TWENTY YEARS AGO, I was seeing a woman that I had met innocently while sitting in a coffee shop. We hit it off immediately, having several things in common (dysfunctional relationships, kids, politics). It helped that she was one of those women who walked into a room and every man wished his wife would disappear.
One thing that we did not have in common was astrology: she was a dues-paying member of the Washington State Astrological Association while I was a member-in-spirit of every skeptic’s organization on the planet! On one of our first dates, Sparkles (what I will refer to as to keep her secret identity secret) invited me to a meeting of her organization. This was not a few people getting together at a weekly coffee klatch at their favorite espresso bar—this get-together was attended by 200 true believers.
My skeptic’s antennae were sensitive to any bullschidt that might be making the rounds that evening.
I have a Buddhistical acceptance of the oneness of the universe the world the void of its being interconnected interweaving that each atom affects every other atom instantaneously in some sibling way that quantum physicists can only theorize about and only Wholly Grommett groks.
Nonetheless, I do not believe in astrology nor in any other form of divination prophesy prognostication or anything that even hints in the direction of pre-destination or pre-determination.
So, understand this: I was on my guard!
Watercolor of Virgo by Gabi Xavier.
Let the meeting commence
After everyone was seated, invited guests like myself were asked to introduce themselves. Sparkles had prepped me, so I gave my name and birthday (both of which I had memorized by then) along with my rising sign and other pertinent astrological data.
But it boiled down to this: “Hello. My name is Neal. I’m a Virgo and my rising sign is Cancer.”
The attraction of the evening was a guest lecturer of some renown who spoke about astrology and history. I forget the gist of the talk but enjoyed it at the time. At its conclusion, everyone headed for refreshments and conversation.
Sparkles was the only one or thing in the room that held my attention so I didn’t mingle or even pay much attention to the rest of the attendees. So it was that I didn’t notice that most of the room had gone quiet and that people were beginning to stare at us.
And the “us” was more than Sparkles and I: an older man stood nearby, politely waiting until I had stopped talking so that he could introduce himself. Unlike so many of the others there who seemed rather staid (almost yuppie-ish, in fact), he was dressed in a new-age-cowboy cum old-age-hippie style.
With gray hair turning white hanging free to his waist beneath a hat that was more Australian than Texan, he asked, “May I interrupt?”
Now everyone was giving all of their attention to the interaction between him and me.
“Certainly,” I responded.
He introduced himself (and we will call him “Mr. Berossus” to protect the innocent among us) followed by, “I’m sort of the guru of all these astrologers. For some reason, I can do a chart in my head as accurately as they can on a computer. I’d like to do yours.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Now,” he said.
“Certainly,” I responded.
Watercolor of Scorpio by Gabi Xavier.
Your goal in this life
Mr. Berossus then asked me a series of questions, beginning with where and at what time I was born. It lasted several minutes and then stopped. He closed his eyes and, I assume, ratiocinated.
After which he opened his eyes, stared at me for a moment, and pronounced, “Your goal in this life is to come to grips with Scorpionic power.”
Without missing a breath I announced, “My father is a Scorpio.”
He nodded.
“My mother is a Scorpio.”
He nodded.
“My daughter is a Scorpio.”
He nodded.
“The mother of my daughter is a Scorpio.”
“Wow, man,” he said. “You do have your work cut out for you . . .”
HEADER IMAGE: I lifted the amazingly apt photo (apt because I am—0r once was—fair-haired while Sparkles is a brunette) at the top of this page from an article titled “Scorpio and Virgo Compatibility: The Sorcerer and the Healer” on the Astromatcha website. It opens with this assessment:
“You might wonder what on earth strong, powerful Scorpio and meek, unassuming Virgo see in one another—and Scorpio and Virgo compatibility does make for an unusual couple. However, the clue to this relationship’s surprisingly high level of success is in the couple’s mythological archetypes.
The Sorcerer and the Healer are both mysterious, enigmatic beings, and they both wield magical power of one sort or another. These two have more in common than you might think, and can create an unbeatable team when they fall in love.”
Alas, Sparkles was not a Scorpio, so of course, the would-be romantic relationship never really got off the ground. After reading a draft of the above, Sparkles added, “You have forgotten that my north node—the karmic point in every chart—is in fact in Scorpio. It has to do with consuming love, desire, loss, death, rebirth, and transformation, as the sign is known for. It is hands down the most important point in a birth chart and shows one’s past life energies (south node) opposed to current life requirements/energies (north node).”
I came across this statement and thought that I would include it here for those of us who are not Scorpios but know them intimately: “I see it all the time: the dead can hold a grudge better than most Scorpios.” (Billie Dean Howard)
Update in 2022
A short time after Sparkles and I broke off our romance, I met a woman that I would never have described as my “type” during the first forty years of my life. As of 2022, we have been together for more than twenty years. Needless to say, she is a Scorpio
I also have a 6-year-old grandson. Want to guess his sign?
Mystically liberal Virgo enjoys long walks alone in the city at night in the rain with an umbrella and a flask of 10-year-old Laphroaig who strives to live by the maxim, “It ain’t what you know that gets you into trouble; it’s what you know that just ain’t so.
I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn, and a college dropout (twice!). Occupationally, I have been a bartender, jewelry engraver, bouncer, landscape artist, and FEMA crew chief following the Great Flood of ’72 (and that was a job that I should never, ever have left).
I am also the final author of the original O’Sullivan Woodside price guides for record collectors and the original author of the Goldmine price guides for record collectors. As such, I was often referred to as the Price Guide Guru, and—as everyone should know—it behooves one to heed the words of a guru. (Unless, of course, you’re the Beatles.)
...and I am, of course, a Scorpio!
Appy-polly-loggies but your comment has been sitting in my Spam folder for weeks. Belated Happy Birthday here in the blogosphere!