the house of your birth chart where the New and Full Moons fall: here's your personal seed bed. This is the place you usually "do Scorpio." Every year at this time, you transform something. This is the area of life where you can be focused, resilient, tenacious, and incredibly perceptive. This is where you are your best detective. Each year, during the Scorpio New Moon cycle, you have a unique opportunity here… to release something old… to solve a mystery… or discover a secret that only you know. (If you'd like to explore this is greater depth, you may enjoy my seasonal/new moon workshop, Twelve Moons. Email me if you'd like more information!)

Much of what holds us back in life is simple pain and fear. So an important part of going forward is the willingness to release the negative emotions that are holding you back. You may find clues in what's especially important to release this cycle-as part of an eclipse season--by recalling what was going on in your life from November of 1984 to May of 1985. That was the last time eclipses were activating the mid-degrees of Scorpio/Taurus-in other words, it affected the same part of your chart that is being affected now. Are there any similarities between your situation now and your situation then? What have you learned in the last nineteen years? What would you have done differently in '84/'85 given the knowledge you have now? Do your current choices reflect this wisdom?