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Venus in My Chart: A Personal Exploration of Love, Beauty, and Receiving When people first learn astrology, Venus is one of the easier archetypes to fall in love with. She rules beauty, pleasure, love, and connection. But in a birth chart, she can be far more complex than we first realise. In traditional astrology, Venus is considered the lesser benefic, The Goddess who signifies love, and grace, and joy, but whether we feel her blessings depends on how she's placed. This is my personal breakdown of how I assess Venus in my own chart. It’s also a reflection on how that placement has manifested in my life; sometimes gracefully, sometimes painfully, always meaningfully. I have used my own guide, Working With Venus in Your Chart , to break down my Venus placement. Check it out for help on how to do the same for yourself, or book in a reading and let me do it for you. Venus in my Birth Chart 1. Sect: Is Venus in Sect? Venus prefers night charts, and I was born at 1.30am, so she is in sect. This means She has more power to express herself naturally in my chart. In night charts, Venus is the go-to planet for harmony, softness, and the capacity to receive. That said, it’s never quite that simple. Because while She is in sect, She’s also facing other challenges. 2. Dignity: Is She in a Sign She Likes? Venus is in Aquarius. It’s not a sign of Her rulership or exaltation, but it’s not a sign of detriment either. It’s a neutral placement in terms of essential dignity. Aquarius is ruled by Saturn traditionally, so Venus answers to Saturn. In my case, that’s a Saturn who is retrograde and in detriment in Cancer, in the 10th house. That makes things more complicated. It means Venus, my way of loving, attracting, and receiving, is answering to a God who feels uncomfortable, is turned inward, and burdened by emotional weight. So while Venus is in sect, She’s not exactly supported by her ruler. She has to learn how to love despite not being shown how. 3. Visibility: Is She Visible or Hidden? Venus in my chart is stationary, about to turn retrograde (marked by the S in my chart). That makes Her loud, but not straightforward. There is something exclamatory about Her presence, but also internalised. It’s as if the desire to love and be loved is absolutely central, but not easily expressed. This resonates deeply. From an early age, I felt a longing for connection, but I didn't know how to ask for it. I wasn't sure I was worthy of receiving it. My Venus speaks loudly, but Her love turns inward first. She demands I learn to love myself before I can fully open to others. From my story : “I am on a mission to learn how to please myself… In part so that the next time I have a relationship I don’t lose myself in the process.” This is the retrograde Venus signature in action: turning the love back on the self. 4. House Placement: Where Is Venus in the Chart? Venus is in the 5th house. This is one of the most supportive houses for Her. The 5th is the house of pleasure, children, creativity, and romance. Venus here wants to create beauty, experience joy, and fall in love with life. It is a lovely placement, and conjunct Jupiter, it magnifies that desire for joyful connection and artistic expression. And yet, it hasn’t always been easy. My love life has been marked by longing and disappointment. There’s a feeling that what I dream of doesn’t arrive, or arrives but doesn’t stay. Venus conjunct Jupiter in Aquarius dreams of a perfect, idealistic love, a divine love, a love that also gives freedom. And when reality doesn’t match the dream, it can feel devastating. 5. Relationship to the Ascendant I have Libra rising, which means Venus is the ruler of my chart. This makes Her central to who I am. She isn’t just about love and beauty for me, She’s my path. She’s how I move through the world. So when She is complicated, so too is my sense of self. This has translated into a life-long journey of learning to value myself. To know my worth. To feel beautiful in my own skin. I didn’t know how to do that. I didn't even know feeling different was possible. It wasn't until my late 30's that I started to realise I had a choice in how I experienced the world. I always gave too much, trying to earn love instead of receiving it. I'm still working on reversing that script. 6. Dispositor: Who Rules Venus? As mentioned earlier, Venus in Aquarius is ruled by Saturn. Saturn is retrograde and in detriment in Cancer, placed in the 10th house. This Saturn is heavy. It speaks to emotional suppression, a need to parent myself, and a public image that has been built on holding things together rather than feeling them. Venus answering to this kind of Saturn shows up as a feeling that love must be earned through effort, or that it’s something I must manage rather than enjoy. Love has always felt elusive. And yet this Saturn has also given me structure. It has made me committed. When I decide to love, I love deeply. So when I decided it was time to learn to love myself, I did so with discipline. 7. Motion: Is She Moving Forward or Retrograde? As noted, Venus is stationing retrograde. This is significant. Stationing planets are said to be like exclamation marks in the chart. They draw attention. For me, this has played out in a very clear way. Love has never been a casual theme in my life. It’s a mission. A spiritual practice. Something I have dedicated myself to understanding and experiencing in its purest form. “I will learn to love myself.” This became a mantra. Venus stationed retrograde wants to understand the true value of love, from the inside out. 8. The 2nd House: Resources and Self-Worth Scorpio is the sign of my 2nd house, making Mars the ruler of this domain. And Mars is in Taurus, in detriment, in the 8th house. This is not an easy placement. It suggests that my sense of value has been buried, contested, and at times very difficult to access. Mars here is not empowered. He is sluggish, hidden, and often reactive rather than proactive. But Mars is also my in-sect malefic, meaning he belongs in my night chart. There is a hidden strength in him. He shows how I have had to fight for my self-worth, often in silence, in the background, without recognition. My resourcefulness is deep. But it was forged in hardship. 9. The 8th House: Shared Resources and Hidden Support This is one of the most telling pieces of the Venus story. My 8th house is Taurus, Venus’s earthy, sensual temple. In this house I have an exalted Moon and a debilitated Mars. And that Moon is in a tight square to Venus. This square has defined so much of my emotional life. Venus wants to love freely in the 5th. The Moon in the 8th needs safety, depth, and security. Their desires don’t always match. It’s a tension between what I think I want, and what I need. Between giving love and receiving care. It’s shown up as disconnect, as longing, as a near constant push and pull between head and heart. “I wasn’t certain I’d been loved. At least not so far as I could feel it.” That’s the Venus-Moon square in a sentence. And yet, the 8th house is not just about wounding. It’s also where transformation happens. The Moon is exalted there, which means my emotional wisdom runs deep. I may feel things slowly, but I feel them fully. And that square has forced me to integrate the mind and the body, the longing and the need, the vision and the reality. Once I learned I had a shadow, I had the resources to walk its terrain, and integrate its hidden gifts and wounds. Conclusion: Is My Venus Well-Supported? Not exactly. She’s not in a sign She rules. Her ruler is struggling. She’s squaring an exalted but hidden Moon. She’s on the verge of retrograde. And yet, She is in sect. She is in a good house. She is conjunct Jupiter. She is trying. She is committed. More than that: She is central to who I am. Venus rules my chart. She carries my story. And in many ways, that story has been about learning to love myself, learning to receive, and learning to find beauty in even the most difficult moments. She taught me that family is first and for me that means when my children have needed my full attention, I've done my utmost to give it to them. Even when that means I've had to put my own needs aside. She reminds me that love is always the answer. And with Jupiter, promises me that when I am able to love myself fully, I will attract that love to me in the form of a partnership built on trust, honesty and the divine principles. This is how we assess a placement step by step. And this is how that placement becomes a lived, breathing part of who we are. We are the chart, and we are the story it tells. And in the end, to quote myself: “This time I know that love starts with me. If I want to love, I have to love myself. And if I want to feel loved by anyone else then first, I need to feel my own love.” Read my story here , so far as it's been written. I'll let you know how it ends. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Author’s Note: I didn’t arrive here through some spiritual calling or dramatic breakdown. Just a quiet sense that things weren’t quite right, and hadn’t been for a long time. I could see clearly why my relationships kept failing. Not because I didn’t care, or didn’t try, but because I wasn’t in the right place to give them the attention and presence they needed. I didn’t know who I was. I had no idea what I liked, what I wanted, or what really mattered to me beyond keeping everything going. Life had happened around me, and I’d shaped myself to fit it. So I made a choice. To step back from trying to get love right, and turn inward instead. I decided to be single, and I began therapy. Not because I had some big healing agenda, but because I wanted to understand myself more honestly. To start telling the truth. Not long after, something shifted. I had what I can only describe as a mystical experience, something that cracked open my sense of the world and pointed to other ways of understanding it. I started reading about energy healing, working with crystals, exploring the idea that there might be more going on beneath the surface of things. It sparked a curiosity that I couldn’t put down. That curiosity led me deeper, into Jung, into shadow work, and eventually into astrology. I hadn’t thought much about it before. I knew I was a Capricorn and had always felt a bit underwhelmed by that: practical, sensible, slightly dull. But as I explored the symbolic language of the birth chart, I began to realise astrology could do something remarkable: it could show me what was hidden. It could make the unconscious visible. It could map out the shadow. Since then, I’ve been captivated. I’ve studied astrology seriously since 2020, and I’m still learning every day. But when I look back, I can see that this path didn’t start with astrology. It started with a choice. And I can also see that Saturn’s hand has been in it from the beginning. The exact turning point came in December 2017, when Saturn opposed my natal Saturn. That was when everything shifted, from the psychological to the mystical. From understanding to becoming . So when I speak about ' The Work' , this is what I mean. And when I speak of Saturn, I’m not pointing to something distant or abstract. I’m naming the pattern I’ve lived. The presence that’s shaped me. The part of life that asks us to grow up: not out of duty, but out of truth. Saturn is  'The Work'. And his lessons are available to anyone who’s ever paused long enough to ask: What is all this for? And who am I, really, underneath it all? Image credit: International Therapy Team PLLC What is ' The Work' ? We hear a lot about 'The Work'  these days. It’s become one of those phrases that floats around in spiritual and psychological spaces, sometimes left vague, sometimes boiled down into a stack of books, a curated morning routine, or a checklist of self-improvement strategies. But 'The Work'   is none of those things. The Work is what begins when you start to realise that the life you’ve been living might not be entirely yours. When the roles you’ve played start to feel tight. When the stories you’ve inherited stop making sense. It’s what rises up in the space between I can’t keep doing this  and I’m not sure who I am without it . It doesn’t usually begin with some dramatic event. More often, it begins with a decision. A quiet one. A decision to stop running, stop blaming, stop searching outward, and turn, instead, toward yourself. That’s when the questions start to change. Who am I, really? What patterns are running my life? How did I learn to love, to cope, to hide? What parts of me have I disowned just to fit in? What have I pushed down in order to survive? The work is psychological. Emotional. Quiet. Often invisible to the outside world. It isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t offer instant gratification. And it certainly doesn’t care how spiritually evolved you appear. It requires presence. Patience. Humility. And a willingness to see things you might rather avoid. But if you stay with it, if you keep showing up, what it offers in return is something rare: Integrity. Depth. Meaning. And, eventually, a kind of freedom that doesn’t shout, but settles. For me, this is the terrain Saturn governs. He doesn’t initiate us with visions and fireworks. He initiates us through endings, delays, responsibilities, and the realisation that what we’ve built isn’t sustainable, or isn’t true. Saturn is the part of us that wants to grow into something solid. Something reliable. Something real . He governs the work not because He demands perfection, but because He insists on honesty . On presence. On maturity. Not in the performative sense, but in the deeply human one: the willingness to sit with what’s difficult, and to choose what’s meaningful over what’s easy. That’s what the work  is. And Saturn is the one who holds the door. The Guardian of the Threshold Saturn is always found at the edge of things. The edge of comfort. The edge of what we know. The edge of who we’ve been. In classical astrology, Saturn marks the outermost boundary of what can be seen with the naked eye. The last visible planet before the great unknown. In life, He shows up in the same way, at the limit of what’s familiar. The place where things no longer hold together the way they used to. He doesn’t block the path. He is  the path. Or at least the test at the threshold of it. He appears when you can no longer pretend. When the strategy that’s held you together, coping, pleasing, performing, stops working. When you realise you can’t move forward as the version of yourself you’ve always been. This is where the work deepens. Not when you’ve figured it all out but when you’re honest enough to admit you haven’t. When you stop trying to bypass the discomfort and instead let it teach you something. In older traditions, Saturn is associated with discipleship. And a disciple is simply someone who is learning. Not someone who shines. Not someone who’s mastered anything. Just someone who is willing to walk the path, step by step, even when it’s heavy. Especially  when it’s heavy. Because this isn’t the kind of growth you can fake. You can’t talk your way past Saturn. You can’t buy your way through, or manifest your way around it. You earn your place at the next threshold by meeting what’s here, now. Exactly as it is. There’s something deeply humbling about that. And something steadying, too. Saturn isn’t the gate that says no forever. He’s the presence that asks: Are you ready to move forward with integrity? Are you willing to carry what’s yours, and leave behind what isn’t? You don’t have to feel ready. You don’t have to have it all together. You just have to be willing to stop running, and start listening . Pain as Initiation Saturn doesn’t tend to arrive gently. He doesn’t knock with a golden opportunity or a flash of insight. More often, He comes through exhaustion. Through illness. Through endings that feel unfair. Through the quiet ache of things not going to plan, again. He presses on what’s weak. Not to shame us, but to show us what isn’t sustainable anymore. And this is where most of us want to turn back. Because pain often feels like failure. Like punishment. Like proof we’ve done something wrong. But what if it isn’t? What if pain is the invitation? Not because it’s noble. Not because it’s romantic. But because it’s real. Because it brings us into contact with what’s true, and truth is the only thing solid enough to build a life on. There’s a line from Liz Greene that stayed with me: “Saturn is only inimical to those who cannot understand the educational value of pain.”  