Saturn moving through it’s final sermon in the last degree of Pisces.
It feels like watching an ancient creature exhale its last breath in the middle of an open sea.
This is the death of a borrowed dream. A dissolving of timelines and other people’s emotional imprints that were never quite ours to begin with. Because not everything in Pisces is real. That’s what Saturn has shown us these past 2.5 years. It carved through the fog and stripped away the shimmer. Pisces became a crisis of faith because of Saturn. It wasn’t enough to believe. We had to walk with it. Endure with it. Build something with it.
This was the death of martyrdom masquerading as meaning. The end of romanticizing self-sacrifice as a spiritual badge. The beginning of learning what sustainable compassion really looks like: boundaried, rooted, real. Saturn asked us to stop performing empathy and start practicing energetic sovereignty.
When we moved away from the lower frequencies of "woe is me" into the higher octave of Piscean dreaming, something powerful happened. Vision sharpened. Ideas found vessels. Healing practices were launched. Offerings took shape. The books were written. The art poured through. Grief found form.
Pisces is the zodiac’s great absorber. It blends, leaks, dissolves. And Saturn, the architect of form, had to move through that ocean without a map. What many of us discovered is that visibility, especially in the spiritual and creative realms can invite strange shadows.
The boundaries between projection and perception blurred. Some of us found ourselves entangled in energetic imprints that didn’t belong to us. Others became mirrors for people who forgot how to trust themselves..
For many creatives, especially those with online presence, this transit brought strange distortions. Energetic interference. Misuse of identity. Boundary violations in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. The message was loud and clear: Not every eye that lands on your work is meant to see you. And not every “spiritual” space is sacred.
But Saturn doesn’t just point out the problem. It invites a response. And for those of us who heeded the call, the answer was this: Stay sovereign. Learn the mechanics of energy. Protect your frequency. Become the container.
This transit challenged many to rework their boundaries, especially around collaboration, mentorship, and being of service. Where are you leaking? Where are you overgiving? Where are you still trying to prove your worth by absorbing more than is yours to carry?
Saturn in Pisces has been the slow and sobering realization that discernment is a spiritual practice. And that psychic hygiene is just as important as the art you share with the world.
And yet… this transit also had its gifts. It returned many of us to the source of our creativity. It opened up liminal portals, soft edges of the mind we hadn’t visited in years. Some of us returned to our artistic medium of choice. To dreaming. To building something truer, stranger, and more soul-shaped than we thought was possible. It gave us new homes for our artistic vision.
I can gladly say for myself, Saturn in Pisces brought me back to my love of writing. And helped me exercise structure, a container that is here on Substack to explore the liminal, the unfinished, the in-between with how far my creativity, vision and ideas can percolate.
And now, as we step into Saturn in Aries, that liminal space becomes the forge. The apprenticeship. The space where we stop seeking permission and begin strengthening the core of who we are, energetically, spiritually, vocationally.
That’s why I’m hosting a live workshop this month on the 29th for my paid subscribers: Energy Hygiene + Psychic Shielding for Creatives, Intuitives That Share Their Work Online.
Because Saturn in Aries is also going to ask a lot of us. And we can’t guide ourselves forward if we’re constantly absorbing what’s not ours.
If you’re going to lead, teach, or share your sacred work in the public eye, you deserve to do so from a place of grounded energetic clarity.
This workshop is for those of us who want to strengthen their spiritual protection toolkit and be radiant in their own energy as we birth new projects and identities. If Saturn in Pisces softened your edges, Saturn in Aries will sharpen them. Through honoring our energy. Through discernment. Through embodied self-trust.
You don’t need to shrink to stay safe.
You just need to master your field.
Learn more about the workshop here.
Saturn leaves the ocean and sets foot on dry land…
As we welcome Saturn in Aries on May 24th, the tides that once pulled us inward now recede. We can finally breathe again after being submerged in water for so long.
And we’re left blinking in the sun, stripped bare, asked to begin again.
I’m super relieved to see Saturn leaving Pisces. That transit felt like spiritual jet lag. Personally, it hit harder than my Saturn return in Aquarius. But do know that Saturn in Aries is no vacation either. It kickstarts a 2–3 year cycle of resistance training. Saturn never comes easy, but the lessons it carves into you are permanent. Grounded in reality.
