An astrology client asked me for a timeline of the major transits we experience in life. These are all rough ages, as due to individual charts and the geography of where a person was born, when these occur might shift slightly. For instance, I first felt my Saturn return at 27 and the Pluto square at 35.
All of these have been written about thousands of times over, so there are many further resources for reading available.
Astrology Timeline: Birth to Elder Years
Childhood
7–8: Opening Saturn square – First awareness of independence.
9: Nodal opposition – Shifting priorities, social awareness.
39–40: Neptune square – Questioning purpose, seeking meaning, dreaming of “what else’/the unlived life.
40s
42–45: Uranus opposition – Along with Pluto square and Neptune square, the heart of the “Midlife crisis,” breaking conventions, seeking other paths, shakeups that lead to liberation.
44–45: Saturn opposition – Testing lessons from the first Saturn return.
48–51: Chiron return – Healing, mentorship, life review, old wounds revisited for mature/wiser address and healing.
50s
51-52: Closing Saturn Square
54–55: Nodal return – Revisiting/updating life goals, what we want, and what we are shedding, where we have slacked vs where we have grown
58–60: Saturn return – Wisdom, legacy, long-term or retirement shifts.
60s+
62–65: Closing Uranus square – Embracing freedom in later life, realizing where we are too free and do not want to be, and where we are cloistered and need liberation.
64–67: Opening Saturn square – Reflecting on commitments, goals met or missed, surveying wisdom used or ignored.
72–74: Nodal return, Jupiter return, Saturn opposition – Integration of life lessons, choices, and experiences coming home to roost.
Before that, on the table, the new widower punctured my limbs and ears, drew blood at the third eye. He left me to align and later held my neck and asked me what I saw. I told him, an expanse of tall grasses blowing on a white-cloud clear day, but I was on one side of a short wooden rod fence. An Eastern Bluebird appeared in my left hand and seemingly near death, discombobulated. Suddenly a worm appeared in its beak, and it flew off, revived. I hopped the low fence and began walking through the expanse of grass. My dead dog was with me. It felt futile, just grass forever.
Resigned to it, but then a lion. A massive male lion walked to me, conveying protection, as a familiar. It led me to a tree I climbed to rest. I picked and ate the tree’s fruit in the shade. Satisfied, it left to hunt, returning with a bloody muzzle. It slept under the tree.
We awoke and kept walking, but just grasslands. The other dog joined us. I tell the lion the dog isn’t food and the lion accepts this, leading us on. There are more of us now, but I wonder if this is just it, forever, the same landscape.
Later, I see a well under a tree. I pull up the rope up. Inside a bucket is midnight blue silk cloth. I lower it again and draw up a silver spoon. I think of my Grandfather. Again, and this time it’s a green frog inside the bucket. I put the items in a hip pouch and lower it once more. A yellow canary or goldfinch rides up on the side of the bucket and flies away.
That night I turn on a show. In it, a woman walks out of the exact house I dreamed that I owned, over a year ago.
Last night I made a storm outside that cracked at the ground and shook the houses like shoulders. Went to bed sweeping at the sky for the breeze to break heat, and rain so I wouldn’t have to water. Weather is not stubborn.
Sun in Cancer season is always a lot, if different than other emotional, water sign seasons, like Pisces and Scorpio. Things we consider permanent or safely sunken parts of our emotional landscapes loosen with the emotional tide, and are deposited on the shores of our consciousness.
If Pisces is our subconscious, intuition, and dreaming, and Scorpio is pain and passion lurking in the shadows -secrets made painfully known, stinging truth – Cancer is our own emotional way of being in the world, what we hold in, the crying we do alone. Cancer is our vulnerability we try constantly to protect. With water seasons, I find it feels similar to being thrown out of a boat in turbulent water — don’t fight it, imagine your body as driftwood, go limp, go with it, and you will rise right up. Just ride it out. Fight it and at best the waters will fill your lungs, distended your chest – expanded with the weight of salt water.