It’s not easy medicine. But I’ve come to see the truth in it. Not because I think suffering is good, but because it’s often the only thing that slows us down enough to listen. To notice what we’ve been avoiding. To see what actually needs our attention. Pain doesn’t make us wise on its own. But it asks us to stay. To stay with the discomfort. To stay with the questions. To stay with ourselves, even when we don’t have answers yet. That’s when something shifts. Not always quickly. Not always visibly. But slowly, steadily, something in us begins to grow. Not despite the pain, but through it. This is Saturn’s way. Not a quick fix. Not a five-step solution. But a kind of strength that forms from within. Quiet. Unshakeable. Built from truth, not avoidance. That’s when the work starts to change us. Not by making life easier. But by making us  deeper. The Crisis of Meaning There’s a kind of emptiness that doesn’t show up on the surface. You can function perfectly well with it. Keep the house clean. Pay the bills. Show up to work. Support your family. Smile when needed. And still, underneath it all, feel like something’s missing. It’s not always sadness. It’s not even always dissatisfaction. Sometimes it’s just a low hum, a quiet sense that you’ve built your life on something that doesn’t quite reach you. Something that looks fine, but doesn’t feel real. This is what I think of as Saturn’s whisper. Not the crisis that shatters your world, but the slow erosion of meaning. The quiet question that creeps in at the edges: What is this all for? It’s a question many of us avoid. Because when life is working, on the surface at least, it feels indulgent to ask it. And when it isn’t working, it feels too painful to go there. But Saturn goes there. Not because He wants to tear things down for the sake of it, but because He knows surface-level functioning isn’t the same as living. You can be perfectly adapted to a life that doesn’t speak to your soul. And that’s not health. That’s survival. Saturn doesn’t ask us to cope better. He asks us to live  more honestly. And that honesty often begins with admitting what doesn’t feel meaningful anymore. What no longer fits. What’s been stretched thin through years of pretending. This isn’t about abandoning your life. It’s about coming into right relationship with it. It’s about alignment. About letting go of the versions of yourself that were built around performance or protection, and making space for the one who’s been waiting underneath all along. That’s the deeper call of Saturn. Not discipline for its own sake, but discipline in service of something real. Something lasting. Something true . And that kind of meaning doesn’t arrive all at once. It’s built. Choice by choice. Layer by layer. Through devotion to your own becoming. The Work as Devotion Doing the work isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s not about chasing some ideal version of who you could be. It’s not about becoming impressive, or enlightened, or above it all. It’s about showing up. Again and again. Especially when it’s hard. Especially when it’s boring. Especially when no one’s watching. It’s about choosing not to abandon yourself. Not just in the dramatic moments, but in the quiet, everyday ones: the washing-up, the difficult conversation, the thoughts you think when you first wake up. It’s about staying in relationship with yourself when you feel lost, unsure, or stuck. Staying with your values. Staying with what’s real. This is the heart of Saturn’s teaching. He doesn’t offer shortcuts. He doesn’t hand out breakthroughs. What He offers is time, and the exact material you need to grow, whether you like it or not. He offers a structure strong enough to hold your becoming. But you have to build it. Choice by choice. Brick by brick. In a way that feels honest. In a way that can last. Liz Greene once wrote that Saturn is “our greatest friend, source of strength, and bringer of light”, but only when approached with depth and understanding. I’d add: only when approached with sincerity. With a willingness to take yourself seriously. To believe your life is worth building with care. There is a joy on the other side of this work. But it’s not the fleeting kind that comes from getting what you want. It’s the deeper joy of knowing that you’ve become someone you can trust. Someone who’s lived with intention. Someone who’s stayed. That’s what Saturn teaches, in the end. Not punishment. Not perfection. But presence. And the quiet, steady freedom of a life lived in truth. Closing Thoughts Doing the work isn’t a one-time decision. It’s a path. One you walk over and over again, often in circles, often in silence, often unsure if you’re getting anywhere, until one day, you realise you’ve become someone who can hold more truth than you could before. Someone steadier. Someone more whole. That’s what Saturn teaches us. Not through perfection, but through presence. Not through ease, but through endurance. And not as punishment, but as a gift, the kind that takes time to unwrap, and even longer to understand. If this essay has stirred something in you, if you recognise yourself in these questions and qualities, then I invite you to keep going. In this companion piece, How to Begin the Work , I explore what this looks like in real life: how we meet our patterns, how we stay with ourselves when it gets uncomfortable, and how small choices slowly build something lasting. And if you’re curious to explore your own Saturn, where he sits in your chart, what kind of growth he’s asking from you, you can read Getting to Know Your Saturn , a guide to locating and interpreting your Saturn placement using traditional astrology. Or book in a reading with me and we'll take a look at Saturn in your chart together. Because this isn’t just my story. It’s yours too. And Saturn is already walking beside you. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

A reflection on hardship, dignity, and the quiet wisdom of a slow God I. Some Days, It’s Just Too Much Some days, I feel like I’ve done everything I can. I’ve worked hard. I’ve shown up. I’ve tried to stay hopeful, to see meaning in the mess. But there are moments - like now - when the fear is louder than the faith. When money is so tight it knots my stomach. When asking for help feels like failure. When I don’t want to be wise or resilient or any of the other things Saturn is supposedly trying to shape in me. I don’t want to be tested. I want to be held. And yet, here I am, in another one of Saturn’s long, quiet rooms. I know I’m not alone in this. I know so many of us are walking with weight that feels too heavy to carry. And in times like this, I find myself turning to one of the most unexpected sources of comfort I’ve ever come across: a book about Saturn. Not an astrology textbook. A myth. II. Introducing the Book: A Story for the Soul The book is called The Greatness of Saturn: A Therapeutic Myth , written by Dr. Robert Svoboda, an Ayurvedic doctor who understands Saturn not just as a planet, but as a force of karmic truth. In India, this myth is traditionally told to those going through a Saturn return or a difficult Saturn transit, especially the infamous Sade Sati , the seven-and-a-half-year period when Saturn moves over your natal Moon. But this isn’t a story about astrology. It’s a story about life. About what happens when we’re stripped of everything we thought made us who we are, and what’s left behind. It’s the story of a king - proud, good, noble - who gets thrown to the ground and has to crawl his way through loss, humiliation, and despair… not to be punished, but to be remade. And it begins with one careless insult to a slow and silent God. III. The Myth: The Greatness of Saturn Once there was a wise and beloved king named Vikramaditya , who ruled with fairness and grace. One day, a spirited debate broke out in his court: Which of the nine planets is the greatest? Some said the Moon, with her emotional pull. Others praised Jupiter for his wisdom, or the Sun for his brilliance. But one minister quietly said, “Saturn.” The king laughed. “Saturn?” he said. “The planet of suffering and delay? He brings only misery. He is the lowest of the planets.” That was all it took. Shani (Saturn) heard the insult, and, as always, he said nothing. Saturn is not quick to act. He waits. But when he comes, he comes with full weight. When Vikramaditya’s Sade Sati  began, his life unravelled. His crown was taken. His wealth vanished. He was exiled, accused of crimes he didn’t commit, and eventually had his limbs cut off. He became a beggar, crawling from place to place. And yet, he did not curse Saturn. He accepted his fate with dignity. He bore the suffering with a heart that refused to collapse into bitterness. He did not understand, but he endured. “The fates lead him who will; him who won't they drag.” — The Greatness of Saturn   Eventually, Saturn moved on. His transit ended. And everything was restored: his body, his kingdom, his power. But Vikramaditya was no longer the same man. He had become something more: deeply rooted, truly wise. He had touched the bottom of the well, and found water there. From then on, he worshipped Saturn with reverence, understanding that the suffering had not been cruelty, but a sacred turning. A deep purification. IV. What the Myth Means for Us This story isn’t meant to shame us into silent endurance. It’s not saying: suffer and don’t complain. It’s not glorifying pain. It’s saying something deeper: There are parts of us that can only grow in darkness. Saturn strips away what is false, what we cling to for identity or security - not to destroy us, but to reveal what cannot be taken. And yet, knowing this doesn’t make it easy. The myth doesn’t pretend it does. It simply says: there is meaning in this , even if you can’t see it yet. And sometimes, the only dignity we can manage is to whisper, I’m still here.  That counts too. V. Right Now, in the Saturn Room I’m not on the other side of the story yet. I haven’t had my limbs restored or my kingdom returned. I’m still in the part where I’m crawling, uncertain, afraid to ask for help. I still feel small. I still feel alone. But writing this, remembering this story, reminds me that Saturn hasn’t forgotten me. That the silence is not abandonment. It’s the presence of a God who doesn’t rush. A God who chisels stone slowly, precisely, until something timeless is revealed. So if you're here too, crawling, afraid, tired of having to be wise, you’re not failing. You’re being tempered. And one day, you’ll look back and see how this part mattered. “Saturn does not deny us. He delays us… until we are ready.” — The Greatness of Saturn Read more about Saturn here: Saturn: God of Challenge Doing 'The Work': Saturn, the Self, and the Transforming Power of Discipline A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Why have an astrology reading? Why engage with the stars at all? The Peter Max 1971 Astrologicalendar Calendar Most people come to astrology looking for answers : some kind of clarity, a sense of direction, maybe even reassurance that their struggles mean something. And they’re not wrong to look. Astrology does offer guidance; it shines a light on the patterns of our lives, helps us see the bigger picture. But that’s not its deepest gift. Astrology doesn’t just tell us where we’re going - it tells us who we are. And more than that, it tells us our story . Because at its heart, astrology is about meaning . It’s about turning the raw, often messy experiences of our lives into something that makes sense, something we can live inside of rather than just suffer through. It’s not about fixing or transcending life’s difficulties, but about understanding them, as seeing them as part of something bigger, something rich with purpose. And this is where astrology speaks directly to the soul. Because the soul doesn’t need explanations; it needs stories . It needs myth. It needs to see itself reflected in the unfolding patterns of the cosmos, not as a problem to be solved, but as a journey to be lived. So how does astrology address our soul’s needs? By giving us a way to see ourselves. Not just as minds that think or spirits that transcend, but as souls that feel, that struggle, that long for meaning . It shows us that our lives aren’t just a series of random events, but part of a larger story, one in which we are both the main character and the co-creator. And when we see ourselves that way, something shifts. We stop fighting against life, trying to make it neat and logical. We start living it. Fully, deeply, with all the beauty and mess that comes with being human.   'Astrology isn’t about transcending life; it’s about being in it. It’s not an escape hatch; it’s a map.' Knowing and Feeling - A Bit of Background Carl Jung and James Hillman both explored the delicate interplay between spirit and soul, offering us a way to understand the human experience beyond the material world. Jung saw soul as the deep, feeling, imaginal part of us, the aspect that connects to myth, to the unconscious, to the rich, symbolic language of dreams. Hillman expanded on this suggesting that our lives aren’t just a series of random events but stories - “soul stories” - that help us find meaning in our experiences. When discussing depth psychology he challenges the idea that psychological case histories should be seen as objective, scientific records. Instead, he sees them as deeply personal narratives that allow us to step back from our everyday struggles and view our lives as something more symbolic, something mythic. When we frame our experiences as a story, we shift our perspective. Life stops being just a series of things happening to us  and becomes something unfolding through us . It allows us to make sense of where we’ve been and where we’re going. In continental philosophy and semiotics, poiesis (/ pɔɪˈiːsɪs /; from Ancient Greek: ποίησις) is the process of emergence of something that did not previously exist . This is what he calls “soul-making.”   We don’t just live life; we shape it through the way we tell our story. And this isn’t about escaping reality, it’s about seeing reality in a deeper, richer way. Hillman even suggests that maybe we don’t go to therapy just “to be loved or get cured, or even to Know Thyself.”  Maybe, at a deeper level, we seek a narrative, “a plot to live by.”  We long to understand ourselves as part of something bigger, to see our struggles reflected in myth, to recognise ourselves in the stories that have existed for centuries. “In myths, Gods and humans meet.” This is exactly what astrology offers. A birth chart isn’t just a list of planetary placements; it’s your soul story in symbolic form. It’s not about diagnosing problems or predicting the future - it’s about helping you see the mythic patterns at work in your life, the recurring themes, the lessons, and the deeper purpose behind it all. Astrology moves us beyond a purely external view of life. It invites us to step into our own story. To see where we are in the journey, what challenges we are facing, and how the Gods are in conversation with us , shaping our experience. In this way, astrology doesn’t just tell us who we are; it helps us become  who we are meant to be . We talk a lot about transcendence, about rising above, finding peace, trusting the bigger picture. And we need that; we need something to illuminate the path when we get lost in the weeds. But we must never forget why we’re here. We are here to live: To feel, to love, to be. Spirit & Soul James Hillman wrote about Spirit and Soul as two opposing forces: Spirit is fire, Soul is water. Spirit seeks clarity, truth, and the grand design; Soul sinks into the depths, feeling everything along the way. Spirit soars, looking for meaning; Soul remembers, carries wounds, and embraces the mess. Astrology tells the same story. The Sun symbolises our spirit, the part of us that shines with purpose, that sees a path forward, that knows. The Moon, though, is our soul. She holds our emotions, our instincts, our memories. She doesn’t seek to understand; She just is . And if we forget to nourish the soul. To feed it with experience, with feeling, with raw, unfiltered life. Then all the wisdom of spirit becomes dry, detached, and empty. We’re Not Here to Embody Spirit, We’re Here to Live Soul A lot of spiritual teachings push the idea of transcending suffering, rising above it, detaching from the messiness of being human. But the point of being here isn’t to escape our emotions; it’s to live  them. Spirit may know  the answers, but soul is here to feel  the questions. There’s a temptation to escape into spirit, to intellectualise, to ‘rise above’ our emotions. It’s safer there. It’s clean. It makes sense. But the whole point of being here is to be here . Soul doesn’t need us to be enlightened; it needs us to be human. It needs us to grieve, to rage, to desire, to ache. 