Scorpio season is upon us. Just in time to herald in Halloween featuring the Scorpio new moon and the Celtic celebration of Samhain. Scorpio thrives on getting into the murky shadows of our inner caves. Likely to dress up as death itself, Scorpio isn’t afraid of the afterlife. In fact, it craves pushing the edges, always seeking the point of no return.
When the Sun enters Scorpio on Tuesday, it signals we’re moving into the midpoint of fall. We land at autumn’s halfway mark between the equinox and the winter solstice exactly when the sun reaches 15 degrees of Scorpio. That’s on Nov. 6.
Winter is imminently coming, sleet arriving any moment now. There were a couple of rainy days last week, dumping snow on Capitol, Daly and the Cirque. Next, Highland’s Bowl got it and then even Buttermilk as the snowline dropped with each storm. Fresh snowfall up high was a little shocking to see as the storm clouds cleared. Why, I can’t say. This isn’t my first October in Aspen. Halloween-time usually brings the first snow into town. According to my good buddy NOAA, it might’ve even appeared last night. Winter is totally happening, people.
Scorpio is simultaneously the sign of death and life, both. Death of the fall, which composts musty leaves into spring life six months from now. I’m feeling it in my aging bones. Colder walks in the morning, breaking out my puffy onesie for this morning’s predawn meditative stroll. Back into my infant romper I go.
Last week, my neighbor shared a photo of a mountain lion in his backyard, a mere two houses over. Passing by, in the scarce light of early morning, I panicked at every little scratch and scrape, paranoid that a lioness was close by. Scaring myself that she was just out of my awareness but me not out of hers, I thought to myself that Scorpio lives for just this kind of buzz.
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