Source: The Sea of Intuition
The sacred is the emotional force which connects the parts to the whole. —Author unknown
So profoundly does the ocean affect those who live near it that it follows them forever. I couldn’t have been more than a few years old the first time I saw the ocean and went crazy with ecstasy, racing back and forth on the beach, splashing in the shallows. That ecstasy arrived every summer with our return to the ocean, to the same stretch of beach along the South Carolina coast, the town where great-grandparents were buried and their offspring still lived. It was a homecoming for my grandparents, but as I got older I began to understand it more clearly as a different sort of homecoming all my own. When I swam in the ocean, a strange thing happened: My sense of self dissolved and then resurfaced, bigger and emptier, but definitely better. I let go of who I thought I was and then remembered who I really was. It was as simple as that.
This phenomenon came into focus completely the summer I was ten. It was June, and though the sun was hot, the water was cold. I got used to the temperature of the water, moving farther and farther into the breakers. Beyond the breakers, with the water up to my chest, and my feet resting lightly on the ocean floor, my arms floated on either side; I turned my face to the sun and out to sea.
As I did this, I forgot my life story—age, gender, family, everything. As it evaporated, a deep happiness came over me and I lost gravity slightly, the salt water making my body buoyant and lighter, part of the sea. A self returned that knew its own nature, something without boundaries but focused in me. I was both empty and full.
I turned back to watch my grandfather and father fishing down the strand from where I floated in the sea. I could see the bucket of bait and my grandfather’s black Labrador sitting on her haunches next to him. I watched my mother and grandmother and sister and cousins in their folding chairs on the beach, reading and laughing. A straw sun hat caught in the wind and blew down the beach. I watched them all and knew we belonged to one another, but for all the pull and strength of that belonging, I belonged even more to this larger self, this knowing, this inner atmosphere, which felt like an invisible companion with answers to questions I had not yet asked. It did not require that I do anything at all but witness it. As I did, it grew stronger, as if to say: Call upon me, anytime.
These spells of knowing that began in the sea informed me of my own deeper nature in a way nothing else could. They taught me about being in the flow. Eventually, I could find this knowing, this flow, anywhere, but it came most easily when I was around a body of water, whether a small creek or a filled bathtub. Water triggered this ability to forget myself and to return to some essential state that was both empty and full. That space allowed me to understand interrelationship, the exchange of energies between everything. And though I could not know enough to predict the outcome of these exchanges, I could feel their potential, as if they were part of my sea. It was like an extra natural sense, in addition to smell and taste. Much later, I would learn that there was a word for this: intuition.
This extra sense, this intuition, was an inner eye capable of accurately relating parts to a whole. Intuition originated in the heart, not the head. It offered no guarantees, no certain facts, but rather a knowing whose confidence was based upon its capacity to flow—flowing along a pathway with no falsehood in it at all.
Everyone is intuitive. Each of us has his or her own flow, depending on our focus. You may pick up totally different worlds of information from what your spouse or best friend may tune in to.
Each of us has a different method of letting go of who we think we are and remember ourselves as being. Music was my grandfather’s sea of self-forgetting. Stravinsky or Strauss did for him what the ocean did for me. He’d listen to “The Blue Danube” and fall into a light sleep after dinner, and when he woke up, he’d often announce an intention: “Think I better cover those young tomatoes, we could have a cold snap tonight.” His intuition and hunches were about planting and pruning and weather.
By my teens, I felt at least two rivers of intuition operating for me. The first was personal and based on what I cared most deeply about: my horse, my dogs, my family, my friends. The second was impersonal, as if my personal resonance had merged with a larger one and, as a consequence, I received impressions I hadn’t asked for but were simply there. Both rivers of intuition required that I occupy a soft uncertainty—a not knowing—through which the knowing could come. Sometimes it arrived spontaneously, out of nowhere, when I was far from any thought related to the information that came.
For example, as I woke up one morning around age thirteen, I suddenly knew that my dog was down the hill behind our home barking at a poisonous snake that would bite her if I did not intervene. I didn’t even put on shoes or stop to wonder if the impression was right. I leapt from my bed, raced down the hill barefoot in my pajamas, and there was my little terrier, barking fiercely at a snake coiled to strike. I called her to me in my most commanding voice, my heart pounding as she snapped at the snake. She didn’t come, and I grabbed her from behind and carried her back up the hill to the house, leaving the snake to retreat on its own.
