Cards on the Table

Dark, Scorpionic energy roils and sizzles around us as we take our seats at the little Victorian table with its stylized harp pedestal. The room is dim and warm. A choir of candles kneels in crystal dishes scattered about us, their song the whisper of flame against blue shadows. I smile at you across the ebony polish of the table and tap the deck of cards that lies between us. I am knocking at a door.

You have come to learn your fortune, confident in the ability of a Scorpio to see through the dark veil. Looking at your wide, eager eyes and the nervous strain of your lips, I already know all I need to know. I could tell you of your deepest fears and desires right now, paint for you the future with all its radiance and gloom. But you have paid for the mystery of the ritual, and a Scorpio is always a consummate performer. I push the cards toward you.

“Tap three times,” I say, and I can feel the power rising. It is the heady force of the Scorpio charisma that I use as a web to catch you tight and to suspend your disbelief. It is the certainty that I can wield it with skill and control it utterly.

You tap the deck, obedient as a lamb. You are safe with me. For all my darkness, I can and will keep you in the light. Another Scorpionic trait, that deep well of compassion and a fierce integrity. I may perform the part of an otherworldly sibyl, but you will go away from here with truth. I do not fear truth.

I draw a card, the first of three, and you release a great gasp of terror. Death, on his pale horse, grins up from the table. We are out on deep water now, our little boat rocking, but I am a water sign. I can sail this storm with ease.

“Do not be afraid of the Death card,” I say. “Yes, it tells of an ending, but it brings a beginning as well. This is a card of transformation.”

I know all about transformation. Scorpio is expressed in a triumvirate of symbols that tells the story of an epic, personal metamorphosis. From the base emotions and physicality of the scorpion, I graduate to the higher, freer ideals and philosophy of the eagle. In time, I will rise from the ashes of the great fires of life as the phoenix, wise and compassionate, without judgement.

You settle in your chair, comforted by the picture I show you of your transformation. I draw the second card: Queen of Cups. Smiling, I explain her feminine powers of loving discernment, her ability to feel and acknowledge her emotions without losing control of them.

“You will feel deeply and see clearly, but you will contain and curate all that you feel. You will be steady and strong, reserving your most powerful emotions for your own meditation. Because of this, those around you will seek your sound advice, assured that you will neither judge them nor break their confidence.” I see this pleases you, but I could easily be describing any Scorpio with their effortless secrecy and self-sufficiency.

Your third card is the Magician, a favorite of mine. It illustrates the fact that you already possess all the tools you need to manifest what you desire. It speaks the ancient wisdom ‘As above, so below’, and I think of the great map of the constellations written upon the black in glowing script. You are happy with your reading, heartened that your transformation will be a fortunate one and that you can master it. In my mind, Scorpio blazes above me, a poem of cold fire. Here, within me, I acknowledge my own wealth of enlightenment. I am a reflection of the Universe, assembled in the guise of the eighth zodiacal symbol.