The transition between years, is the zodiac time of Capricorn. The Goat Man is an earthy character linked in mythology with Pan and Nature. Associated with Father Time Saturn and Janus the two-faced Roman god, this is a suitable time for looking back and forward.
I've been on retreat over the holidays, alone in my forest, except for some delightful animal companions. Interestingly enough, tough old Saturn is also associated with Father Christmas, and in this guise he has been showing me the gifts of endings and new beginnings.
Josephine Wall's beautiful image above of a flower-decked girl with flowing water hair riding a mythic creature - half goat, half fish - under a rainbow and across a verdant land towards the rising sun, provides me with a clue to transforming my Saturnine ambivalence.
'Capricorn’s form ... derives from ancient Babylonian mythology, in which Ea, the Sea-Goat and Lord of Wisdom, emerges from his home in the sea to bring civilization and knowledge to mankind', says Josephine on the website showing her mystical art.
Today, it is two years since an official divorce decree ended an important period in my life. But that ending was only the beginning of a long period of turning in to discover what in me might have unwittingly chosen this particular challenge, possibly the most painful in my life so far.
I've been fortunate to have had much help in this process. I have come to see that we have very individual ways of unconsciously drawing to ourselves what we uniquely need to grow - both sorrow and joy. The more consciousness we can bring to the lessons that come from that, the more effective is the learning. Or so I hope.
Much of my help has come through exploring psychological astrology, guided by my partner and teacher Joe Landwehr. His astropoetic approach challenges his students to develop a very personal relationship to the archetypes expressed through astrology's magnificently comprehensive structure.
Every year over the Christmas holidays, the transiting Sun conjuncts (coincides with) my natal Saturn. which is located in my fifth house - I'll call it the 'house of following my bliss' (theoretically, that is). Perhaps this explains in part why this period is not a cheerful time for me. Instead, it's one in which all the Saturnine limitations I have creatively set for myself come to light. Usually, I want to be alone.
Once I worked over the holidays (as manager of a hotel spa), which I enjoyed in the way responsible Saturn does. This is the first time I've been able to give myself permission to be alone (responsible only for a reflective bevy of cats and dogs), and not try to please my baffled loved ones by reluctantly sharing in the festivities.
So, unsurprisingly, I found myself pulling Liz Greene's book Saturn: A New Look at an Old Devil off Joe's bookshelf in the winter-bound cabin. What she has to say about the relationship (in aspect) between the planets Pluto and Saturn, which have defining significance in my natal chart, seems very relevant to my topic here.
Whether or not you have any background in astrology, the associations below may still speak to you. I find it helpful to translate my own insights (astrological and otherwise) into poetry or story and shall probably do this for the Saturn-Pluto dynamic that has now revealed itself for integration in my psyche.
Pluto and Saturn can be hard task-masters. They are both wise old men, whose darker faces can look like the Devil. They lead us into the darkness, the winters of our discontent, the underworld. Perhaps, if I were to really befriend them, they'd turn into Father Christmas riding through the night and down the chimney. Or a mythical steed like the one in Josephine's image.
Liz Greene says (I paraphrase):
Something in the individual drives her to (or brings) experiences that tear away everything she desires and force her into self-examination until she is able to stand outside the world of emotional attachment. The magical or fated quality of collective experiences may also be apparent in the circumstances.
All this, helps me take a leap beyond blaming myself (or anyone else) for the painful experience I have been through with the loss of my marriage and all that I had invested in that. Such were the structures I gave my creativity to, and then became utterly identified with. I can at last accept the hard lessons, and be truly grateful for the deepening of self-understanding they brought and still bring.
Earlier this month, transiting Pluto was conjunct my natal Saturn, an effect which seemed to force my resistance to change to the surface in a most uncomfortable but effective way. Perhaps, the difference was that this time I was able to see the internal struggle and not place it outside of myself. What self-imposed Saturnine structures and attachments will I keep, what will I let burn in Pluto's fire?
I don't think it matters if you use astrology, art, or any other tool to make shifts like this. But seeking a way through the quagmire of emotional turmoil surrounding change that does not try to avoid it by rising above (spiritual bypassing), walking around (denial), or throwing out (projecting blame) is worth the struggle.
The poems below were all written two years ago, except for the first which reflects some of the fated quality I found in my past marriage. In them you may see both Pluto (loss) and Saturn (attachment). Several other angry and cathartic poems explored this even more strongly. Expressing these feelings helped.
If you too are facing emotional pain, I can recommend writing it out again and again, over whatever time it takes, allowing change to happen, until eventually the healing will come. I have learned from experience that, if you do this, you must also be willing to give others (including those involved in your pain) your acceptance in doing the same. Any artform - painting or dance - would do.
After death comes rebirth; after chaos comes freedom; after pain comes love; and so it goes round. It is clear to me that I loved my ex-husband and that we could only travel so far together. I hope that we brought many more gifts than that of pain to each other's lives. (A short while after posting this, I was able to arrive at a place of gratitude reflected in the very last poem.)
Red elements
Pysche and eros
the two worlds
of logic and seduction
- miracle mixes
Sitting on a night
not light enough
the gusting wind catches us
- castoffs
Red elements
touch
across the lake
- connection
What will it take?
imagination
and intuition
- perfect
You
the mirage
of horizons
I get closer
you fade
Shimmered water
it blinds me
I fell out
of daylight
and hope to
stop falling
Belonging
the train slides
beside water
brown as stale coffee
flecked
with sour foam
backyard to Georgian grandeur
grim
rubble of modern living
sun breaking
through grey curtains
scribbled
with winter trees
landscape
the color of newsprint
gouged
by yellow-clawed monsters
it will give way
to flattened green
sea lapping
a crowded island
collapsing in on twisted wings
no more
smothered nightmares
only a dream
of a river flowing
clear
as light over shiny cobbles
and a steep rise
of trees and rock
thousands of miles
from belonging
All night in glass and white
the stem of my heart
broke like our wedding.
And flat champagne
seeped from the corners
of my unblinking eyes.
Your cruelty like a knife
cut through crumbled cake
- was there nothing of substance?
It sickened me to think
of you
living in a house of pain
and me
carrying that pain in my heart
and she
living dangerously in all that.
I would hate her if I did not
already know
how she led the way over
the precipice.
When my heart aches
I will press a handful of soil to it
and remember
Watching small birds enjoying
the suet feeders in the snow
reminds me of you.
Suspended from trees with pulleys -
out of reach but accessible.
The many fires I've made
in the past two years
remind me of you.
Kindling in buckets, split logs in a canvas bag,
coaxing the warmth out of wood.
The hot tub smoking and steaming
on a starry night in the forest
reminds me of you.
Mixing fire and water in a way that offers
good healing, yang and yin.
I've learned that I am alert and artistic
but didn't claim these skills
when you were there.
Beginning at last to remind myself of
what I loved - not what hurt so deeply - I thanked you.
