Right after I came back from Cambodia, I had a full Vedic horoscope prepared for myself. I wrote about part of it in another post, Saturn Came to Audit My Heart, but this was not the kind of astrology reading that tells you what your personality is like, which signs you are compatible with, or whether you are going to meet someone next year. I specifically wanted to look at karma: what patterns I came here carrying, what keeps repeating, what I am supposed to learn, and, probably the most interesting question for me at this stage of my life, where all of this is trying to take me.

At first, I was fascinated by Saturn... It was almost impossible not to be! Once I began comparing the dates in my chart with what had actually happened in my life, I could see why Saturn has such a frightening reputation. He seemed to be everywhere something had become difficult, unstable, painfully honest or impossible to continue in the old way. Relationships, work, security, identity, responsibility, the structures I had depended upon and the stories I had told myself about them were all being examined. I was looking at Saturn through the most obvious question: What is he taking away from me?

Then I realized I was asking the wrong question. The more interesting question was: what if Saturn is not simply taking things away? What if he is removing what slows me down from starting to live my own life?

That changed the entire reading for me. Karma stopped looking like some cosmic accounting system in which I was being charged for old debts, and Saturn stopped looking like the miserable old man assigned to collect them and punish me! I began to see him as something much more demanding and, strangely, much more helpful: a teacher who keeps applying pressure to the places where my life and my deeper nature are no longer aligned. He does not seem particularly interested in preserving something simply because I am attached to it, invested in it, good at it, afraid to lose it, or have already spent twenty years building it. His question is much less sentimental: Does this still belong to the life you are here to live? Because Saturn will help you work through your karma and move you toward your dharma. That part, apparently, is not optional. What seems to be optional is how you get there. You can notice what is no longer working, take responsibility, make the difficult choices and walk willingly into the next chapter of your life. Or you can resist every single step until Saturn drags you there face down on a wet cement road. Either way, you are going. One route is simply much harder on your face and overall beauty after that.

And that is where my reading moved from karma into dharma. This part affected me much more deeply than any prediction about relationships, dates or future events because it brought me to a question I have been circling for years: Who am I, really? Not what degrees do I have, what profession am I in, who am I married to, what roles do I perform, what communities do I belong to, or even what am I good at. Who is the person underneath all those identities, and what is the particular work of her life?

I am beginning to think that we cannot answer that question entirely by adding more things to ourselves. Sometimes we discover who we are through subtraction: a role stops fitting. A relationship can no longer contain us. An ambition loses its meaning. A structure that once gave us security begins to feel like confinement. Something we were exceptionally good at turns out to be something we no longer want to spend our life doing. The identities fall away one by one, and underneath them a different pattern becomes visible.

This is why dharma has become so interesting to me. Dharma is one of those Sanskrit words that becomes smaller when we translate it. We often reduce it to “purpose,” which immediately makes the modern mind ask: So what am I supposed to do? What is my calling? What career should I have? What business should I build? What is my mission? But the way I am beginning to understand dharma is much larger than a profession. A profession is only one possible container for it. Dharma is closer to the particular function through which a person participates in life, the direction in which their nature, capacities, responsibilities and development begin to organize themselves into something coherent.

And once I started looking at my chart that way, I saw something I had never quite seen before: my life did not look nearly as fragmented as I thought it was. I have spent much of my life asking what I should do next. The doer... My chart seems to be asking a different question: who is doing it? It's interesting, because for years I've been working with my teacher on this same question and it took me a while to start seeing it finally... without judgement or regret...

When I began looking at my life through that question, many things that had always seemed unrelated started falling into the same pattern. I have been a linguist, an economist and a compliance professional. I built a career in compliance and privacy, eventually working with enormously complicated regulatory systems, technology, health data, international laws, audits, risk and governance. At the same time, I spent years studying psychology, consciousness, trauma, death, spiritual traditions, the body, ritual, ancient systems and human transformation. I became fascinated with what happens to people at thresholds, when an old identity stops working but the new one has not yet formed. I studied the places we normally avoid looking: fear, shame, attachment, unconscious patterns, grief, sexuality, mortality, power, control, meaning. For years I treated these as different lives... My professional life was over here. My spiritual life was over there. Psychology was somewhere else. Writing was another thing apparently. The forest, sauna, herbs, death work, teaching, consciousness, ancient traditions, law, privacy, systems and research seemed to belong to entirely different versions of me.

