Saturn in Scorpio in the First House
“Saturn is for dense souls with shallow histories.”
We will build our grave here on earth. Is it grave? Our bodies reduced to the skeleton of gluttony and the like. Or a marker where our former bondage and body lies? This is a result of the flesh we build in action, substance and sustenance.
The villains, if you will, have their will, they were here and are again to learn how best to be a crook. In a staff they lead in droves. It is no herald but they hear, give them their time. We can affirm through their meeting guise, whether we wish to crook the droves or shepherd the course.
If you can’t cry it’s a wasteland
Phantasms on the other side
Face and place lingering vestiges
The waste you can’t home in your bone
Give in to God, give up the devil
God in the rings of Satan for God so loved the world that he gave will toward temptation. Each ring represents temptations, trials and tribulations—defined limitations encased in fossilized amber.
The rings of Saturn are radio waves, concentric waves multiplying,
The interior is karma
The rings of Saturn are sonograph, concentric waves magnifying
Karmic patterns from the center
Spin a sequence on these concentric rings
You will know that you are not as high as the world. You are lowly.
Saturn as Satan does not reveal your worldly ambitions, rather he reveals how they lack ambition, how they are shaped by the constructs of your own skeleton with its pervasive fear and tumult: the devil in us all. And knowing this leads to Saturn’s gift, Saturn on water floats in time and limitation, as every man’s Satan. Saturn is man in time and limitation at an earthly level and the discovery must be God—meaning for his life in such a short period—or he will be absolved to Hell, the suffering which comes with an impermanent fleshly body and its emotional turmoils.
Saturn restricts man but provides a window of opportunity.
You run around in circles but must be still. You seek great achievements but must be still. You want to disappear but can’t. You want out of yourself but are brought further inward. The boundary you seek to destroy is the one that will remove you from your pain and responsibilities.
God called to this soul but it stayed afar. Jupiter mingled in some future verse, its benevolent gaseous swirls squared against Saturn’s pained weariness—Jupiter declaring youth and Saturn declaring that your learning is defeat in every man as old as life and death, a becoming God met in stained glass relief, where ashram and asylum meet, father and son, the hope for all humanity.
The staid soul. There was no destination or creation, though it was created. The universe pulsed in all perimeters, but the soul was apart. There was no light in this soul, just a Nothing without its center.
A voice called out. “Child…” Was this God? and this soul hadn’t asked.
Leave, thought the soul.
“But there are dues.”
Yes, there are many lives wasted. Careless, empty lives in bodily form. Lives when and where death is everyone. Lives when life is everyone dead. Lives we call life but the life act is always the slaying and never anything more. Lives stretching in all directions, the arrogant collection for lives, many lives, other than One at eye, but the body as the greatest one, over which God as a whole is dead.
Now the moment arrived. Many lifetimes condensed. This soul in question did not wish for God’s intimacy or any. It wanted only the lingering emptiness. The float. Dissolution and severance. The voice repeated, again.
“There are dues.”
And the message repeated.
In burnt offerings and sin
Offerings thou hast taken
Then I said, ‘Lo, I have
Come to do thy will, O
The soul looked out. From the encompassing height and breadth came a rather mystifying resonance. It was a body. It appealed. It was the body of those in the slaying. It was the bodies of all the soul had ever been. They merged at the head of a great entreaty.
“You cannot go back.” The soul entreated upon its Nothingness, the nothingness of these bodies where life never lived.
The Nothing is a void. Pitch, unending. Dictators, murderers and the like live in this first Nothing. They have only met vacancy. Without understanding the genius in two, one cannot create and give. Without undergoing this process such souls become a God unto themselves alone and destroy. If a soul does not actualize the soul—bringing this means into seed where it may grow in the void—making One from many and with a boundary at viewing where their limits may be overabundant—then that soul will remain unenlightened, stagnated.
In the body the ego would have to choose. It could descend into the nothing forever and remain unenlightened or it could work with the nothing. All great creators create from the nothing. It is the place the shaman penetrates before piecing together, it is the place where we discover our problems and make our solutions, the place where we discard and begin again.
This soul wanted the Nothing void—the place where it could dictate its course alone, not necessarily where it could dictate others. Even still, this dictation was a mean loss. The soul, who was a soul, for it was the sum part in the entirety but could not translate this along its human course, could not refer to the other in any way; therefore its cosmic course remained at a standstill. This soul was infused with the wrath and control of a typical dictator, though it carried its weight in this void as a still frame, separate from We. This soul and those of the same type who lived in the void slaying life, were but dead collapsing pulsations, odd appearances sent to earth to even out a score, without knowing it the even in it all, and with their odd a means to illuminate and offer a difference.
“If you go back you shall not return again,” stated the giant.
“How goes that?”
“If you take on the earthly realm you shall complete what you have avoided.”
“There is the Nothing only…” the soul concluded.
“If there is the Nothing, why do you thus float about?”
The soul pondered the giant’s words. “Floating…you speak these words yet you are one that floats, giant. You float all alone at this great distance, sealed away.”
The giant smiled in his passive, yet sly way. “Here is a place for souls such as yourself. Those that float come onto me.”
Was this soul floating for such a long while? Surely this soul wasn’t floating, always staid and afar. Far from jubilant Jupiter, far and aloft from anywhere, yet foresight calling with from a distance with companionable change.
“Never has this soul floated anywhere.”
