Lesson 2 of my second Saturn Return astrology reflections is about something deceptively simple: once you’ve earned your place, no one can take it away from you.

My Top 10 Lessons of 2025

In the final days of 2025, I’m sharing ten lessons this year taught me — not as a highlight reel, but as a reflection on what actually shifted beneath the surface. 2025 has been a significant astrological year for me, marked by a second Saturn return and a fifth Jupiter return, and it’s been a year of recalibration: learning where my energy truly belongs, what deserves commitment, and what needed to be released. Each of these lessons played a role in shaping how the year unfolded, often in ways I only understood in hindsight.

Much of what I share — both here and in my work — comes from the belief that astrology is most powerful when it helps us make conscious, practical choices. If you’re interested in learning how to work with cycles like Saturn and Jupiter in your own life, or in developing astrology as a tool for growth, education, and ethical practice, you’ll find links throughout this series to my classes and consultations. These lessons aren’t abstract; they’re lived, tested, and offered in the spirit of helping others navigate their own turning points with greater clarity.

Lesson 2: You Can’t Take It Away From Me

I’ve had many of my ideas and concepts “borrowed” from some fairly big names–at least names big enough they shouldn’t have to use my work without giving me credit for the ideas. I’ve had people (unqualified) trying to justify to me why they’re more qualified than me to advise astrologers on whether or not we should be reading charts of children without some very careful parameters in place. I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I don’t get an invitation every opening of every astrological envelope. So what? I’ve opened my own envelopes.

When Steve Judd first invited me to speak at Shifts Happens, my immediate reaction wasn’t confidence — it was doubt. I didn’t actually know if I was up for it. I wasn’t sure I could measure up standing on a stage alongside Steve Judd and Rick Levine. I didn’t know whether I’d be able to hold my own in that company, or whether I’d simply be exposed as someone who’d wandered into a room she didn’t belong in. I can say that now with a smile, because I have video evidence to prove how wrong I was.

When I first met Steve way back in 1998, I was effectively an astrology newbie. I was curious but also loaded with responsibilities and aspirations. I was a young mother, with a baby still on my breast. Steve was already. . .something else. Fortunately for me, Steve and I managed to find each other again through an interview with me by Pam Gregory.

Interview with Pam Gregory

The Pam Gregory interview in itself is something worth exploring: 40,000 views on YouTube. 40,000 views? Are you kidding me? The impact surprised me from the moment it was published: Pam pinged me and told me to watch it. I couldn’t really watch the video: Instead I sat there and watched the views climb by the thousands column. And the comments! So many really beautiful words of encouragement:

“This was 100% brilliant and interesting. I so agree with bringing astrology into the classroom. The examples Alex gave were fascinating. Please will you do another one with her soon. Thank you…keep sharing this one friends”

“Thank you Alex, what a wonderful piece. I believe you are an architect for the new way of harnessing the qualities of individual children, you clearly have a passion for teaching and I have very much enjoyed your thoughts. I wonder if you would like to
talk to our community? We home educate our children in the UK. I believe we could learn so much from you. Thank you lovely Pam, you are an angel x”

“This is EXACTLY what I needed to see. Schools here in California are a mess and my kids are struggling massively. My own kids and young teens I work with in “treatment” homes. I feel if they can know more about this, it would answer so many questions and help direct them into a better path! I will be buying this book asap to help my family and others. Pam I just reached out to you, divine timing! Thank youfor sharing this!! I would love to hear more!!! So grateful!”

And 330 more, similar comments. . .

And one miserable bastard who obviously missed the whole point:

“I would have to question the ethics, morality and legality of using the data of children without the express permission of the parents or guardians and even whilst they employer, the school, expressly forbid the use of astrology in the way she used it anyway. It smacks of experimentation that I find quite unpalatable in a ‘the ends justify the means’ kind of way. Dispassionate use of astrology as an experimental tool. Does nobody else have a problem with this?”

Out of the hundreds of really nice comments, which comment do you think I couldn’t get out of my head? Clearly it was from jealous old man but it really got to me. This comment was so ridiculously wrong that it made steam come out of my ears. I never advocated for ‘experimentation’ or using data for nefarious purposes. If anything, I said the opposite.

The comment got to me because I felt misunderstood. Perhaps I had some clarifying to do so even dumb old men get it. It would set a lower bar and once I really thought about it, I realised my audience isn’t dumb old men. Anyway, it took some doing but I finally came up with this zinger:

• “And I would have to question your lack of experience in any sort of classroom. Do 20 years of teaching and come back to me. Add your astrology qualifications too.”

The experience made me stop trying to be endlessly likable.

