Scorpio 1–Back to the basics

It was a beautifully warm and sunny Sunday morning when my sister called to tell me that my father’s health was deteriorating fast and that it was time for me to come home to Cairo and spend some time with him. The seriousness of her tone and the alarm in her words carved a hole through my insides.



I was in bed, with the glare of the sun bleaching my sheets, burning at my face and neck. Wrapped around my torso was Thor, a charming and attractive Norwegian who was in town for the weekend from Oslo. He sensed the weirdness in my voice and sat up somewhat intently. When I was done with my phone call, I sat quietly for a moment before trying to explain. It was an odd situation, trying to spell out a sore emotional spot to someone I’d just met. On a strange level, I was grateful he was there. I needed someone to listen, even if to the few chopped sentences I put together, and I needed a warm body close to mine, even if his interest in me was not very developed in nature.



The next 48 hours were a mad rush to find a spot on an airplane, to retrieve my passport from the Italian embassy that has been holding it hostage, and to get paperwork and work done to allow me a few days of personal time. Eventually, I touched down in Cairo and made it home to evaluate the circumstances for myself.



It’s difficult, seeing someone who has always been so active and full of energy bed-ridden and gasping for air. Though incredibly weak, his situation was more stable than I imagined, and that brought some relief.



The strangeness of being in Cairo on an unannounced, unplanned and family-focused visit resulted in some incredible sensations. For one reason or another, I felt like I was back in my mid teens- an innocent, awkward kid in high school hiding out at his parent’s place. The bed I slept in every night is the same bed I had slept in so long ago, and each night as my head hit the soft pillow my mind would race with memories of childhood dreams. Like every teenager I dreamt and fantasized so often, and they were always dreams of a life I was so anxious to start. A life where I would feel accepted and special; where I would fall in love with a handsome, caring man; where I would achieve the pinnacle of my profession; and where I would leave the confines of this oppressive city and be unashamedly me. I would lie there for hours, staring into the dark ceiling, my very core inspired by the freedom, the love that I knew I would have one day very soon…very soon.



I cannot help thinking that I’ve lost touch with that 15 year old boy. Yes, perhaps he was naïve at times, but his values were simple, his dreams clear and attainable. Never in a million years would I have thought that the true challenge facing me now nearly ten years later is the lack of understanding of what it is that I want. Was I always complex in my needs or have I been confused by my new surroundings? I’m not sure it matters. The truth is life has given me several chances to settle down with someone and be happy, but my indecision and pettiness often got the better of me. My ever-rising standards with my every dwindling tolerance. Where does that leave me?



Thor keeps crossing my mind. We’d only spent 3 nights together, but he already made quite an impression. “Perhaps the brevity of his visit had something to do with the intensity of what we shared,” I say to myself, but just as I try and rationalize and demystify that beautiful weekend I wonder to myself – would 15 year old Moses destroy the chance of a meaningful relationship because he was doubtful if the amazing feelings he had for this person were real? Would the fact that this man lives in Oslo have mattered? I don’t think so. He would have laughed at the idea of feelings being fabricated because of a flight schedule or at the 1.5 hour plane ride between London and Oslo as a serious impediment.



This is what I need to do to every negative or doubtful thought- instill the hopeful, dreamy child within. Back to the basics, people. Back to the basics.

Scorpio–Prelude

“I hope you are all ready,” he looked into his copy of the Zohar before looking back up again at the curious faces, his grin even wider. “Expect it all this month; turbulence, emotional turbulence of to shake the very ground your feet stand on; internal conflict that will tear your insides apart and bring to the surfaced a raw, exposed you, ready to begin anew and rise from the ashes of Scorpio.

“For in this month you will become one of two things: this very phoenix that rises from the ashes and soars into the sky, a glorious powerful being to behold, or a scorpion- laden with poison, treading the endless desert that is your emotional abyss.”

At the time I did not pay much attention beyond what would have been reasonably polite in the circumstances. I was used to grand declarations being made during Shabbat. Drama was part of the show, and only naturally so: the centre catered to wealthy divorcées and flamboyant gay men, with the odd Jew thrown in for good measure.

But it only took a few hours for Marcus’ words to cast their spell.