Think first of Cancer, the crab. Its hard outer shell holding and hiding tender insides, able to scuttle in all directions, perceiving, darting up and down – peering out and descending, and the pincers that grasp and do not let go. Apply that to the emotional functioning of Cancer as a sign and you can see how all of theses things (as with all signs and their pros and cons) can be gifts and detriments.
Cancer is the only sign ruled by the moon – by the divine feminine, by constant flux and cycle – usually partially shrouded, and briefly, fully illuminated, then changing again. And, because the moon moves so quickly, and of course visits the sign every month (*every month*, no other sign has to go through that kind of activity as regularly), Cancer can be considered moody. Changing. And, Cancer is the sign and behavior of mothering. Family is vital to the sign of Cancer. What the crab cares for, it goes *all in* on, sometimes to the point of smothering. Cancer is, an emotional fish, er, decapod. It’s fiercely protective of itself and of its own.
Mary beating the devil. Fair depiction of one aspect of Cancer… the devil correctly fears one thing, a fierce mom.
Those of us who know or love someone with strong or aspect-vexed Cancer energy instinctively seek to find stable land in those relationships, but sand shifts and moves. Even if Cancer trusts you the once, that was just that one time. The next time is its own experience: to be determined. You are in with a Cancer or you are out. And, at the same time that doesn’t mean you aren’t still caught in a pincer without even knowing… if a Cancer decides you are their family, that won’t waver. Even if you are continually tested. Cancer doesn’t let go unless it can see a good reason or something forces it.
The beauty of Cancer is the truth of the emotions. When Cancer isn’t bound by a calcifying rising or moon sign like Cap or making a hard aspect to something like Saturn (which would try to convince Cancer that overt emotion is a detriment), the pure emotional expression is generally gorgeous, or with a strong aspect to Mars sometimes scary, but usually at the least, remarkable, often an honor to witness.
So Cancer season has us all feeling what Sun, Moon, and Rising Cancers feel regularly, to some degree. Much like when the Sun is in Pisces and everyone is crying, others have to live here in this place of shift and armor and chronic awareness of underlying vulnerability, the rest of us only visit. All of this and I haven’t even addressed the Cancer new moon partial solar eclipse a few weeks ago – energy that will resonate and play out for months, especially for Cancer sun, rising, and moon folk.
processing pie cherries and the last of the 2013 honey
Personally, that Cancer eclipse on the 12th was much stronger than I thought it would be, in ways I didn’t expect. So. Much. Cooking., and, during incredible heat outside… illogical, but satisfying. I go in cycles with cooking, but I suppose since Cancer is my 4th house of home, there’s nesting to be expected. And, extra focus on mothering of course. I went to see Won’t You Be My Neighbor with a friend, which severely cramped my crying. But still, I was and am wrecked, accessing those memories and emotions raised by it.
A thing I could see during the film was that while every viewer loves Mr. Rogers, his relationship to everyone varies, of course. As with the example in the film of Jeff Erlanger – someone to whom Mr Rogers probably meant the world – the rest of us fall along a spectrum. So confronting how much he meant to me, and why, (probably very similar to what he meant to my sister and brother) cuts to the quick, does not let up. We’ve been talking to each other about who has seen it, who hasn’t. It’s a sacred subject for us, something we each hold in our depths.
In this season it’s natural too that other, deepest, nerve-close narratives should arise now for emotional processing. Cancer is the season of the wounds that haunt us – the rusty, corroded aches we can’t quite name, asking to be pulled from the depths, cleansed, transformed. Things lost at sea rediscovered, brought up, and cataloged, understood, demystified.
I’ve studied these stories and women and women like them so much, and their narratives resonate so strongly, both scholastically and personally, especially Virginia’s. Sarah Marshall pressed me to explain it once and I couldn’t. I thought for sure she would have something she felt that way about, a topic she has to leave the room for should it arise, unable to hear so many get it so wrong and for it to be partly personal to her. But she didn’t.
I’m going to go see the Mr. Rogers movie again, alone. And properly, though characteristically silently, express everything that should be left there, in the dark, with only his constantly accepting face flickering back at me.
