As always, I only speak for myself, so while the title suggests I know the "real meaning of the Saturn return," I can only relay my own experience. Disclaimers yo — they're important.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Saturn return, it's when the planet reappears in the position it was in at the time of your birth, which takes roughly 27-31 years. Most people speak of it with groans and derision because it's the butt-kicking time of life. It brings about big changes and strips us of all things that no longer work. There is also speculation the Saturn return had a hand in the 27 club (aka, musicians who died at 27). Ultimately, the first Saturn return is about entering adulthood, which has been the case for me.
This is the planet responsible for so much.
It may sound silly to say that because I graduated from college years ago. I've been in the working world for nearly seven years supporting myself. Haven't I already been an adult? I thought so too. What I didn't realize is Saturn's job is to shine a light on all the dark spots of my past so I don't have to hide from the shadows. It's Saturn's job to give me perspective on my past and help me let it go so I can fully reside in my power as an adult woman.
When Saturn started to make its presence known in my astrological chart in October, I noticed all this stuff with my inner child began to surface. I realized my fears and insecurities came from my childhood. I noticed there was a lot from my childhood I had to heal.
On Friday I saw a physical therapist who specializes in integrative manual therapy, which basically means she manipulates my organs to reset them to normal. She reflected back to me I've been carrying around a ton of fear and anxiety; it's been living in my body since I was a kid. The sweet part is she gave me a process for letting it go. She suggested I meditate on a mudra (a hand gesture) that's already been a very important part of my life. This hand gesture has A LOT of significance for me, so to have someone else instruct I use it myself is the equivalent of admiring the way your favorite musician plays her guitar solo only to realize you can play her guitar solo too. (Please forgive the analogy, I am VERY tired.)
I'm so grateful for my Saturn return because it's unearthing all this buried crap I didn't know I had. It's excavating the rubble from my life so I can move forward rubble free. I also find it interesting this process of growing up, of coming into my own, is taking place in Washington, D.C., the city where I first started to transition from adolescence to adulthood. It's incredibly sweet that this last period where I'm cementing my adult self should also take place in Washington, D.C. I'm laying my demons to rest and trying to wipe my slate clean. I have no idea whether this post will mean anything to the rest of you, but I wanted to share my experience. It's shown me my life is full of bookends and even when I'm undergoing hardship and change it's for my own good.
I dream of a world where we see the good in our lives. A world where we understand deep change is for our benefit. A world where we realize we're given the opportunity to let go of all things that do not serve us. A world where we release the burdens of our past and welcome the brilliance of our future.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
So my book is finally out. And by that I mean it’s been sent to reviewers, friends, and family. All day today I’ve felt uncomfortable because I’ve been nervous about how the book will be received. I thought it was because I worried about whether people will like it or not, but in truth that’s not what’s bothering me. In truth, I’m scared. I’m scared that once people read all my personal details, once everyone sees how my mind works, that my friends will decide to disassociate with me. That once my true self is revealed I’ll be shunned.
This is an old story for me, one from childhood. I’ve believed I didn’t have friends as a kid because once my peers found out how weird I was they decided not to have anything to do with me. That’s how I viewed things through my childhood lens. But as an adult I can see a fuller, more accurate picture. That’s really not what happened. I had friends. Nobody shunned me. Really I was the one rejecting them because I didn’t feel a connection. I chose to spend time by myself rather than with people I didn’t share anything in common with. It wasn’t because I was a weirdo loser freak that scared people off. It wasn’t because people found out about “the real me.”
As an adult I also know people like learning about vulnerabilities, they LOVE hearing about the deeply personal stuff because that’s how we connect with one another. I love it when people feel like they can confide in me. When they want to talk about what’s really going on. My book is an opportunity of sorts to have the same thing happen, to allow people to connect with me. Instead of keeping others at arm’s length, I’m letting people in. I think that’s what’s so scary. I don’t get to pick and choose who I’m letting in, it’s anyone who’s interested in my story.
I also think about how people have shared with me things they were ashamed of, things that are not widely accepted or approved of, and my response was not to go running from the room. My response was not to turn up my nose in disgust. Instead I felt compassion for the person, for the pain that drove them to act out in such a way. I’m hoping my friends will react the same way. Instead of cutting off all ties because they found out some things that happened years ago, they’ll react with compassion and with love. Because when I’ve been my most vulnerable that’s all I’ve ever received.
I guess I’m saying I can look at a story that has shaped my identity and how I move about the world with a different lens. These days I get to see the reality of what happened to me instead of just the pain. I get to heal my childhood trauma and recognize I wasn’t as powerless as I led myself to believe. That I had a choice in things. That I co-created an experience for myself.
As far as my book, no one will turn me out because they suddenly find out I’m human and I have feelings. They won’t say, “Sorry Rebekah, you’re not the person I thought you were,” because they learned more about me. But if they do, is that really someone I want in my life anyone? I choose to know it’s safe to be me, that it’s safe to express myself, that I can view my life’s events from another lens and thus experience some peace.
I dream of a world where we know it’s safe to reveal our true colors. A world where we feel comfortable sharing our raw and honest emotions. A world where we examine our past with a different lens acknowledging things were perhaps not what they seemed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.