My Vedic chart suggests something much more interesting! They may be different expressions of the same function! My ascendant is Scorpio, and the karmic axis of my chart places Rahu in the First House and Ketu in the Seventh. In the language of Jyotish, the First House is not simply “personality.” It is the place from which the entire chart is lived: the self, embodiment, orientation toward life and the person through whom everything else must happen. The Seventh House is the field of the other: partnership, marriage, contracts, alliances and the person standing across from us. In my chart, the evolutionary pull moves toward the First House.

That does not mean I am supposed to abandon relationships or become radically independent. It means something much more uncomfortable for someone who has spent a great deal of her life being useful to other people: I have to become the center of my own life. Not the center of everyone else's life. Mine!!! The distinction is enormous for me... The familiar pattern represented by Ketu in my Seventh House is partnership, adaptation, loyalty, compromise, service, building around another person or another structure, understanding what is needed and becoming very good at providing it. I know how to do this! I know how to enter an existing system and become useful. I can learn its language, understand its needs, identify its problems, take responsibility and carry an extraordinary amount of weight. I can do this in organizations, families, relationships and communities. There is nothing inherently wrong with that ability. It is one of my strengths. The problem begins when usefulness becomes identity.

Then I can spend years becoming indispensable inside a structure I did not create, solving problems that are not fundamentally mine, carrying responsibilities that prove my value and my worth, or organizing my emotional life around another person's choices. I can wait for someone else to decide what place I am allowed to occupy in their life, how much of me they are willing to accommodate, how convenient I am in their life or not, what they are willing to risk, change or build, while quietly making their decisions the organizing principle of my own life. I can become extremely competent at helping somebody else's world continue functioning while postponing the much more frightening question of what I am supposed to build from my own center. And apparently, this is one of the ways I abandon myself. I don't necessarily disappear dramatically. I give myself away in pieces: my time, my attention, my name, my value, my talents, my ideas they take as theirs, sometimes or most of the time even my future... I can call it loyalty, love, service, patience or responsibility, and some of it genuinely is. But somewhere along the way, I can become so invested in what another person will choose, or in keeping another structure alive, that I stop noticing the life waiting for me to choose it.

That is where Saturn suddenly makes much more sense to me. Saturn is often described as a difficult planet, and I understand why. Shani restricts, delays, tests, confronts us with consequences, removes shortcuts and has very little interest in the stories we tell ourselves about why reality should make an exception for us... nah... I am beginning to think that calling Saturn a punishing planet misses something essential.

Saturn is a teacher of reality. And reality can be extraordinarily compassionate while feeling absolutely merciless in the moment... If something is keeping me from my own life, Saturn may not preserve it simply because I love it or am afraid to lose it. If a structure depends on illusion, avoidance, dependency, fear or endless postponement, Saturn eventually asks whether it can actually carry weight... If I am using another person's recognition to establish my value, that recognition may become unavailable. If I am using a professional title to answer the question of who I am, the title may stop satisfying me. If I am hiding inside service, service may become exhausting. If I keep collecting knowledge without embodying or producing anything from it, eventually another training, teacher or certification will no longer answer the deeper hunger. This changes the meaning of loss, doesn't it?

Saturn may not always be taking something from me. Sometimes he is taking away the structure that allowed me to avoid becoming myself. That is a very different relationship with a difficult teacher. My astrologer described Saturn and Jupiter as almost equal powers in my chart, and suddenly I could see why their partnership matters so much.

Jupiter expands through knowledge, wisdom, teaching, philosophy, spiritual development and the search for meaning. Saturn insists that whatever Jupiter discovers MUST survive contact with reality. Jupiter can show me a vast horizon and Saturn asks what I am going to build there... Jupiter can bring a teacher, and Saturn asks whether I practiced what I learned. Jupiter can give me knowledge and Saturn asks whether that knowledge changed the way I live. Jupiter can reveal dharma, and Saturn asks whether I am WILLING to organize my actual life around it! Will I have a discipline to live my dharma?

Without Jupiter, Saturn could become duty without meaning. Without Saturn, Jupiter could become endless inspiration, another beautiful philosophy, another training, another mystical experience, another notebook full of ideas that never acquire bones. I need both.

