On Gods and Dogs; On Satan and Saturn.

I have thought for a while now that this Reality, which we temporarily inhabit, gives itself away in such obvious ways that we tend to overlook them.

It is, for example, no mistake that the name we have assigned to the greatest spiritual adversary to Humanity is plagiarised directly from the most “malefic” planet in our realm: Saturn.

I use “malefic” because, of course, every planetary (and Zodiacal) archetype is inherently neutral: not to mention indispensable to human evolution. Saturn’s role is to restrict and challenge us in every endeavour we set out to do: particularly the endeavours most central to our life purpose.

Through the Sign and House that it lies in, along with the Planets that it aspects in our charts, Saturn makes our lives unambiguously, unavoidably and yet necessarily more difficult. We find the energies associated with these impacted Signs and Planets difficult to fully and healthily express, and the domains of life they represent lacking in confidence, filled with awkwardness and vulnerability.

While — sure — that does sound fairly cruel and arguably demonic on first glance, there is a grander logic at play. Because of these restrictions and inhibitions, we inevitably are required to put the most amount of attention and effort towards these Saturnian-afflicted domains. This is where we learn things the hardest way, and thus where we also receive the greatest resulting benefits.

In short: Saturn is there to hold us to account and make sure there are no shortcuts; to ensure that the greatest rewards in life are gained only once we apply the necessary effort and develop the necessary discipline.

Similarly, it is no mistake that the name we have assigned to our Best Friends is the most obvious anagram one could imagine (Santa notwithstanding). In fact, I could not imagine, or hope, for better proof than our canine companions that — despite the devolving shit show we appear to be stuck within — Divine love and protection remains all around us.

But even then, it doesn’t come easily, does it? And I say this not just because my best friend’s two companions — who I have been dog-sitting for the last 3 weeks — have been doing their best escape artist impersonations: wholesomely digging (bless them) under the house and out into the boundary-free Neptunian world that awaits.

My former housemate once commented that Dogs appear to seek out boundaries and discipline from us. His gorgeous Girl seemed most at peace when told exactly where to go, where to be, and what not to be doing. Their relationship involved her constantly pushing his buttons until such a Saturnian archetype was properly embodied.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that Dogs were created this way deliberately: purposely lacking in self-restraint and self-imposed boundaries until they were imposed on them, externally.

Essentially, through the pure Divinity of Dogs, we ourselves are transformed into Saturn: even, gulp, into the adversarial archetype of Satan. We must impose rules and boundaries and discipline — even if it sometimes feels cold and mean and unfair, even if it feels like killing Bambi. The more we practice and perfect these dark Saturnian arts — and the more that we accept this inherent and unavoidable duality at the heart of this reality — the more rewards we receive from our best friends.

I could (and did) get mad at these two little chumps when they escaped 3 mornings in a row. But what greater archetypal role were they actually playing, whether consciously or not? That the current boundaries and restrictions keeping them in place were insufficient, half-assed and in need of rectification: this time properly and without shortcuts.

More subtly, but perhaps more importantly, Dogs also teach how to deal with Saturn: or, we might alternatively say, what it looks like to give all our power away to the adversary.

Yes, they give us Those Eyes: making sure we fully embody the cold, ice-ringed Planet and its emotional detachment in order to properly do our job. But what follows is seeming complete forgiveness for our strictness, not to mention almost complete acceptance of the new set of boundaries that have been imposed upon them.

In fact, it is almost unnerving how readily and willingly they will accept our Saturnian restrictions — and how much trust they place in us to appropriately apply these restrictions, whether we are deserving of that trust or not.

Does that sound familiar, over the last 3 and a bit years?

I’ll finish with a personal story, even though I couldn’t hope to do the same amount of doggo justice as Mary did in her lovely piece.

We got our family dog Juno — named after our favourite family movie and female protagonist at the time — roughly 15 years ago. It was, in complete honesty, in the midst a fairly perilous stage of my life (although we’ve all been 21 before haven’t we, fellow diggers?). I remember her being brought into our family — and our collective re-watching of the character she was named after — as a distinct turning point: a shift away from my unchecked inherent Neptunian nature and towards the duty and responsibility of… you guessed it.

I wrote about some of my times with Juno here, before we all moved out of our family house.

She absolutely loved her new family home in the rolling green hills, a few hours south of the city. And you probably know where this story is headed, but let me digress slightly first, before I have to deal with it.

Last weekend, my sister moved again out of our family home, slightly closer to the city. I won’t go into detail, but this was a huge moment for all of us. It was also certainly the most unified our family had felt since the Germ Conspiracists started to deliberately and wilfully turn loved ones against each other for fictitious reasons at the start of 2020.

I didn’t think I would be able to get there, in the midst of dog-sitting two loveably Neptunian assholes, but we somehow arranged it.

I remember very distinctly that our family’s eldest cat Dax (Star Trek reference this time) passed at an equally significant time for our family, just days after I had visited from my new home 6-ish hours drive away. It added to a suspicion I had had for a while, and that I expressed rather provocatively in this piece: that “sudden” deaths are far less random than we tell ourselves, regardless of the species in question.

Anyway, exactly one week later, today, Dad messaged us and said Juno had had a stroke, and needed to be put down. Was her job done? Undoubtably, whether that was the true reason she left us or not.

Rest in Peace Juno, back with God.

Or should that be Satan/Saturn? It seems increasingly difficult to tell the difference these days.

Lucky we still have Dogs here to guide us home.