Most instances of intuitive flow around my personal life were far less dramatic but instead involved impressions about the soul of things, what was going on emotionally with this person or that. I also began to play with the idea of asking myself—or this deeper self—questions that could be answered yes or no. I found, however, that the intuitive force didn’t care so much about mundanities, like whether I should go to the movies with my friends or stay home, but surged with knowing when I asked about deeper assumptions. Is there more than physical reality? Yes. Am I right that spirit is everywhere? Yes. Will I ever be comfortable being visible to other people in my full sensitivity? Yes. Will I ever find a way to thrive in the world, using my sensitivity as my strength? Yes.
Some intuitive promptings seemed impersonal, beyond the range of my own experience. These seemed to provide friendly guidance, drawing me, for instance, to a book or a movie—the two great doorways for me into the larger world during the 1960s—without explanation. It was as if someone had placed a cue card there for me—encouragement to step into an archetypal schoolroom that was connected to a larger story.
For example, when I was eleven I went to a yard sale and for no apparent reason, opened the bottom drawer of a desk that was for sale. In it I found a book about Edgar Cayce, someone I’d never heard of. He was in fact famous as the “sleeping prophet,” whose extraordinary intuitions enabled him to diagnose diseases and offer detailed information about healing foods and treatments for people who came to consult him. His method of letting go of who he thought he was, was literally to fall asleep—during which time a deeper self surfaced from his psyche. I found Cayce’s life story at a pivotal time, for it reinforced my own intuition that these inner knowings come through recognizing a resonance, a sense of connection to something. Intuition can guide you to make choices.
I began to recognize two styles of flow: One was this larger sea that required dissolving identity, being totally empty. Intuition originated there. From that flow came a second: specific urges or instincts to explore, to act, to do. These instincts were servants to intuition. They directed the intuitive flow; gave it focus and form.
The Twelve Instincts
Life experience develops one’s instincts. We act on the knowing through our instincts—we become a living story. And each individual story includes these twelve instincts:
1.The instinct to shine in your life, from a true center
2.The instinct to have a home
3.The instinct to communicate
4.The instinct to love
5.The instinct to act
6.The instinct to philosophize, to sum it all up
7.The instinct to commit
8.The instinct to heal
9.The instinct to express truth
10.The instinct to express soul
11.The instinct to express power
12.The instinct to gaze at your past and your future
As an astrologer, I saw these same instincts beautifully embodied in the planets. We will explore them in the next chapter.
To Encourage the Intuitive Flow in You . . .
The following exercise will strengthen your intuitive flow. Keep in mind that it is through your beliefs that you create the open doorway through which experience comes. If you do not believe you are intuitive, it is difficult for the flow to give you guidance. It’s like having the radio on with the volume turned off. Use the following exercise to help you turn the volume up.
Prepare: Set aside at least ten minutes to sit in a quiet room where you will not be disturbed. Sit comfortably and breathe deeply for a few moments. Think of your responsibilities and visualize them as a hat you are wearing. Now remove the hat. If you feel you are wearing a mask, that you have to be someone in particular—someone who answers the phone when it rings, or someone who must make dinner later, or someone who must be in control of what comes next—just take off the mask. Set it aside. Take a deep breath.
Imagine: You are at a scene, past or present, in which you are relaxed and aware. There are no obstacles, no sorrows in this moment. It is a scene in which a deep happiness prevails that is not dependent upon anyone or anything. Float there with an open heart for several minutes.
Invite: After a few minutes of floating, ask yourself the following series of questions, to deepen your receptivity to the flow. Consider that you are inviting the flow, the source of this sea of intuition, to come near you, to engage with you, every time you open your heart and voice a yes. Even a few yeses will open the way to your own sea of intuition.
Can I imagine a flow of life that is infinite?
Do I believe that this flow is benevolent?
Do I believe that this flow moves through me?
As I feel this flow, does it accept me, just as I am?
Can I accept me, just as I am, in this moment?
As I do, am I able to flow more fully with this sea?
Will this sea take me to my purpose, even though I cannot fully see that purpose?
Am I willing to take off my mask, my hat of responsibility, once or twice a day to occupy this sea?
As a consequence, will I be happier? Healthier? More creative?
Does stepping into this flow benefit not only me but all life?