'I feel that deeply in my own life. I don’t want to float through existence in a state of untouchable peace. I want the mess and the chaos. I want to cry and love and break. I want to smell the roses and eat the delicious food. I want to bleed when the knife slips. I want to feel  it. And equally, I want to know  that it all has a purpose. That this chaos is somehow designed. That it’s leading me somewhere.' Spirit Learns From Soul We often think of spirit as the teacher, but soul is teaching spirit, too. Spirit may know everything in theory, but soul is the one experiencing it first-hand. It’s through soul. Through pain, love, mistakes, and mess, that spirit truly understands. Spirit learns what it means to be alive through the soul’s journey. Your Sun may know your purpose, but your Moon feels its way through the story. Your Sun may shine with confidence, but your Moon carries the memories that shaped you. Your Sun may see where you’re going, but your Moon reminds you of where you’ve been. When we let spirit and soul work together. When we let the Sun illuminate the Moon rather than ignore it, we find true balance. We trust that spirit knows, but we honour that soul feels. And that’s the whole point of this wild, chaotic, beautiful human experience. So let yourself feel it all. Let yourself be human. Because that’s exactly what you came here to do. The Elements & Our Unique Blueprint All of this is reflected in our birth chart. We are not just spirit and soul, we are earth, fire, water, and air. Each element brings its own way of experiencing life. Air is lofty, intellectual, able to grasp the bigger picture and see the higher perspectives; fire burns with passion and instinct; earth grounds us in the physical, in what’s real and tangible; and water, the realm of soul, is all about feeling. We need all of it. We need to embrace the whole of our chart, to work with what we have rather than against it. If we’re not naturally strong in one area, we might have to put in more effort to develop it. I have only one water placement in my chart, and it’s Saturn, The God that restricts. It’s easy for me to see the expanded view, to live in air and fire, but I have to consciously remind myself to feel it. To sink into it. And we all have our own version of this. Our own unique blueprint, designed with both advantages and limitations. But we are all here to get into the richness of it all, through whatever mix of elements we arrived with. "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience." At the end of the day, it's a balance This is the dance: spirit and soul, Sun and Moon, knowing and feeling. We want to understand, but we also need to experience. We need to believe there’s a grand design, but we also have to let ourselves live inside the chaos of it. We need myth, not as a way out, but as a way in, a way to make sense of ourselves in the mess of the world. Astrology doesn’t separate us from life; it immerses us in it. It reminds us that our struggles, our longings, our joys, they all belong. They all mean something. And they all make us who we are. So we dance. We stumble, we fall, we rise again. And in doing so, we live the story our soul came here to tell. If you’d like an astrology reading to explore the stories written in your chart - the myths, the patterns, the unfolding journey - I’d love to help. Astrology isn’t about telling you who you are; it’s about helping you see yourself in a deeper, richer way. You are unique. Your story is fascinating. And it’s still being written. Learn more about me and my approach here . Book an online reading here. Love Jenny x A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and occasionally nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

The Gods do not speak in plain language; they speak in symbols, in whispers that stir something deep within us. Their voices rise in the spaces between words, in the synchronicities that catch our breath, in the patterns we recognise but cannot quite explain. They do not demand; they invite. And to hear them, we must learn the art of listening, not with our ears, but with our Souls. The Gods Put the Soul First When we put the Soul first, we create space for Spirit to come through. The Soul, with its deep, ancient knowing, is our bridge to the unseen. The Soul understands the language of symbols because it is  a symbol, of our eternal nature, our journey through lifetimes, our unfolding into wholeness. Spirit, the divine spark, moves through us most freely when we honour the Soul’s needs: depth, connection, meaning and purpose. When we nourish the Soul, we sharpen our ability to perceive The Gods whispers in our lives. How Do the Gods Speak? They move through the poetry of existence, through the language of the sky, through the quiet nudge of intuition. The mistake we often make is expecting them to announce themselves with certainty, with clarity. But The Gods are subtle. They prefer to make us feel something rather than tell us outright. They trust us to piece it together, to recognise the truth when we see it reflected back at us. They speak in layered symbols, and that’s what makes it such a rich language for understanding ourselves. A birth chart isn’t a set of instructions; it’s a collection of symbols that resonate differently at different times in our lives. The Gods don’t dictate, They don’t direct, They offer symbols, and it’s up to us to interpret and integrate them. What is a Symbol? The word symbol comes from the Greek symbolon (σύμβολον), which originally meant a token or mark of recognition. It was derived from symballein (συμβάλλειν), meaning "to throw together" (syn = together + ballein = to throw). In ancient Greece, a symbolon was often a physical object, like a broken piece of pottery or a coin, that two parties each held a part of, allowing them to verify their connection when reunited. A symbol is a meaningful perception of something. It is what it is, and it is something more than what it is. A black cat crossing your path is not just  a cat; it is a moment pregnant with meaning, shaped by the stories we carry. A dream is not just  a dream; it is a conversation between your conscious self and the unseen world. A symbol isn’t just a representation; it’s a doorway to deeper understanding. It doesn’t explain , it invites  us into contemplation. It doesn’t explain - it resonates . A symbol is many things at once. It holds paradox. It asks us to engage with it, not as a puzzle to be solved but as a mystery to be experienced . Take Venus, for example. Her glyph (♀) is often said to represent a mirror, connecting her to beauty, attraction, and reflection. But it’s also the shape of a seedling pushing upward; Venus as the force of growth, desire, and creation. Symbols aren’t fixed; they unfold. They “throw together” ideas, inviting us to see what emerges in the space between. They connect us to the mystery, to what's beyond, and they unite us with the eternal part of ourselves; the part that has always been, and will continue to be, so that we can remember who we are, and why we're here. A symbol is something that brings together two things; an object or sign and the deeper meaning it represents. How Can We Hear Their Divine Whisperings in Our Everyday Lives? Peter Max’s Dazzling Cosmic Astrologicalendar – 1970 Through synchronicity.  When something aligns so perfectly that it feels impossible to be coincidence, pause. A song on the radio that speaks to exactly what you’re feeling. A book falling open to the words you needed to read. A number pattern that keeps appearing. A word or phrase that you keep running into. An animal or bird that gives you a nod as it crosses your path. The Gods nudge us with moments that make us stop and wonder. Through astrology.   Above is Their great manuscript, Their cosmic poetry. The Gods, and the conversations between The Gods, reflect to us below where we are in the great unfolding of our own story. As above, so below. When Saturn tightens His grip, we feel it in our bones. When Venus dances with Jupiter, we feel our hearts expand. Astrology helps us hear Them more clearly, giving shape to Their whispers. It even shows up in the small things; slicing your finger and restricting your dinner preparations when Mars and Saturn are having a tense conversation, or a productive morning where clarity flows as Mercury meets the heart of The Sun. Even down to an out there random conversation about alien landings with the checkout clerk in the supermarket when the Moon is in Aquarius speaking to Uranus. Through the body.  Intuition speaks through sensation. A chill down your spine, a tightness in your chest, a deep sense of knowing in your gut - these are not random. They are messages, signs that something within you is recognising a deeper truth. Through dreams.  The Gods are unfiltered in dreams. They appear in archetypes, in landscapes that do not obey the laws of waking life. A dream about a house you’ve never seen, a conversation with someone who has passed, an animal that seems to hold a secret - these are messages wrapped in metaphor. Through emotion.  When something stirs you, whether it be a piece of music, a painting, a passage in a book, it is because it is speaking a truth your Soul recognises. Pay attention to what moves you; that is where The Gods are whispering. The Gods are always speaking. The question is, are we listening?   Real-Life Examples: A Dream of Strength, Guidance, and Transformation On 27/09/23, I dreamed a dream: I was in a village hall filled with strong, bare-chested, muscly men. They were all familiar to me, yet I didn’t know them in waking life. We were gathered for a purpose, like a project meeting, and they were assisting me. They dispersed in two directions to complete tasks. I assumed I should go with the ones unfamiliar with the area, but a woman insisted we were going another way. She rode off on a white horse, and after a moments hesitation, I ran after her. I arrived at a cul-de-sac where she was waiting. Ahead of us lay a grassy bridge, beyond it a huge ancient tree with a thick, powerful trunk. I paused to admire its beauty, feeling grateful for this path. As we crossed the bridge, I noticed the ground was covered in snakes, some small, some enormous, their bodies half-buried in the grass. They were not a threat, but they commanded respect, I was careful not to step on them. As we walked we spoke about a story of a great snake (The great snake), and I sensed its presence beneath the earth. Realising this dream was significant and rich with symbols, I realised I should wake up and write it down. Bleary eyed, I pulled myself up and wrote about it in pencil, in a notebook that was on a small wooden table beside my bed. Then I woke up (for real this time) and wrote it in the notes app on my phone. Interpreting the Symbols: The Muscular Men:  Strength, vitality, and a connection to my own power. They represent parts of me that are active and capable, working together towards something meaningful. The Woman on the White Horse:  A white horse symbolises purity, spiritual awakening, and the power of destiny, embodying both freedom and divine guidance as it moves between the seen and unseen realms. A wise guide, perhaps an aspect of my higher self, leading me towards a path I wouldn’t have chosen instinctively. The Tree:  Resilience, wisdom, and the connection between past, present, and future; it stands as a bridge between worlds, a guardian of knowledge, and a reminder of growth, transformation, and the enduring nature of life. The Snakes:  Transformation, knowledge, and renewal. Snakes are often seen as messengers of the unconscious, indicating healing, wisdom, and change. Their presence suggests that I am stepping into a phase of growth where I must navigate transformation carefully but with courage. This dream speaks to a moment in my life when I was being called to trust my path, embrace transformation, and honour both my strength and my ability to follow guidance when it appears. The Gods spoke in symbols, and by paying attention, I could hear their message. The more we notice these signs, the clearer the dialogue becomes. The Gods are speaking; are we listening? Today - 9/2/2025 – Mercury in the heart of The Sun: Today I shared some writing that’s quite personal, I told the world my ultimate desires and my idea of purpose through some quirky writing in which I imagined I was Venus, telling my readers all about me with my birth chart as the backdrop. I wasn’t hyper aware of the location of The Gods, or the conversations They were having. I looked afterwards, and it made perfect sense that today was the day I did this. Mercury being in the heart of the Sun signifies clarity, illumination, and the moment when the messenger aligns perfectly with divine will. Without consciously planning it, I stepped into this cosmic rhythm, I spoke my truth, I shared my thoughts, and I offered a glimpse of my inner world. It was a moment of revelation; of feeling seen and allowing myself to be seen. The Gods were speaking through action, through an impulse that found its perfect moment. Read Venus Speaks: An ode to Jenny This is how astrology works from my perspective, not as a force that compels, but as a mirror that reflects the unfolding of meaning in real-time. When we look back, we see the pattern, the divine choreography of it all. The Gods are speaking. Let's listen. The Gods are always speaking - through symbols, synchronicities, and the patterns woven into your life. Are you ready to start listening? A reading can help you unfold your own symbols, decode the messages meant for you, and open the door to your personal mystery. ✨ Book a reading and begin your journey A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and occasionally nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Me in the Mirror, aged 40 Love. We chase it, we fear it, we break ourselves apart trying to hold onto it. And yet, the most critical love story of your life, the one that dictates every other relationship you’ll ever have, is the one you have with yourself. I know. Self-love sounds like a buzzword, a concept wrapped in pink ribbons and self-help clichés. But strip away the fluff, and here’s the raw truth: If you don’t love yourself, you won’t trust anyone who tries to love you. You’ll be waiting for the inevitable betrayal, the moment they realise you’re not worth it. You’ll sabotage, shrink, or settle, because deep down, you won’t believe you deserve more. Loving yourself isn’t about feeling good all the time. It’s about facing yourself - fully, brutally, and without excuse. It’s about making peace with the parts of you that are inconvenient, painful, and unpolished. Because if you can’t sit with your own reality, how can you expect anyone else to? What Does ‘Loving Yourself’ Actually Mean? It’s not a spa day. It’s not whispering sweet nothings to your reflection. It’s not an Instagrammable moment of "choosing me." Real self-love is the messy, uncomfortable truth that you’re going to have to look at yourself with a clear eye. It’s recognising your flaws and failures and still choosing to love the whole package - not just the parts that are easy to like. Self-love is the act of not turning away from yourself, even when you’re struggling, even when you’ve failed, even when you’re not living up to your own expectations.  It’s choosing to believe that you have intrinsic value regardless of all that. It’s not just about what you do - it’s about who you are . Your worth doesn’t shift because of your successes or your mistakes. It’s constant. It doesn’t require earning or proving. It just requires you to decide that you matter. And that’s not always easy, especially when you’ve been conditioned to doubt your own value. Stop Telling Yourself You're Fine When You're Not Radical self-love means telling yourself the truth - especially  when it’s uncomfortable. Stop brushing off your pain. Stop telling yourself “it’s fine” when it’s not. Stop minimising your own suffering just because someone else might have it worse. We’ve been trained to push our feelings aside, to keep moving, to not make a fuss. But ignoring what you feel doesn’t make it go away, it just buries it deeper, where it festers . Being strong isn’t about pretending everything is okay. It’s about being able to sit with your feelings, no matter how raw, and actually listen to what they’re telling you . If something hurts, acknowledge it. If you’re exhausted, stop pushing. If you’re unhappy, stop convincing yourself that this is just the way things are . Holding space for your emotions - all of them - is part of loving yourself. You don’t have to justify how you feel. You don’t need permission to be upset. What you feel is valid, and self-love means acting on that truth instead of stuffing it down. Stop Treating Yourself Like a Problem Self-love starts with acceptance. You are not a problem to be solved, a project to be fixed.  