Beauty is deadly.
Light is only seen, only known in the coils of darkness. The truth of beauty is intimately linked — inseperable — with ugly.
Let’s enter the forbidden, hidden world of one delicious sign.
If you can’t stomach the grotesque with the gorgeous, shield your eyes and squirm back now. Or you just might turn into stone.
But, if you can witness my remorseless feasting on the flesh of this devil most dear; if you can watch her ripe red reality drip from my lips — then stick ’round. There’s nectar to drink.
Because nothing is more important than the most dreadful divinity of all. Her name is beauty.
Taurus will eat you. And lick her lips, too. Taurus symbolizes one thing to me: feminine power. And I have a name for feminine power.
As rich and cozy as Taurus’s womb is, she can consume you into herself so there’s no “you” in the picture. She is the most deadly, blood-sipping, voracious animal of all.
But Taurus is painted as the norm. The human. The domesticated.
You poor thing. Believe these lies, and I won’t be around to stop the devouring of your innocence.
Taurus lives in the bloodthirsty leopard, who will nourish her young with as much necessity and fierceness as when she tears into the meat of her prey. Taurus lives in the sphinx, the lioness with a human head, who guards her temple with a practical mind informed by one thing and one thing only: her carnal needs. Taurus lives in the nurturing womb of the mother, the image of every moon goddess that’s ever been. She is the shadow and its light, all in one, enticing swoop.
Nowhere do Taurus and the Erotic live truer than in the most feared woman known to man: Medusa.
For someone named “terrible,” Medusa is horror. The star Algol — “demon’s head” — which lives in Taurus’s deadly domain, has a rep as the most evil star in the sky. That’s been her claim to fame for millenia.
She is the snake-haired gorgon that symbolizes man’s destruction when faced with her eyes of power. What is that power? What is the evil that turns man into stone?
The Erotic I define as the desire to share your carnality with another.
Both the most base needs and lavish cravings of the body become the means of connection to yourself, to the nature around you and to others. Hunger to feed basic needs drives the hunt for intimacy. Taurus is the experience of true internal power — not her opposite, Scorpio. (Don’t worry, Scorpio’s power is up next).
The lethal power men see in Medusa’s eyes is emotional command. To command is not the same as to control. Someone can have meticulous control but no command. And to command is also not to give orders — a five-year-old does that.
To be in command of your emotions is to know your emotions, enough to direct their charge to whatever purpose and wherever you will it. To achieve this, it’s not enough to know “how you feel”; whether you’re sad, scared, angry, whatever. You have to know and be comfortable with the deepest and deadliest parts of yourself. The hungriest and most carnal. I’m talkin’ instinct, pleasure and pain. Cravings and needs. The lush embrace of beauty and ugly as equal comforts, even as you aspire to beauty.
You need to be anchored to your core; to your existence as the animal — the beast — even as you enchant with your petticoats.
Here is the real, to-die-for (and you might) lure of Taurus.
Look at my beauty, you fools, so cultured and adorned. I carry myself like a sturdy weapon, hard and horned. My smile is a flower, but when you look into my eyes — really, look — you see strength at my core, a roar of pure power.
You want Taurus. You desire Taurus. She creates and perpetuates lust. You feel the urge, the need to have her. The more you watch her enjoy herself, the more you want to enjoy her, too. You need her because you’re not enjoyment enough for yourself. Her presence fills the gap in your emotions, making you feel secure. And secretly, she laughs, because you’ve weakened yourself by needing her for your contentment and for your pleasure, while her power remains steady and unscathed.
Taurus, who is conceived during the season of the lion, is the fulfillment of Leo’s self-hood.
Medusa’s gaze, her total possession of her emotional, animal reality dries you out. Any man who does not possess the same strong anchor to body and heart; to flesh and brains, is gonna be sucked dry. (Sucks for you, sucka).
The demon’s head, the most coveted weapon, reveals the emotional command of others as feeble at best. Medusa doesn’t have to work to take your juices when you confront her. Trembling beneath the heavy awe of her power, you surrender yours willingly. Because your grip just isn’t as firm.
There’s a reason for the pop contemporary fascination with vampires. True eroticism is tragically scarce in our constructed cubicles. So much so, that every time it rears its head, you treat it like a beast awakened from extinction. It can feel like that, in a society where primal urges and needs take a back seat, emotions are submerged, and the animal-self sacrificed to society. Lovely. If you enjoy the fakeness, elect a good Taurus to crash that party.
She is 99% carnality mixed with 100% humanity (disoriented? Great). It seems one of the only places (if not a vampire’s mouth or killer’s intimate grip) the erotic shows up is in the figure of the overpowering, over-nurturing mother.
Emotional command is about embodiment — first, foremost and forever. It’s about the body driving, informing, shaping your mind — unleashing true creative power. There’s no “secret,” no guidebook, no nuttin’ to this domination but being your own dominion.
Being in command of your emotions is being in command of your body, which is the emotional force.
Sorry, new ageists — but my body’s not a “temple.” It’s not a house. For Taurus, the body is intrinsic and inseparable from everything around it. Embodiment demands a depth of connection rare in the pop tarts for breakfast and cuckoo crackers for lunch civilization. And yet, it’s right there. You already have it. All you gotta do is experience yourself as you were made to be experienced. To connect the abundance outside of you, to the abundance inside of you. This is the sign of chthonic (underworld) forces, reaching back to our earliest creative roots and thriving each day in the growth of the cultural body.