After Cancer season of course, is Leo. In Leo we can have genuine, well merited pride over what we worked through, use our new wisdom in a wonderful display of saturated individuality, or we can fall to pridefulness, having not worked through what arose, with a self-deceptive shrug of: ‘I’m fine the way I am. Humph’… all very, The Emperor’s New Clothes. In a few months, Scorpio will have something to say about that.
Current recurring visual themes of my season: keys, wasps, spiders, and the feathers are back. I asked for signs to keep me bolstered and steady, and so the feathers are back. And, people leaving things on my doorstep. Which is curious, and unsettling.
Ready yourselves for the next Full Moon partial Solar Eclipse in Aquarius on the 27th, and then one in August in Leo – a sort of next chapter in the book of last summer’s big eclipse in August. I like to think I’m sitting these eclipses these out, with little activity in these signs in my chart, but as I’ve learned, how these eclipses impact others ends up impacting how their relationships and communities change, grow, or morph in turn. The ripples made by others create whole tides elsewhere.
Tomorrow, Uranus moves into Taurus, after 7 years in Aries. And, the new moon on the same day is also happening in Taurus… that’s a massive new tide. It’s the first and one of the only major astrological moves happening this year.
I’ve always thought of Uranus as Tesla – the man, not the brand – thinking and creating something(s) so unexpected and radical, communal, overhauling whole schools of thinking and moving the world forward in leaps. Of course the culture pushes back, stirred from it’s complacency, but it can’t unsee.
Now a bit about Taurus… Taurus the sign of earth, nature, sensuality, traditions, finance, luxury, food, work, art & beauty, values. I think of Taurus as Orson Wells – an unbelievably brilliant artist – a genius, a virtuoso summing up and aesthetically challenging his time, instinctive, successful, but ultimately (later) overindulgent, hedonistic, and obstinate. Sorta sloppy at the end — the shadow side of unchecked Taurus.
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Uranus is an outer, transpersonal planet. Like Pluto, much of the work Uranus does is cultural — broad strokes (versus the personal planets closer to the earth, such as Mercury and Venus). Think of how in 2011, when Uranus moved to Aries, Kardashianism, tumblr, and selfies were just starting to reach an apex. Everyone’s parents and grandparents finally got on Facebook. The broadly named ‘Arab Spring’ was in full swing and it felt like a new protest or demonstration in the middle east was happening each day.
uranus, photo: loupi_nou
Uranus is departing Aries and Aries is the sign of the warrior, of the self… Me-ness, and self advocacy and self focus. While many roll their eyes at the idea of celebrity-for-no-real-reason, self study through the eyes of others has its place, especially for young women who have been denied self-hood in myriad ways for thousands of years. Many artists, including Cindy Sherman and Francesca Woodman (to name just a couple), taught us that. We have to understand how we are in the world — the identity of our self — that is encountering the world.
Uranus in Aries also saw the cultural impact of the outer planet resonate with the start of protests in the US around the Occupy Movement, Ferguson, Women’s March, RESIST, #metoo, etc., protests about holding the culture accountable to how it impacts individuals and therefore non-dominant communities.
Apply those functions to Taurus – sign of nature and its resources – and suddenly things like the shift in focus to water rights, Flint drinking water crisis, the volcano Kilauea, begin to set the tone of the transit. (The 2011 tsunami in Tōhoku Japan happened right before Uranus moved into Aries.) Now apply that kind of transformation and addressing of long standing issues to the self, and we can begin to understand how this transit might impact us culturally, and personally. What will be revealed are opportunities to dramatically overhaul our emotional status quo, transform long-standing issues and bad habits, and forge entirely new ground by unearthing new beliefs and philosophies, all related to the house this is happening in for you.
And to look more closely at the personal impact of Uranus in Aries, think of what was going on in your life in spring of 2011, when Uranus last changed signs… what is different? How are you different now? What was your emotional tone 7 years ago and what did a day in your life look like? What were the most significant events through those years?