You’re a human being. You are complex, flawed, and divine in your own right. Those flaws? They’re part of your story, your journey. They’re not meant to be hidden or shamed into silence. They are part of what makes you you . The key is to accept them - without using them as an excuse to tear yourself down. If you spent as much time loving yourself  as you do criticising yourself , imagine how much energy you’d free up. You’d feel more alive, more capable, and more at peace. But that takes intention - the willingness to stand in front of the mirror (literally or figuratively) and say: “This is me, in all my glory and mess. And I’m worthy of love.” The Brutal Work of Self-Love Loving yourself isn’t passive. It’s not just waiting for confidence to show up or hoping one day you’ll wake up feeling whole. It’s work, the kind that will crack you open and force you to look at everything you’ve spent years avoiding. Here’s where you start: 1. Accept That You Are Not an Exception to Worthiness You are not the one person on this planet who is fundamentally unlovable. I promise. The idea that you’re somehow different, too damaged, too complicated, too much or not enough, is a lie . And the sooner you recognise it as a lie, the sooner you stop making choices from a place of self-rejection. 2. Face Your Bullshit Self-love doesn’t mean turning a blind eye to your flaws. It means looking at them directly, acknowledging where you’ve fallen short, and choosing growth  instead of shame. It’s easier to label yourself as "broken" than to admit you’re avoiding change. Stop hiding behind self-loathing. Do the work. 3. Stop Performing for Love You don’t have to twist yourself into a shape that makes other people comfortable. If your relationships rely on you being anything other than who you are, then they aren’t real connections - they’re transactions . Give up the exhausting need to be liked and focus on being known . 4. Set Boundaries Like Your Life Depends on It (Because It Does) Love without boundaries is self-abandonment . Stop giving endless access to people who drain you. Stop justifying their behaviour. Protect your time, your energy, and your mental peace like they’re sacred - because they are. 5. Talk to Yourself Like You Would Someone You Love Your inner voice is shaping your reality. If you spend all day mentally tearing yourself down, don’t be surprised when you struggle to feel worthy of good things. You don’t have to be delusionally positive—just fair . Would you speak to your best friend the way you speak to yourself? No? Then fix it. 6. Forgive Yourself (Yes, Even for That Thing) You are not defined by your worst moment. Stop punishing yourself for things you can’t undo. Take accountability, learn the lesson, and let yourself move forward . 7. Make Peace With Being Seen Loving yourself means letting yourself exist . Without apology, without editing, without waiting for permission. Be loud. Take up space. You don’t need to earn the right to be here. 8. Drop the Fairytale and Get Real About Love You want deep, unwavering love? Then be willing to receive it . Let people care about you. Let them show up. Stop testing them to see if they’ll leave. Stop pushing them away to prove yourself right. Love isn’t something you trick people into giving you, it’s something you allow . The Hardest Truth About Self-Love Some days, it will feel impossible. You will slip into old patterns. You will have moments where you don’t believe a single word of this. That’s okay. The goal isn’t to feel worthy  every second of every day, it’s to choose yourself  even when you don’t. Because at the end of the day, no one is coming to save you . No relationship, no external validation, no grand moment of recognition will fix what only you can heal. You have to do the work. You have to choose yourself. And you have to decide, right now, that you are worth it. Not someday. Not when you’ve "fixed" everything. Right now. Even if you don’t believe it yet, start acting like you do. The love you want? The life you crave? The peace you’re desperate for? It starts with you. “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.” Brené  Brown Can we truly learn to love ourselves by following these steps? Yes, but only if we commit  to them, not just as ideas, but as daily practices. And only if we acknowledge what’s missing  in the conversation around self-love. Because here’s the thing: Self-love isn’t just about doing the work. It’s about undoing everything that taught you not to love yourself in the first place. What’s Missing? The Deepest Work of Self-Love We’ve covered the core elements: acceptance, boundaries, self-talk, emotional honesty. But if radical self-love was as simple as following steps, wouldn’t we all be healed by now? So what’s the missing piece? 1. Acknowledging the Wounds That Made You Forget Your Worth Before we can love  ourselves, we have to be willing to grieve  for all the times we weren’t loved the way we needed to be. Loving yourself isn’t just about talking nicely to yourself in the mirror, it’s about facing the real reasons why you struggle to love yourself in the first place . The unmet childhood needs. The ways you were ignored, dismissed, abandoned, or criticised. The times love felt like something you had to earn . The relationships that mirrored those wounds and deepened them. You can’t slap self-love on top of unhealed pain. It won’t stick. Before you can love yourself fully, you have to acknowledge where that love was missing. You have to allow yourself to grieve  what you didn’t get, what you needed, what you deserved. Otherwise, you’ll keep looking for external love to “prove” your worth instead of knowing  it’s already yours. 2. Facing the Fear of What Happens When You Stop Hating Yourself Self-hatred can feel like a form of control . If you criticise yourself first, no one else can hurt you. If you set your expectations low, you won’t be disappointed. If you tell yourself you’re not good enough, you won’t have to risk failure. So what happens when you let that go? What happens when you stop keeping yourself small ? When you no longer beat yourself down before the world can? Radical self-love is terrifying because it means surrendering the illusion of control  that self-loathing gives you. It means taking up space without apology . It means stepping into the unknown, without the armour of self-rejection. And if you’ve spent years identifying with your struggles, your insecurities, your failures - who are you without them? That’s the fear we don’t talk about. 3. Unlearning the Idea That Love Must Be Earned Many of us were raised to believe love is conditional , that it must be proven, performed, or deserved . Self-love requires unlearning  that. You don’t have to be “good enough” to be worthy.  You don’t have to achieve anything to deserve kindness - from yourself or anyone else. You don’t have to hustle for your own approval. The work of radical self-love isn’t just about adding  new habits, it’s about removing  the beliefs that tell you your worth is negotiable. Love isn’t something you unlock when you become better. It’s something you decide you deserve, right now, as you are. Can We Really Learn to Love Ourselves? Yes. But it’s not just about following steps. It’s about facing the roots of your self-rejection . It’s about being radically honest  about what shaped you. It’s about grieving what was missing  so you can move forward. It’s about letting go of control and choosing to be seen . Self-love isn’t just an act . It’s a process of undoing . And it starts when you stop waiting  to be worthy. Venus & The Work of Loving Yourself Self-love isn’t just a switch you flip. It’s a process. One that asks you to truly see yourself, to witness your own longing, your pain, your patterns. It’s about learning where you abandon yourself, where you silence your needs, where you chase validation instead of offering it to yourself. It’s the slow, deliberate work of peeling back the layers of conditioning, the survival mechanisms, the beliefs that tell you you are not enough as you are. Venus in your birth chart holds the map to this work. She reveals how you love, yes, but more importantly, how you need to be loved. What makes you feel valued, what wounds you carry in your relationships, what beauty and pleasure mean to you on the deepest level. Your Venus story is personal. It’s layered with history, with lessons, with the ways you’ve learned to give and receive love. And understanding it can be a powerful step toward self-acceptance. If you want to explore this in a deeper, more meaningful way, my Venus readings are not about surface-level compatibility or quick-fix affirmations. They are an invitation to see yourself clearly, to understand what nourishes you, what depletes you, and how to love yourself in a way that isn’t performative, but real. Because when you begin to love yourself in the way you truly need, you stop grasping for it in places that will never satisfy you. You deserve that. You always have. And if you’re ready to start, I’d love to help you find your way back to yourself. Book an online Venus reading here. Learn more about me here. Learn more about my reading here. Read what Venus had to say to me. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and occasionally nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Taking the Reins: How Conscious Awareness Can Transform Our Lives For as long as we’ve been human, we’ve learned through suffering. It’s been our teacher, our taskmaster, the hard hand that has shaped us. Challenge equals growth—we’ve seen it, we’ve lived it, we’ve bled for it. But what if we’re entering a time where the rules are shifting? What if Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune’s upcoming move from Neptune to Aries, and Uranus moving into Gemini are opening a door to a different way of evolving—one where we grow not just through pain but through awareness, through choice? Because here’s the thing: life will always contain contrast . We need it. Without experiencing what we don’t want, how would we ever find clarity on what we do? But contrast doesn’t have to mean suffering. It doesn’t have to mean being dragged through the underworld, bruised and broken, before we emerge into the light. What if, instead, we approached life like a game—one that’s rigged in our favour if only we learn to see the clues? Seeing Life as a Game of Awareness I’m not saying the work isn’t real. It is. But I’ve found that when we engage with life consciously—when we start paying attention to the signs, the synchronicities, the nudges from the universe—things change. It’s like a game of snakes and ladders, except the snakes aren’t here to destroy us. They show us where we went wrong, but they don’t send us spiralling into doom. They’re not venomous anymore, not if we learn to read them. Instead of seeing them as punishment, we see them as course correction—reminders of where we lost awareness, invitations to try again with a clearer perspective. And when we play this way, life becomes easier. Not because challenges disappear, but because we stop seeing ourselves as victims of fate and start taking ownership of our experience. We put on a good pair of wellies when we have to wade through the muck, and we remember that at any moment, we have wings—we just have to activate them. When we pay attention and follow the nudges, our reality adjusts. Rather than feeling swept from pillar to post (or from the top of the snake to the bottom with no fair warning), life becomes more fun. Ancient Wisdom, New Application This isn’t a new idea. Carl Jung called it individuation—the process of becoming conscious, integrating our shadow, and stepping into the fullness of who we are. And Jung argued that actively engaging with this process leads to a more authentic and fulfilling life. George Gurdjieff spoke about the necessity of waking up from the mechanical state most people live in, of moving through life with deliberate awareness rather than being pulled along by unconscious forces. Even Jesus, in his own way, spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven being within us—perhaps a way of saying that our liberation is already available, if we choose to see it. And that’s the key. Choice. Awareness. Ownership. Because from my own experience, nothing has transformed my life more than paying attention—following the signs, working with what life is showing me, and using it to do my inner work. Astrology came later, as a way to deepen this process, but the guidance was always there. It’s there for all of us. We don’t need someone to hand us the answers. We already have everything we need to walk this path consciously. And when we do, life stops feeling like an endless series of struggles and starts feeling like what it was always meant to be—a game written for us, so we can win. Where to Begin: Taking the First Step into Conscious Awareness If this idea is new to you, you might be wondering: How do I start? How do I begin working with life in this way instead of feeling like it’s working against me? The first step is simple but powerful: set an intention. Our words shape our reality, and when we declare something out loud—even just to ourselves—it begins to take form. Try saying: 👉 I am ready to see the signs. 👉 I invite guidance to help me grow. 👉 I choose to pay attention. It can be as simple as that. The Universe (or your higher self, or The Gods, or whatever language feels right for you) won’t interfere unless invited. They want  to help, but they respect our free will. So say the words. Mean them. And then watch what happens. Noticing the Clues Once you’ve set your intention, your only job is to pay attention. Start small. The Universe doesn’t always speak in grand gestures—it often whispers. Notice the things that stand out to you: ✨ A phrase someone says that hits differently. ✨ A book that catches your eye at the right moment. ✨ A song lyric that seems like it was written just  for you. ✨ A repeating number, an animal that crosses your path, a gut feeling that won’t leave you alone. These are nudges —clues. They won’t all be obvious at first, but trust that if you keep watching, the patterns will emerge. Journaling: Making the Invisible Visible A great way to strengthen your awareness is to write things down.  Keep a notebook or a note on your phone where you track synchronicities, thoughts, and patterns that seem meaningful. Over time, you’ll start to see connections you wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. Some simple journal prompts: 📝 What stood out to me today? 📝 What challenges am I facing, and what might they be teaching me? 📝 If life were speaking to me right now, what would it be saying? Trusting Yourself The biggest shift comes when you trust yourself enough to follow the signs. This isn’t about looking for external validation or waiting for someone else to confirm what you already feel. It’s about recognising that you  are the one walking this path, and you  get to choose how you engage with it. Sometimes the guidance will be clear. Other times, it might feel uncertain. That’s okay. Just keep showing up. Keep asking. Keep listening. And slowly, you’ll notice—life starts to feel different. Lighter. More like a conversation than a fight. More like a game you’re learning to play, where the rules are bending in your favour, and where you are, at last, taking the reins. A Daily Practice: Begin Again, Every Day Every day is new One of the most powerful ways to step into this path is to embrace the idea that every single day is a new chance to grow . A fresh start. A clean slate. No matter what happened yesterday, you are not bound to it. You are always evolving, always learning. Here’s a practice that helped me immensely when I first began: Morning Intention: Inviting a Fresh Day When you wake up, take a moment—before reaching for your phone, before getting lost in the day’s to-do list—and say: 👉 I welcome this new day as an opportunity to grow and become my best self. 👉 May today show me what I need to see, and may I have the courage to work with it. It doesn’t have to be a long meditation or ritual. Just a simple, conscious moment of setting the tone for the day ahead. By doing this, you are inviting  life to work with you instead of feeling like you are at its mercy. Evening Reflection: Clearing the Energy At the end of the day, before bed, take another moment. Reflect—not with criticism, not with regret, but with compassion  for the person you were today. Maybe you handled something well; maybe you didn’t. Either way, you did the best you could with what you had. Say to yourself: 👉 I did my best today, and that is enough. 👉 I release this day, clearing away anything that needs to go. 