Taurus is the biggest powerhouse there is. She created nature and everything you know. And what she creates — is within her power to destroy.
Ya know Mother Earth is no pancake vendor. She rages, creates, and rages all over again. She’s fertile as hell, but also houses an immeasurable amount of rotting death.
The planet Pluto, in recent history, has been assigned (for no technical reason, just ’cause) to Taurus’s opposite, Scorpio. But if we’re gonna play the affinities game, then here’s another atrocity built on pop interest over living experience. All right. If you really wanna fill that fetish, then give the quieter aspect of Pluto, known as Hades, master of death, to Scorpio to wear as a badge. That do it for ya? Just take your pink nails off Pluto.
As of today, I give Pluto — which means god of riches — to Taurus.
If you’ve heard of this dark and distant planet, chances are, you recall fun words like obsession, compulsion, consumption. Pluto is an overpowering force. Power itself. With the squeeze, the relentless grip of power comes a natural consequence — death. (Or mistake. Hah). But that’s the Scorpio side. Taurus is the creative body that will consume you. What bigger, more powerful creative body can you think of than the round, robust Earth (Taurus’s element)?
In a connection you merge. As you merge you solidify; you attach yourself. I don’t just wanna eat you, says the erotic — I want to possess you. This is the “mine” sign. And what’s mine takes on a whole new meaning with Taurus.
It’s a cannibalistic urge, like that of the bull-headed Minotaur (you have it every time you swap spit and lock tongues). Taurus is not domestication. Taurus is the hungry animal that forges our driving force: desire.
And she’s not ashamed. She is emotional power.
Medusa is the only mortal in her family. A mortal, born of immortals. This amazing symbolism is barely talked about. While her gorgon sisters are as gods, Medusa is branded terrible for being a creature of flesh and blood. She is the embodiment of the primal. The force, the love, the power of Eros.
Remember the unrelenting, all-consuming grip of the mother in Harry Potter. Now, imagine Voldemort’s equally unrelenting obsession, his desire for possession of the boy’s power. Strip ’em nude, and love and lust look the same. The villain is just as linked to Harry as the mother. Harry is caught in the thrall of both. Love and hate are equally charged with erotic desire.
A Taurus mother for this reason appears loving, willing to die for you, and at the same time willing to cut you out. Think of Rose’s mother in Titanic. When I watch Ruth’s suffocating grip on her daughter — emotionally, psychically — I think, BULL’S EYE for Taurus.
That corset tight enough for ya? Taurus will tighten those strings for you. Taurus is the form you can’t easily purge, the grip you can’t simply let go of, because her tentacles reach deep inside your core. Rose’s emotional arc isn’t to free herself from society; it is to free herself from her mother, who embodies that society. Sure enough, the lovely Frances Fisher is a Taurus.
Scary, but Taurus — true to the nature of the primal animal — represents the hardwiring for self-preservation at any cost, even if that’s eating your own children. Scorpio’s arc is rising above his survival needs to connect with another. Where Scorpio is wet, Taurus is dry. But sex-repressed Scorpio looks dry and Taurus looks juicy as a pool of peach nectar.
Twists and contorts the mind, doesn’t it? I love it.
Taurus, in her unadulterated nudity, represents hardened selfishness — not the masculine Mars signs, Aries or Scorpio. Taurus proves the love goddess has as much hardness as hearth. Mother Earth will by nature nourish her children but she’s a practical beast. Don’t be fooled by Taurus’s social charm and cozy qualities. Taurus is a primal, self-possessed, solitary creature.
For this reason, the snake may better represent Taurus than her lover Scorpio.
But you love, treasure and adore Taurus. You’ll take the harshness of her beautiful Earth over its absence any day. There’s no goodness like Taurus. Just don’t get swallowed whole by her ample mouth.
If the beauty you love that will both love you and devour you — devour you while loving you, whatever — isn’t enough to intrigue, think dirt.
That’s right. Dirt. Taurus’s one true home, god, and glory. There’s no end to the wonder, the horror, the growth and destruction of the Earth All you know, love and consume as good or evil comes from that wholesome holy ground. If Taurus represents riches, don’t you desire to know what gems and jewels she possesses?
Well, ya can’t. While Scorpio will eventually come around and offer up all of his goods from the underworld, you’ll just have to spend your life diggin’ and diggin’ out Taurus’s treasures. She just won’t give it up. Which makes it all the more interesting to see what she’s holding — and hiding.
F*#(#@)@#(@ — the ripest, richest sign of the zodiac is slapped with the astro-stigma of being BORING!
If that’s not an injustice, I’ll happily grow two heads for you.
I’ve had the misfortune of watching Taurus people have a “blah” attitude about their Taurusness, because of the mainstream current that’s dulled and diluted Taurus’s plump-ass name all around town. If there’s one myth I desire to nail out of Sunday school astrology, it’s the verse that paints the precious and powerful gorgon… as a simple cow.
Call someone a cow to their face. Go ahead. I dare you. Congratulations, you’ve created antagonism. So Taurus hotties of the world, pick up your torches and march with me to reclaim your god-given curves.
I’m talkin’ about the horns. What were you thinking?
Next round, we’ll start with an unlikely appetizer which declares Taurus as the most unconventional sign of the zodiac — contrary to the exact opposite belief.
Then, we’ll bite into the main course — and it’s a good one — before washing it down with ripened juice.
So salivate on this week, as you anticipate the juicing of Beauty’s blushing, bare, naked… fruit.