Accept: The sea of intuition asks that you do nothing but occupy it. This sea communicates knowing through feeling. Here, your sensitivity is your strength. chapter 2
The Planets: Your Best Instincts It is the day of your birth—square one—the true beginning of your life on Earth. You emerge from your mother, draw your first breath, and all of the presences in the room bombard your senses—from family members to the midwife, doctor, or nurse who helped bring you into this world. You engage immediately with the reality of being here. Sounds, smells, sensations surround you.
Welcome to Earth: A Brief Introduction to the Planets
Your infant body was sensitive not only to the atmosphere of the room, but to the ultimate life giver: the Sun. Imagine the energy of the Sun as it travels at the speed of light, crossing 93 million miles to reach you. Somehow you receive its signature, as well as those of all the planets in the solar system. You have inherited a life code and a cosmic clock from the larger family of the solar system. Like the genetic code you inherited from your family of origin, this code encourages particular styles of growth and instinctual exploration.
Meanwhile, your cosmic clock, following the rhythms of the planets, encourages you to grow, slow down, or speed up at particular times over the rest of your life. The content of what you grow is entirely up to you. Your cosmic family supports that growth through your planetary instincts.
This chapter’s purpose is to familiarize you with the symbolic content of the planets, but you can also begin to become visually familiar with the planetary glyphs through the birthchart below. Take a moment, if you like, to look at each planet’s glyph and then find it in the sample birthchart shown here (or your own birthchart, if available). With each glyph is a brief introduc- tion to the instinct of the planet it represents. The planets will speak their purposes at more length through the rest of this chapter.
3The SUN is your instinct to shine from the center of your life story.*
4The MOON is your instinct to have a home.*
5MERCURY is your instinct to communicate.
6VENUS is your instinct to love.
7MARS is your instinct to act.
8JUPITER is your instinct to philosophize, to sum it all up.
0SATURN is your instinct to commit.
jCHIRON is your instinct to heal.**
-URANUS is your instinct to express truth.
=NEPTUNE is your instinct to express soul.
;PLUTO is your instinct to express power.
The planets above set into motion a life story, answering the question Who am I? in multiple ways. Two seemingly obscure but significant symbols—the north and south nodes of the Moon—reveal two other important instincts. The south node ' symbolizes your instinct to ask, “What have I inherited from my past?” The north node e symbolizes your instinct to ask, “Where am I going?”
* Although the Sun and Moon are not planets, we refer to them as such in astrology.
** Chiron, formerly thought to be an asteroid, has since been declared a planetoid due to the fact that it has characteristics of both a planet and an asteroid. Discovered in 1977 between the orbit of Saturn and Uranus, it is given equal weight to the planets as an influence by astrologers who study it.
3 THE SUN:
The instinct to shine from the center of your life story
When you took on the signature of the Sun at the moment of birth, you became an emissary of that Sun. Just as the Sun is the center of the solar system, the Sun’s placement in your birthchart symbolizes the optimal expression of your true center. It is the guid- ing light of your story. Visualize a wheel with spokes that meet at the center. Within your inner family, the Sun is the “I” in charge of the entire wheel—the gravitational center of self. As you step outside the privacy of your inner family into your village, the Sun is the shaft of light at the center of the town square where everyone instinctively gathers—a central force pulling everyone together as a community, creating the unique identity of that town.
The Sun’s purpose is to convince you that this is the only life you’re ever going to have and so you better occupy it fully, play director. No one else can occupy your director’s chair for you. The Sun is the functional ego. When you wake from a deep sleep, that conscious waking state you enter every day of your life is your Sun—the constant presence of the “I.”
Find the Sun 3 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
Above all else, I want to ___________.
Now let’s explore the same question with the heart, not the head, to encourage the intuitive voice of the Sun to speak to you about how it operates in your life. Take a moment to relax and let go of the shoulds that may enter your mind about what you “should” want. Then imagine the following and note your experiences in your journal.
I am at the center of a wheel with many spokes. At that center, I am the “I” that is my constant waking companion, the “I” that oversees my entire day. Occupying the center of the wheel, I remember the constancy of the Sun, at the center of the solar system. I feel the warmth of that Sun as it encourages me to grow a true center, a true identity to which I can be loyal, as a life path.
Dialogue with this center, as you occupy it, asking: “What is my central purpose today? What is my central purpose on most days?”