Look up what house Uranus was transiting in your chart — (I love this site b/c it defaults to whole house system, and shows current transits on the outer edge. Just start entering your birth city where it says Sydney, AUS) see what house Aries occupies. This will reveal which themes and narratives Uranus was impacting these last 7 years, and what running themes will be taking attention these next 7 years for you, in Taurus.
For me, Aries is my 12th… the house of death, self-undoing, subconscious, suffering… or so it’s called. I find it to be the house of psychology and our shadow selves – the decisions we make and how they impact us in ways we didn’t imagine. Ultimately, for me, everything that had to die — relationships, jobs, situations, friendships, beliefs, habits, did die. I leave that transit a distillate of myself, far more purely me than 7 years ago, but chrysallis-ing, with no excess. I am wholly pared down and what I hold close, is fiercely held. There’s no surplus — everything that was supposed to leave me, did. What was built on false, weak soil atrophied itself, removed itself, withered off. What’s left is: of the self, as the self, mine.
From, ‘The History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven in the County of York
It’s curious then to now see the focus shift to Taurus and my first house of self, the house of my ascendant. What I know is that in 7 years time, I will likely not be very recognizable. My self will be transformed into new, and the nature of Uranus means that the changes will be innovative and unexpected. I’d imagine the places I’ve always been pushing for – living off grid in a wooded area or living abroad in Bruges or Malmö, but the nature of Uranus means the changes will likely not be ones that were able to be imagined.
My beautiful, dear one reminded me that when in any doubt, return to the basics, and do not forget them. That was right before she took my child outside in the sun and taught him to hold stones closely, cast his wishes into them, and bury them so that the earth can work.
It has been a year of the very best friends.
bruja magic
Current celestial intensity.Plus, Mars and Saturn’s current antics led to these dreams…A man who seemed to be on drugs or simply raging, cut a woman’s face on a sidewalk. As she slumped down, he began looking for another victim. A man near me was bent fixing his bike and the knife wielder approached him. I was walking away to find help, but realized the man with the bike was about to get harmed so I moved closer, trying to prevent it, but the man slashed out with his knife. As I got to the victim, the perpetrator seemed to be moving to cut him again, but saw me and moved his attention. I began speaking to him like a friend, saying, ‘oh can you get some cloth and help me with this man’s wounds?’ trying to throw him off and emotionally shake him to. He was confused, then started towards me seemingly to cut me as well.
The next dream began. I was leaving an event or maybe work at night, in a city. It was busy on the street and a man with what looked like a smallish battery-powered (?) circular hand saw was threatening people on the street, grabbing them, threatening to cut them, then letting them go. I was debating what to do. Then suddenly he took the saw to himself, right across his stomach. He crumpled over, blood everywhere, people freaked out. I walked quickly away, shocked. I didn’t want to have to talk to the police about it for hours, having to relive it. I tried to call a friend to pick me up, but couldn’t get through. I was walking through a part of the city I didn’t know and accidentally walked into someone’s private property. I didn’t see the ‘no trespassing’ sign until I was already inside. I started back towards the exit, but the occupants were coming in — several large men in hunting or military type clothes with large dogs. I figured I would be attacked, and I started apologizing for being there, but they were understanding about it. One took my bag off my shoulder and showed me a way to stretch to relax after the scene I had fled. He told me to look up at the stars while stretching and it would be more effective. …These are the Mars-iest, Saturn-iest, Capricorn-iest dreams possible.
The best example of Aries in action is currently seen across media… the young women who are survivors of mass school shooting speaking fiercely, honestly, and holding accountable the entire country, in front of an audience of thousands of activists and protesters. It’s so Aries-in-action to watch, it’s breathtaking. Children holding our culture’s terminal apathy accountable, righteous anger peppered with ferocity, correct, outraged youth.
Jupiter’s retrograde in Scorpio has a role here too. Jupiter is a planet that enlarges everything it touches or passes through. Jupiter through Scorpio (coupled with Mars which finally left the sign) is what gave us #metoo and the deluge of finally illuminated truth-tellings and stories of assaults perpetrated by scores of high profile men last year. It’s given us people speaking and living their truth, releasing it from shadowy places, finally. Scorpio is liminal, where painful secrets, hurt, and anger reside – feelings and subjects we as a culture consider taboo.