👉 May I wake up tomorrow renewed and ready to begin again. It’s like wiping the slate clean. No carrying today’s energy into tomorrow. No holding onto what could have been done better. Just a fresh start, always. Why This Works This practice shifts how you relate to your life. Instead of being weighed down by past mistakes or anxieties about what’s to come, you train yourself to stay present. Each day is its own experience. Each challenge is just another opportunity. Each moment is a chance to realign. And that’s what this whole journey is about— learning, growing, evolving, and trusting that we are always being guided. Life is not meant to be a never-ending struggle. It is a process, a game, a dance. And when we show up consciously, when we take ownership of our part in it, we begin to experience a kind of ease that wasn’t available to us before. We stop being dragged through life. And we start walking with it. Need Support on Your Path? Stepping into this way of working with life—where you consciously grow, pay attention to the signs, and take ownership of your journey—can feel both exciting and overwhelming. If you’d like support in understanding the patterns playing out in your life and how to navigate them with more ease, an astrology reading can be a powerful tool. Your birth chart is like a map of your soul’s journey , showing you where your growth lies, what challenges are helping you evolve, and how to work with  life instead of feeling at its mercy. In a reading, we can explore: ✨ The themes and lessons your chart is highlighting right now. ✨ How to work with the current planetary transits in your life. ✨ Practical guidance for stepping into your next stage of growth. If you’d like to dive deeper, you can book a reading with me: 📅 In-person : Saturdays & Thursday evenings at Essential Therapies. 💻 Online via Zoom : Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday evenings. You already have everything you need within you to start this journey—but if you’d like some guidance along the way, I’d love to support you. Learn more about me here. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and occasionally nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Walking with Nature Let yourself be guided. Let the Earth speak. There’s a kind of magic that lives just beneath the surface of ordinary life. You can feel it most clearly in nature, when you’re quiet, open, and willing to be led by something greater than your mind. This practice is simple, but not small. It’s about trusting your instincts , listening deeply, and remembering that you’re not separate from the Earth, you’re part of it . Just another wild, wonderful thing growing here. Dartmoor Begin Before You Begin This walk starts before you even leave the house. Close your eyes and ask: Where should I go today? Let the first place that pops into your mind be the one. It could be a local park, a lane you haven’t walked in a while, a beach, a moor, even your own garden. Be open-minded. You don’t have to understand why, just trust it. This is your magical mystery tour. An exercise in feeling and trust. Let the Walk Lead You Once you arrive, begin walking slowly. Let your senses guide you. Notice what you see, hear, smell. Let your thoughts come and go. If you reach a path or a fork, ask: Where do I go?  Act on the first impulse. Let the walk become a conversation. You’re not walking through  nature. You’re walking with  Her. Let the Walk Change You This isn’t about getting somewhere. It’s about being with  the world. As you walk, stay curious. What catches your eye? What feelings stir? What memories or messages rise as you move? Maybe you notice a particular tree, a feather on the ground, a ray of light cutting through the branches. Maybe a question you didn’t know you had is answered in a sudden moment of clarity. Maybe you just feel… more you . Let that be enough. You’re not looking for signs. You’re simply allowing them to show up. The more you practice this kind of walking, the kind that’s slow, intentional, and open, the more you’ll find that Nature starts to meet you halfway. You’ll begin to feel the conversation, even if it’s wordless. Even if it’s just a sense of peace returning to your chest. Let yourself be surprised. Let yourself be changed. 🧭 Remember… You don’t need to understand what’s happening to trust it. You don’t need a destination to receive direction. You are not separate from the land—you are woven into its story. Let the Earth lead. Let the journey reveal what needs to be seen. Let your body walk you home. 🌀 Talking with Nature Talking to Trees (A True Story) One cold, wet, blustery day, I took myself onto Dartmoor. I’d been told of a place called Wistman’s Wood , said to be steeped in mystery and ancient magic, and something in me knew I had to go. It was a torturous walk across the moor, wind whipping at my face, cold seeping through my hoodie and old cagoule. But I was determined. When I arrived, I was met by a crop of ancient, moss-covered trees, twisted, wise, otherworldly. Now, a magical man once told me you can talk to the trees. I trusted him, so I thought, why not? I picked a tree that looked particularly wise (to be fair, they all did), clambered over the rocks and reached out to touch it. Just as I was about to place my hand on a branch, a voice that wasn't my own, spoke in my head: “Stop. Look closely.” Slightly startled, I pulled my hand back and looked again. There, covering the branch, was the finest, most intricate feathering of lichen I’d ever seen. When I really looked, I realised, it was everywhere. On the bark, the rocks, the ground. And then it hit me: a rush of understanding. From the lichen to the tree, to the air around it, to the birds above, to the rock beneath my feet, to the moors behind me, to me - we were all the same. Little strands of energy weaving through and between everything. An enormous, interconnected web. All is one and one is all. Everything is connected. We are an indivisible unity. And then, just as suddenly, I heard the voice again: “Close your eyes.” I did. I found myself flying through a dark tunnel, fast and weightless. Then I stopped - face-to-face with a massive black eye. A dragon’s eye. It opened slowly. It looked at me. I panicked and opened my eyes. Back in the woods. Back in the world. Changed. I thanked the tree. And I left feeling both mildly stunned and incredibly grateful, for the magic, for the message, and for the magical man who'd taught me trees could talk. The Tree in Wistman's Wood How to Talk to Trees Yes— you can do this too . It starts with a willingness to believe that trees are alive in ways we’ve forgotten to notice. That they are intelligent. Present. Capable of communication. You don’t need rituals or rules. The most important thing is respect . Here’s how to begin: 🌳 Step 1: Find a tree Let yourself be drawn to one. Don’t overthink it. Just feel. 🫶 Step 2: Ask for permission Silently or out loud, ask: May I sit with you? May I connect with you? Notice what you feel in your body. Sometimes the answer comes as a sensation, a lightness, a warmth, a no, or simply a knowing. If it’s a no, thank the tree and find another. Don’t take it personally. 🧘 Step 3: Listen Rest near the tree - stand or sit, whatever feels most comfortable to you. Close your eyes. Tune in with all your senses. You might feel emotions, hear words, see images, or simply know . You don’t have to say much, just speak from the heart. Tell the tree why you’re here. Ask a question. Be quiet. Listen. The Ways Trees Speak (Your Clair Senses) Trees may not talk the way humans do, but they absolutely have their own ways of communicating. These are some of the “languages” they use, also known as clair senses : Clairaudience  – hearing words or phrases in your mind Clairsentience  – feeling something in your body (goosebumps, warmth, pressure) Clairvoyance  – receiving images or symbols Clairempathy  – sensing the tree’s emotion or mood Clairalience / Clairgustance  – receiving unexpected smells or tastes as messages Clairtangency  – gaining insight through touching the tree You don’t need to master all of these. Just start noticing. How does your  body receive messages? A Few Gentle Tips Slow down.  The trees are subtle. Give them time. Be open.  You don’t have to “believe”, you just have to listen . Keep a journal.  Write down what you feel, sense, hear, or imagine. Ask small questions.  Big truths often come in simple whispers. Final Thoughts Whether you hear a voice, receive an image, or simply leave feeling calmer, lighter, more connected, you’ve had a conversation . Don’t underestimate the power of this practice. Nature wants  to connect with you. The trees are listening. And if you’re quiet enough… they’ll speak. “Talk to a tree, which is more deeply rooted in God than any cross… a tree is alive, with roots deep into the earth, branches high into the sky… talk to the trees!”— Osho Want to go deeper? Here are some wonderful resources to explore: “How to Talk to Trees: Communicating with Tree Spirits” by Holly Worton Anima Monday: Why Animism? Learn more about Wistman’s Wood 🌀 Why This Practice Matters Nature has always been speaking. We’ve just forgotten how to listen. This practice isn’t about doing it right . It’s about softening. Sensing. Trusting. Reconnecting. Whether you hear a voice or simply feel a little more grounded, whether you see a dragon or just breathe a little easier, the medicine is in the doing . In the openness. In the remembering. Now put your phone down (or close your laptop). And get out there. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

" Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate." C.G. Jung Jump to section: Pluto Meaning Pluto in the 4th House Pluto in Capricorn How does Pluto transform? Pluto in the 5th House Tips for navigating Pluto Transits My final thoughts Book a reading with me Before I knew I had a choice; before Pluto's transit through my fourth house. As they say, shit happens, and I was no different. Shit happened. And it took me long while to realise that, because of the shit that happened, I had been swept into a life, and had engaged in a relationship, that was based upon an image I had of myself that wasn't who I was or the kind of person I would ever have wanted to be. The truth of matter was, I didn't like myself very much, and as a consequence I was most comfortable with those who reminded me, regularly, why that negative self image was justified. I lived in a reality where my needs and my feelings were bottom of a long list of far more valid and important priorities. If you'd asked me how I was, I would have smiled brightly and told you I was fine with every confidence that I was. But the truth was, I didn't even know how to ask myself that question, let alone answer it truthfully. There were moments, occasionally, where I'd get a glimpse into my reality through a different perspective. Moments which were extremely uncomfortable and ultimately far too much to handle let alone to take action on. I'd open my eyes for a moment and then force them shut again so I didn't have to think about the possibility of it ever being any other way. I'd made my bed. And I was lying in it, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Before Pluto entered my fourth house I put on a good show. I worked hard at ensuring my life looked how I thought it was supposed to look, without paying any attention to how it was supposed to feel. We were the epitome of a happy family. I fooled everyone. Even myself. When Pluto entered, in January 2008, I was planning a wedding. Binding myself, legally no less, to a life that, in those quiet moments at 3am when there was nothing to distract me from my thoughts, was clearly miserable. I was suffering. But that suffering was so long standing and so normal, that I really had no idea how difficult it was or that there may be any alternative. I had no idea any other life was available to me. See the wood from the trees. 'I felt huge resistance to the wedding and couldn’t find any enthusiasm for planning it. In the few days before I experienced huge doubt, not helped by the fact that my wedding dress, that I’d had handmade, was hideous and had to be replaced with just a day to go. An ominous sign if ever there was one. But I was not one for self reflection of any kind at that point. In fact I was a master at denial. I was doing what I thought I should do, what you’re supposed to do when you have a lovely house and children with someone. Of course it was the right thing to do. I shoved down the nagging feelings that this was not how planning a wedding should feel. And I squashed the thoughts that the relationship wasn’t healthy and I wasn’t happy. Deep down, in a hidden part of me that only peeked out when watching a romantic film or glimpsing enthusiastic lovers in the park, I longed for a glorious romance. For unbridled passion. For undying love. But that was for other people. I was fine with what I had and where I was… Pluto entered my fourth house like a slow rumble of thunder in the distance. A storm was brewing. But at that point it was too quiet to be concerned about.' Pluto is the underworld. Pluto is what lies beneath. The shadow. And when Pluto touches an area of our life, it wants to force those shadows into the light. It's the volcano: breaking apart our foundations and forcing us to see what's hidden below. We have no choice but to face the things we haven't been willing to see. This sounds brutal, and it is, but while it's brutal it's also kind. We cannot lie to ourselves forever. We must face the truth of what is. We are here to grow and learn and transform. We want change. We want to be better. And we get there through facing our darkness. Through darkness, we find the light. And without the darkness, we will never be able to perceive it. "Pluto is associated with the principle of elemental power , depth and intensity ; with that which compels, empowers , and intensifies whatever it touches, sometimes to overwhelming and catastrophic extremes; with the primordial instincts, libidinal and aggressive, destructive and regenerative, volcanic and cathartic , eliminative, transformative , ever-evolving; with the biological processes of birth, sex and death, the cycle of death and rebirth; with upheaval, breakdown, decay, and fertilisation; violent purgatorial discharge of pent-up energies, purifying fire; situations of life-and-death extremes, power struggles, all that is titanic, potent, and massive. Pluto represents the underworld and underground in all senses: elemental, geological, instinctual, political, social, sexual, urban, criminal, mythological, demonic. It is the dark, mysterious, taboo, and often terrifying reality that lurks beneath the surface of things, beneath the ego, societal conventions, and the veneer of civilisation, beneath the surface of the Earth, that is periodically unleashed with destructive and transformative force. Pluto impels, burns, consumes, transfigures, resurrects ." From Cosmos and Psyche by Richard Tarnas Pluto's journey through my 4th house. What does the 4th house represent? In traditional astrology the fourth house is named The Subterranean Angle for its place at the very bottom of our chart and as such, representing us at our base; our roots, our sense of security, of safety, of home. Being on an angle it is a powerful place and when the Gods wind up here in the birth chart or by transit, they tend to shout. From Carole Taylor’s, Astrology: "The 4th house describes both our concept of ‘home’ as a place of retreat and belonging as well as bricks and mortar. It will reflect the role your home fulfils for you, sanctity, security or a place you lay your hat. Here we find an inner centre of gravity, our place of sanctuary. It reveals what we’re like when the front door is closed and we are no longer on show to the world." 'You’d think it would be obvious to a person that they were living a life they would never have chosen for themselves, in a home that looked good from the outside but felt anything but good on the inside. But normal, is normal. And even difficult environments are safe and comfortable in a funny kind of way. It was only in the quiet moments, 3am whilst my tiny girl slept next to me, her little body tucked up under my arm, that the thoughts crept in. A fantasy: a little house of my own. Just me and the kids. My fantasy was very simple: A peaceful life . I may have continued that way forever; not questioning whether I was in the right place and how I felt about where I was. But Pluto had other plans. One day someone asked me how I was and didn’t accept my usual response of, “I’m fine”. In fact, they told me that was bullshit, I wasn’t fine, I was anything but fine. And, for the first time, maybe in my whole life, I wondered if perhaps they were right and asked myself how I really felt. That storm that was rumbling in the distance? Two years after Pluto entered my fourth house, the lightening started and my foundations started to crack.' The cold facts: I had been playing happy families, focused on how I thought home and family should look, and completely disregarding how they should feel, for years. I had always longed for home and family. It is my core drive, my purpose. And now I understand astrology and know that my Sun is in my 4th house of Home and Family, that drive makes perfect sense. Home and family is my focus , it's what lights me up , it's where I am most happy and what I give all my attention to. When Pluto entered my 4th house in 2008 I was living in my dream house, my forever home, and planning a wedding to the man I thought I'd be with forever. Less than two years later I was divorced and living in a different, much smaller house. My core concepts around Home and Family had changed irrevocably, almost without warning. Everything I had been repressing, burying, hiding in the shadows. Everything I hadn't had the courage to face about me, my relationship, my desires, my needs, had exploded to the surface . The life that had chosen me no longer felt like it fit. In 2010 Pluto lit a fuse, I made a decision , and I blew it all up. 