Lesson 3 of my second Saturn return brought my focus sharply back to teaching —not as performance, not as authority, but as legacy. It’s no good if I only build a life that vanishes when I do. Oh no, I want a life that’s built to last. I wanna live forever.

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 3: Building to Last

Well… this physical body isn’t going to live forever. A Saturn return can make you face up to that fact or you can pretend your days are endless and end up with far fewer days than you counted on. I think when you get to your second Saturn return you’re thinking about making the most of your time left. I’m just glad I have two jobs I love cuz it’s too late to change career now. At least that’s what I tell myself on the good days. On the bad days I just remind myself that retirement isn’t too far away.

Everyone is looking for meaning in life. With Saturn in my natal 10th, I’ve found meaning in my career as a teacher. I can’t imagine myself doing anything different. I try to imagine myself as a lawyer and all I envision is me chasing after all the files I’ve misplaced. I guess not too much different than my career as a teacher.

My earliest publications were in newspapers. I very much liked seeing my byline and thinking how cool it was that people were reading my words. Anyway…I’ve always known that if my work mattered, it wouldn’t be just because I produced words for a horoscope column that would just end up in a recycling pile. A bit like going to the gym, if I’m going to do all that preparation, my actual performance and outcome should be something I’m proud of. I want my work to matter because the ideas survived me. Because of astrology, I got this lesson during my first Saturn return. I fixed up where I was going wrong (or at least I did what I could with what I had). My attention shifted away from visibility for its own sake and toward structure, continuity, and transmission — the slow work of building something that can stand without constant supervision.

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve discovered far more support than I expected. My family of course is built to last and despite the travel distance, I’m fortunate to have them. I’ve learned this year that I also have friendships that are built to last. So I don’t think I have to worry about ending up in a Pine Box with no one to claim me.

it’s my legacy that gets my attention these days.

Skating closer to The Grand Finale has made me consider the Final Call: What is my legacy? What will be celebrated?
Rohini Academy of Astrology sits at the centre of this lesson. Teaching has never been about reproducing myself or creating followers. It’s about giving people tools that work, language that holds, and frameworks they can responsibly apply in the real world — especially when children, families, and safeguarding are involved. Watching students begin to articulate these ideas in their own voices has been one of the most quietly affirming experiences of the year.

Ripples

One of the most meaningful moments came when a Rohini Academy student (Laura Gabelsberg) was quoted by the Organization for Professional Astrology. It wasn’t flashy, and it didn’t require my presence — which is exactly the point. That was the work doing what it’s meant to do: travelling further than I could, in forms I don’t need to control. This year also clarified something else: I don’t need to be central to everything I build. In fact, I shouldn’t be. Saturn doesn’t reward overextension or ego-driven teaching. It rewards systems that hold up under pressure, ideas that can be passed on intact, and standards that don’t collapse when the founder steps back.
Teaching during a second Saturn return is different from teaching earlier in life. There’s less appetite for novelty, and far more concern for what endures. What I’m building now isn’t about expansion at any cost — it’s about coherence, responsibility, and making sure the work is usable by the next generation, not just admired.
If there is a legacy forming here, it won’t be loud. It will be practical. And it will still be standing long after I’ve left the room.

I’m deeply grateful to Steve Judd for helping me get my work “out there.” When I cut out the parts of my career that weren’t working, I had the energy and resources to grow with Steve. My work also came to the attention of the Astrology Hub, a global astrology education platform with a very large and engaged international audience. Being endorsed by Amanda Walsh for my work on safeguarding and child protection wasn’t about visibility — it was about trust. Astrology Hub occupies a mainstream yet thoughtful space within contemporary astrology, and its commitment to education, ethical responsibility, and depth matters to me. I’m pleased to be continuing that relationship, including contributing as the featured astrologer for June. In a year where I was thinking seriously about legacy and standards.

Mine All Mine

Rohini Academy of Astrology is mine. I founded it. No one handed it to me, no one showed me how to do it, and no one set the rules for what it should become. It grew out of lived experience, research, mistakes, and persistence — and out of a refusal to accept that astrology’s role in children’s lives should be vague, sentimental, or unaccountable. What I’ve built is not a brand exercise or a personality cult; it’s a contribution. A way forward that prioritises clarity, responsibility, and usefulness. If my second Saturn return has taught me anything, it’s that legacy isn’t about being remembered — it’s about leaving something that actually works. Rohini Academy is my gift to the astrological community, offered in the hope that we can do better by children, not by promising magic, but by providing support that is moral, grounded, and genuinely effective.

Built to Last so it can be yours, all yours, when I’m no longer here.

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 2: Authority doesn’t need performance.
It arrives when you stop trying to manufacture it.

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