Think back to November of last year when the Sun was also in Scorpio. How much did we learn about those around us and our own truth? What was brought to light that had previously been just a resonant subtext? Jupiter still in Scorpio, continues to pluck that string in a big way and on a grand scale. What have we changed since then? Jupiter’s current retrograde in Scorpio says that we aren’t done yet, facing what’s true, unpleasant, difficult, and desperately needing to be addressed, both personally and culturally.
Whether #metoo or outraged shooting survivors or our own realizations about our ability to look at our own emotional shadows , Jupiter is saying, ‘Yeah not so fast. I’m not leaving until I’m sure you can’t deny this any longer. You can’t unsee.’
A note about the 12th house — I’ve been asked by a few friends recently to explain the mysterious 12th house. It’s been called the ‘house of suffering,’ ‘house of self-undoing,’ ‘house of subconscious,’ house of death.’ It’s the house where we face ourselves, whether we want to or not and whether we are aware of it or not — where we are our own worst enemies or create narratives about ourselves and our lives that we cling to, even when they are outdated, preventing our own real happiness and growth, sort of like emotional and psychic security blankets. Comfy, same or similar, safe choices that ultimately work against us.
No matter what sign is in this house, trying to understand it will probably feel like trying to grab at fistfuls of fog. What the 12th house wants you to know is likely functioning like a rider on the other running themes in your life, asking to be addressed by the choices that we actively make towards our fulfillment and wholeness, instead of our stagnation and undoing.
…conjunct natal Venus (which is opposite natal Saturn), square natal Pluto… It’s like noble Venus is being constantly hollered at in both ears by relentless drill-sergeant Saturn, and Pluto is shouting up: “Heeeey, I can just tear it all down if you want!”. Not helpful, Pluto, but I feel you.
The Moon through Pisces and Cancer was emotionally intense. And, so much is still in Pisces (Sun, Nept, Venus, Merc. and Chiron), all trampling over my natal Moon in Pisces, conjunct Jupiter (and both planets are square Neptune {which my north node sits in exact conjunction} in my stellium sign and house… yeah. Let that sink in, chart readers!). Even I was impressed by how much my subconscious self decided to shut down last month. After a cold, I developed some sort of extremely painful rib lining and sternum inflammation (?) I had never heard of, got a bunch of needles and rolfing which only slightly helped, and ended up staying home for over a week until I could breathe deeply and move my right side. It cleared up, but I can see now it created a strange pocket for me to totally check out. I just read, researched, and slept and played with my kid. That part was kind of a dream, minus the sparking white pain while breathing.
I probably shouldn’t grouse. A few days ago was a lovely, surprising dream. But Saturn is nearly conjunct Venus now… I’ll be deeply relieved when this transit eases and planets leave Pisces. We folk of the Pisces Moon are a very singular sort. A lot is written about us. Astrologers respond soberly when they find out. And, having so many planets though the sign is kind of our worst Piscean fear — like a spontaneous, gregarious party appears in your house and will not leave and will not allow you to leave.
3/4/18 – dream notes
living in or visiting an apartment in a neighborhood that reminded me a bit of Kensington, in London. I was walking at night and saw a house between two others had been demolished, debris cleared. In its place, like a full-scale placeholder, someone had built a house from rich black earth — stairs, stoop, second floor, columns and all. They even gave the facade a beveled art deco detail. It made me think of how beautiful it would be if everything started growing from it, but also, how it might be like a sand castle, but from earth. It was solid and gorgeous. I wanted to show you. I was sad I didn’t have a camera.
I went back the next day, but it was gone. A new, boring building, a 3 story walk up trying to look authentically old, but super phoned in had been put up in the meantime. I was totally disappointed, but not surprised.