No wonder a new word entered my vocabulary during these years: embodiment. I started asking myself, and sometimes other people, the same questions: what are we actually embodying here? What are we building? What is the investment? What exists outside the words, intentions, feelings and beautiful ideas about the future?

I have always been able to see potential. I can see what something could become, what a person could become, what a relationship, project or idea could grow into under the right conditions. Jupiter loves that horizon! But Saturn kept bringing me back to the present and asking me to look at what was actually there. I could love the words. I could believe in the vision. I could understand the circumstances. I could see an extraordinary future in my mind. I could serve and compromise endlessly... But if there was no structure being built underneath it, no sustained investment, no choices being made, no real movement toward embodiment, then there was nothing solid for that future to stand on. Saturn was teaching me a distinction I had resisted for a long time: potential is not a foundation. A foundation is what we are willing to build now. And this becomes even more interesting when I look at what my chart describes as my actual work.

My Jupiter is exceptionally important and strongly placed in Pisces in the Fifth House, together with the Moon and Mars. The Fifth House is connected with intelligence, learning, creativity, teaching, children, what we generate from ourselves and the knowledge that becomes capable of being transmitted. Jupiter in its own sign strengthens exactly the themes that have become increasingly central to my life: knowledge, philosophy, spiritual inquiry, teaching and the search for meaning.

Then there is Mercury, my Atmakaraka, the planet that in this system carries particular significance for the development of the soul. Mercury is language, analysis, interpretation, discrimination, communication, writing, intellectual movement and the ability to connect information. That one made me laugh. Of course it is Mercury! I have spent my entire life translating and being great at words and have natural charisma.

First I was translating things literally, through languages. Then professionally, translating law and regulation into systems people could actually implement. I translate risk for executives, legal requirements for technology teams and complexity into structure. Later I began doing exactly the same thing with psychology and consciousness: taking something so complicated, abstract or hidden and trying to understand its mechanism. Now I find myself doing it with ancient traditions, Ayurveda, Jyotish, ritual, death, the body, perception and spiritual experience.

The subject keeps changing. The function does not! I investigate. I compare. I question. I pull things apart. I look for the underlying architecture. I become suspicious when beautiful language hides a mechanism nobody can explain... I am drawn to what is hidden, contradictory, uncomfortable or poorly understood, and once I understand enough of it, I want to translate it into language another human being can actually use.

This is why I no longer think my corporate career and my spiritual work belong to two different people. The privacy professional and the woman studying consciousness are doing strangely similar work. Both are asking: what is actually happening underneath the surface? What are the rules? Where are the hidden risks? What are we pretending not to see? What happens if this system fails? What belongs to whom? Where is the boundary? Who has responsibility? What choice actually exists here?

Even my obsession with thresholds begins to make sense inside that pattern. I am fascinated by the places where one state becomes another: birth, death, menopause, divorce, marriage, initiation, grief, awakening, migration, identity collapse, career change, the ending of a relationship, the moment a person realizes that the story they have been living inside is no longer true. These are eighth-house questions as much as psychological ones, and Saturn sits in my Eighth House. The Eighth House is not comfortable territory. It deals with transformation, mortality, crisis, hidden material, fear, power, vulnerability, intimacy, other people's resources and the processes through which one form dies so another can emerge. Saturn there does not exactly promise a life spent skating happily across the surface.

Apparently I came equipped with diving gear... And the more I look at my life, the more obvious that becomes. I have never been especially interested in information simply because it is interesting. I want to know what happens when knowledge reaches the point where a human being can no longer remain the same.

That may be one of the clearest threads of my dharma. Not spirituality for decoration. Not knowledge for accumulation. Not psychology as endless self-analysis. Not ritual as performance. Not ancient wisdom because it sounds exotic. I am interested in transformation that becomes embodied, something that changes how we choose, work, love, speak, build, age, grieve, earn, create, care for the body and eventually die. And this is exactly where Saturn becomes indispensable. Because my danger may not be lack of knowledge. I can study forever. Learning is comfortable for me, becoming a student again is comfortable, finding another brilliant teacher is comfortable, entering another system and understanding it is comfortable. What is far more exposing is taking everything I have learned, deciding what I actually believe, giving it structure and putting something into the world under MY-OWN-NAME. At some point the student has to metabolize the teachers. At some point the researcher has to publish. At some point the person who can improve everybody else's system has to build her own. At some point knowledge has to become work.

