“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.
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