“Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.”
— Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
Content note: this essay discusses death and suicide.
My friend Anna once told me that Saturn in Scorpio is a black rock at the bottom of my chart.
Take a photo of your ancestors, she advised me, and place it on the altar. Let them know there’s separation between you.
Otherwise, they’ll try to drag you down into those dangerous waters.
A New Time
Astrology shows us that time is plural. There’s Sun time and Moon time and Venus time, and on and on.
A celestial chorus of clocks, each drawing its own band of time.
Not just narrative threads, but psychic terrain. Each sign is a land with flora, fauna, ancestors, the desires of the living and the yearning of the dead.
With astrology, time becomes something we inhabit.
The Land of Scorpio
For me, Scorpio’s the land of my father. The place of his war dreams and middle-of-the-night panic attacks. It’s the look in his eyes when he’s out for blood. The smell of hospital rooms, the bed after surgery when he never wakes up.
Endless, on repeat. The same scene unraveling through time.
It’s the place where my first boyfriend lives. And my best friend Louis, who shares a birthday with my father. And all the strangers I’ve ever locked eyes with across a room.
Space Connected By Time
As I write, Venus stands at the edge of the Underworld, about to station retrograde in Scorpio. This is, most likely, not news to you.
Neither is the fact that Venus stations retrograde every nineteen months. Or the fact that every eight years, she returns to the same terrain.
Not every Venus retrograde is going to speak to you, for a variety of reasons: your relationship with Venus, where you are in life, the potency of the sign she’s retrograding through in your chart.
If you’re still reading this, however, it’s worth taking a pause.
Disconnect the Dots
Do we go back to time, or does time come to us?
When we count back the years, stringing together events of Venus retrogrades past, does that give us agency over future events?
For me, coming into the rhythm of astrology has meant sitting with the present and allowing the stories of the past to come into view without checking the clock first. When I go back for the dates, the clock’s always on time.
A brief and personal history of Venus in Scorpio:
2002: I have a breakdown.
2010: My mentor jumps off a bridge.
2018: I discover the death of my beloved friend.
Memory Isn’t a Pit Stop on the Path to Prediction
In the land of Scorpio, I’m anxious and pacing the room—clawing at my skin, tearing at my hair.
I’m sitting on a plane reading and rereading my last email from my professor, my mentor, my dear neglected friend. She’s rereading Moby-Dick for the upcoming semester and talking about being sad.
All I can see is the drowning. I never see her fall from the bridge, only the water and the sky—the moon a sliver but Venus! Venus in Scorpio! Radiant in all her angry, morning star radiance.
Then there’s Daniel, his last words to me echoing louder than any of our conversations: You left me on the loneliest day of the year.
That was Valentine’s Day. By March he’d be dead.
In this land, I'm sitting on a bench on an unreasonably warm fall day in Southern California when I get the phone call from Detroit: Daniel died, months ago. He stopped breathing in his sleep. They found him days later during a wellness check, his body, I imagine, in a state of advanced decomposition.
Time is a living space, a land marked by memory and the ghosts of all its inhabitants past.
I Hate Workshops Too
So I’m creating a memory box: a collective altar to share stories and explore overlapping terrain.
It’s a container some might call a workshop, and I’ve invited three friends — KristaLyn Sofia, Larry Arrington, and Ronnie Pontiac — to join me as guides on this journey, sharing their mythologies and knowledge of the sky.
No, we don’t need another container, but I do.
If I’ve learned anything from this challenging landscape, it’s that depths are best explored in a supportive container.
Six consecutive Wednesdays to carry us through the Venus retrograde in Scorpio, in a collective process of writing, dreaming, and reflection.
There’s a price, because one must survive.
And a discount code (CLUBVENUS), because thank you for reading.
And if that still doesn’t work, reach out and we’ll figure it out, because no one will be turned away.
Seeking Shelter: Writing Through the Venus Retrograde
Together we’ll explore the Venus cycle through the Sumerian myth of Inanna and her journey to the Underworld, picking up other stories and poems of the descent along the way, the tarot’s among them, including the threads of our own mythology. Through writing prompts, group storytelling, and discussion, we’ll embark on our own journey of self-discovery and inspiration.
Three of the six sessions will be led by guest guides Larry Arrington, KristaLyn Sofia and Ronnie Pontiac.
More TALKTALKTALK
Talking to Enrique Enriquez Listening to Birds
"The first thing is to try to mimic what they are doing, to reach the same cadence and the same rhythm as they are doing it, because mimicry was probably the first kind of magic ever."
If you’re looking for a group of likeminded astro seekers, Club Astro is your place!
We meet weekly to explore the sky in real time and make sense of what is unfolding in our lives and in the collective. This is your chance to ask me questions about your chart, share stories, and connect with a cohort of fellow astrologers.
Club Astro members also get exclusive perks:
Discounted astrological readings & mentorship
Secret invites
Discounted tickets to the Los Angeles Astro Salon and the LA Astro Fest