Imagine your answer to these questions as a constant fire, the flame at your core. Stand close to the light of the fire. It says to you: You have a right to exist. You have a right to survive, and thrive. You have a purpose.
The Sun advises you: Celebrate your center, the precious chord only you can play.
Now ask yourself again:
Above all else, I want to ____________________________________.
Your Sun knows the answer to this question.
4 THE MOON:
The instinct to have a home
The Moon within your inner family is the mother. Just as you grew in your mother’s womb before you were born, you continue to survive and thrive throughout your life as a consequence of nourishment; of having a bed to sleep in; food on the table; a family perhaps; a house; a home. Within your cosmic village, the Moon is the cook in your favorite café, the masseuse with healing hands, the therapist who listens and understands.
The Moon’s placement in the chart by house, and by sign, will reflect your optimal path of self-nourishment. It may also reflect your approach to mothering yourself, as well as your approach to forming emotional bonds.
When you were still inside your mother, you heard her heartbeat every day for nine months, like a great drum, anchoring you within the rhythm of this world from the inside out. The Moon reflects your heartbeat of happiness—where you are most likely to enjoy emotional richness. Like the emotional rudder of the boat of happiness, the Moon steers you toward experiences that give you easy access to happiness.
The Moon may also be related to unconscious patterns inherited through your family line—the desires and dreams of generations of people, passed on through the heartbeat of the mother. These unconscious patterns simply are; they need no judgment unless they sabotage the Sun, the true center of your life path. The purest instinct of the Moon is to know through feeling, to intuit the inner space. The Moon is your instinct to understand and be understood. Home is where you are understood.
Find the Moon 4 at Work in your life by completing this sentence:
My mood always improves when I (describe an activity): _______.
Explore the following questions with your heart:
What activities make me happy on a daily basis?
If home is where I am understood, who understands me deeply?
What activities make me happy?
I see umbilical cords running from me to other people who feel like family, whether they are coworkers, friends, or blood family. What do I have in common with them that keeps those umbilical cords in place? How do we nourish each other?
The Moon knows your answers to these questions.
The instinct to communicate
Mercury is your desire to capture and transmit information: It’s the messenger, the tape recorder, the camera, the database builder of your life story. Within your inner family, Mercury is the storyteller; within your village, Mercury might be your friendly librarian, aware of your interests, setting aside particular books for you to read. Mercury works through your eyes; your ears; the bottom of your feet; your fingertips; and very much your throat, your tongue, your lips—your ability to speak. Mercury is the synapse between the brain and the tongue. How will you translate your reality? What words will you use?
Mercury is intelligence on a constant reconnaissance mission. For example, imagine 150 people sitting in church all facing the front, listening to the same sermon. The lady in the first row is noticing the color in the stained-glass windows. She is an artist, and her eyes naturally gravitate to nuances of color and light. The man in the second row is watching the lady in the first row and having a sexual fantasy about her. His Mercury tends to sexualize whatever he is focused upon—sex is his favorite story. The preacher is looking at the congregation and seeing people in spiritual need of Jesus, for whom he speaks. He sees everything through the eyes of his Christian training. Each person can see the same scene but focuses quite differently.
Mercury is the intelligent eye, the intelligent ear, focused upon something in particular. Mercury is also communicative touch, communicative cadences—through voice, song, or dancing feet, dancing out a story. Mercury is the messenger.
Find Mercury 5 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
I naturally communicate perspectives, a point of view about ______.
To further define your Mercury, answer these questions:
What page do I turn to first in the newspaper?
If words are my favored form of communication, what outlet do those words generally take (personal letters, creative writing, conversation, teaching, singing)? Does my Mercury seem more dedicated to a particular topic or focus than any other? (For clues, look at the books and magazines by your bedstand.)
If I frequent libraries, which section do I gravitate toward?
If I am a visual artist, what style do I work in most frequently? Realism? Surrealism? Abstract expressionism? What perceptions within me inspire this style?
If I am a dancer, what rhythm do I most readily move to? What is the message of that rhythm?
If I am a cinematographer, why do I use a particular lens on the camera to trigger the imagination of the viewer? What is it I want them to see?
If I am a masseuse, what strokes create my language of touch? What message do I give through my touch?
Imagine yourself free to communicate in any way you like—through words, telepathy, touch, images. How would you do it? Imagine the thought, idea, or emotion that you would most want to communicate—to share with others. What is it?
