Saturn in Pisces Swansong

Art is 'Bird Cage II' by Leonora Carrington

It used to be that the ebb tide of the Scorpio full moon was its own scrying pool, a wake of ubiqitous clarity and potent post mortem. But this mad year? Its finger of god is still blinking. All the turning points still warp and beckon. The not no mores loading the bases to toppling.

And we are being held beneath the rapids at the lashing tail end of Pisces... again. If it feels like there's no room to move you can thank Saturn's heft, teetering here on the anaretic degree of the zodiac before his world tilting move into Aries in ten momentous days time.

So far this year we've relentlessly clung here for dear life in the face of inevitable revelation and subsequent transition. Through eclipses and deeply personal retrograde we have followed the Moon and the Sun, Mercury and Venus (three times each), Neptune and soon Saturn over this specific initiation point of the zodiac. Its death knell and reset button. Its passing go threshold. Its final bow and begin again. You can tether every evolutionary notch of '25 - and all the fur and feathers still stuck in them - to this pin on any map you like.

The sequence is the salve:

Life as we know it dragged to its whirlpooling cliff. The air you can still gulp tastes of inevitability. The fog clears sharply but It's suddenly too late.

Death is being dragged over its falls. Fear screams a truth you only cry out because you finally have to. The shadow weeps at the sound of its own name.

... as you fall an initiation has already occurred
... some thing has paid the price
... another thing has seeded in its place

Rebirth spits you out sputtering into another dimension that renders all previous delusion or ignorance untenable. Now you know and see and have been changed by it. Something new burns inside you, terrifying and irresistable.

Saturn squeezing through the eye of this needle is our next ready reckoning. Ten days of dunking, veil shredding, tower falling, truth grabbing gasps and jeers, popcorn and tea spilling over. Fairly rippling with karmic intent and comeuppance, tectonic consequence and timely deliverance.

Ready?

It is too late to croon Maat's lament now, and too soon to know the new tune by heart.


Words c. Kerrie Basha 2025