'I remember the feeling; before decisions were made. It felt as if I was at the foot of an enormous, impenetrable, impossible to ascend, rocky mountain . And though I knew there was something beyond the mountain, it was completely obscured by a task that felt so daunting as to be completely impossible. But somehow I found the courage to begin. I took the first step. In words, and then action. And then, less than a year later, with buckets of tears behind me, I was living in a different house and my situation looked entirely different. However, despite the change of scenery, the change of circumstances, the misery and the feelings of powerlessness were still the same. I was the same person . I felt the same as I had in my marriage and my home, just the location was different.' Capricorn, the sign of the mountain, symbolises the towering goals and the structures we build to reach them. Pluto's journey through Capricorn has acted as a cosmic excavation, forcing us to confront what lies beneath the surface of these ambitions - the buried truths of our limitations, constraints, and illusions of power. It has dismantled outdated systems, both externally in society and internally within ourselves, exposing the cracks in the foundations we once deemed solid. For many, like a climber scaling the wrong peak or approaching it from the wrong side, Pluto’s transformative energy has been a call to re-evaluate our trajectories. It asks: Is this the mountain worth climbing? And if so, are you equipped with the right tools and perspective? By tearing down what no longer serves us, Pluto has been guiding us to rebuild with greater authenticity, integrity, and alignment with our true purpose. Pluto showed me that I was climbing the wrong mountain. Or at least, navigating it from the wrong angle. I was pouring my energy into a situation which didn't meet any of my own needs and it was killing me. I was lost. And it took years to recover from the shock of what had unfolded and find myself again. So when did it change? Seven Years later. With another failed relationship under my belt. And the realisation that I would keep attracting the same situation over and over again unless I turned my attention inward and dealt with the events of the past that were perpetuating the suffering - my disregard of self - my self loathing - my lack of esteem that left me too weak to choose something better for myself. I made another decision . It was time to face my shadows. It was time to turn my attention towards myself and into what made me what I am , and look at what Pluto had been nudging me to look at since January 2008. From my account of my journey : 'It begins, late one night, snuggled up with my sleepy three-year-old daughter in front of a movie, in a caravan, in a popular English seaside resort. It begins with these words: The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. It began with some questions: Have I learned this? Do I want to learn this? Now at this time I was fairly recently married to the father of my two children, a six-year-old son and the sleepy three-year-old daughter, so answering the first question with an affirmative should have been easy. However, while I was pretty confident I’d loved , at that point, even in a long-standing relationship, and even though the word ‘love’ was used liberally, I wasn’t certain I’d been loved . At least not so far as I could feel it. Roll on a year and I am recently divorced and living in a little house, near the seaside, in another popular English resort. Those questions launched me here, but now they, and the desire they sparked, are lost and temporarily forgotten, amidst the stress and intensity of sharing the parenting of two small children, a full-time job, and a house to run all by myself. Six years on, and with another tumultuous and ultimately unsuccessful relationship under my belt, they re-emerged, and this time another level of awareness came with them, inspired in part by The Beatles: And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make. The End, The Beatles This time I know that love starts with me . If I want to love, I have to love myself . And if I want to feel loved by anyone else then first, I need to feel my own love . And that feels like a mission (something my Capricorn Sun loves!). In that moment I had found a new sense of purpose: I will learn to love myself. And when (or maybe it should be if), I’m successful, then perhaps I’ll be able to share that love I’ve made, with another.' At this point in my journey Saturn joined Pluto in my 4th house and opposed my natal Saturn. This transit brought a new challenge and for a while I forgot what I'd decided and what I knew was important. I wandered from the path I'd decided to walk and headed back in a direction I'd walked many times before: I met a man and my feelings for him, and the future I envisioned with him, triggered all my programmed responses. I forgot all about me and turned my attention to him. I turned my back on myself once again. From my account of my journey : 'So, I'd made a commitment  to myself. I'd set an intention . I'd decided to choose me . To dedicate my time and energy to me . And to fall in love with me . And yet all of a sudden I'm faced with this wonder of a man, with this wonder of a feeling, with this potential for something amazing. How do I say no to this? How do I walk away from this? With some struggle is the honest answer. Every time I thought I'd succeeded in letting go and given myself all my time and attention back, I'd feel drawn, like a moth to a flame, back towards this promise that he'd inspired in me. Thankfully, though it wasn't always obvious at the time that this was something I should be grateful for, The Universe knew better than I, what was good for me. And every time I got close to losing myself again, this time not to a relationship but to an idea of what I thought this connection was, an intervention would occur and I'd remember, often brutally and with a fair amount of accompanying sobbing, that this was time I'd promised to myself . And I'd get back on the horse and start plodding off along the path I'd so determinedly chosen in September 2017: I will learn to love myself. Fortunately, despite the struggles, I now had support on the journey. When this man entered my life, magic entered too and with that magic came some otherwise unknown and undiscovered gifts. And it was through those gifts that I wound up finding a name for what I was going through. It appeared I wasn't the only one to have been magically awakened through a connection that felt crazy and fated. It was then that I found a sense of community and some instruction; a map of sorts to guide me along the way. The magical man, gave me a magical book, and it was this book that introduced me to a perception of reality I had long forgotten. 365 Days of Tao by Deng Ming-Dao And from the moment I read this first lesson weird things started to happen. What was written in the words seemed to reflect what happened to me during the day. With every day that passed, the world got brighter and more fantastical. By day 32: Ubiquity, after having experienced the exact and perfect experience on each day, that allowed me to fully interpret and understand that day's lesson, and after being launched unconsciously into a water fast (beginning on day 2: 'purification starts all practice') lasting 5 crazy days which were brimming with impossible to explain moments and perspective altering 'coincidences', I was invested and dedicated to a new way of being . I had made a decision . I had started to learn how to tap into Tao with a commitment to daily self-cultivation as my driver. I'd sharpened senses I didn't know I had and I had learned that the world I thought I knew, was far richer and far more amazing than any magical movie I'd watched or any imaginatively constructed fantasy book I'd read. I'd left Kansas and was on firm ground over the (double) rainbow. I would learn to connect to my inner self . I would commit myself to a spiritual practice . I will make something of myself . I will transform myself into an instrument to experience the deepest spiritual essence of life . I'd witnessed the auspicious signs . I had refined my purpose  and found new meaning . I began again.' View from my back door How does Pluto transform? Pluto speaks to profound, transformative processes that don’t just change what you see but alter your essence. When Pluto is prominent in your chart or making a significant transit, it intensifies your journey, pushing you through cycles of breakdown and renewal, ultimately inviting you to access a deeper level of truth and self-awareness. 1. Transformation and Letting Go Pluto transits compel you to let go of aspects of yourself that are no longer relevant, meaningful, or authentic. Often, this feels like a “death” of some part of your identity, habits, relationships, or life goals. While it may feel overwhelming, this process ultimately clears space for the emergence of a more empowered, truthful self. This could mean releasing attachments, shedding layers of your ego, or experiencing significant endings. Though it’s often intense, these changes bring you closer to your true power by stripping away what’s not essential. 2. Facing the Shadow Pluto brings up the shadow side, the hidden, repressed, or unconscious aspects of yourself, including fears, desires, and wounds. These shadow aspects often contain unacknowledged power, potential, and creativity. Facing these parts can be difficult, but it offers you the chance to integrate them into your conscious identity, making you more whole. Through this, you gain a stronger understanding of your inner depths, a critical part of self-empowerment. You may confront buried traumas or hidden motivations, ultimately leading you to understand yourself in ways you never have before. 3. Power and Control Pluto brings lessons in power, control, and resilience. During significant Pluto transits, you may find yourself dealing with power struggles or feeling an intense need to assert control. These situations encourage you to examine your relationship with power - how you use it, where you give it away, and where you may misuse it. By navigating these dynamics, you’re called to redefine what authentic power means to you, learning to rely on inner strength rather than external validation. You may realise that true empowerment lies in the courage to face your fears and embrace vulnerability. 4. Breaking Down to Rebuild Pluto breaks down structures and aspects of life that no longer serve your growth. This could show up as a career shift, changes in relationships, or an internal shift in perspective. Pluto is known for its ruthless efficiency in bringing change, so you may feel like your life is being “torn down” to its core. This is part of a greater process of renewal. After the breakdown comes a phase of rebuilding, often guided by a clearer sense of purpose and alignment with your deeper values. You emerge more resilient, with an inner sense of clarity that cannot be easily shaken. 5. Uncovering Purpose and Passion Pluto digs deep, not content with superficial answers or half-hearted efforts. During significant transits, you may feel a heightened urge to discover what truly matters to you, what drives you at the deepest level. This may prompt a re-evaluation of your life purpose, your career, or your creative passions. Pluto wants you to live with intensity and meaning, pushing you to explore aspects of life that feel vibrant and alive. Your life may take on a renewed sense of depth, and you could be drawn toward pursuits that feel purposeful and transformative. 6. Healing and Empowerment through Crisis Pluto brings crises that act as catalysts for healing. These experiences can feel like intense, often uncomfortable awakenings. By enduring and embracing these periods, you undergo catharsis, shedding old wounds, and emerging with a newfound strength. This process of “purging” emotional or psychological baggage can lead to profound healing, helping you transcend past limitations and empowering you to move forward with greater resilience and wisdom. During a Pluto transit, it’s common to experience recurring dreams, powerful emotions, and sometimes physical symptoms that reflect the inner changes underway. You might find yourself drawn to darker or more complex themes in art, books, or conversations, as you resonate with a need to understand life’s mysteries and complexities. Relationships might intensify, and you may notice that people or situations in your life either draw out your deepest strengths or trigger your most sensitive vulnerabilities. Pluto’s transformations are lasting. They involve fundamental shifts in identity, relationships, career, or self-concept. While it can be unsettling, you will find that after the intensity subsides, you have a new foundation to stand on, one rooted in authenticity, purpose, and power. Pluto doesn’t settle for temporary fixes; it fosters changes that alter the trajectory of your life. Pluto's transit through my fourth house. A Pluto transit through the 4th house is one of the most deeply transformative experiences, affecting your foundational sense of identity, security, and emotional roots. To add to the intensity this transit also involved (in order) an opposition to my natal Saturn, a square with my natal Pluto in the 1st house, conjunctions with my natal Sun and Mercury, and a square to my ascendent. It is no surprise that this period has brought profound, multi-layered changes that have redefined who I am at the deepest level. As Pluto leaves my fourth house. When Pluto entered I had a fantasy: a little house of my own. Just me and the kids. My fantasy was very simple: A peaceful life . As Pluto leaves that fantasy is a reality: I have a little house of my own, I've raised my kids on my own terms and they are both growing into amazing people that I am both regularly impressed and proud of. My house is beautiful and of my own making. I've supported us and kept us well and happy. And me? I know myself. I love myself. I have peace of mind. I know I can face and thrive through challenges that I know are necessary. I am committed to becoming a better version of myself. I trust in my self and my journey. I am comfortable in the now and don't feel pulled into the past or haunted by it, I don't need to know what's ahead. I know the future will take care of itself. I'm happy. I'm at peace. "Home is a place we all must find, child. It's not just a place where you eat or sleep. Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage. If we know ourselves, we're always home, anywhere." Glinda The Good - The Wizard of Oz I have found my home and I know what home means to me. I am secure and safe in myself. I know who I am at my root. I have created a place of safety and security from which I can launch myself into the world and I have done the best I can to provide the same for my children. I am content with where I am and what I've done over the last 14 years. I am proud of who I have been and who I am becoming. I have completed a cycle. And I'm ready for the next one to begin. As Pluto enters my fifth house. What does the 5th house represent? In traditional astrology, the fifth house, known as the "House of Good Fortune" ( Agathos Daimon  in Greek), is associated with joy, creativity, children, romance, and pleasurable activities. It represents the ways in which blessings and good fortune manifest in one’s life, particularly through endeavours that bring happiness and satisfaction. The house's auspicious name stems from its relationship to the eleventh house ("Good Spirit"), as both are considered houses of beneficence. Additionally, the fifth house is seen as a place where Venus, the planet of pleasure and harmony, thrives. This house highlights experiences that nourish the spirit, promote love and creativity, and allow life to feel bountiful and celebratory. From Carole Taylor’s, Astrology: "The 5th house encompasses creativity, play and leisure. Our activities here bring joy and delight, serving to reinforce a sense of being a special and unique individual. Children come under this house, as does romance." I am excited to see the changes Pluto will bring and how I will be transformed through the themes in this house. What can I expect? 