Tuesday, October 25th
Partial Solar Eclipse
in Scorpio 2°00'
3:49 am PST
Ocean of Time: Solar Eclipse in Scorpio
by Lisa Marie Basile
As we are led into the subterranean landscape of Scorpio season, we are met by October 25th’s New Moon and the partial Solar Eclipse that ushers in 2022’s second Eclipse season! This is a time to forge new paths in the darkness, as moles through our subconscious. In that partial obstruction of light, we find ourselves in a space between light and dark.
This playground of liminality provides a fertile ground for peering into the abyss — and reckoning with it. This is Scorpio’s most fluent language: What can be salvaged from the depths? What beauty do we find between then and now? Between what we were and what we are, between what is expressed openly and what is buried (either purposefully and meticulously, through oppressive forces, or both)?
At this time, the cosmos are asking us to collaborate with ourselves. We are being tasked with mining the chthonic land of Self with compassion, permission, and surrender to liminality. Is it possible that hidden parts of ourselves should be brought to the surface? Is it possible that we are a house of many rooms, or a garden of many flowers?
As a Scorpio (with a Scorpio stellium!), I often think of Scorpio’s innate desire: the way our hunger and intensity are sometimes reduced to something toxic, negative, or “too much.” Perhaps this is a result of social conditioning: being told to be easy, tidy, safe, and good. (What is ‘good,’ anyway, and how does it differ between cultures, belief systems, and individuals?)
Scorpio’s palace welcomes all. It is a space to shed binaries and hidden selves. It is a space that asks you to let go of shame around the subversive or strange. It offers us a watery reflection pool, dark and deep and shimmering. If you cast your eyes into the water, you will see yourself. It’s a very wild party where we are returned to ourselves.
And during this New Moon and Eclipse season, it is the time to ask: How can I boldly reframe how I see or hide or manage myself, and learn to integrate my many parts? This is a sort of Moon-y medicine, which can be hard to swallow.
An example: I used to try and make myself small and quiet and likable. My shadow Self felt like an enemy, something I had to control and muffle. Coming from a background of PTSD due to oppressive poverty, years of being in foster care, and a loss of childhood, I thought if I reacted, emoted too often, spoke up, ate too much, wanted too badly, or made strange art, I would be seen as a bad seed, furthering a cycle of pain.
And so I hid my past and diluted myself. I hid my anger, yet it was my fuel. I hid my sorrow, yet it shaped my empathy. I hid my otherness, which is a superpower. I hid my voice, which is how I show up to my community.
Shadow work helped me free myself from binaries of good versus bad, and inspired me to bring some of what I’d hidden to the surface. It isn’t easy. Mining the depths—especially during Eclipse season—requires us to prepare for potentially heavy shifts, and to give ourselves the gift of flexibility. Be flexible in how you control or express yourself. Be flexible enough to exist in liminal spaces. Be flexible enough to both let go and to call in.
Scorpio’s ability to rise from the ashes tells us we can change shape and form if we want to. And in the void of the New Moon, we get to decide what those shapes are.
—To get access to Lisa Marie Basile's exclusive Shadow Self Ritual, grab a copy download the October Guide. Looking for Eclipse insights and magic making opportunities like this? Pre-order the 2023 Many Moons Lunar Planner!