Hello, lovelies,
I had planned on doing this as a talk, like my last post, but with Diwali and upcoming Bonfire Night, the fireworks have made it impossible to record in the evening, which is the only time I’ve had to work on this post. So, I’ve written down my thoughts, and here they are. What I’m going to be diving into is something I’ve been mentioning all Scorpio season, and that is desire, specifically desire as a forward-moving drive - a guiding light that propels us ahead. I am going to be using the story of Orpheus and his journey into the Underworld to illustrate this, laying the foundation for the next post, when we will go deeper into this perilous journey of desire.
I named both the weekly reading and this post Don’t Look Back, drawing that name directly from the story of Orpheus. In many ways, this post is the written counterpart to that reading - an exploration of the same themes through a different lens. I’ll refer to elements from the reading, but I’ll avoid repeating too much of what I shared there. I do want to say, though, that Orpheus has been part of my life for a long time. His story of love, loss, obsession and the journey through the Underworld is one I revisit often, finding new insights each time. It was only in 2022 that I became aware of the asteroid Orpheus (3361), and, naturally, I looked up its position in my chart. There it was, conjunct my Sun at zero degrees Aquarius. This discovery felt synchronistic, especially as it happened months before Pluto first entered Aquarius. I rarely check the asteroid’s position; it’s one of those that will speak to me when it needs to. And speak to me it did, but not just in a personal capacity - for the collective reading. So, I checked, and of course, Orpheus was at the very end of Libra, preparing to enter Scorpio.
Before we dive deeper into Orpheus and the Underworld, let’s get clear on what I mean when I talk about desire.
The desire I’m talking about here is beyond the conventional idea of just wanting something or possessing something. This isn’t a judgment against what I see as Taurus energy or material, surface-level wanting; in fact, this desire has its place. The Devil in tarot represents the unhealthy expression of this kind of desire - the fixation on acquiring something external to make us feel whole. Taurus desire seeks comfort, security, something tangible to soothe the edge of our craving, like a balm that momentarily takes the discomfort away. But on its own, Taurus desire leaves us wanting more because it never touches the core drive, only the immediate need. Hence, the Devil as the advice card - a reminder that satisfying these cravings superficially can create dependency rather than fulfilment.
But just as Taurus desire can feel empty and dissatisfying when left unchecked, Scorpio desire can also go to an extreme. When Scorpio desire becomes obsessive, it’s like getting high on one’s own intensity - a self-perpetuating cycle where the hunger for depth becomes an addiction to feeling itself. This is the kind of desire that never quite reaches a resolution; it’s a craving that doesn’t end, a need to feel more, go further, dive deeper - regardless of whether it leads anywhere meaningful. Instead of guiding us to transformation, it can trap us, spiralling into jealousy, possessiveness, or power struggles, feeding off its own intensity without grounding. Rather than liberating us, this side of Scorpio desire can consume us, trapping us in cycles of repetition and ultimately becoming more destructive than fulfilling.
Desire, in its balanced form, however, is something entirely different. It’s not about acquisition; it’s about transformation. It’s that raw, unfiltered hunger that doesn’t seek to be dulled, softened, or contained. Scorpio isn’t content with surface-level satisfaction - it demands depth and dives right into the shadows to get to what’s real. Why settle for temporary relief when you can be transformed? This is the intensity of Scorpio desire; it doesn’t attempt to smooth the edges or make itself easy. It embraces every uncomfortable aspect, every sharpness, because it knows that true liberation lies in uncovering and embracing what we often fear to see. This also the root of why I often say “go for what you want and you will get what you need”.
Conventional desire - the type that’s transactional or conditional - is fleeting because it relies on getting something external. Scorpio desire, however, isn’t about an endpoint. It’s about the journey itself, a pull that takes us deeper within ourselves. It challenges us to look at what we’re hiding, to confront the shadows, to meet our own depths. This type of desire changes us from the inside, revealing who we are at our core. It’s not just about fulfilling an external want; it’s a call to face and embrace everything that we are, in all its complexity. It’s this willingness to be completely honest with ourselves that Scorpio energy offers, and in doing so, it frees us from the need to constantly chase something outside ourselves.
