On Saturn, Literature and Lily
Two hours into a candlelit dinner in The City and a scooch back of my chair reminds me it's not just me and Arnas on this date. Whenever possible, Lily is with me, curled up on my lap like a woolen scarf, inconspicuously melting into my legs until I jostle her awake.
Lily is my ever-reliable reminder of all that's good in the world. My constant companion who shows me what it is to be present and to forever choose love. She's the grounding source of peace and balance in my life. I still marvel at the entirely unplanned way we coupled up.
Before adopting Lily, I struggled a lot with loneliness and depression. It was somewhat chronic during my adolescence, but as I got older and started making decisions for myself, I experienced it more in waves. The days were something to endure, and like any New Yorker, I wore blinders to the world around me. For a year, I lived two blocks away from this majestic historic landmark once inhabited by George Washington, but who knew? (Lily apparently. She led us straight to it just days after moving in with me). Before Lily, I had many a dark night of the soul, sometimes not leaving my bed for more than a week. Thankfully these days, I'm fulfilled enough to keep that kind of spiritual paralysis at bay. But back then, Lily was completely my saving grace. She routinely pulled me from my slumps and ensured I got a breath of fresh air every day.
I can't remember when I first learned about the phenomena of Saturn Returns, but I was dumbfounded when I did. According to star science, the planet Saturn takes 29.5 years to complete a revolution around the sun. And at the end of this revolution, it returns to the original position it held during your birth. Astrology interprets this return as a metaphysical homecoming of sorts, manifesting in your late 20s as a period of re-discovery and re-direction. It's a time of letting go of what no longer serves you and aligning with your true nature.
During your Saturn Return, your insecurities and shortcomings will bubble to the surface. You will question the direction of your life and, if you don’t like the answer, you’ll need to equip yourself with the tools to create a new one.
At 26, I quit being a lawyer and picked up teaching. By 27, I became a dog-mom and was singing in hospitals in search of purpose. A near-death experience rocked me before 28, and by 29, I had shut down my whole American life and relocated to London to make music.
Until I decided to quit my job as a lawyer, I was drowning fighting for a dream that wasn’t mine. It’s honestly a miracle I got through law school. And when seeing a psychologist no longer fit my post-corporate budget, books became my therapy— calming me, restoring me, sending me answers I didn't know I was looking for.
My budding exploration of western and eastern expansion literature has assured me that when unhelpful thoughts creep in, if I can just remember to be grateful for who I am, where I am and what I have now, my energies profoundly shift. And the icing on the cake is that I've had Lily by my side for so much of this unlearning. She continues to be my daily dose of gratitude, yanking me back to the present moment and repositioning me when I get too wrapped up in my own headiness.
It's not lost on me that my developing fascination with consciousness, mindfulness and well-being coincides with my most radical life changes. Even Lily, who further expands my awareness, only came to me when my heart had opened enough to accept her love. Awakening of mind and spirit is remarkable in that way. You give a little—to yourself, to others, to life— and it comes back to you ten-fold. I'm looking forward to sharing more on these little miracles, unfolding everywhere in their own time, at just the right time.
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Aquarius Rising is an account of what love looks like
when you consciously choose it for yourself.