I went to an historic, indoor arcade which was supposed to be a local attraction, but it was super small… only 1 skee-ball alley, and 3 bumper cars that couldn’t get enough space to work up any speed. Some kids were trying to use them. There were 2 llamas outside that I could see through an open dutch door. The woman running it seemed like she had been doing it a long time.
As I was leaving, I saw several felt feathers affixed to an interior column, like someone had made them and posted them up. I was drawn to the white one, but also a striking cobalt, and a rich rust. She told me I could take one. I put the white one in my pocket.
I started walking home. I thought to ask you if you had seen someone make the earthen buildings before, but knew I had no way. And then, my fingers fell off. I gathered them with my palms and put them in my coat, hoping I would later be able to get them back on.
an astrologer worked my chart. tapped: this, this improbable lattice, where does this much go, taps the moon, jupiter – it shrugs my shoulders
brushed or bashed in transits. a fly on the neptune, moth on your moon — the fine trembling resulting. a consequence along the wire, numen or flare.
*raises vow* all my dreams are and always have been buildings houses or water.
Do you have to have the dreams. I’ve kept them, some days I guess I will not ever tell you.
How to accept, Pluto, Pluto in my pets, in my health, in my daily routines.
A truck passes: Rental Repairs. Motto: “Our name says it all.”
Don’t ask for anything else.
A sublime sun, just after the winter cusp, white golding off glass. I’ve gone so long without my eyes water back at it, grow the lazing strobe. My corneas prism a holy pattern, seraphic.
I know one dream is the water, your hand pulling me. Another, blue moths pulse.
I count up every patron, study first dates, the friend dates, all of us at the solo table staring, shooting lit information at our faces. Crow-like risings, one after the other off a line, kiting our bodies on the day.
I see this. My child’s face veiled clear emerald and plum, marbled yellow. My skin polychromatic, gone kaleidoscopic, all verdance and grow back, rhizomes splitting shoots and everything pressing out now now now.
I doubt I am the only person to get out of the car and upon seeing a small slug and a feather at my feet inhale an almost soundless exclamation, but I doubt there are many of us. It feels akin to finding a small personalized sign: ‘you’re on the damn right path okay now keep going.’
Nicely, randomly last week, I chanced upon a parliament of peacocks in someone’s front lawn and spilling in the street. It was pretty remarkable. There were many. I posted a photo and an old Portland resident said: Are those the ones that were ejected by the zoo? Huh, who knew? I don’t remember that story from 10 years ago, but apparently it was a thing. Chancing upon peacocks in your path is a pretty nice feeling.
I’ve been thinking about, and rereading, work by CD Wright, John Beer (specifically Lucinda), and Ocean Vuong. I’ve been trying to prep myself to re-collect and edit the manuscript, and change the name. It turns out something savage is the name of Dan Savage’s ig account, which leaves: asking for it. But I’m adding the Richard poems, which makes something savage the most correctly right name. So idk.
Looking at the book this round makes me appreciate again how difficult it must be for bands with one or two breakout hits to only ever be widely known for those. How hard it is to keep interested in something you made and in many ways, aged out of. I love the poems, they are important, I know certainly there are people who need them, but working there always feels like dressing in a uniform from a job you had a long time ago. Maybe it’s a lesson that my editing process should be a lot faster.
So far this year I have a draft for a children’s book, the beginning of a short story (modern gothic / metaphor), two shitty poems, one okay poem, twelve really amazing vignettes received in mediation I have no idea what to do with, and one long, rambling piece that might eventually be its own chapbook? And, about six essays sitting here that just need to be finished. I always feel slightly guilty making new work when I haven’t buttoned up old work in earnest. So many unfinished pieces and projects feels like a lot of half-dressed, neglected children milling about, growing feral.
And, I started a buzzfeedesque list, ranking all of the Mrs Meyer’s Clean Day soaps in order from pleasingly ideal, to suffering misery. If Iowa Pine (and wtf, Iowa Pine? Is Iowa really known for their aromatic pine?? Sweet corn, perhaps) isn’t in your top three, we aren’t on speaking terms. (Think of the sniffing research I’ve had to do in the grocery store… apparently this is what retired wine professionals do with their benched abilities.)
