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Copyright ©2001 by Planet Waves Digital Media, all rights reserved. Space grapuic above from the Rosette Nebula in Hydrogen, Oxygen, and Sulfur. Credit: T. A. Rector, B. Wolpa, M. Hanna.
Kali, rendering by Eric Francis
Odysseus Scorpius
"...In that catastrophe no one was dealt a heavier blow than I, who pass my days in mourning for the best of husbands..." [Penelope to the minstrel Phemius 2, Homer, Odyssey 1.340]
SCORPIO, THE EIGHTH SIGN of the Western zodiac, is the realm of consciousness presumed by modern astrologers to cover sex, death, control, transformation, marriage and money transactions, such as inheritance and investments. People born under this sign are believed to have special powers, and are among the most often feared by those with a little knowledge of astrology. I ask the Scorpios in the reading audience: can we blame these bigots?
Looking closely, it's clear that Scorpio is the sign of the mysteries of birth and death: of genesis and surrender. The astrological interpretation above is what we have made of precious existence, having grown up in societies run by terrified, crusading gluttons for power whose minds are overrun with religious guilt. Astrology, on its least visionary level, is a set of observations of such a reality.
If we want to understand how this all happened, just rent a room in a motel, bring the hottest, hardest, wettest, willingest person you know, crawl into bed and open the drawer of the nightstand, where you will find a Bible placed by the Gideons International, "spreading God's holy word" but for sure, not your legs. There, you can read many things about the wrath and judgment of God upon sinners, which ends in the orgasmic conclusion known as the Book of Revelation, in which the world is destroyed in a horrendous, plague- and pestilence-beseiged, multidimensional war called the Apocalypse, in which all manner of strange creatures rise up from hell and participate, and in which God wields Satan in his hand like a weapon: and it's all because you're about to fuck. Even if just you want to fuck, or are thinking about fucking, you're in for deep big big trouble, cum Judgment Day.
It is often said by theologians and religious-types that man usurps the power of God. Well, here's how I view it. Religion has usurped the power of humanity and assigned it to a fictitious version of god. Then certain people pretend to have the power of that god, or to be the only ones in touch with him, and he is always a him. Yet human beings are the only creative force we know of which can create other human beings. The rest is mythology, conjecture, speculation or pure manipulative bullshit designed to make you feel weak, guilty, shameful, detesting of yourself and willing to live in subservience, pay war taxes and go to war.
If the two of you fuck in that hotel bed, under the right circumstances, there's a fair chance that a child will be born, and you have done the work of God: creating humanity in the image of humanity. You have created life. This is what I would call power. But there is a greater chance that you will feel alive because fucking celebrates the life force.
The only way to have a world with endless war is to make life and pleasure bad, and death good. By living in a world where death is extolled as a virtue and sex is punished as a sin, whether we think we believe this or not, we create a horrendous imbalance, and in our misery, struggle, depression, isolation and fear of one another, we live with that imbalance, if you can call it living. In our destruction of our planet, stewing in poisons, eating poisons, and thinking poisons, we try to live with the imbalance as well.
By denying passion and creation, we deny the power that sex has to change us, and leave death as the only legitimate force for progress. Hey, if you want to die, you'll have your chance. But meanwhile...
What those who strive for world power know they fear is the reality that Eros is a more powerful force than the death they play with and profit from. It is more powerful to them as individuals, having the power to bring them to their knees, metaphorically and otherwise, and it's more powerful in the course of nature. Life always prevails over death.
I ask all young men 18-30ish: would you rather be drafted and murder Afghanis in the brutal winter of central Asia, or be fucked by Kali?
Wait -- better not answer.
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