This, I think, is one of the most important assignments hidden inside my chart. My dharma does not appear to be telling me to abandon everything I have already been. Quite the opposite! I think I have been collecting pieces for decades... Law taught me to think precisely. Compliance taught me to build systems. Privacy taught me to work with boundaries, autonomy, consent, ownership, risk and power. Corporate life taught me how organizations actually function, including the enormous distance that can exist between a beautiful policy and lived reality. Psychology taught me to look beneath behavior. Coaching taught me to listen for the story underneath the story. Death work brought me into the ultimate threshold. Spiritual practice taught me that human beings cannot be reduced to intellect alone. The body taught me things my mind could not negotiate. Relationships exposed attachment, control, fear, longing and the places where I could abandon myself while calling it love. The forest is teaching me material reality: land, buildings, money, maintenance, seasons, hospitality, physical limits. Writing forces me to take all of it and ask what I actually know.

None of these lives has to be thrown away. They have to be integrated. And this may be why my current Venus–Saturn period is so interesting. In my chart Venus occupies the Ninth House, the territory associated with dharma, higher knowledge, teachers, philosophy, distant lands and the search for a larger order of meaning, while Saturn occupies the Eighth, where knowledge is acquired through depth, transformation, crisis and confrontation with what is hidden. My reading described the combination in a sentence I have not been able to forget: spiritual growth through crisis, knowledge through immersion, support through the loss of illusions.

That is almost an embarrassingly accurate description of the last several years. The path has not been asking me to escape ordinary life for some more spiritual existence. It has been doing the opposite. It keeps forcing whatever I call spiritual to survive contact with money, property, sexuality, relationships, responsibility, illness, work, disappointment, aging, grief, contracts, electricity, children, the body and the fact that someone still has to pay the mortgage. I actually trust spirituality more that way!

If a realization disappears the moment somebody rejects me, it probably has more work to do. If my boundaries exist only when nobody challenges them, they are theoretical. If I believe in freedom but need another person to make the choice I prefer, I still have something to learn about freedom. If I speak about embodiment while neglecting my body, Saturn will eventually notice. If I speak about abundance while refusing to look at numbers, Saturn will notice that too. If I say something is my calling but give it no time, structure, money, discipline or sustained work, Saturn has every right to ask whether I actually mean it.

This is why I am beginning to see him less as the planet that takes and more as the teacher who separates what I say matters from what I am actually willing to build my life around.

And underneath all of this sits the karmic axis I keep returning to: Ketu in the Seventh, Rahu in the First. Stop living from somebody else's center.

That does not mean stop loving. It means love without leaving myself. It does not mean stop serving. It means serve without disappearing inside service. It does not mean reject organizations, partnerships, teachers or traditions. It means stop borrowing identity from them. RETURN YOUR OWN NAME!

It does not mean I have to prove that I need nobody. I don't want that life. I want love, family, friends, teachers, students, collaborators, community and partnership to build amazing things. But I want to meet them as someone who already occupies her own life. That is different! The task is not independence for its own sake. It is authorship!

This is also why one of the more provocative parts of my reading was the suggestion that the familiar karmic pattern is a life organized around the other person, the pair, the contract, the alliance, even symbolically “living under another person's name,” while the developmental direction is toward becoming my own center. I do not need to believe literally in a previous incarnation to recognize the psychological precision of that image. I know how to live inside existing structures. I know how to support, adapt, understand and carry. I know how to become necessary.

The question of this life seems to be whether I can finally become my own authority. One of the most confronting ideas in my reading was that the teacher may no longer be someone I am supposed to keep looking for outside myself. I have spent years learning from extraordinary people, moving from one body of knowledge to another, collecting disciplines, methods, languages and ways of understanding human life. There will always be more for me to learn, and I hope I never lose that hunger. But at some point, remaining forever a student can become another way of refusing the next assignment... and Saturn is right here, testing it... Can I recognize the teacher that has already been forming inside me? Can I allow myself to become the guru I am supposed to be, not in the inflated Western sense of someone who has all the answers and should be followed, but in the older sense of someone who has gone deeply enough into knowledge and experience to illuminate something for others? Can I take what I have received from many teachers without becoming merely a follower of any of them? Can I respect tradition without surrendering discernment, and trust what life itself has taught me enough to develop my own voice?

