The Gift of the Saturn Return

In this past month, I celebrated a milestone birthday within the maelstrom of all that's going on in the world right now. It was weird, but ultimately, also meaningful. While I'm not a believer in astrology, it's still worth noting that I'm in the middle of the one astrological observance I do give some credence to: The Saturn Return.

The Saturn Return is so named because the planet Saturn returns to the same place in its orbit around the solar system approximately every 29 years or so.  So for each person, Saturn comes back to the same spot in the solar system it was in when you were born on the cusp of your turning 30, 60 and 90 years of age, respectively. 

To astrologers, when Saturn returns to the general region of the sky it was in at your birth, it's considered an auspicious time; a time of reflection and/or upheaval, a rite of passage -- of remembering the things you came into the world to do, and of assessing the progress you've made on the road through life. It can be a turning point, when people set off in different directions than the one they had been going in.  Saturn was the god of both old age and renewal. And from birth to age 30, then 30 - 60, and finally 60 - 90, every time Saturn returns to the position it was in at your birth, it heralds a new era of your human experience beginning. 

We humans spend about a third of our life as young people, the next third as mature adults, and a last third as elders and sometimes even ancients of the tribe. Of course some live longer than 90 years of age, while others do not even make it to the end of their third and final Saturn Return. But in general, for anyone who makes it to age 60 or so, the start of the final third of life is undeniable proof they're closer to the conclusion of their journey than to the start of it.

Ghost Tree

As sobering as that is, I actually like the idea of the Saturn Return because, just like with pregnancy, life really can be divided into trimesters -- first, second and third. In pregnancy, the end of the third trimester ends in birth. In life, the end of the third trimester ends with death, or maybe with our birth into the afterlife. 

Food for thought, indeed.

Back to how this year's birthday factors into all this, there's no question that being away from friends and family during this time of starting my last third of life has been very difficult. And so I decided if I couldn't see my family, the least I could do was see the other birthday constant in my life -- the ocean.

Ghost Forest

When times are challenging, the beach always helps bring back proper perspective for me. The ocean was here before I came, and will be here after I'm gone. Everything I see there -- trees, animals, aquatic life, people -- all come to earth awhile, spend some time, and then leave, just like I will. And ultimately, even the ocean will one day end, and so will our solar system, Saturn included. 

It's good at times like this to take note of the rhythms of nature, which occur regardless of what else is going on. I saw the tide going in and out. I saw the "ghost forest," which are the remnants of a forest of trees felled by a huge tsunami 200 years ago. I saw sand crabs and starfish and otters. In short, I saw lives present and past, all as temporary as my own. The living proceed on with life's business. The remnants of the dead stand to remind us we're not here forever.

So what is life's business, exactly? I think for us, it means that if we are better and wiser people by the time we hit our second Saturn return at 58-60 years of age, then we've done OK. It's easy to judge yourself more harshly than that and to focus on all your past mistakes and wrong turns, but look at the world. To improve amidst the decay and disorder of the industrial, man-made world is no easy task. 

And so I'm starting my third Saturn cycle trying to keep it simple: Less anger, more love. Less impatience, more wisdom. Eventually, more family and more friends back in the mix again, once we're through this strange time. 

And until that happens, I will continue my walk on this earth, under the night sky where Saturn hangs along the plane of the ecliptic in a familiar place, and alongside the vast ocean which always seems to be there for me, no matter what.