Aries is raw will. Saturn is time. Together, they forge an apprenticeship in self-leadership. During Saturn in Pisces, we sought refuge in spiritual softness, intuition, and surrender. We looked for guidance in fog. Now, Saturn in Aries demands that we become the guide. This is about learning to trust your own instincts before they’re validated. Before they make sense. A lot of self-accountability will be asked from us here.
You may feel an existential urgency to start. To shed your old skin. To prove something, not just to others, but to every past version of you that never got to be bold. And that’s valid. But here’s the catch.
You might feel like you’ve been dropped into the first chapter of a story you didn’t write, holding tools you’re not yet skilled enough to use. You’re handed the torch, but there’s no map. Just a vague sense that you need to move.
But Saturn doesn’t reward speed either. It reward action from a place of consideration and maturity. So don’t be surprised if you feel stagnant, frustrated, impatient. You’ll start to feel the weight of everything if you’ve initiated from a place of adrenaline rather than alignment. You’ll notice how often you’ve tied your worth to momentum. How staying still makes you squirm, because stillness feels like failure.
Another trap: performing readiness instead of cultivating it.
You’ll be asked to sit in the in-between, where you’re not the beginner anymore, but not the expert either. Saturn in Aries reveals where you’ve skipped the apprenticeship. Where you crave recognition more than resilience. Where your leadership lacks foundation because you never stayed long enough to build one.
You’ll feel exposed. Underqualified. Like the flame you lit is now flickering and the room’s gone quiet.
That’s not failure though. That’s Saturn operating in the sign of Aries.
Like I said before though, Saturn inhibits the sign it transits. So in Aries, you don’t just get to sprint your way into the next version of yourself. It tests what you actually want, not what you’ve been reacting against. It’s easy to move from anger. From rebellion. From “I’ll show them.” It’s harder to move from sovereignty. From clarity. From alignment.
Because you may also be tempted to quit when it’s no longer exciting.
Aries energy thrives in the start. But Saturn teaches us how to stay. That once the dopamine wears off and the applause fades, you still need to wake up and choose it.
You might find yourself face-to-face with your own impatience. You’ll notice where you crave applause and where you actually need accountability. The old parts of you, the ones that equated speed with success, boldness with bravery, might not survive this cycle.
Aries also likes to skip steps. Saturn puts a stop to that. Saturn will teach you how you can stand in your leadership, find your inner confidence, even when no one claps. Even when no one cares. Because that’s what Saturn teaches: your integrity is between you and you.
So if you feel like things are moving slowly, good. Let them. If you feel unsure of who you’re becoming, perfect. You’re still in the forging phase. Let yourself be in the apprenticeship. Let yourself be in the forge.
Collective Themes To Meditate On:
This transit will also show you where you still think freedom means going it alone. Where your independence is more of a trauma reflex than a solid foundation. Where you start things just to prove you can, but quietly fear what happens when it’s time to sustain.
You’ll unlearn the urge to burn everything down when you feel small. This transit reveals the parts of you that mistake self-sabotage for self-protection. It shows up as picking fights when you’re scared, ghosting projects that ask too much of your ego, or rejecting opportunities before they can reject you. Saturn in Aries teaches emotional endurance. It may not stop you from feeling impulsive, but it’ll asks you to stay with yourself long enough to respond instead of react.
This is the end to energetic freeloading. No one gets to ride someone else’s ambition anymore. Saturn in Aries is soul-level accountability. You can’t hide in someone else’s shadow, strategy, or scaffolding. Whether it’s relationships, business partnerships, or creative projects, everyone is being asked to carry their own weight. Initiate your own vision. Be your own firestarter. Stop waiting for someone else’s momentum to sweep you into motion.
You’ll learn to do the thing without always needing to feel inspired first. Saturn in Aries kills the myth of “readiness.” You won’t feel ready. You’ll feel raw, tired, clumsy, underqualified and you’ll still need to move. What matters is learning how to show up even when the vibe is nonexistent. Commitment is doing the thing because you said you would.
You’ll stop being ashamed of your anger and learn how to utilize it. You’re being asked to stop bypassing your own heat. Anger is a map. When you stop judging it, you’ll start learning from it. Where do you feel chronically dismissed? Where are you overextending and under-protecting your energy? Saturn in Aries gives you permission to say, “No more,” and mean it.