Because by now I am not starting from nothing. I am carrying more than twenty years of professional experience, law, systems, psychology, spiritual study and practice, relationships, mistakes, grief, motherhood, migration, death work, the forest, the body, ritual, writing, teaching and the things I learned only because life forced me to learn them. The question is no longer how much more knowledge I can accumulate. It is whether I can integrate what I already carry into one coherent body of work and finally recognize its value myself.

Maybe that is what an “unrecognized guru” really is: not a teacher the world has failed to recognize, but a teacher who has not yet fully recognized herself.

Can I stop waiting for another teacher, institution, title, relationship or audience to confirm that I am allowed to occupy that place? Can I put my own name on what I know? Can I finish it? Can I build structures around it? Can I allow it to support me materially instead of treating meaningful work as something I do after my “real” responsibilities are finished? Those questions feel far more important to me now than finding the perfect job title. I don't think my dharma is one profession. I think it is a function! I go into complicated territory, especially territory where something is hidden, changing, dying, emerging or difficult to understand. I investigate it. I live with it long enough to stop being impressed by beautiful explanations. I look for structure. I translate what I find. I connect disciplines that normally do not speak to one another. Then I try to create something that can help another human being see more clearly and make a more conscious choice.

I have done that in compliance. I have done it in privacy. I do it in psychology. I do it in spiritual work. I do it in writing. I suspect I will continue doing it in forms I cannot see yet! That is why the question Who am I really? suddenly feels less mysterious. I am not any one of my roles! I am the function moving through them...

And Saturn, strict as he is, may be one of the greatest helpers I have. He does not appear to care very much about preserving the identities I have outgrown. He removes excuses, tests foundations, makes dependency uncomfortable, exposes fantasy and illusions, demands responsibility and puts time around everything. He can make an old life increasingly difficult to inhabit long before we are brave enough to admit that it no longer fits.

I used to interpret that kind of pressure as life going wrong... Now I am considering another possibility. What if some doors become painfully narrow because I am no longer supposed to keep squeezing myself through them? What if the exhaustion, disappointment, resistance are information? What if the thing that refuses to become a life, despite years of effort, is information too? What if the place where I keep being asked to stand alone is exactly where I am supposed to discover that I CAN stand? Then Saturn is not simply the one who takes. He is the one who refuses to let me keep spending my life on what cannot come with me.

And Jupiter, standing beside him in my chart as the other great teacher, keeps pointing toward meaning, knowledge, wisdom, writing, philosophy, spiritual development, teaching and the gradual integration of everything I have spent my life learning. One clears the road, the other reminds me why I needed the road cleared in the first place.

And this is where embodiment stops being just an idea for me and becomes a test.

Saturn asks for evidence!!! Where is it in my calendar? Where is it in my work? Where is it in my body? Where is it in my bank account? Where is it in the way I love? Where is it in the boundaries I keep? Where is it in what I finish? Where is the book? Where is the method? Where is the place? Where are the structures capable of carrying what I say I came here to do?

And sometimes the question is even more uncomfortable: where are you actually? Not where do you say your heart is, not what future do you imagine, not what do you tell me you feel... but where does your life take place? Who do you wake up beside? Where does your time go? What do your choices protect? What are you actually building, and with whom? I have asked those questions of another person before. Saturn, apparently, has been asking exactly the same questions of me...

This is why I no longer believe in spirituality that exists only in consciousness, beautiful language, altered states, rituals, visions or ideas. If something is real enough to transform me spiritually, eventually it has to enter matter. It has to change the way I use my time, earn and spend money, inhabit my body, love people, the way I look, build relationships, create work, keep promises, make decisions and take responsibility for what I am creating. Otherwise, what exactly has been embodied? Show me your scorecard! What changed?

At the same time, I know what matter becomes when it is separated from spirit. Then everything becomes frighteningly heavy. Money has to be protected because I might lose it. The body becomes terrifying because it will age, become sick and die. Property becomes something to defend. Relationships become something to preserve because changing them might threaten the house, the finances, the family structure, the reputation, the familiar life built over decades. We can become deeply attached even to an uncomfortable comfort simply because we know how to survive inside it.