It’s a good time to discuss work because Saturn is in Capricorn (for a while so get comfy!) and so is the Sun, and depending on your system of choice, Mercury or the Moon. Saturn in Capricorn is a good thing. Saturn rules Capricorn and they can be like partners at an ethical, white hat law firm, like Strang and Buting, working within the systems, rules, and boundaries to make great things happen.
The only way to think of this time is how strong everything we are creating right now might be. If we don’t quit, and if vision is held, for work, for ourselves, for our process, growth, and evolution.
Trouvelot planet illustrations… TLA 🖤. He even made Saturn look good! (J/k… Saturn is a mofo, but he’s our mofo and a useful one at that.)
Saturn can be like a slightly nicer version of Mr. Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life; all business suits, mothballs, and prune juice. You can see how when Saturn is visiting a sign that wants to enthuse, expand, seek, and laugh (cough, Sag cough), Saturn can be pretty miserable and dampen Sagittarius’ natural gifts. But, Capricorn Gets. Shit. Done. It plans, makes systems, builds, and takes intelligent steps towards the star Sagittarius identified and took aim at.
You can see how Saturn and Cap can get along peas-in-pod like. Capricorn: Let’s make a spreadsheet to inform our planning for this project. Saturn: Yes and add 8 more columns for really specific information that we may or may not need at some point. This is going to be the most thorough and successful lemonade stand, ever!
Capricorn accomplishes, creates strong foundations. The shadow side is, it can also excel at self-undoing — mire in the planning, self doubtful, fixed on past misses, mistrustful, exclusive. But together, Capricorn season lends us the clarity and focus for hard work, and Saturn’s presence provides paternal encouragement to parent ourselves, with love and a reminder to keep growing, actualize… slugs, feathers, and peacocks marking the path. What’s built now, during this new moon and Saturn’s transit, is of deepest foundations — built to endure.
The house where Capricorn resides in your natal chart is the area that will feel Saturn’s presence. This is my 10th house of career. I suspect there will be good, solid changes and strong foundations built, as long as I use the transit well, work hard, and don’t shy away from discomfort or change, seize opportunities and remember my worth. Or, if Capricorn is your 11th house, look to build strong, healthy friendships. Weed out what depletes or is not mutual. Overhaul and work toward your deepest hopes and dreams, update them for this point and definition of yourself.
If it’s your 5th house of romance, creative expression, pleasure, and joy, get ready to learn the lessons about strong foundations that feed these areas of life for the long run. The gifts of a well used Saturn transit are meaningful structure, self-control, healthy boundaries, useful rules, deeply fed growth. Basically, it’s like your dad or a dad-like-person just showed up, pointed to the area of your life Saturn is currently in and is like: ‘You need to clean all this up, and then make it great. Make me proud.’
And good news, astrologically there is a lot of emerald green ‘GO’ energy right now. A little work can go a looong way. No planets are retrograde (that changes in early March). It’s not totally uncommon for all planets to be progressing forward, but it is a valuable window for manifesting and making strides.
Additionally, the Chinese new year is just a month away. The year of the earth dog sounds so much better than last year – the year of the fire cock (rooster) 😐. Personally, my wood tiger does much, much better with dogs than roosters, and I’m hoping for overall more grounded, congenial, companionable energies, across the board.
When I read these transits, see the energy and nature of them and their equivalent in other natural manifestations, often the pressure to capitalize feels too intense. It’s the student in me. I want to get it “right.” But that’s not realistic. Work and school are satisfying to so many (and can be addictive) because it can be done “right;” accomplishment in a way that can be controlled. Perfected. But, that’s not nature or the natural world. And I suppose that’s where faith and joy come in — the spontaneity and vulnerability of being seen in our growing states, imperfect (and how perfect that can be). Showing up and being present and not knowing what comes next, but remaining available to it.
A bit on the new moon last night from vedic astrologer ayana astrology…
1481hyperion 