Your Mercury knows the answers to these questions.
The instinct to love
Venus is the instinct to love as well as the instinct to create beauty, art, and healing. Within your inner family, Venus is where you fall in love with yourself. Then, as a consequence of being in love with yourself, others—the people in your village—fall in love with you too. Venus is where you are a perennial flower—where you will bloom again and again if you express this part of yourself. As a consequence, love flows easily and so do love relationships with other people. Your creative life thrives through Venus. Venus also blesses your health.
Venus is Eros, the very basic recognition that love and creativity are deeply wedded to pleasure. Venus is the feminine principle of pleasure, saying: Kiss me! Venus is female fertility. Whether you are male or female, Venus embodies your ability to be gracefully abundant (including financially). Venus’s placement in your chart reflects where you are making love to life.
Find Venus 6 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
I fall in love with life again and again when I ______.
Imagine yourself saying, “I am in touch with the grace and beauty that flows through me (and this is what it is like). I know that, with ease, the best of me can rise to any occasion (and this is what it is like). I remember the first time I fell in love (and this is what it was like).
“Thinking of someone I love now, who also loves me, I feel the deep pleasure and recognition that we share this love (and this is what it is like).
“I see a scene of great natural beauty—a rose garden, the ocean, a mountain range. I see my presence growing equally beautiful (and this is what it is like).
“I am beauty, grace, and love finding new form (and the form looks like this). This part of me, when given expression, softens the hard edges of even the roughest day.”
Venus, your love affair with life, inspires each of these scenes.
The instinct to act
Mars says: Claim your courage to act. Mars promotes a clear yes or no. Mars is the sword of the will, the arrow of intention that seeks to carry out a particular plan that will give you energy if you fulfill the plan, and drain your energy if you do not. The purest instinct of Mars is to do. Whereas Venus fertilizes, Mars forges.
Within your inner family, Mars is the high testosterone leader, choosing activities that will give you energy, get-up-and-go. As you live in your village, Mars is the policeman directing traffic with firm gestures at the intersection, signaling stop, turn, and go. Mars is the neighborhood bully who needs to domi- nate, as well as the skater skillfully weaving around a crowd of people, a clear destination in his mind.
Mars is also in charge of your survival as you discover your wholehearted no. If someone steps on your foot, you say, “Stop!” Without your instinct for self-defense, you cannot survive. Mars rules anger and, as a consequence, your ability to be assertive, to say, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”
Mars is the warrior designed to protect and defend your center—your Sun. But Mars is also your wholehearted yes, as you recognize what you want and the need to ask for it.
Mars at its most elegant is about living fully and thriving. Mars reflects your will to follow through on your deepest intentions and achieve your goals.
Mars is also directly connected to your libido; what turns you on. This planet’s energy gets you quickly to yes! Considered to be yang (outer-directed), the glyph for Mars looks much like a phallus; indeed, Mars reflects where you are fertile and ready to seed something in a proactive way.
Mars is will in motion.
Find Mars 7 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
I always have energy to __________________.
To further define your Mars, answer these questions:
What drives me?
What turns me on, makes me love life, brings a clear yes to my lips?
When I am attracted to someone, what is my strategy of approach? Do I contact this person? Wait to be contacted? Default on the desire? Plant a seed mentally that I will have an opportunity to get to know him or her better?
What makes me mad, brings a clear no to my lips? What is my style of combat when I am angry? Am I passive/aggressive? Direct? Explosive? What trips my trigger in anger?
When my energetic gas tank runs low, the thought of doing what particular activity instantly gives me energy?
When my energy is running low, the thought of doing what particular activity exhausts me even more?
Imagine yourself before birth as an arrow in a bow, about to be launched. With your birth this arrow is released. You soar, you fly, you do not fall. You are free will, and as that free will you are on a mission. What is your target? Your bull’s-eye? How does it feel to trust your free will to explore something in particular?
Your Mars knows the answers to these questions.
The instinct to philosophize, to sum it all up
Jupiter is the ultimate optimist, aware that everything is interconnected. Within your inner family, Jupiter is the student of life in search of the Big Picture. As Jupiter finds it, he sums it all up into a cosmology that becomes an inner map of permission, a formula for renewing faith because you believe.
