Completion. Luck. The questions that claw at your ribs.
This lunation straddles Taurus’ stubborn earth and Scorpio’s hungry dark, and the cards laid out aren’t here to coddle: The World spins its ouroboros dance of endings-that-are-beginnings, Ladybug brings their polka-dotted prophecies of luck and ferocity, and the with/out modernity card plants its feet to demand of us the grit of integration, the stutter in our breath when intuition fights with fear, and the rituals that don’t just ask for clarity but dig for it with dirty hands. This is prophecy that doesn’t float down from the cosmos but erupts from your marrow.
Are you ready to see with clear eyes?
Another card of completion, this is the last card of the tarot's major arcana, a card of wholeness and accomplishment. It can represent endings, and also new beginnings, as one naturally leads into the other. The four “animals” of this card represent the four fixed signs of the zodiac — Leo, Taurus, Aquarius, and Scorpio — so it's appropriate that it shows up for the Taurus/Scorpio lunation. The Taurus New Moon grounds us in generosity and comfort, where the Scorpio Full Moon revels in the transcendent movement of deep change.
Like last month's card, this card speaks of balance and harmony. You can think of its four animals as guides or companions on your journey. Who do you choose when you choose to follow, and who do you choose when you choose to lead? In what ways is your ability to choose, either to lead or to follow, complicated by this wide world we live in?
The World is a card of integration. We have collectively and individually been taught a lot of lessons in this recent year, and in order to move forward into our next journey, we must take the time to take the learning we can from these experiences. We do not need to immediately rush to become The Fool again, racing on to the Next Big Thing. We can take some time to look back, even as we move forward, one small step at a time.
This card helps us to come to terms with a lot of the global and universal themes we were grappling with last lunation, about our impact as we walk in the world. During this time, we should be mindful of emotional attachments to the past and how they affect the ways we are deciding, consciously or unconsciously, to show up (or not) in the months to come.
The World card is closely associated, through its animal guides, with The Wheel of Fortune, both of them speaking of the cyclical nature of life. Fortune and luck are Ladybug's specialty. Uniquely loved among a class of often-hated critters, they're cute, they don't bite, they eat pests, they pollinate... who doesn't love Ladybug???
Ladybug asks us to spend some time in gratitude before we fly off to the next flower. They ask us to take our time, to seek the fates.
Associated with love and fertility, luck and prophecy, they are a joyous companion in the in-between time represented by The World card, helping us to enjoy what we have gained and how we have grown, and inspiring us to look forward into the future to see what we might be able to imagine about the path ahead.
In our ceremonies and rituals this month we are going to explore the act of prophecy. As we practice our divination method(s), it can help to consider these questions, which can cloud or otherwise influence how our intuition receives and interprets messages. Learning what expectation, hope, fear, defensiveness, and other emotions feel like in your body can help you discern between nagging and intrusive thoughts coming from within, and intuitions or glimpses of prophecy that feel true. To address the question, "Who is this about?" I am tempted, personally, to take a parts-system approach, digging into the "role" or "character" or version of my inner self whose voice might be occluding prophecy.
CEREMONY
This isn’t about mastery. It’s about courting the crackle—the static between what the cards say and what your bones already know. Whether you’re a divination gremlin with seven decks under your bed or you just like to hang out with trees and birds sometimes, this ceremony is a love letter to the slow, sticky art of listening.
If you are an experienced diviner, use whatever tool or system calls to you each day, or take some time to learn a new modality. If you are just learning your first divination tool, pick one and stick with it for the month. I want you to look at this small ceremony as a way to celebrate and savor the time you get to spend with yourself, or your ancestors, or the land spirits, for the blessing it is.
Each day, spend just a few minutes engaging in your chosen act of divination. Allow it to expand your view of the day ahead of you, or bring you closer to your dreams at night.
A RITUAL of PROPHECY
This lunation, begin at the New Moon by asking for the growth, or for the uncovering of a prophetic gift, by rooting into the sensual nature of Taurus. And at the Full Moon we can make a concerted effort to use this gift under the auspices of Scorpio.
Seeking Prophecy
The Full Moon in Scorpio isn’t here to coddle. It’s here to peel you like a pomegranate—messy, staining, seeds spilling everywhere. This ritual is a pact: to root into Taurus’s sensuality so you can stomach Scorpio’s revelations.
Altar Crafting:
Drench your altar in Scorpio’s velvety darkness—a black cloth, a bowl of saltwater (tears and oceans are kin), juicy pomegranate seeds. Light heady incense with a sweet resin and spicy notes of cinnamon or clove.
Ritual Steps:
Kneel. Press your forehead to the floor. Breathe into your deepest parts.
Light the candle. Say: “Burn what I’m too tender to see.” Spit into the flame (literally, if you’re pissed; metaphorically, if you’re not alone). Watch the wax pool like a confession.
Use what you’ve got. Stare into a blackened spoon, a phone screen smeared with ash, or the night sky through a crack in the blinds. Ask: “What wants to erupt, not whisper?” Don’t hunt answers—watch for the glitch, the flicker, the way your breath snags. Take notes.
Write one fear on a slip of paper (“I’m afraid my courage is performative”). Fold it, tuck it under the candle. Let the wax seal it. Tomorrow, bury it with a houseplant or toss it into the sea.
JOURNAL PROMPTS to PONDER
What prophecy did you smother because it didn’t sound “spiritual” enough?
If your fear were a folk song, what would the chorus be?
Write a truce between the self who clings (the self who never uses the good candles) and the self who craves (the self constantly buying new candles even though you haven’t used the last ones you bought).
What message have the cards/ancestors/land spirits been screaming that you keep mishearing as ‘metaphor’?
When has your intuition been a ‘bad ally’? (e.g., It said ‘stay’ when you should’ve left. It said ‘trust them’ when they were a liar.) What did it teach you about discernment?
Preparation tastes like… (Finish that sentence with your tongue, not your brain.)
When has luck punched you in the throat instead of kissing your forehead?
Write a grocery list for the apocalypse. What three things does prophecy demand you stockpile? (Not food or toilet paper—concepts. e.g., Silence. Contempt for clocks. The smell of rain on dust.)
Name three pleasures that moor you: the ocean lapping at your feet as they sink into the sand, your best friend’s snort-laugh, the way silence clots in a room before someone says I love you.
See you next month!
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