The Sun enters the first decan of Scorpio on October 23rd, with plans to reside within that span of 10 degrees until November 1st. This year, the Sun will share the first decan with Jupiter, which entered Scorpio a little earlier, on October 10th.
Here a mouth yawns wide, though whether this is to speak or to swallow us whole is unclear. These are the jaws of the underworld, the mouth of forgotten temple, the Gates of Midian.
As you stare into the cavernous mouth, you see that it is no way empty, but holds a tremendous wheel. Fantastic and rainbow-hued, it is the mighty wheel of living and dying, upon which all are bound.
Drawing back from the maw, you see the face in which it resides, and the tremendous body which supports it. This figure, who holds all of creation in but its mouth, is the mighty Yama Dharmaraja, whose midnight skin is wreathed with a halo of flame which rises and falls with his breathing.
With each outbreath, the Word is spoken and universes springs into being, their pattern the nature of the utterance. With each inbreath, a billion universes contract, winking out into candle-flame singularities.
Inside the cavernous mouth, you see the wheel again, reflecting the pattern of the world you live within. Around its edges, thousands of beings chase one another, their pursuit a great ring which keeps the periphery of the wheel in motion. They pursue each other through heavens and hells, mountains and oceans and graveyards, becoming animals, gods, demons, ghosts, and plants in the process. Some cease their pursuit, and as they stand still, drift back toward the center. Meanwhile, others emanate from the core, diving for the periphery.
A shrouded figure on a horse emerges from the vast and whirling vision, eclipsing it. “This the mandala of desire and silence”, he announces. “There is no right or wrong here, regardless of what you have been told. There is only action and consequence. There is only fulfillment and its price. As he speaks these words, he holds up a lance in one hand, and a severed head in the other.”
Reaching back, he grabs the wheel as if it were a dinner plate, and presents it to you. “The wheel”, he says, “is a buffet of every possible taste. It is also a boutique and a bazaar in which all experiences might be obtained for the right price.”
“Come”, he says, “let us look at what currently lines the shelves”. The whirling intricacies of the wheel expand and grow, the colors and forms and dramas eclipsing all else. And then you are in a brightly lit store, surrounded by rows of shelves and display cases. The man is here with you, but he is now without horse and lance. He stands before you, well dressed, extravagant but concise, like a British tailor. Gesturing gracefully, he speaks.
“Have a look around. Everything is on offer. The wheel is your emporium and I am your customer service representative.”
“If you do not see anything you desire, you are free to leave.” He gestures with his hand to a door in back with an EXIT sign glowing above. With a flip of his fingers, the door opens, beyond which can be seen the interior of a massive cathedral, rows upon rows of figures seated in meditation.
“Some of them believed me to be a dishonest merchant, whose prices were always too high. Though I do offer some items whose cost is extraordinary, I do not set the prices. Nor am I the one who judges value. That call, new friend, will always be the customer’s to make. And the customer is always right.”
“Others simply tired of paying for their place on the wheel. They paid their debts, and left the rest to charity. As fine a choice as any. Although you’re free to join them. I rather doubt you will.”
“Also — I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not ‘The Devil.’ Well I suppose I am, in a way, but not in the stupid way you’re thinking of it. None of the wares here are cursed, nor are they designed to lead you into torment. The stories you’ve heard are almost exclusively a product of buyer’s remorse. Though the small and greedy shop here, so to do saints. Clarity of mind and kindness of heart are on offer, though surprisingly few customers put in those orders.”
“Anyway, we should talk price. There are as many prices as there are desires and buyers. The same item will not cost you what it costs another. All of our prices are individualized, and change daily.”
“Generally speaking, you can pay for things with things. Gold for a stone, wood for gems. Some things cost blood, still others Time. Some can only be bought with Love, others with Ignorance. Sweat and tears are almost universally valued. Yet there is another currency, rarely understood. That currency is Hunger. Let me explain.”
“The price of fullness is emptiness. The price of satisfaction is longing. You must learn to long, to hunger, or you will not be fed. Before you can have the thing you desire, you must first create the emptiness in which to house it.”
“While body’s hungers are numerous and fleeting, and the ego’s are predictable, the soul’s hunger, the truest hunger, is another thing entirely. This true hunger makes one relentless, inevitable. True hunger tunnels through mountains and crosses oceans. It cuts through illusions and accepts nothing less than total satisfaction. “
“This hunger is a thing of great value, but like any coin, it can be misplaced. So before you make a purchase, search your inner world as you might rummage through a purse, and see what voids of longing exist within you. These are your true hungers, and they are coins of tremendous value in this shop.”
“Oh, they don’t necessarily need to be soul-deep, its just that those have the most value. There are certainly wares be had for significantly less dramatic longings. Anyway, rummage through yourself, show me what you find, and I’ll tell you what you can get for it.”