Life’s Little Messengers

Saturn has a funny way of recruiting messengers, and sometimes the messenger is… a cat. I’m currently visiting family and my sister has a cat who absolutely hates me. Hisses at me. Stares at my throat while pointedly not licking its lips as if anticipating the meat won’t be any good. Glowers like I’m personally responsible for the collapse of civilisation. I can’t believe it. I’ve never met a cat that doesn’t like me, which makes it both offensive and hilarious. To the family’s amusement, one evening after he scared the hell out of me (by hiding under a table and hissing when I approached), I gave him the finger. Not my finest moment, but honestly? Cathartic. The cat has become my symbol for detractors — the people who insist on offering “helpful advice” that’s really just criticism wearing lipstick. Or dirty headbands. Saturn didn’t mean to, but Saturn recruited the cat so I could express all I really want to say anyone who puts zero effort into understanding my work.

So to back to Steve Judd (who is definitely not a detractor!). Steve got in touch just after the interview and he told me I had come up a few times on his highly popular YouTube channel. So we had lunch and he invited me to work with him. . .in the future. “In the future” doesn’t always happen and I didn’t expect Steve to get in touch. In fact, I totally forgot about it but luckily Steve didn’t.

In early 2025, Steve asked me to be a part of Shifts Happen. I knew Steve didn’t do small events—he used to organise the Big Green Events in the early 2000s when I last saw him. Still I did not expect the enormity of his Shifts Happen event. Social media extravaganzas? Check. Professional Sound and Camera crew? Check. Massive live and online audience? Check, check and check. We were so popular another group—30 miles away in London—blamed us for taking “their” audience. I laughed my head off and carried on posing for the cameras.

Onstage at Steve Judd’s Shifts Happens: Alex Trenoweth unpacking Algol–history, myth and modern charts

But I surprised myself. When Steve ran the post-event survey, my lecture ranked just behind Nick Campion. Second place. That result alone recalibrated something deep inside me. It wasn’t about ego or comparison; it was the quiet, undeniable evidence that the work lands. That people were listening, engaging, and responding — not because of hype, but because what I was saying mattered.
The panel discussions sealed it. Sitting alongside Steve and Rick, I realised I wasn’t there to impress or perform — I was there to contribute. And I did. We spoke as peers. I teased Rick (there’s footage here). I spoke freely, clearly, without shrinking. There was no need to posture. No need to prove myself. The authority was already there. What struck me most was the sense of continuity. People recognised me from previous events. There was a returning audience — not just faces, but memory. That’s when it clicked: this wasn’t a one-off invitation. This was the beginning of an ongoing collaboration. We’re continuing to work together, and that matters. Saturn doesn’t reward flashes; it rewards consistency.

This theme echoed elsewhere, too. My astrology walking tour — something that took an enormous amount of work to plan and deliver — didn’t just run smoothly; it was recognised. That kind of recognition feels different. It comes after effort, not noise. Portugal brought a different confirmation. While I enjoyed speaking at the conference, what stayed with me was catching up with Christine — my former roommate — and seeing myself reflected through her eyes. She admitted she never thought I’d end up writing books and speaking at conferences. She remembered me talking about writing, but assumed it was a passing phase — not something you could build a life around. And yet here I am.

Because alongside everything else, during my second Saturn Return, I remember I am also a professional writer: I’ve been commissioned as a writer. Not just books, but paid articles. That matters more to me than applause. Being paid to write means the work has value outside my own belief in it. It means I’m a professional. It means someone else thinks it’s worth investing in.

Lesson 2 wasn’t about discovering confidence.

It was about discovering capacity and knowing I have much more to offer. My work isn’t done. And I have the perfect answer for anyone who wants to argue with me.

I didn’t need to become someone else to stand in those rooms. I didn’t need to perform louder or simplify myself to belong. I was already enough — and this year provided the proof.

If I had to reduce my second Saturn return to its essentials, it would look something like this:

Lesson 10: Nobody needs me as much as I need me.
Self-preservation isn’t selfish — it’s foundational.

Lesson 9: Never throw the baby out with the bath water.
What’s worth keeping often just needs time, not replacement.

Lesson 8: Jupiter didn’t ask me to travel — yet.
Expansion doesn’t always require departure.

Lesson 7: Slay, don’t play.
If I show up, I show up properly.

Lesson 6: Home shows up when it counts.
The people and places that matter don’t need announcing.

Lesson 5: I’ll keep my clothes on.
I don’t need exposure to have substance.

Lesson 4: Let the work do its job.
Systems that last matter more than noise.

Lesson 3: Teaching is the legacy.
What survives me matters more than what centres me.

Lesson 1: Saturn deserves cake.
Because endurance, clarity, and acceptance are worth celebrating.