["Scorpion" | Sabine Remy]
In the deep fog of sleep, I dreamt of a bright green scorpion taking refuge in the flesh of my right calf. At first I was afraid, but when I looked closer, I saw that the scorpion was hurt. It was weak, and needed my energy to mend. It will leave when it is healed, I said to figure next to me, which is to say, myself. And when it was repaired, it stretched its limbs and stinger, and crawled away.
When I woke, I whispered her name: Kali. Something inside of me knew Kali had sent the creature to seek sanctuary in my body; she had sent the fear-inducing arachnid as a test of my will. I believe I passed her (first?) test, but it has not been without deep struggle.
For those unfamiliar, Kali is the Hindu goddess of creation and destruction. She is the destroyer of evil forces, and is seen as the Divine Mother or Mother Nature. She gives abundance in one breath, and obliterates in the next. She is the true definition of a bad bitch, and she reminds us that femininity can be both nurturing and fierce.
Etymologically, Kali’s name means the feminine form of time or "the fullness of time." The masculine noun "kāla” is seen as the "changing aspect of nature that bring things to life or death” (Coburn 111). Could there be a more perfect goddess to represent or oversee this period? When time in confinement expands, floods, spills over and around us: days full of death at the hands of a virus, death of our ways of life, death of fragile projections of the self we once believed unshakable.
And in the same moment—but a moment we cannot define—days are full of life. Natural life blooming in the dawn of spring and the much needed break from human activity. Days full of time at home to mend our relationships to success, work, and each other. Time to confront how we treat the planet, what roles we play in silencing others, and the ways we show up as allies.
In the midst of all the chaos and destruction, we have been gifted time as a tool to heal and recreate the dark parts of ourselves we have been burying under the guise of social construct and responsibilities.
May 7th marks the Full Super Moon in Scorpio, and is the last super moon of the year before we enter eclipse season. Scorpios are fixed water signs, but their elements are often mistaken. Their passion and sharp sting can seem fiery, but Scorpios are as emotional and dreamy as they are determined and probing. Scorpios have no interested in small talk or falseness. They are not afraid to burrow deep and rip open, and they want the same from you. While this seems really jarring at first, the beautiful thing about Scorpios is that they don’t scare easily. If you decide to truly open up to a Scorpio, you will usually be met with love and acceptance.
Personally, I have really been feeling this forceful push to examine the dark parts of myself. Things that I believed were long gone or buried have been resurfacing with a vengeance. My mental health has been in constant fluctuation—waking with stability and energy in the morning, and needing to breathe into a paper bag by lunch.
And this is why I am going to do something I don’t usually do in these offerings, and deviate from the desires of this moon. While Scorpio energy might be demanding us to split open and get to the heart of our traumas, shadows, and fears, we don’t have to do it as full-throttle as this moon (and the cosmos) might like. As Chani Nicholas explains:
Happening on the same day as Mercury sextiles Neptune, the Full Moon will help us lean a little more fully into our creative visions and idealism about the future, but be careful with it. Venus in Gemini is currently in a month-long square to Neptune as it stations retrograde, making hype, hope, boundarylessness, and fantasy run wild.
While this seems exciting, if you're like me (aka deep in the throes of individual and collective mental health struggles), this boundarylessness can be extremely harmful. Nicholas adds, “[This moon] cares not for reality, but I do.” The reality is we are in a very difficult, terrifying, and unique time of history, and we are all feeling it. This moon might not concern itself with the circumstance in which it arrives, but we all must, for ourselves and for our relationships.
This is not to say that we need to completely close our hearts and minds to what this moon offers. Scorpio’s ability to seek and hold the truth is a gift that we can glean from. However, we need healthy agreements with this moon; we need to make a pact with it. Just like the green scorpion that rested in my flesh, we can have a harmonious covenant.
What truth is this Scorpio Super Moon asking you to address or release? What trauma or shadow does this truth carry? How can we let this grief heal gently, in the folds and tendrils of the body/self, and how can we know when to let it scurry away?
Tarot Reading: 8 of Cups
The card for this moon is the 8 of Cups. Mary El Tarot creator Marie White depicts this card as a young Hercules—the son of Zeus and the mortal woman Alcmene. Zeus’ wife, Hera, was jealous of Zeus’ infidelity with Alcmene, and plagued Hercules over the course of his life. Because of his immense struggle, he was blinded with rage and killed his wife and three children. Afterwards, in his grief and guilt, he prayed to Apollo for atonement. His penance manifested in twelve tasks known as the Labors of Hercules. White writes of her painting:
Here Hercules' lion skin is draped over a young and innocent child to symbolize that Strength or Fortitude is due to an open heart and lack of bitterness. The 8 is a mirror and the outside world reflects the inside world. The best way to overcome obstacles at this junction is to keep your heart open, be true to yourself, and overcome the fear that would normally cause you to shut down.
Biddy Tarot describes this card slightly differently. They describe this message as one of release rather than openness, writing:
The Eight of Cups suggests you sense that something is missing, particularly on an emotional or spiritual level, and instead of waiting around for things to get better, you know you need to leave that unfulfilling situation. It may not make sense to others because on the face, it looks as if you have everything you had wished for – but, deep down, you know it’s not serving your Highest Good, and it’s time for you to let it go and move on.
Just like Hercules, we all have demons. We all hold guilt and trauma. And the truth is, we are being forced to acknowledge these shadows not only because of this Scorpio full moon, but because of confinement. These traumas can makes us feel unfilled, lost, unwell, or incomplete, even if we look fine on the surface.
But this does not mean we are powerless. We can decide how and when we face these things. We can decide how they manifest—as raging battles with nine-headed beasts, or as gentle interactions with wounded scorpions. Healing and mental health does not look the same for everyone, despite what many will try to tell you. I don’t know how many times I’ve sought help for my mental health only to be told, “Have you tried meditation? Are you drinking water? Getting enough rest?” Yes, these things are good for you, but the ways in which we face our grief and shadows are rarely to the tune of a gently guided meditation. These processes are messy, raw, bloody, and scary. And they are important. And we have to learn how to let them go when we are through with them.
My hope for you during this Super Scorpio Full Moon, dear ones, is to use your voice and your heart. Find your powerful stinger. Find your inner Kali. Name what you want to fight, face, destroy, or heal. Name what you want to create. Name what you are not ready to let surface. Name what you will not accept, from yourself and from others. Do not go anywhere you can’t come back from. And when you are finished, let it leave. Thank it for what it has done for you. Thank time for the possibility of both life and death. Give gratitude to your own vulnerability—because if Scorpios can teach us anything, it is that acting in true love and vulnerability is where true strength lies.
Sending love to you now and always.
Bibliomancy | Excerpt from “PART I: YOURSELF, IN WAITING ROOMS” in Ideal Suggestions: Essays in Divinatory Poetics by Selah Saterstrom, page 83:
Waiting rooms. Brother, they hold a certain allure. For
example, we skip through birthstone light and call it a
pilgrimage. Weightless inside amethyst light inside the
Republic of Suffering. Moist blackened spots on a slick
palm, someone again telling the story of the Occupation,
how, Brother, trenched in wide vacancies, everyone’s
eyelashes were sticky-tipped from war.
They put a dress on the woman propped in the chair.
A white dress. Blossom: lock of fur. To be continuously
on fire. As we are. Brother, as you were.
Coburn, Thomas B Devī-māhātmya: The Crystallization of the Goddess Tradition (1st ed). Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi, 1988.
The Mary-El Tarot: Landscapes of the Abyss by Marie White
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