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🌒 Invocation

I enter under the velvet hush of the New Moon in Scorpio—breath low, spine steady, heart willing. I lay down what I’ve outgrown: the husks that once kept me safe, the stories that kept me small, the mirrors that only showed my former names. I call the Scorpion by its true office: guardian of thresholds, keeper of holy endings, midwife of what refuses to die because it was never merely mortal to begin with. Come, clear-eyed one. Teach me to descend without drama and to rise without apology.

🕯️ Dialogue of the Gods Within

Scorpio speaks:
“I am not your crisis; I am your consent. The turning you feel is not punishment—it is precision. I cut where life is knotted and cauterize what leaks your power. I am intimacy’s fiercest vow: to touch the truth without flinching. Let me show you the difference between secrecy and sacred privacy, between control and clear choice, between endurance and devotion.

“Do not bring me a mask and call it courage. Bring me your pulse. Bring me the name you have not said aloud—the one you tucked beneath survival. I have no interest in spectacle; my art is cellular. I compost what cannot continue and return the minerals to your will.

“You fear my sting because you mistake tenderness for weakness. But tenderness is how depth holds a blade without cutting the soul. Sit. Breathe. Let your attachments tell you what they promised and what they cost. You will not lose what is truly yours; you will lose the permissions that kept you from it.”

I answer:
“Then take what has expired and leave me the heat that moves me forward. Teach me to love the part that ended, not as an idol but as a teacher. Teach me to choose revelation over repetition.”

Scorpio replies:
“Revelation is a posture. It is chosen each hour. Stand in it, and rot becomes root.”

🜂 Integration

This New Moon does not demand spectacle; it asks for honest accounting. Scorpio’s medicine is not drama but devotion—devotion to the unvarnished fact of what is and the courageous shaping of what may be. Emotional alchemy doesn’t erase feeling; it refines it. We become less interested in being right and more devoted to being real.

Here, boundaries become instruments of intimacy, not walls against it. Here, forgiveness is not amnesia, but the release of a contract that no longer fits our becoming. Power is reclaimed quietly: in the moment we tell the truth without embellishment; in the moment we choose depth over the performance of depth; in the moment we stop bargaining with what’s already over and start tending what wants to live.

Let the ritual be simple and unglamorous: one thing you will end with dignity, one thing you will nourish with consistency, one vow you will live without witnesses. The transformation will be obvious later. For now, keep the flame close to the body and the body close to its word.

🕯️ Ritual for Scorpionic Integration

1. Prepare the space. Dim the lights and light a single black or deep red candle. Place a bowl of water beside it to mirror the union of fire and feeling.
2. Write and burn. On a small slip of paper, write what you are ready to release—an outdated role, resentment, or secret that has completed its purpose. Hold it over the flame until the edges curl, then drop the ashes into the water. Whisper: “Rot becomes root.”
3. Anoint and affirm. Touch the cooled water to your heart or solar plexus. Speak aloud one vow of renewal—something you will live from this point forward.
4. Close the ritual. Extinguish the candle with your breath, symbolizing power reclaimed rather than extinguished. Allow the bowl to rest overnight before returning its contents to the earth.

🦂 Closing Blessing

Scorpio of the midnight well, kiss the roots of my courage.
Unlace what binds; anoint what breathes.
May my endings be clean, my beginnings unforced,
my privacy holy, my intimacy brave.
Under this obsidian crescent, I choose revelation over repetition.
What is compost will feed me.
What is living, I will live for.

🔔 Invitation

Beloved seeker, may this Council remind you that descent is not defeat—it is devotion in motion. Sit at the table of endings with reverence, and you will rise carrying gold.

With devotion and wonder,
The Inspired Imaginative | The Devoted Mystic

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