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Mars entered today into Scorpio, his house of rulership. He comes in silence after crossing the exile of Libra, where his sword was forced to move according to the mirror of the Other. During that stay, Venus in Leo held him under her regal and fiery hands, but that bond now fades into a separating sextile of three degrees, like a note left on the altar before departure.
The tradition taught that this place forms no bond with the rising point through any of the five Pythagorean aspects, either conjunction, sextile, square, trine or opposition. It is a house unseen, cut off from the dialogue of rising East.
It has long been feared as the house of poison and secrecy, but is also the house where venom turns into power. The same image appears in Sacred Scripture, where the Psalm 91:13 declares: “Thou shalt tread upon the asp and the basilisk, the lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under foot.” This verse, once inscribed in seals marked with the figure of the scorpion, was held as defence against hidden dangers. It shows that what dwells in darkness is threat, but also armour; what belongs to Death can become the very force that protects life. In this chamber, Mars reigns as lord of such double-edged power, sovereign of venom that wounds and venom that guards.
It marks the passage of soul through unseen gates and the testing of loyalties that endure beyond flesh. When Mars dwells here, he is the ruler in silence. The blade turns inward, cutting through vows, secrets kept beneat the water line. This ingress unfolds at the very day when the Sun himself lessens his light, entering Libra at the autumn equinox.
Day and night stand equal, but the scales now tilt toward darkness. The solar king, who only in August burned at the height of summer, yields. Mars ascends to his subterranean throne in the same moment in which the Sun concedes to shadow, after an eclipse at the anaretic of Virgo. The ruler of Death rises as the ruler of Life declines. The solar principle sinks when the martial principle claims. The will descends and the ego is tried.
This ingress gives Mars a sky with few aspects. He does not meet conjunctions or oppositions during the whole passage through Scorpio, which lasts until the November 4. The single exception is the square that now applies to Pluto retrograde in Aquarius, which will culminate within two days. It is an approaching duel between two lords of Scorpio: Mars, the traditional king who commands by cut and steel, and Pluto, the modern claimant who rules by compulsion and depth. Even as retrograde, Pluto preserveres, watching from the house of the Good Daimon.
Outside this trial, the heavens grant Mars a solitary dignity. Only three trines will unfold in the weeks ahead: to the North Node and to Saturn retrograde in Pisces, and to Jupiter exalted at the Midheaven in Cancer. Each of these speaks of destiny, hidden vigils, and the promise of blessing to those who remain faithful. The element of fire is now almost absent in the sky, with only Neptune retrograde in Aries at the zodiacal Ascendant, itself under Mars. But even this flame is submerged, as Neptune prepares to fall back into Pisces.
The first seven degrees of Scorpio belong to Mars in his own bound. It is the region where he wears his true face, the most ardent and unwavering. In this space stand the angelic Virtues Veualiah, who brings deliverance from enemies and strength in combat; and Ielahiah who guards the warrior of justice and guides sacrifice for truth. In the Egyptian decans, this first ten degrees of Scorpio are also assigned to Mars, so that the opening movement of the passage makes him thrice at home: ruler of the sign, lord of the bound, and governor of the decan. Few positions grant him such undiluted power in the zodiac. For this reason, the beginning of the journey through Scorpio carries a rare intensity.
In this condition Mars will move unrestrained, influecing events in his own likeness, pure in strength and untempered by other wills. His nature, which in Scorpio turns inward and hidden, finds no obstacle in dialogue or restraint. He cuts what he wills. This is the portrait of a planet in solitary dominion: unchallenged and unsoftened until November 4.
This liturgy took place with Mars standing tall at the first degree of Scorpio, on the day of the Moon, during the hour of Venus, with Psalm 91 being read aloud beforehand.
I. North – What Ancient Spiritual Pact Must Be Remembered and Renewed under Mars in Scorpio?
The Five of Wands rises at the root, the flame of the martial Geburah in Atziluth. It brings the struggle that awakens hidden fire, the sacred contest that prevents the soul from falling into apathy. In the unseen foundation of the North, the Spirit recalls that covenant is born from tension; it is sealed in the clash of wills, in the testing of strength that purifies devotion. Geburah is the sphere of Divine severity and, in the plane of Atziluth, it burns without dilution, a reminder that fidelity must be forged in conflict against dispersion.
Mars in Scorpio echoes precisely this ruthlessness, working in silence but never without ardour and strife. The Five of Wands marks the root as a furnace of discipline where ancient vows are tempered and loyalty proves itself through fire that is never extinguished.
II. South – How Can This Martial Transit in the House of Death Be a Conduit for One’s Spiritual Mission?
The Emperor stands at the height of the sky in the South, a figure of order and law. Tied to Aries and the alchemical sulphur, he embodies the fire that founds and establishes. The mission under this card is to build upon discipline, to raise visible form from the hidden flame of Mars in Scorpio.
The authority of the Emperor here is structure and not tiranny; he represents the Logos given body, the rule that preserves life against chaos. In the Kabbalistic Tree, he governs the twenty-eighth path Tzaddi, casting the hook that draws the Spirit outward, binding the venusian Netzach to the lunar Yesod. The Emperor in this place calls one’s Spiritual spark to anchor mission in firmness, to create order that reflects Divine fire in life. The poison of the eighth house, when transmuted by martial severity and action, becomes the very element that strengthens the foundation of the work. The throne is only conferred through firm service to the Logos.
III. West – What Alliance or Confrontation with the Other Will Show Whether the Sword Unites or Divides?
The Six of Pentacles emerges in the West, the Descendant of the Other. It is Tifereth in Assiah, the solar heart of the Tree made manifest in matter. It speaks of proportion, gift and measure, the balance of giving and receiving that sustains justice. On the day the Sun enters Libra in its fall, wounded by eclipse, this card poins to that descent in earthly form.
The relation with the Other becomes a mirror of solar balance, asking for acts of fairness even when the Sun itself diminishes in power. Mars may rule from the shadows of Scorpio, but the western gate reminds that covenant with the Other must be weighed with care by equity. Tifereth is the kernel of beauty, and its presence in Assiah grounds the exchange in tangible deeds in mundane life. The sword of Mars protects the scales of fairness; it shields the balance so that the gift remains true and the offering is not corrupted by domination.
IV. East – What Shape May the Presence of Spirit Assume in the Body During This Martial Period?
The Hanged Man stands at the East, carrying with it an image of suspension and offering. Connected to the twenty-third path Mem, it draws once more upon Geburah, repeating the mark of Mars that had already appeared at the North, and binds it with mercurial Hod. Severity is joined to intelligence, as Geburah is the domain of Camael, the Archangel of might identified with Ares, whereas Hod belongs to Raphael, the mercurial guide mirrored in Hermes. Their bond turns conflict into wisdom and discipline into healing.
Presence during this transit points to sacrifice in the holiest of senses, the body made sign of loyalty through inversion. The Spirit is invited to accept the reversal of expectation, to become vessel of the ethereal liquid rather than master. In the flesh, this takes the form of active surrender, a silence that bears witness. The Hanged Man shows the work of baptism through water and pain, the transfiguration of one’s suffering into long-term vision. Mars sharpens that cutting blade in darkness, but the body carries it as cross. The gesture of the Spirit is to remain suspended, aligning oneself with the unseen current that moves beneath.
Κύριε ελέησον