Saturnian gals unite

What water alone can't teach

I have a stellium in Capricorn in the second house. Saturn - Uranus - Neptune - Venus. I know. As much as I hate to admit it, as a watery Scorpio, this earthiness has probably saved me more times than it frustrates me. I always thought the earth was binding, confining. I can’t stand a 9-5 or a Monday-Friday schedule. If I can’t create my own program, on my own terms, I’m out. I’ve been realizing this over the past fifteen years, working jobs that consistently drained me to the point of panic attacks and depressive episodes. It’s also resulted in friendships rupturing where there was even an ounce of someone else trying to tell me who I am.

But of course, earth is the container in which I live. As water, without the earth, I cannot flow or stream or pool. The earth absorbs me, holds me, prevents me from flooding, containing my tendency to both nourish and destroy.

I first learned of Saturn when I was 27 and in the throes of the ending of a five year relationship. In the midst of spending the year in constant therapy, reiki, and meditation trying to process my pain, I learned of the Saturn return (that every 29 years or so, Saturn comes back to the exact position it was at the time of your birth). Suddenly, somehow, everything I was going through at least made some sort of cosmic sense. It was comforting to know that a rock in outer space has been following me all my life, and that she was there at the first developmental threshold – when I was finally becoming a grown up, for real.

It’d been a few years since then. I’d mostly forgotten about Saturn. Then about six months ago, I was browsing my local crystal shop when I noticed some brass stud earrings that stopped me in my tracks. When I told the shop owner how striking they were, she wisely remarked, “Ah, Saturn.” I hadn’t recognized her.

“It means disruption, right?” I asked.

“And also limits, boundaries, routine,” she softly explained.

I set them on the counter to purchase immediately, and I wore them every day for about six months. Wordless, bronze, and oddly shaped, they became my daily reminder to remember how far I’ve come. The brass reminds me of being forged in fire. The roundness brings my awareness to the sky, to the limits of what I can and cannot see, and back around full-circle to me, existing on this small planet called earth – a gentle rock spinning through space.

Earrings have always been a sort of spiritual practice for me – the way I adorn myself, an intuition. My tragus and forward helix piercings were each done on a New Years’ Eve, on the precipice of a new year, and my nose piercing on a Scorpio full moon. Throughout my 20s, I wore the biggest, most spectacular earrings I could find. The bigger and brighter, the better. They were my anchors. My big, bold, teal-blue-shiny self, on display. Exaggerating the eyes, or yet drawing your eyes to them, more than to my own face.

My middle school students made fun of me for the big earrings one day, and I stopped. That was back when I still let others’ opinions matter more than my own. All my life, I’ve found it easy to drown in the emotions and opinions of others. And yet, it’s the piercing that reminds me of my own agency when I feel like I’m drowning. A metal stronghold – something to keep me from floating away.

A spiritual mentor I met with recently said, after knowing me for two hours, that I have a Saturnian quality to me.

“You’re a Saturnian gal,” she said.

I laughed. I said I knew about Saturn. It’s the planet of disruption.

“And also limits, sacrifice, difficult lessons… The reality of death,” she replied.

And so I dove back into my chart again to inquire about what lessons she might have for me now. Saturn returned in a time when I needed her most. She has come back to reveal what I can and cannot see.

When I’ve found myself with a gap in my life, something nothing else seems to quite have an answer to, astrology offers a key.

Today, I pulled out the Saturn earrings again.

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It’s been a hard past few weeks, or months. How is Saturn showing up for you? I’d love to hear from you.

If you need support in creating a container, let’s chat.

Xo,

Brittany