'A 20-year Pluto transit through the fifth house promises a profound and transformative journey in the areas of creativity, romance, self-expression , and the joys of life . In Pluto's domain, the themes of this house - joy, children, love, and artistic pursuits - will be intensified, deepened, and irrevocably changed. Creative self-expression might evolve into a tool for uncovering hidden truths or grappling with deep psychological material, transforming art, writing, or other creative outlets into acts of catharsis and renewal. Romantic relationships may become arenas of power dynamics, obsessive intensity, and deep soul connections, often challenging individuals to confront fears of betrayal, vulnerability, or loss. Themes of control and surrender are likely to emerge, especially in matters of love and parenthood. If children are a part of one's life, their experiences or one's role as a parent might undergo significant changes, necessitating resilience, understanding, and acceptance of growth through challenges. Pluto’s transformative force can strip away superficial joys to reveal deeper, more primal sources of passion and fulfilment, leading to a resurrection of the self in a way that is raw, powerful, and authentically aligned with one's inner core. Ultimately, this transit reshapes how one experiences and expresses joy, leaving behind superficial pleasures to embrace profound and enduring forms of creativity, love, and personal growth.' Suggestions for Navigating Pluto Transits Embrace Self-Reflection : Pluto asks for honest introspection. Journaling, therapy, or practices like meditation can help you process the emotions that arise. Accept the Process of Release : Be open to letting go of what doesn’t serve you. This might include outdated beliefs, old identities, or relationships that no longer align with your growth. Trust the Rebirth : Even if it feels like things are falling apart, remember that Pluto’s ultimate aim is to renew and empower. What emerges from this process is often a more resilient, wise version of yourself. Stay Grounded : During intense times, grounding practices like spending time in nature or physical exercise can help you manage the intensity of the energy. Seek Support : Pluto’s energies are potent and transformative. Sharing your experiences with trusted friends or an astrologer who can give you a new perspective on your journey can offer solace. Pluto offers you a profound journey of growth through intensity, depth, and resilience. It pushes you to uncover hidden power, face the unknown, and emerge transformed. Final thoughts Pluto has a bad rap. If, like me, you regularly peruse the ask astrology pages on Facebook, you'll notice they are filled with fearful questions about what horrors are likely to befall the person asking because Pluto is now transiting one house over another. And with keywords like death , upheaval , breakdown , dark and destructive , who can blame them for feeling afraid? Hell, if I'd learned about Pluto transits before Pluto entered my 4th house and counted the significant aspects Pluto was making to my birth chart, I'd be terrified too! But here's the thing: Challenge, suffering, cataclysmic sudden change, change that is so extreme it literally breaks you into tiny pieces and feels like death , is a normal part of life. We all suffer devastating losses and feel powerless over what we are dealt, and this isn't just an occasional happening, it happens with alarming regularity. Pluto isn't entering a house in our chart with an intention of bringing volcanic, eliminative, catastrophe to our lives, Pluto isn't here to kill us. Pluto is simply a reflection of those darker aspects of life that we need, possibly even chose if you believe the wise sages that know better than I, that serve to balance with the opposite - growth, creation and renewal that brings hope, joy and evolution. And we have Gods bringing those forces of good into our lives at exactly the same time that Pluto is making His presence felt. Just look to the current location of Jupiter and Venus and see where you are feeling the lighter side of life. The truth is: we need Pluto. Just as we need Jupiter. Light cannot exist, cannot be felt, cannot be perceived, without the dark. One important thing I have learned in the last 7 years, as I've intentionally turned my face to my own dark side and faced the difficulties and the demons that drove them. Everything I have experienced was perfect. Every difficult and challenging moment I have had, had meaning and purpose. And everything I experienced brought me to who I am now. If we can find that perspective looking back, can we find it if we look forward? Yes, significant Pluto transits symbolise destruction but that destruction is necessary for the deep transformation, healing and rebuilding, it forces a rebirth, a new version of ourselves that emerges from the ashes of what was. And that rebirth . That resurrection . That's also Pluto. We can't have one without the other. And, to go back to the words of wise sages, that's why we're here : Life on Earth is a sacred school for the soul. We choose to incarnate here, embracing the challenges and struggles as opportunities for growth, learning, and spiritual evolution. The hardships we face are seen as purposeful, designed to help us transcend limitations, refine our character, and reconnect with our higher selves, ultimately moving closer to the divine. Which could give us the perspective that what appears to be a difficult upcoming Pluto transit, is actually a gift. We will be transformed. And that's what we're after. I can attest to that after the last 14 years. And because I am now transformed, and thanks to Pluto I have found a different perspective, I'm excited for the next 20 and the transformations Pluto will bring me as He transits Venus (my chart ruler) and Jupiter in my 5th house. Pluto’s destruction isn’t an endpoint but a powerful invitation to engage in the cycles of creation and destruction that shape our existence. The opposite of those devastating losses and overwhelming challenges is the growth, strength, and wisdom that come when we find the courage to rebuild, rise, and transform. It’s a balance that keeps the wheel of life turning. If we can embrace Pluto's presence in our life journey, if we can see the opportunity within the forces we're subjected to, we can look forward with peace and curiosity rather than resistance and fear. We can't choose what happens to us but we can choose how we respond to it and perceive it. And that's why I love Pluto . I'll leave you with another lesson from 365 days of Tao: Lesson 96: Constancy Clear sunlight on falling snow: fire and ice. Bare-boned trees stark to the horizon, Cold marshes, havens to ducks and geese. A groundhog sits motionless on a post. Wherever we are, the constant flow of Tao is ever present. We see the cycle of opposites, such as the juxtaposition of sunlight and snow. We notice the ongoing rhythms of life: waterfowl carrying on their lives even as spring is slow to warm and leafless trees stand in anticipation of warmer weather. All things change, all things move constantly. The world is like the ongoing turning of a magnificent wheel. All things come in their own time. Just as a groundhog sits motionless in the moving of the seasons, so too should we look within and slowly absorb the time. Within all the movement, the groundhog takes time to be still. Within all the changing of spring, we must take the time to notice the constancy of inner devotion. No matter how much is going on outside of oneself, one still reaffirms what is in one's heart, taking comfort in the regular pulse. What works in the shelter of home or temple works everywhere. Only when we know such constancy will we know our quest is succeeding. If you would like to have a chat about your Capricorn Pluto journey, and have a look at what might arise for you during Pluto's journey through Aquarius, book in a birth chart reading and let me know you'd like to look at Pluto. Book online with me here . Find more articles on Pluto in my Astroweather blog

🌿 A Taurus Season Invitation Guys and Dolls, April 2025, Centre Stage Exmouth Photo courtesy of Emma Crane - thank you! Last night, something ended. Something that’s shaped so much of our family life for the past ten years. My daughter had her final show with the local theatre group, a group that has been part of our world since my children were small and we'd go and watch their amazing shows. Week after week, year after year, rehearsals three nights a week. Two big productions every year, and Christmas and Summer Showcases. The auditions, the nerves, the costumes, the backstage chaos, the stage lights. The talent grown with practice. The friendships formed through the experience. The confidence that's grown beyond expectations. The joys. The tears. The magic. I’ve chaperoned performances, driven countless miles to rehearsals and back, juggled dinners and homework, and a social life (or lack of one), and work to make it all fit. I've sat behind the scenes and sewed buttons, found costumes and given reassurances. I've stood at the door with programmes in hand, and sold hundreds of raffle tickets to throngs of excited theatre goers. I’ve sat amongst hundreds of audiences with tears in my eyes and my heart so full it felt like it might burst. I've watched as they've fluffed their lines and covered it up with grace. I've seen their stifled giggles as they've turned the wrong way in a dance number. I've been in awe as their performances launched audiences to their feet, time and time again. And now it’s over. It’s such a quiet end really. No big fanfare. Just the final bow, watching her leave that stage for the last time, and the slow realisation that this rhythm, this thing that has been part of our everyday, is no longer needed. My daughter is stepping into a new chapter, off to university in September, beginning to make her way in the world. And I can feel the truth of that settling in my bones. I could get lost in the sadness. And there is sadness. But there’s also so much gratitude. And even a bit of awe. Because Taurus Season, in all Her earthy wisdom, reminds me that this is what life is: A series of seasons. Of sowing and reaping. Of tending and letting go. Of being fully in  the moment, even when it hurts. Even when it’s beautiful. Especially then. This season teaches us how to stay rooted in the here and now. To come back to our bodies, to the ground beneath our feet, to the present moment as the only place anything ever  really happens. And right now, in this moment: I can feel it all. The grief. The joy. The pride. The spaciousness that’s starting to open now that I’m not needed in quite the same way. The mystery of what might grow from that space. Because something new is coming. For her. For me. The soil has been turned. And I trust that seeds, some already planted, some yet to arrive, will soon begin to grow. So today I’m choosing to be here. Not rushing ahead. Not holding on. Just letting this moment be enough. 💫 This is the work of Taurus Season. To slow down. To feel. To root into your life. To trust what’s unfolding. And to remember that even the simplest moment is sacred. If you’re in a season of transition too, if something is ending, or shifting, or quietly dissolving, know this: It’s okay to feel it all. It’s okay to grieve. And it’s also okay to welcome the new space with hope. Taurus teaches us that everything is part of the cycle. Nothing is wasted. And everything is growing, even when it looks like it’s ending. Be here now. This moment is holy. And you are exactly where you’re meant to be. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

Part One: The Heart of It There are moments when fear wraps itself around love so tightly it feels impossible to breathe. When someone you love more than your own life steps closer to the fire, to danger, to life itself, and all you want to do is shield them, hold them back, protect them from every hurt you once knew too well. But love, if it is to be true, can’t be a cage. It has to be an open hand. Last night, I found myself standing on this precipice. I was flooded with fear, not just for what could happen, but for the helplessness, the powerlessness it woke inside me. Old memories stirred. Old griefs. And the deep ache of knowing that no matter how much we love, we cannot stop life, in all its flavours, from touching the ones we love. I wanted to grasp, to control, to shut it all down. I felt the rage rise and threaten to engulf me. Anger, straddling the chasm of fear and pain. But beneath the fury, below the fear, on the new ground this fissure exposed, a deeper truth waited for me. Wisdom whispered: It is time to let go. It is time to trust. It is time to call my energy back to myself. Because love, real love, doesn’t mean wrapping someone in cotton wool. It means standing steady as they step into their own life. Messy, beautiful, imperfect, and sometimes painful, and trusting that what you have built between you is strong enough to hold. This season is asking me to walk through a doorway. It’s a death and a birth at once. It hurts. Because it matters. And still, it is time. And because life and the sky are never separate, this moment unfolded under the exact gaze of Pluto opposing Mars, square my natal Mars in the 8th. Part Two: The Astrology of It This story isn’t just personal, it’s archetypal. It’s Pluto speaking in my 5th house of children and joy, opposing Mars in my 11th house of hopes and dreams, both squaring my exiled natal Mars in Taurus in the 8th house. My transits 1.30am 26/04/25 In astrology, the 5th house holds our children, our creative heart, the purest expressions of joy and love. When Pluto transits the 5th, He brings us face to face with what we fear most in these realms: Loss, Vulnerability, Lack of control. He strips away any illusions of safety, not to punish us, but to forge something stronger, truer, and more enduring. This Pluto transit is opposing Mars, God of action, survival: God of "The Fight". When Mars and Pluto meet, emotions don't whisper. They erupt. They quake. The ground beneath our feet stops being steady. It cracks. Fear and rage rise to the surface, riding the currents of ancient, buried pain. For me, it's activated my natal Mars in Taurus in the 8th house: house of trauma, intimacy, trust, and endings. The house where hidden wounds live. The house where powerlessness is remembered, and sometimes re-enacted, until we find a different way to hold it. This square to my Mars unearthed not just my current fear for my daughter, but the deep, historical fear from my own past. The fear of harm. The fear of abandonment. The fear of loving and losing, again. It's also touching my natal Moon in the 8th, my inner Mother, and the Mother I am. That part of me that has always carried a quiet grief for the safety, protection, and nurturing that once felt so far away. And because this all happened in the building of a New Moon, a New Moon which sits on top of the Moon in the 8th, it is forcing this ending into the light. This moment marks not just a crisis, but a turning point: An ending, and a beginning. It hasn’t been gentle, in truth last night felt pretty brutal for a couple of hours, but it has  been clear. The astrology didn’t create the feelings. The astrology revealed  them: like a current pulling the silt off buried bones so they could finally be seen, felt, and honoured. The astrology mirrors the moment and gives me a way to interpret it, to see it in its fulness. Its purpose. Its meaning. This is Pluto’s way. It’s not soft. It’s not easy. But it is true. It is wise. And underneath it all, a new understanding is rooting itself in me: that real protection isn’t control. Real protection is presence. Real protection is trust. The work now is not to shield the ones I love from life, but to be the steady place they can always come home to. Part 3: The Root of It This moment has shown me that the deepest safety does not come from control, or from trying to outrun the past. It comes from trusting the foundation I have built inside myself. Pluto’s transit is not a threat. It’s a reminder. A reminder that I am no longer the frightened girl I once was. I am the woman who walked through fire and kept walking. I am the mother who has laid down new stones for the generations to come. My daughter is not repeating my story. She is writing her own: with more self-worth, more freedom, and more trust than I had at her age. And I am writing my own too. Choosing to trust that life is not here to break me, but to deepen me. Choosing to trust that love, once planted deeply, continues to grow even when the winds howl. The past is healed. The roots are strong. And it is safe now. To let go. If you're walking through your own Pluto moment right now. If the ground feels shaky, if old fears are roaring louder than usual, know that it's not a punishment. It's an invitation to step through the fire, and into something deeper than fear. Something that endures. A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.

