I’ve increasingly been seeing parallels between the 12th house and sx 9. Not unlike the 9, the 12th house is the karmic house of endings and the origin. It is the primordial soup, the cosmic womb to which we return to and are birthed from. It forms a polarity axis with the 6th house which is the house of practical service and work and in the 12th house that service is manifested as a cosmic sacrifice not unlike Jesus’s crucifixion. My sun AND venus are in the 12th house, I have a sx 9 fix, and I’m getting my associates in mortuary science to become a mortician. I chose this path because there’s something ceremonial, ritualistic, and primordial about presiding over of the transition from one phase of life into another. For me, this is the closest profession in the industrialized modern world that gets me closest to something so atavistically universal. I help the dead, like Charon transporting the newly deceased into Hades, return back to the cosmic womb. In some ways, through this, I myself vicariously return back to that cosmic womb where I finally reach a dissolution of my boundaries and identity.
“On the day I die, when I’m being carried
toward the grave, don’t weep. Don’t say,
He’s gone! He’s gone. Death has nothing to do with going away. The sun sets and
the moon sets, but they’re not gone.
Death is a coming together. The tomb
looks like a prison, but it’s really
release into union. The human seed goes
down in the ground like a bucket into
the well where Joseph is. It grows and
comes up full of some unimagined beauty.
Your mouth closes here, and immediately
opens with a shout of joy there.
One who does what the Friend wants done
will never need a friend.
There’s a bankruptcy that’s pure gain.
The moon stays bright when it
doesn’t avoid the night.
A rose’s rarest essence
lives in the thorn.
Childhood, youth, and maturity,
and now old age.
Every guest agrees to stay
three days, no more.
Master, you told me to
remind you. Time to go.
The angel of death arrives,
and I spring joyfully up.
No one knows what comes over me
when I and that messenger speak!
When you come back inside my chest no matter how far I’ve wandered off,
I look around and see the way.
At the end of my life, with just one breath left, if you come then, I’ll sit up and sing.
Last night things flowed between us
that cannot now be said or written.
Only as I’m being carried out
and down the road, as the folds of my shroud open in the wind,
will anyone be able to read, as on
the petal-pages of a turning bud,
what passed through us last night.
I placed one foot on the wide plain
of death, and some grand
immensity sounded on the emptiness.
I have felt nothing ever
like the wild wonder of that moment.
Longing is the core of mystery.
Longing itself brings the cure.
The only rule is, Suffer the pain.
Your desire must be disciplined,
and what you want to happen
in time, sacrificed.”
– Rumi, “On The Day I Die”
-Sarah, 2w1 9w8 5w6 Sp/Sx
Image Source: Unknown – It is not mine and credit goes to the artist who made it.
Image Header Source: https://deannewolfgram.com/2014/02/08/the-cosmic-womb-is-birthing-us/