And this is where the journey continues into Sagittarius, where desire becomes not just a need to uncover but a need to explore, to seek meaning in everything experienced. Sagittarius takes the truths that Scorpio uncovers and moves forward with them, transforming them into expansive journeys that are meaningful and fully alive. Next season, we’ll be looking at how, once we’ve been through the fire, we don’t fear it. Instead, we carry that fire with us, letting it fuel our path forward.
For now, though, let’s dive deeper into this idea of desire as a guiding force by returning to Orpheus, the greatest musician and poet of his time. When Orpheus lost Eurydice, the love of his life just as they were starting out on their life together, he was devastated. He was so grief-stricken that he sang songs so powerful in their sorrow, they moved the gods to tears. He didn’t numb his pain or try to move on; he allowed himself to feel it fully, pouring his heartbreak into every note. This is the difference between Taurus and Scorpio desire - where Taurus might seek comfort or distraction, Scorpio desire dives straight into the depths, willing to confront even the rawest agony. The gods, moved by the depth and honesty of his emotion, urged him to go to the Underworld for his Eurydice.
Orpheus set off, carrying his desire into the Underworld itself, the place of the dead, where no mortal could return. His music allowed him access and even softened the hearts of Hades and Persephone, the rulers of the Underworld. Hades allowed Orpheus to lead Eurydice back to the world above, but under one condition: he must not look back at her until they were both fully returned to the surface. This journey represents the relentless pull of Scorpio desire - driven by transformation and depth, not comfort or superficial satisfaction. As they began their ascent, Orpheus was caught between love and fear. As he continued, he could hear nothing behind him and increasingly he doubted she was truly following, fearing he might be deceived. Just steps from freedom, he turned for reassurance, unable to resist, and in that one backward glance, he lost her forever. Orpheus returned to the surface, heartbroken and alone, unable to go back to his love again, but as one of the few heroes to have ventured into the Underworld and returned.
Orpheus’s story, and especially his descent into the underworld to retrieve Eurydice, illustrates both the power and the challenge of true desire. His longing for Eurydice wasn’t a fleeting wish or a simple attachment - it was a force that moved him to face the darkest depths, into the very realm of the dead. This is the essence of Scorpio desire - more than a want, it’s a call that compels us to go beyond the familiar and into transformation, even if that journey is shadowed with uncertainty and risk.
But Orpheus looked back. In that split second, he reached for physical reassurance rather than holding steady in his trust. The real battle wasn’t about Eurydice following; it was about his own relationship with doubt and the difficult emotions that surfaced in the shadows. He wanted something tangible, something visible, to soothe the internal fears gnawing at him, but in doing so, he broke the bond of trust that desire had been asking of him. It’s a perfect example of how desire challenges us not just to move forward, but to confront our inner landscape along the way - the fears, the doubts, the moments when we want to reach back for certainty rather than keep moving forward.
Orpheus’s story shows us that desire, especially the kind that Scorpio embodies, isn’t just about what’s outside of us. It’s an internal journey that demands we face our own shadows. His backward glance wasn’t a failure of love, but a human moment - a response to that urge for something secure in the face of doubt. It’s in this relationship with our own difficult emotions that desire begins to work on us, unearthing whatever we’ve buried, whatever we’re afraid to confront, and guiding us to understand what we truly want.
This is where desire reveals its transformative nature. It’s not always comfortable - it brings up rawness, fear, and vulnerability. But each of those feelings has something to tell us, something waiting to be seen. They aren’t there to hold us back; they’re the doorway into something deeper, something more aligned with who we really are. Desire doesn’t just ask us to move forward; it shapes us, one difficult feeling at a time, until we’re living a more honest version of ourselves.
In the next post, we’ll continue with the 7 and 3 of Swords and dive into the dialogue between the Queen of Swords and the King of Cups. Together, they guide us through the raw, often uncomfortable emotions - jealousy, insecurity, fear - that surface when we start moving toward what we truly want. These feelings aren’t obstacles; they’re signposts, illuminating the path to what lies beneath. It’s often in the discomfort, in the shadows of Scorpio season, that we uncover the truths we’ve been searching for. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where transformation truly begins so we can also enjoy our material wants.