Note: The death and rebirth process is something that can be applied to Scorpio, the 8th house, and/or Pluto in our chart. Where you have any of these symbols is the place in your life where the phoenix resides.
My best friend and I like to have fun together, and by fun, I mean sit across from each other and try to make each other cry. Not by insulting each other, or anything involving pinching, but with armchair therapy. She is the only person I've ever met that can actually match, and possibly exceed, my stamina for relentless self(and other)-examination. I have five planets in my 8th house, and two of those planets are my Sun and Moon in Virgo, so the core of me is recharged by Looking Deeply and Figuring It Out. With four planets in Libra, I like to have insightful feedback.
So there we are today, sitting across from each other, me on my second mocha, and she asks me if I want to talk about Fall. I had made a casual statement earlier about being surprised at how hard this year's approach of Fall has been for me, since my official stance is that I Love Fall and Always Have. I've been feeling so vulnerable with the approaching winter and the cold that it just makes me want to, metaphorically and physically, curl up into the fetal position. Since nothing is ever casual with her (it's one of the things I love about her), she had detected that there was much to discuss and prodded.
"Do you think that maybe this year you're feeling too tired to deal with the 8th house?" she said.
"Huh?" I was getting stuck on the word tired. And her bringing up the 8th house. "What do you mean, specifically?"
She speculated that while I've been going through some mid-life transitory stuffs that perhaps the invigoration I normally have during Fall is absent and making the transition of Fall into Winter too emotionally overwhelming.
"Why are you linking this to the 8th house?" I said.
"You are Fall," she said. "You live your life perched on that sharp, narrow edge of transition. That's why you love fall, because Fall is home. But that home is hard. Do you think you've had so much hard this year that you're too tired to live the 8th house this Fall?"
To me, living the 8th house means to continually dive deeply into yourself, to search for your own personal truth even if it scares you and threatens to undo you at times. I have been searching hard this year for meaning and its corresponding direction so I felt I hadn't stopped using the 8th house muscles.
"Well, it depends on what you mean by the 8th house, which, of course, means a number of things. I think maybe you are referring to the part of living the 8th house where I Fuck Shit Up."
I occasionally fuck shit up intentionally. I take something that appears to be working just fine and break it. Not by causing needless drama or in order to hurt others around me, but to upend my life to bring about needed change that cannot happen if I try to do it in a contained way, gradually or safely. Destroying and going down in the flames so that I can rebuild it properly. Initiate a drastic and mostly irreversible change and then live through the consequences it provokes, knowing they are coming.
Whether I do it on purpose or in response to a crisis in my life, there eventually comes a moment when I accept that I cannot outrun what's chasing me. And it's that moment that I'm able to summon the power to turn and draw my knives. I want it to come. I want it to devour me. I lean into it. I may have a warrior stance but I don't defend. I stand in its way. It consumes me as I consume it. And when it burns through me, I am the next me, raw and clean.
That's living the glory part of the 8th house. But those moments are moments. The bitch is the build up. When you're starting to molt, and it itches, and you're pissy and your life looks like shit, or at least, one part of it. Although there have been mini upheavals, the last time I really fucked shit up was four and a half years ago, when I quit my day job. My life isn't perfect, but I haven't needed to upend things for a while because there's nothing in dire need of destruction. It's all Pretty Darn Good.
So how does an 8th house girl grow in an 8th house way without burning her house down? I more or less believe that when you ask a question and are truly open to the answer, it floats to the surface, even if you don't recognize it. When I asked the question tonight, the answer was compelled to present itself: resistance.
Resistance to leaving the house without your family because you might come home to find them all murdered. Resistance to letting your family drive somewhere without you just in case that was the one time that your magical presence would have stopped the car in the neighboring lane from side-swiping them. Resistance to creating that thing because it might not be good and if others see it, they'll know it. Resistance to saying what you think because someone might disagree with you. These are little opportunities for everyday rebirths. That's how to live the 8th house.
Resist the urge to give into resistance, to reluctance. I don't try to live without fear – I don't see how it's possible or authentic. I live with it. We all do. But it is not me. I don't have to hold it, caress it, and give it shelter. I can lean into it and let it rip right through me to the other side.
"So you can resist resistance. I like that," she said.
"Hey, I think that's the title of my next blog…"