I didn’t find Liz Greene’s Saturn: A New Look at an Old Devil  until recently. I haven’t even finished reading it yet. But when I did start reading, something inside me softened, not because it told me something new, but because it affirmed what I already knew, and confirmed that I was right to trust in Saturn's powerful form of love. Because I'm not the only one to have noticed it. Felt it. If the legendary Liz Greene has spoken about it, then it must be true. The journey I’ve walked with Saturn hasn’t come from books or teachings. It’s come from living. From listening inward. Saturn in Cancer in the 10th house is not a gentle placement. And this Saturn also hosts my natal Sun and Mercury in Capricorn (opposite), and Venus and Jupiter in Aquarius. Born at night, and with Saturn retrograde, I carry the weight inward. Steady, private, relentless. I am the one who holds it together. The one who works hard to take care of the home, our security, our safe space, while inside, I still feel like a child trying to earn love by being good, capable, needed. And yet, here I am. Not broken. Not bitter (well not often). Because in time, I stopped trying to outrun the heaviness, to distract from it, to pretend it doesn't drag me down. I turned to face it. I learned that Saturn doesn’t demand perfection, He demands honesty, commitment, and time. This post isn’t a textbook analysis. It’s a validation, from me to anyone with a heavy Saturn placement, that the mountain can be climbed. That even the most complex inner architecture can be understood and healed. Not all at once. But step by step, breath by breath, through a kind of grace that lives not in ease, but in conscious and practiced effort that eventually becomes easy. This is me. The Long Road to Myself An astrological and personal reflection 1. Sect: Born at Night, Built for the Long Haul I was born at night, which makes Saturn my out-of-sect malefic - astrologically speaking, the planet most likely to show up as difficulty, in Saturn's case: challenge. And He has. The feeling of heaviness, of having to carry more than I can handle, has always been there. But so has the slow resilience. The quiet voice that reminds me to keep carrying on. The whisper of faith in a gentler future. The Moon is my sect light, and She’s exalted in Taurus in the 8th house. She forms a sextile to Saturn - a loving aspect. Maybe that’s what keeps me going. A kind of soft steadiness. And an appreciation - fundamental understanding - that there's always beauty, and joy, and peace, in the present moment. I just need to remember to look for it. When I want to give up, that's what keeps me going. That’s how I survive. How I keep plodding on. And that’s how I’ve done 'the work'. Not because I had a plan, but because I didn’t know how not to. 2. Cancer: Saturn in His Sign of Detriment Saturn in Cancer is hard. He’s not at home here. The God of boundaries, discipline, and structure is floating in the ocean of emotion, and He doesn't swim well. In my life, that’s looked like a total disconnection from need. I didn’t know how to need anything or anyone. I just knew I had to be strong. I grew up not expecting to be taken care of emotionally, so I didn’t even recognise it as something I lacked. I just got on with it. That’s what you do. You cope. You pull yourself together. You look after everyone else. It took me a long time to realise that what I miss is softness. Safety. Someone to say, “You don’t have to do this alone. I've got you.” I have a story that reflects this experience here. 3. Retrograde: The Inner Judge Saturn is retrograde, meaning He was walking backwards in the sky when I was born, and I feel that all the time. The voice of criticism isn’t outside me, it’s in  me. I don’t need anyone else to judge me; I do that job perfectly well on my own. And even when I know I’ve done something well, I question it. I minimise it. I tell myself I'm not special. This isn’t something I’ve cured. I still feel like a failure a lot of the time. That voice is quieter now, but it’s not gone. Retrograde Saturn doesn’t shout, He whispers. Constantly. 4. 10th House Saturn: Not Success, But Survival Saturn in the 10th is often talked about as the builder of legacy, the architect of worldly success. But what if success was never the goal, just stability? What if the legacy was something private, something no one else could quite see? I’ve never been career-driven. I’ve never cared about titles or climbing ladders. My job is fine - it just about covers the bills. But it’s never been about fulfilment or ambition. It’s always been about one thing: taking care of my family. For fifteen years, it’s mostly been just me and the kids. They’ve always come first. The full-time job is what allows me to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. The debt? That’s been for holidays, day trips, simple experiences to give them the childhood I wanted for them. And I did. I gave them that. They haven’t missed out. Some people might judge me for having no savings, for living close to the edge, for maxing the mortgage. But they don’t see what we’ve built here. I’ve made a beautiful home on a small budget. I’ve taught myself to do the DIY, decorated every wall, built the shelves, found second-hand furniture and made it work. I’ve cooked amazing meals with cheap ingredients. I’ve found ways to give us what we needed, even when it looked impossible. Saturn in the 10th doesn’t give out gold stars. There’s no applause for showing up, day in, day out, with no roadmap and no break. But I see now, that’s my version of success. Holding it all. Giving everything. Loving them into becoming who they are. That’s Cancer in the 10th. The mother in the house of duty. And that’s me. And I'm learning to be proud of who I am, and what I've built, of who my children are becoming. 5. Opposition to Sun and Mercury: The Inner Split Saturn opposes my Sun and Mercury in Capricorn. It’s like there’s a constant push-pull between who I am and who I think I should  be. I struggle to express myself. I second-guess everything I say. I come across as capable and clear, but inside I’m full of doubt. Capricorn is supposed to be strong. Grounded. But with Saturn in opposition, it’s like I’ve internalised a voice that says, “You’ll never be enough.” And sometimes I believe it. But these oppositions have also taught me to examine that voice. To ask whose it is. To slowly, carefully, begin to reclaim my own. 6. The Sextile to the Moon and Mars in the 8th: My Quiet Strength One of the real strengths in my chart is the sextile from the Moon and Mars in Taurus, in the 8th house, to Saturn in the 10th. It’s not flashy. It’s not something people would spot from the outside. But it’s what’s kept me going. It’s why I can face the hard stuff. Why I can sit with grief. Why I don’t fall apart when things get dark, even if I sometimes feel like I might. That strength isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It’s quiet, steady, built from years of just getting through. The 8th house is often described as the place of death, loss, and crisis. But for me, life hasn’t felt like one dramatic blow after another. It’s been more like a constant undercurrent of uncertainty. Especially around money. Around safety. Around control. The 8th is where we meet the parts of life we can’t fix or force into order. The bits we can’t plan our way out of. For me, that’s looked like living with debt. Like never quite feeling secure, no matter how carefully I try to hold things together. Like needing help but not knowing how to ask. Like constantly bracing myself for what might go wrong next, because deep down, I don’t feel like I’m the one steering. It’s not a scream. It’s a hum. A low-level survival mode that I’ve learned to live with. And that takes strength, a quiet, grounded kind of strength that doesn’t break, even when things feel unstable. The 8th house is where I’ve lived, not in pain exactly, but in that subtle kind of powerlessness that shapes you over time. And somehow, I’ve built a life in it. Mars gives me fight. The Moon gives me endurance. Saturn gives me the spine to hold it all together. That sextile has been my quiet engine - always running, always carrying me forward. 7. Hosting Venus and Jupiter: Nothing Comes Easy As if that weren’t enough, Saturn also rules my Venus and Jupiter in Aquarius. So every good thing - love, beauty, expansion, connection - has to pass through Him. And it’s like He checks at the door: Have you done the work? Have you earned this? Love hasn’t been easy. Joy hasn’t been easy. Trust hasn’t been easy. But they’ve all come, in quiet, subtle ways, as I’ve grown. Not because I chased them, but because I finally stopped pretending I didn’t need them. 8. The Saturn Opposition: From Survival to Self-Trust In 2017, Saturn opposed my natal Saturn—and something shifted. I didn’t know the term “Saturn opposition” at the time, but I felt it. Not as a crisis, but as a deep, quiet invitation to look inward. That was when I started doing what I now call The Work . I stop surviving. I start understanding. I begin to ask the questions I’d never had the space to ask: Why do I feel so alone? Why do I never feel enough? Why can’t I rest? That turning point doesn’t change the facts of my life—not on the outside. I’m still single. I’m still parenting alone. I’m still working a job that doesn’t light me up, still carrying the debt. But none of it feels as heavy anymore. Because I’ve changed. I know myself now. I feel my own truth. I know what I want to build—and I finally feel equipped to build it. I have astrology. I have writing. I have a creative outlet that brings me alive and gives shape to everything I’ve lived. I feel the magic in the ordinary moments. The quiet signs. The conversations with life that remind me there’s more. The voice of criticism still shows up, but I know how to speak back to it. I know my worth. I know what I have to offer. I don’t need anyone else to tell me I’m doing okay—I can feel it. I am  okay. I am strong, steady, and enough. This is what Saturn gives. Not comfort, but clarity. Not ease, but truth. Not a way out—but a way in . And once you’ve walked that path, you don’t lose yourself again. The Work That Becomes Wisdom I didn’t get here quickly. And I didn’t get here easily. But I got here honestly. I’ve walked beside Saturn long enough now to know he was never against me. He was shaping me. Pushing me to turn inward. To build something solid, not out there in the world, but in here, in myself. I’ve come to love His presence. To hear His voice as love and encouragement. To feel the strange, steady kindness behind the weight. And to trust that every step, no matter how slow, is part of the path. He didn’t ask me to be successful. He asked me to show up . To stay. To take responsibility, even when no one was watching. To build something that no one else could build: a self that can be trusted. A home within. And I did. I am. I’m still walking the path, but I walk it with gratitude now. Because I can see what it’s made of, and who it’s made me. If you’ve ever felt Saturn’s pressure and wondered if it had a point, this piece speaks to that: Saturn: Doing the Work  – Conversations with the Gods . It reminds me of the truth I now live: that Saturn’s love is never loud, but it’s always there, waiting for us to see ourselves clearly and rise. 🔹 Closing Invitation: If this resonates with your own experience of Saturn, I’d love to help you explore your chart. I offer astrology readings both online and in person, where we can look more closely at the Saturn journey unfolding in your life: what it asks of you, what it offers, and where it's quietly building your strength. You're not alone. And the mountain is climbable. Book online with me here . A note on AI & my writing: I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.