8th house transits are dying rehearsals. Except for when we realise that dying no longer truly exists. Then we have nothing to compare this transit to. We walk in as a victim and leave as a God. We have not just died, but become intimate with death, held it, rejected it, accepted it, and learned from it. The real ‘death’ is just a game now. Because after an 8th house transit we have truly burned to the ashes, screamed, held on tightly to nothing, we have vanished and woken up the next morning, gleaming, not forgetting. An awareness is released into the individual, one which is forced to grasp the magnificence of life, the trauma of loss, the anguish of our support systems evaporating. When an outer planet, like Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto cross the 8th house, nothing in life will ever be the same. We look back on the person that begun the transit and wonder how we ever truly existed as that aperture. The whole fakery of life seems to appear. And everything hurts for what seems like centuries. It’s sort of like a labor pain, the pain of childbirth, in some way forming new life within, a new self that smells more like soul, the pain of giving this birth is of course, more than unpleasant. We have a contact with the life and death cycle that can be frightening.
The outer planets move slowly enough to ensure we are submerged long enough to hear and receive the sacred message and initiate deep change. The parts of the self, those that have been contaminated by betrayal, trauma, addiction, and delusion are thrust into consciousness. These poisons are haunting, they appear as fate, they emerge as aches and dis-ease in the body and mind. They scream so loud they are impossible to ignore. These poisons can infiltrate as people, both inspiring and abusive people, those who foster them to realise, bond with, and integrate their shadow. It may force the individual into spiritual pursuits or psychotherapy. That which is no longer useful to the spirit is lethal. But the individual’s response these images or feelings or events may be destructive. The overwhelming waves can feel like drowning. The person may feel out of control or confused by the sudden replay of memory or violations. This is however, the alchemy of the 8th house, the power to process and transform from this poison is available at this moment, ready to show the individual an inner sorcery never realised before.
A person may withdraw into their own world during an 8th house transit. They focus on the inner experience, the wealth of unconscious truth that is being imparted. A person may not speak about what is going on for fear of their sanity being questioned. There may be a sexual awakening, the power of one’s feminine or masculine and creative fertility activated, a channel with angels during sexual experience. Some people leave an 8th house transit without having to escape themselves anymore, they have found soul, they have found home. People leave an 8th house transit knowing they have survived, but they died, and they died, and they died. I doubt many of them are scared of ever truly dying again.
It’d be really cool if you could do a warren one where reader is havin vehicle
troubles and he’s kinda like why do you even need a car when you have me? And
fluff because he needs love.
Awww this is really cute!
Swears. Gets a teensy bit steamy.
“Shit,” you muttered. You had just about made it to the mansion when
your car broke down. Again. You got out and slammed the door, running your
fingers through your hair. It was a three mile walk from here. You figured you had
better get moving.
You heard something behind you and turned
around just as Warren, a close friend and long-time crush, touched down.
“Car troubles again?” he asked, smirking. You
“Doesn’t run worth shit,” you shook your
head. “I really need Hank to fix it up.”
“Why do you need a car when you have me?” he
asked, walking closer.
“I’m afraid of heights,” You reminded him. He
“Well, would you rather walk home and get
there a few hours from now, or do you want me to take you and get there in a
few minutes.” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If you drop me, Warren, I swear to God…” you
muttered, wrapping an arm around his neck. He scooped you off of the ground,
smirking arrogantly. He took off, flapping his magnificent wings. Wind rushed
through your hair and you clung to him for dear life, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Oh relax,” he teased, chuckling. “I wouldn’t
dream of dropping you,” He held you
tight. You were still scared. Terrified. But you found comfort in his words.
Soon enough, Warren touched down in the courtyard.
He set you down gently on your feet and laughed to himself as you struggled to
stay standing. You wobbled on shaky legs, but he grabbed you, pulling you to
“God, you really are afraid of heights, aren’t you?” he laughed. You nodded
wordlessly, hugging him tightly as his wings wrapped around you.
“I have a strong urge to kiss the ground,”
you said. He swallowed thickly, imagining your lips on his instead of the
ground. He immediately regretted letting the image flash into his head, as you
were a telepath, and you had probably seen it.
“You really feel that way?” You asked,
pulling away to meet his eyes. He took a breath.
“Well I-” He started, but paused, clenching
his jaw. “All the time. Surprised that’s the first time you’ve caught me.”
You brushed his cheek with your fingertips.
He blushed a light pink color. You bit your lip as he bent forward, pressing
his lips to yours.
damn time, you projected into his mind. You felt him smile as your lips brushed against his. They were warm and soft and sweeter than you had imagined.
telling me, he thought. You have no fucking clue how
long I’ve wanted to do this.
You combed your fingers through his curly
blonde locks and he groaned.
we should take this make out session inside. You suggested.