Welcome back to my new series, COSMIC FOLKTALES. This series is a blend of memoir, fantasy, and astrological/ancestral channeling for the sake of individual and collective transformation. It’s for those of us navigating great times of transition, grief, ending and beginning cycles, and the crossroads.
This particular folktale is a love letter for/from the New Moon in Scorpio (October 27 2019). It’s a window into Scorpio’s relationship with Pluto, her ruling planet in modern western astrology. It’s also a window into the new play I’m writing, OTHERWORLDLY GIANTS: a story of the outer planets who come to life in a parallel universe, and of Pluto who happens to be the (anti?) hero. Here, Pluto shares a glimpse of her story, and what it may mean for our lives today.
How peculiar, that’s it’s Pluto.
The planet of death, rebirth and transformation. Ruler of Scorpio, the sign of constant, inevitable, bone-deep change. Scorpio has more brushes with endings than most. Pluto has only recently emerged from surviving a loss so intimate it was once brewed in her marrow.
What happened last summer? It was like giant hands had reached in your chest and ripped away the core of your heart and the anchor upon which it sat. And that triggered a massive, messy re-organization of every goddamn detail of you life…
How peculiar, that after all of this, it is Pluto who repeatedly whispers to herself while crying alone in her bed:
“Why does nothing ever change?”
Why do I always end up stuck here? Nowhere else. Never, anywhere else.
Why am I always put through this? Why won’t the Universe ever give me a different experience? A goddamn break in the cycle?
I try, don’t I? Don’t tell me that I don’t fucking try. No matter how much I do, how much I work, how much I give…
I never get a different story.
She doesn’t talk about why she left home.
She’s called the planet of secrets, but is she really secretive? It’s more like…she doesn’t have the words. Words are like jumbles of tree bark rolled up in balls inside her body. Pulsing polka dots underneath her skin dancing to annoying music.
Her words don’t speak unless they know they are safe.
And not even Pluto knows Which Words are Which
in casual conversation.
She does remember that she ran.
She ran all the way from the flatlands in the South, to the city in the East.
She ran those miles even though it was impossible for her body to do so.
The flatlands, home to the wild horses, and the bison. She was born there.
She birthed herself in spirit of the rolling prairie fields.
Peace. Balance. Prosperity. Joyful work. Joyful rest. Eternity.
How did things get so screwed up? Why did everyone forget?
In the middle of the night, all Pluto remembers is that she knew she couldn’t stay.
It was a panic attack in her root chakra. She didn’t sleep at all that night. When the clock struck 4am, the voice screamed. It was late enough for the night owls to have fallen asleep, and early enough for the morning birds to still be sleeping. It was time.
It took 40 days and 40 nights. Pluto ran from the South to the East, and got lost in the city. The city was where she was meant to be. In the city, she could breathe.
The city’s energy is one of high levels of intelligence, cutting-edge communication technology, creative entrepreneurship, people power, emotional immaturity, and the ongoing interpersonal deception that comes along with that particular combination. It’s full of people who are spiritually powerful, and spiritually unawakened. It was the perfect place for Pluto to get lost and found again.
Pluto didn’t rest while she was running, for 40 days and 40 nights, even though such a thing is impossible for bodies. Her life depended on it. She didn’t have a choice. She wouldn’t be safe until she got lost from the night owls and the morning birds and from the people she used to call family.
But what about for the 40 months, and the 40 years after that? Were there times the Universe offered her opportunities for rest, without condition, without wanting anything in return?
Yes, there were many.
Did she make use of them?
“It is only for lack of rest, that change has not yet come.”
Pluto is all the things the city inspired in her. Highly intelligent. A ground-breaking creative entrepreneur. A developer of cutting-edge communication technology. Spiritually powerful, and spiritually unawakened.
In 40 days and 40 nights, she lost everything. So she found a place where she herself could get lost. But she didn’t rest.
After she got to the city, she sat in shock for 40 hours. Then she got up and kept moving. Kept working. Kept going.
Now, after so much time has passed, she finds herself stuck.
Repeating, “why does nothing ever change?”
You don’t want anything to CHANGE.
You’re not ready.
There’s a part of Pluto curled up like a traumatized cat at the foot of her bed. Shaking. Telling the Universe to JUST.STOP.SPINNING.FOR.A.GODDAMNED.MINUTE.
