DECAN DELINEATIONS
Scorpio III|November 12-21, 2024
image credit—@ryotakemasa on instagram
—
The 3rd Decan of Scorpio
This decan, the twilight of Scorpio, isn’t for the faint-hearted or those who like things neat and clean…
Imagine life and death swapping stories over a smoky campfire, each puff of smoke curling into the shape of something just out of reach—here, endings and beginnings blur, tethered by the duality of life’s oldest two-faced coin—creation and destruction.
In this decan, everything beautiful is also ephemeral, and everything terrifying has a strange allure…. welcome to the borderland of light and darkness—where the muck of endings turns to fertile soil.
Tarot sage TS Chang calls the process ‘putrefaction’, the alchemical magic of fertilization born from decay…
Scorpio’s essence is laid bare here: extremes playing out in the dark underworld of human experience, deals struck between illusion and clarity, decay and birth. Here, it’s not about survival—it’s about transformation that only happens when you’ve given up every last comfort.
Astrologer Austin Coppock dubs this decan ‘a crow’… that bird of omens and mysteries who picks through the remains, eyeing each fragment with a glint of curiosity… he hints at loss, at love’s illusion dissolving into something raw and exposed, a mere shadow of projection—but he reminds us that all desire is self-born. dependent on no one else.
It’s a decan one separation, transformation, and soul-level metamorphosis…
This face of Scorpio asks us to bury the old loves, the broken dreams, the attachments that no longer feed us.
In their graves, new blossoms will grow, nourished by the energy we’ve freed. But beware—the ghosts of past desires don’t die easily; they linger, they haunt, like incubi feedings off forgotten cravings… true liberation comes when those ghosts are finally laid to rest, returning us to a primal vitality that can fuel something authentic, something that will last.
The 7 of Cups: the Muse’s Spell & Shadow
In the tarot, this decan is linked to the 7 of cups—Theresa Reed describes this card as one of choices and illusions, a time for examining what lies beneath each tempting option…
The lure here is in fantasy—daydreams and ideas not yet brought to earth… TS Chang places this card in a liminal space between the Empress and Death, Eros and Thanatos, beauty and its mortality… she calls it ‘the card of the artist,’ where imagination reigns but so does delusion.
Venus in Capricorn: Honing the Heart’s Compass
Enter Venus in Capricorn, that sophisticated, steel-spiked guardian of values and integrity, now squaring the nodes like a mountain posed before two diverging trails…
In the midst of Scorpio’s twilight terrain, Venus in Capricorn sharpens her discerning gaze, whittling away any fantasies that won’t stand the test of time… this Venus doesn’t trifle with fleeting charms—she’s here to distill the pure essence of what is worthwhile, what’s built to last, and what deserves to be carved in the stone of memory.
Picture Venus as an ancient alchemist, a kind of spiritual jeweler who’s refined her art over lifetimes…
Under her influence, ancient wisdom is miniaturized and essentialized, condensed down to its diamond-hard core—the ephemeral beauty of Scorpio’s shadows in stripped of illusion, revealing practical truths beneath… here, Venus in Capricorn holds her own against Scorpio’s ghosts, standing tall with cosmic poise as she scans each Spector for authenticity. She’s like a priestess, cloaked in modern garb, able to thread together the timeless and the tangible, the eternal and the immediate.
In this square to the nodes, Venus in Capricorn asks a pressing question: what’s essential, and what can you leave behind?
She offers us the gift of seeing through facades, sensing that hidden code behind worldly appearances… she’s here to reveal a simple truth: you don’t need to clutch at ghosts to find meaning—instead, let the illusions burn down to something stark, something with grit and durability, something that can withstand the next storm.
This Venus in Scorpio’s shadowy decan is a sober reminder that while we may dance with the ghosts of old desires, we must also know when to turn and face forward…
She teaches us the art of letting go not as a release, but as a choice—a practical act of self-respect.
You want lasting change?—let Venus in Capricorn be your guide.
Venus in Capricorn knows what’s worth keeping, and knows how to bury what’s no longer useful with dignity and grace.
The Sun in the 3rd Decan of Scorpio: A Dance with the Hidden
When the sun shines through this decan, it dances with Uranus, bearing within it a wild, unnameable energy…
Here, the self is drawn into primal currents, instincts surrendering to something vast and timeless—this decan isn’t about gentle growth; it’s about being taken over by the hidden, moving with cycles of the earth, and letting the surge of life’s ruthless power move through you… your ego will dim, and in its place will rise something raw, something ancient and unforgettable.
As it connects to Neptune, the veil thins…
The dream world merges with reality, creating a space where possibilities are endless but never certain, and the edges between self and universe blur. It’s an invitation to dissolve into the cosmic rhythm, to become a part of something that defies words.
So, here’s the third decan of Scorpio—a place of endings that feed beginnings, illusions that can either trap or transform…
This is where you embrace the muse, dance with your inner ghosts, and choose, day by day, what will grow from the fertile darkness.
Each moment is a choice, a decision to work with the magic within and around you, to be both the artist and the alchemist in your own story.
Conclusion: This Third Decan…
In this final decan, you aren’t merely dancing with shadows—you’re negotiating with them, deciding what stays buried and what deserves resurrection. It’s a place where the lines between beauty and decay, illusion and reality, merger in a symphony of cosmic mystery. choices made here are seldom simple; they demand you look beyond the surface, to the raw, pulsing turrets hidden beneath.
This decan reminds us that transformation doesn’t come from denial or escape—it’s birthed in the crucible of acceptance, where you let illusions burn down to their essence, keeping only what fuels your soul’s deepest vision. It’s a place for those unafraid to let go, who understand that every death feeds life, and every ending opens into infinite possibility.
The path is yours to choose: cling to the ghostly allure of fleeting fantasies, or craft something enduring from the compost of old desires… as you navigate this scan, remember—transformation is a choice, and freedom its the reward for those willing to embrace the dark, trusting in what emerges from within.
Actions to Honor this Energy
Ritual Release
Alchemy of the Soul
Solitude with Purpose
Dance with the Muse
Reflective Questions
What skeletons am I still dancing with?
Do my desires lead me or trap me?
What beauty do I find in what’s fading, what’s ending?
Am I seeing what’s real, or what I want to be real?
How can I turn the ghosts of my past into a feast for my future?
Suggested Goals
Embrace the Phoenix Path—let one thing-go: relationship, habit, or even an old story about yourself… and feel the power in choosing rebirth over repetition…
Creative Incantations—commit to a few moments each day to create… make a painting, a poem, a spell—something raw and from the bones and let your art be messy and real, to be an extension from the secrets of your soul
Ground Those Dreams—draw a line between your wildest fantasies and your daily reality… dream with gusto, but tether your visions to a little piece of the earth
See with New Eyes—commit to honesty: start spotting where you’re falling into wishful thinking; every moments you ground yourself is a spark of clarity for what comes nest…
Honor Your Depths—turn solitude into ritual… start a practice, however small, that brings you back to the still, deep places inside yourself—go inward with reverence—this is sacred ground
In the End…
You’re treading through the third decan of Scorpio, where endings and beginnings wear the same face: here, every piece of ‘What Was’ feeds ‘What Could Be’… this decan doesn’t just ask for your participation—it demands it.