“You’re here. Floating as far as this.”
The soul grew terrified. It stayed away, it was never brought into the One. This was Hell. Where it would be brought finally into its mirrored demise at every stage, what it cost and couldn’t contend with, without any choice, now – for the kindness and solidarity, the we and all in the vast equation would not let him stay apart but would force him to stand together.
“This is where you are. Relinquish your soul here. The floating souls that you see are in such a state. They are here from all phases. But they come not knowing God. They have all reached the top and plummeted. They have all misused their lives and the lives of others. This place is not for sightseeing. Not for carousing and conquest. Here you will find only what you have been and what you are. “
Since the time you were born you were alone. This you knew instinctively. Life was before the womb and in that place you determined how it would be. No progress would be made if you followed the same lines of action and conquest. Those lines were worthy but they had served you as far as they could. In those lives you had never known the self in any intimate way. What you had known was identification: with money, other people, and particularly, with the law. The law was the highest truth and you followed it faithfully. This law was your own rigid internal system of right and wrong. Thus, you followed it stubbornly and never wavered. People were treated in the harshest manner with your law-abiding system. You were inflexible and grave in the law being carried out. Only this left no room for negotiation, clarity or camaraderie.
The task in this lifetime is to create a will that doesn’t impose upon others, but includes and validates them. The truth is never a law, but a matter of opinion, as people believe differently. Maintain your truths but remove the law that wishes that other people live and react a certain way.
The insecurity you have always felt is a result of power being misused. You feel powerless in order that you may find strength in your weaknesses, and not weakness in strength. The many obstacles you have faced, as well as the slow growth and isolation, are instruction along the path of wisdom.
If you were going to remove the false self and collapse from your intoxicated height, you would find out what insecurity and thus insight were. Consequently, the surest way to reach that goal was through mistreatment from your family.
You have been bound, stripped, and left parched and bleeding but as the wounds close you are given an epiphany—a hold onto your actions. The scars that are left behind are reminders of the work you have done.
You are directed by your own consciousness and soul identity towards this search, arduous and terrible though it be, so that you may know emotional and physical limitation. This limitation is felt at a personal level through little self-esteem, many delays and much hardship. You have had no choice but to feel the crushing weight of time; there could not be a speeding up. You are restricted in time because you altered the physical plane adversely before; meaning, you manipulated time as a curse or dictated the unpleasant removal of someone else’s time (experience).
Conversely, your soul has taken on this weight though you have been the victim many times before and/or because you could not properly attune with a lawful system and manage volatile emotional upsets in other lifetimes, therefore in this you must account for them. With time and growth, you will surely unpeel the layers of victimhood and direct a path of responsible and sensible confidence. If not, you will live in a purgatory of your own crystallized making.
By sitting and not fighting the ponderous time weight that disturbs your hopes and dreams, by studying, working on your projects and calmly and slowly proceeding, you can break your karma or you can earn good karma—you can build a life and not rush into an old one. By understanding that this restriction is an awakening, you can make amends and earn your grace. The one day, miraculously, what you’ve wanted all along will be yours.
“What of God?” this soul asked.
The giant pulsed in its amber weight. “Once you commit your soul here you shall know God in time.”
“So be it,” breathed the soul.
The day was mild and brimming with sunshine. The hour was the afternoon and the day was the longest in the year.
The head breached many places, recalling along its way little happiness through its many earthly incarnations and much strife with no channel then—indeed perhaps the gravest misery of all.
Along the way it gasped for air on its left side. Its ear smothered against a contracted wall. Its tight fist ballooned and let loose among the waste. The hours were the epiphany of the soul’s life. It was the struggle for God in time and the struggle for life in time. The hours raged in this unrelenting cesspool without release. Such dark haunts floated above this birth. Further Nothing fragments…further voids calling, cajoling.
“We are the Nothing,” they repeated in one horrifying voice, a void of life speaking for Life created somewhere with our discovery. Beckoning us, however sinister, to bring the Word of God into the Nothing and out as a collective We.
Now . . Thought the soul. It is given up. The conquest and wandering, of being in charge, nearly, of finding this or that but never within. This soul must reach steadiness.
“Remember, God in time.”
With this struggle the soul knew its disadvantages. There were many. And of these so-called disadvantages, you shall see, the advantages.
The first became a later glance in the mirror.
However much this soul tried as an adult, it could not remove a dark, fleshy mole near the left ear. To do so would cause a bloody avalanche. The mole opened just a bit on the top with prodding, but sank as molasses back into its seat. Sometimes, if picked, pieces would flake off and the mole would turn a pink color. The pink would gradually turn brown again. The mole had its history. The history declared: Ye shall not tear from life nor obliterate in death.
So it was that the soul was born as a female, rather reluctantly, as only that sex could even the thread. The child thus born knew its life. It knew the outs and ins, the starts and stops; it knew it would be unloved from the first.
When the nurse came before the child with camera, the child looked on with steely, unwavering resolve. The child put up two fists. Tucked in white linen with circus animals surrounding the periphery, she was not defiant or self-defensive. The circus animals on this linen were symbolic of man’s preying nature and, the circus, childhood’s craziness. This child was determined to make amends and find God in time.
Saturn is the solitude of your undoing. This is a gift. I’m writing all the souls of these men. Hoping they find a sole, hoping they find an insert for their feet, a place to walk with crook and shepherd the course.