And this is where spirituality becomes especially interesting to me when we call ourselves religious or speak often about faith. It is relatively easy to believe in God when belief does not require us to loosen our grip on anything. The harder question is what happens when faith meets actual risk. Do I still trust God when following what I know to be true might cost me security, money, status, property, approval or the structure I have spent years protecting? Or do I ask God to remain safely in the spiritual part of my life while fear continues making the material decisions?

There is a scene in The Chosen that stayed with me for exactly this reason. Jesus sends the apostles out in different directions to prepare people for his arrival, and he sends them without the protections they naturally want to take with them. No carefully packed reserve for every possible problem, no little emergency plan hidden in the bag just in case God fails to provide. Of course they are frightened! They are human. But that seems to be exactly the training. They are being asked to experience faith not as an idea, but at the point where there is nothing between them and uncertainty except their trust in God.

And THAT distinction is incredibly important to me. Faith cannot mean “I trust God, but just in case, I will arrange my life so that I never actually have to depend on Him.” At some point all our backup plans can become a way of saying that we believe spiritually while organizing our actual lives around fear. The lesson I took from that scene was much more radical: I do not need to possess everything I may need for the road before I begin walking. I need to trust that what I truly need for the road will meet me on the road.

That does not mean abandoning common sense, responsibility or the people who depend on us. It means noticing when responsibility has quietly become the respectable name we give to fear. We can pray, attend church, speak about God, morality and eternity, and still arrange nearly every important decision around one very earthly commandment: do not disturb what I have, because I am afraid of what it might cost me.

And suddenly I see the two extremes much more clearly. Matter without spirit becomes a life organized around fear of loss. Spirit without matter becomes a sophisticated way of escaping life altogether. I don't want either one.

I did not come here to escape matter, and I did not come here merely to accumulate and protect it. I came here to create!!! To take something that begins as consciousness, knowledge, imagination, love, an idea or a possibility and give it form. A book. A method. A place. A body of work. A relationship that actually exists in lived reality. A home. A structure. Something that can be touched, entered, used, shared and lived.

And THAT may be the simplest answer I have found so far to the question I started with: Who am I, really? I am a creator. And there is another part of my reading that suddenly makes much more sense to me now. The feminine expression of my path is very strong, and the deity connected with my chart is Lakshmi. When I first heard that, of course I smiled... Beauty, abundance, prosperity, the feminine, the home, nourishment, fertility, grace... Yes, I can work with that!

But now I see something much deeper in this symbolism. Lakshmi is not simply about “having beautiful things” or receiving abundance from somewhere above. To me, she represents something I have been trying to understand throughout this entire article: spirit becoming beautiful in matter. An inner value becoming a way of living. Love becoming care. Knowledge becoming teaching. An idea becoming a book. Vision becoming a place. Land becoming a home. Herbs becoming medicine. Beauty becoming an environment another human being can enter. Money becoming a resource that allows something meaningful to exist. The feminine does not have to reject matter in order to be spiritual. She can receive it, shape it, nourish it, multiply it and give it life.

And that changes the way I understand my dharma too. My task may not be simply to understand, analyze, translate and teach, although all of those things clearly belong to me. I think I am supposed to give form to what I know. To create containers in which knowledge can actually be lived: words, methods, spaces, experiences, rituals, homes, gardens, communities... things with beauty, structure and substance. Things that exist not only in my mind or in some spiritual dimension, but HERE.

So embodiment is no longer just about proving that my spirituality survives contact with reality. It is becoming the creative principle of my dharma: what am I bringing into form?

And this is where Jupiter, Saturn and Lakshmi suddenly make a strange kind of sense together. Jupiter allows me to see meaning and possibility. Saturn asks me to fucking build it already. And Lakshmi reminds me that what I build does not have to be hard, sterile or deprived in order to be spiritual. It can be beautiful and very sexy! It can nourish. It can generate abundance. It can give pleasure! It can have a body. It can have a home. It can have value. It can even make money!!! Why shouldn't it? Matter is not the enemy of spirit. Matter is where spirit gets a chance to become visible. So... I am less interested now in asking what Saturn will take next. He has already made his method pretty clear! I am much more interested in what I am finally ready to create when I stop trying to save everything he is asking me to outgrow.

And maybe that is the part I was missing when I thought karma was mostly about paying debts and Saturn was mostly about loss. The clearing is not the destination. Creation is.

Maybe Saturn has not been taking my life away from me at all. Maybe he has been clearing the space so I can finally create it.