The Saturn/Uranus square is a tight symbol for old worlds colliding with new ones. It’s easy to see the extreme divisions and dire straits all around. Clashes are ongoing and everywhere—between right and left, the powerful and the powerless, democracy and autocracy, the believers of reason and those who tell lies. Things are tense around the globe. That also means, energy is available for great change.
The third and final perfection of this transit comes December 23/24 (at 11 Taurus/Aquarius). The first came February 17 (at 7 Taurus/Aquarius), the second on June 14/15 (at 13 Taurus/Aquarius).
If I’d given it more thought, I might have done it differently. This was the second act of sympathetic magic in my year-long offering to 2021’s potent Saturn/Uranus square. Despite—or rather, because of its difficulty—I recognized this was a good year for all of us to realize impossible dreams.
First you needed aspirations—six impossible visions. The ritual gesture I suggested was to make an origami crane, so that your aspirations could take flight. The second act was for re-anchoring your commitment. You had to patiently build a marvel. A balanced stack of stones. I constructed mine outside, in a sparkly purple pot I’d placed between my shrines to Jupiter and Saturn.
And that’s where my stack toppled. Outside in the elements, my stone tower fell three times. Making me regret the rocks I’d picked. There were so many subtle variations in weight and the surface of each stone, it was impossible to easily recreate whatever I’d done before.
I wouldn’t get on it right away—sometimes the toppled stones lay for weeks, awaiting my creativity.
My fallen/then-reconstructed towers were a fine symbol for the struggles of the S/U square. Throughout the year my hopes for the new world rose and fell many times. My 3 impossible dreams for the collective were wrapped in Divine Feminine values that would lift multitudes, bolster truth, and save ecosystems. I looked for positive news stories and found them. Other stories would then dash my hopes.
Passions shaken and stirred
Even now, at the tail end of this square, it’s hard to tell which world is dying and which world is being born. You can expect a struggle with Saturn and Uranus. These are two autocrats who ate their own children. That’s how fiercely these two sky gods aim to stop growth and get their way.
My most consuming journey came through one of my personal aspirations. I’d committed to writing the book that’s been collecting inside me for the last 7 years. Having no interest in this project as the year began, I was surprised it even got on my Saturn/Uranus list. But once it took hold, for weeks I’d work like a madwoman possessed. Then the flow would stop. Splayed out like my fallen stones. Then it would ignite again, burn for weeks, then disappear.
The wonderful thing about sympathetic magic is that you can often fix the energy by repairing the ritual element—as long as you join this with strong, renewed intentions.
But in this case, I didn’t want to do that. I loved the hard Saturn/Uranus truth of my toppled stones and vanished inspiration. Uranus is visionary and electric. Saturn is hardworking and constricting. When I felt energized, I rebuilt my tower. When I felt hopeless & overwhelmed, I admired the fallen stones.
Eventually I learned to live in the play between these two. Which is another way of saying I found the Saturn/Uranus gifts of strength and perseverance. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for what came next.
The gift of obstacles
About a week after a fierce wind storm had again dismantled my tower, I was struck by a startling realization. It came in unexpectedly—like a Uranus lightning bolt. It was hard too—like a punch from Saturn. Unhappily it also felt true. I checked the news against my pendulum. I did a Tarot spread too. Both agreed.
Apparently—the book I’d been writing for the past 9 months was not a book that anyone would want to read. I’d been writing to entertain myself alone. I sat slumped with my head on my desk, motionless for a long time.
There’s a Greek myth about a fellow named Sisyphus who has the most hopeless task in hell. Daily he must push a boulder up a hill—only to let it roll back down again. It’s meant to be a story about futility. But one day years ago my favorite therapist turned this myth on its head.
She said that for Sisyphus, each trip up the hill is an experience. Pushing the boulder develops his muscles, balance, and coordination. The work reshapes his psyche. The rock may keep rolling back down the hill, but the rewards of his efforting are not lost. They’re still carried inside him.
I was quiet for a couple days. Listening to the silence. Then a strange thing happened. It was like in those movies about mathematical geniuses—how equations suddenly start dancing and floating inside their head.
For me, it was like someone was drawing boxes on architectural paper, then moving them around. After 3 days, I had the plans, structure, and chapter titles for a much better book than the one I had first designed.
It was the book I should have been writing all along. And it’s the book that I’m happily writing now. But I couldn’t see it. Until I took my journey.
The gods are listening
No matter how you might think you screwed things up, when you sincerely perform a ritual gesture, you’ll invite a divine response.
And, you’ve heard this a million times: your journey matters more than your success. Whatever your story with the S/U square, if you joined me in the ritual, it’s important for you to pay attention to what happened. With interest. Not judgment. What were the gods telling you?
During my S/U review, I couldn’t remember my third personal dream. When I took out my sheet of paper, even though I was home alone, my cheeks turned red. I was embarrassed. It was a spiritual goal that I’d completely forgotten about.
It took me a week to realize that something inside had been utterly faithful nonetheless. As is the nature of spiritual aspirations–where you think you’re going is often very different from where you’re being lead. My mind had disconnected from my goal. But it turns out, my daily spiritual practice got me there anyway.
Another gift from the remarkable gods this year. I wonder what next year will bring! As always, stay tuned.
What’s happening in your chart next year? Your Skylog report will tell you. With great precision it identifies what I call “the lords on your altar” each year. You can order yours here.