While the rest of her keeps moving. Keeps working. Keeps going.
The rest of her is aware of the curled up cat, yeah, but she doesn’t pay attention to this creature. Doesn’t feed her, or pet her, or play with her. Like one of those, “oh, you again” things. Even during Pluto’s ‘down time,’ at home, ie drinking tea, reading books, imagining dreams. She’s aware but uninterested in her companion. Hoping that maybe, if this companion is not fed, not fuelled, not loved, she’ll just disappear. She’ll just die.
But…Scorpio didn’t die.
Pluto will never leave her.
She’ll starve her, but she won’t leave. Scorpio is the part of Pluto that, even after all the running and getting lost, never really left home.
So she won’t get too close, but she won’t get too far either.
And nothing ever changes.
The thing about Pluto, and about Scorpio, they both believe the same thing:
Nothing Can Kill Me, MotherFuckers!!!!!
Whatever trial, whatever problem, whatever obstacle life puts in front of me, I survive. I do what bodies can’t do. I emerge victorious from any enemy attack. I survive a Universe that doesn’t have my back. TRY ME. TRY ME TRY ME TRY I’M THE PHOENIXXXXX
Pluto and Scorpio are not afraid of anything. Not even Death.
The only thing they are afraid of…
is how they’ll FEEL
when it happens
It’s the reality and capacity of their own grief. Their own rage. Their own desire. Their own emotions.
It’s the one thing they believe, wholeheartedly, they will not survive.
They’ll devote the totality of their energy, and maybe even spend their entire lifetime trying to avoid this particular kind of Death by Feeling.
A childhood whisper in their bones.
I know I can survive anything and everything.
But what if I can’t survive myself?
Dear Beloved Pluto, and Dear Beloved Scorpio. You’ve got it twisted around.
You are not actually indestructible in this body. You are not impervious to harm by the outside world. There are many things that can and will kill you, none of them your fault, your choosing, or your doing.
The one thing that won’t kill you, is your feelings.
You run away from the one thing you have a guarantee with, and the rest of the time you play with fire.
Most of all. You deny yourself the medicine you unknowingly and freely give to others. When you’re at your best, you give love, and patience, unparalleled by any other energy in the zodiac. You have the ability to hold space and time for others’ emotions, as if time and space were infinite. Without condition, without wanting anything in return.
What happens when you turn it inward? When you give to yourself what you are so good at giving to others?
You do not just become powerful. You experience love that was meant for you. Love that is Yours.
This love changes you, and it changes your life.
It changes everything.
It’s what I mean when I say:
“The key to your evolution is in making friends with Death.”
For Pluto and Scorpio, this is
nothing more or less
than making friends with oneself.
When you are friends with Death, you are truly invincible.
You are one with nature.
You become joy, grief, expression.
You become peace incarnate.
You become life itself.
This is the root of a new bravery emerging.
Not from offence/defence,
Not just from the gift of being alive,
But from the love
of being alive
SHOUT OUT SECTION!
This week’s shout out is a Scorpionic Happy Birthday to Ari Felix of Saltwater Stars! Ari is a highly skilled, (com)passionate astro-bruja who communicates astrology in ways that are accessible and meaningful. When I started studying/practising astrology in 2010-2011, I was the only queer/poc astrologer that I knew of. Now, as we close out this decade, I am so blessed and excited to know an abundance of QTBIPOC* astrologers, tarot readers, energy readers, and metaphysical workers. I firmly believe in challenging capitalist/patriarchal/colonial ideas that QTBIPOC folks with metaphysical businesses are in “competition” with each other. Each of our voices are unique and necessary. There is enough space in the sky (and clients in the world!) for all of us to thrive. Check out Ari’s page and give them a follow on IG: @saltwater.stars ❤
*QTBIPOC = queer, trans, Black, Indigenous, people of colour
Shaunga Tagore is a writer, theatre artist, astrologer, and ancestral/multidimensional communicator living in Tkaronto / Toronto, traditional territory of the Haudensaunee, Wendat, Anishnabek, and Mississagaus of New Credit. For more from her COSMIC FOLKTALES series, browse her archives and look forward to a new post each Sunday. Check out the her website for opportunities to work with her as a cosmic coach, creative collaborator, or keep updated on OTHERWORLDLY GIANTS, her upcoming podcast and play.