As you move out into your village, Jupiter is the generous professor eager to share his large library with you. Jupiter is the expansive, funny woman who is wiser than you yet treats you like a peer. She leads trips around the world, has made a lot of contacts, is about to go again, and says “Come on! You come, too! Enjoy my connections with me!”
Jupiter may also be the venture capitalist in your community, the risk-taker making wise bets that produce abundance and the desire to reinvest in that abundance. For that reason, Jupiter is considered to be the ruling planet of capitalism and perpetual economic growth. Jupiter is the biggest, most gravitationally influential planet in the solar system.
Spiritually, Jupiter is the generous eureka! experience, an insight that provides the larger context in which to understand your life. This can mean, simply, space in which to grow and contemplate who and where you are. Whenever you look up on a clear day and recognize the ease with which you can think, you are merging with your Jupiter. Details take on a different perspective under that blue sky. We could call this Blue Sky Mind. With Blue Sky Mind, you let details take care of themselves as you recognize the larger context in which they have meaning.
Jupiter also illuminates where the universe supports your growth—not 100 percent, but 200 percent. You may in turn become an expansive coach, helping others grow similarly: a benevolent power, capable of improving the human lot, making the world a better place.
Jupiter’s purest instinct is to discover quality rather than quantity while embodying new options and inclusive truth rather than elitist energies. Jupiter is a magnifier of what you’ve created (both positive and negative), giving you an opportunity to learn lessons, see the obvious, sum it all up, and take risks while the winds are with you.
Find Jupiter 8 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
I love exploring this area of my life because it gives me a larger perspective on things: _________________________________.
To further define your Jupiter, answer these questions:
What activities have I found that consistently give me appreciation for how much more there is to know—and the joy of discovering each step?
Where do I discover Blue Sky Mind—the ability to remember the larger truths I trust, that do not judge but encourage me to begin again, exactly where I am, with enthusiasm?
Where do I enjoy being the generous educator and ambassador to new possibilities for others?
Imagine yourself in the company of someone you respect, who sees your potential and beams it back at you in an act of wholehearted faith. How does this feel?
Your Jupiter knows the answers to this question.
The instinct to commit
Saturn is the instinct to commit to growth. Saturn shows up before you are even born, as your skeletal system, the first thing to form in a fetus. The skeletal system gives you the physical support to move around the earth upright. It gives you spine. Likewise, Saturn teaches, step by step, maturity, self-responsibility, the capacity to commit, to develop a support system for yourself. Within your inner family, Saturn is the father figure, the teacher and authority to whom you look for steady, certain support. In your village, Saturn is the 200-year-old tree in the center of the field, complete unto itself. Saturn is the mentor, the grandparent, seasoned with the wisdom of years.
Saturn is in charge of your ability to recognize which decisions no one else can make for you, including where your boundaries are. It is Saturn that teaches you to build boundaries by informing others, Ask, don’t assume (that I am available, that I am who you think I am, etc.). Saturn teaches you how to give reality checks to yourself and others.
Saturn also shows up within your inner family as the crippling critic. It tenses at the possibility of imperfection. Saturn in this role can exhaust you and others with its judgments. Yet the same Saturn is capable of being discerning without being judgmental. Saturn can identify what is off and describe how it could be more on—without charging the situation with negative judgment. This is Saturn as kind and patient teacher who honors errors as learning experiences. Saturn asks: Did you finish what you started, even if it wasn’t perfect? Goethe spoke for Saturn when he said, “The master first reveals himself in limitation.” Saturn is your weakest link, but it is capable of becoming your greatest strength.
Saturn loves clear form; clean boundaries; the ability to define small, realistic steps, one after the other, until the job is done. Wherever Saturn is in the birthchart, it reflects the vow that was upon your lips when you were born: “if I do nothing else, I will make my best effort at this.”
Saturn is ultimately the ticktock of the clock saying: You weren’t born to die, but you were born with a deadline. So get on with it: Build the backbone of a life story that supports you to become who you always intended to be.
Find Saturn 0 at work in your life by completing this sentence:
I want to mature over time in order to build: ______.
To further define your Saturn, answer these questions:
Where do I excel when I have total control and work hard?
What do I most enjoy organizing in order to “get to work”?
When I look at the stepping-stones of successes and failures in my life, do
Excerpted from Intuitive Astrology by Elizabeth Rose Campbell. Copyright © 2003 by Elizabeth Rose Campbell. Excerpted by permission of Ballantine Books, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.