Lesson 4 of my second Saturn return lessons was about learning to let the work do its job, rather than exhausting myself by showing up everywhere.

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 4: Letting the Work Do Its Job

Lesson 4 of my 2025 reflections marks the point where everything began to move outward again — not through constant travel or visibility, but through depth, structure, and readiness. This was the year I realised that my work didn’t need to travel with me in order to travel well. In fact, it often travelled better without me.

Throughout 2025, my work appeared in places I wasn’t physically present. I spoke three times at the Brighton Astrology Circle, each with a different lecture–but online (no trains, buses or sweating over dragging my sick laptop with me). I’m absolutely honored I was trusted enough by the group to also do their end-of-year lecture. That was a first for me! My lecture was a refined lecture I had given before but tightened and honed to absolute perfection (if I do say so myself).

My work was also featured in South Africa. A lot like Brighton, South Africa is a favourite place and, if memory serves, it was the first lecture on “Zeus on the Loose”. These things would not have happened if I had to start from scratch. I had laid the foundations long before. And what a joy to feel welcomed back.

What struck me wasn’t just the distance, but the continuity. The same themes — astrology and education, research, responsibility, and development — were landing consistently across borders. By the time conversations about an Australian tour began to take shape, it felt less like a new direction and more like a natural consequence of work that had already found its audience.

Do I Really Need to Be Here?

At the same time, I became far more selective about where I showed up. After long days teaching, commuting across the city, and heroic time zone gymnastics to attend a poorly structured, unnecessary meeting, it became clear that presence alone was not the same as contribution. Stepping back from meetings that drained time and energy freed me to focus on writing, teaching, consultations, and the long-term shaping of Rohini Academy of Astrology.

This lesson sharpened further as artificial intelligence became more visible in astrology. I don’t see AI as a threat — I see it as a tool. Used well, it lifts repetitive, time-consuming work that adds little depth. This year, AI helped me restructure my website in ways that would have cost thousands of pounds and countless hours. It handled the scaffolding, so I could focus on substance. It didn’t write my work — but it helped me plan, organise, and thread ideas, giving me the space to write properly.

A visit from my friend and colleague Louise Edington, a Brit now living in the United States, brought this into sharp focus. Our conversations about astrology, education, and technology reinforced something I already sensed: tools can support structure, but meaning still lives in dialogue, judgement, and lived experience.

AI helped me reorganize my website by answering the 3 million questions I always wanted to ask but was afraid someone would charge me for the answers. It didn’t roll its eyes and call me a “Boomer” for not knowing the difference between a post, page or a product.

Well. . .That’s Me Looking For Work

So I guess that leads us to the questions about future careers: if AI can replace or at least reduce certain departments of website operations, what other careers are changing or being made redundant.

Well, let me stay in my own lane (perhaps a lesson I wish other people would learn) and start with education.

AI can help teachers with lesson planning, marking, tracking progress and even things like planning trips. I think teachers jumped right on that! Up to 50% less marking! My entire trip plans (including permission slips and tracking sheets) can be downloaded to a single folder? Some people say that might be letting IA do the work for us. I say, show me AI’s latest DBS (police clearance) and we can talk. My point is AI can reduce the repetitive jobs and therefore reduce a lot of the workload. Some may say that’s making teachers’ lives too easy and we should reduce their pay. I’m going to reply I’ll consult the union and make a claim for back pay for the thousands of hours I spent manually marking tests and creating lesson plans that anyone could walk off with and use without saying thank you.

So can AI help astrology? When I look at my job as an astrologer, I think from the outside, it just looks like I do consultations and book signings. It’s a bit like teaching: everyone thinks we arrive at 9, have an hour for lunch and drink tea all day, leave at 3 and have the holidays and weekends off. You know, the job looks appealing.

Well I won’t belabour this so let’s just say astrologers have a similar problem. Professional astrology is hard work. It’s continual studying and it (should) be continual professional development. Astrologers have to be their own bookkeepers, technicians and marketers. Trust me, social media is bloody hard graft. AI takes that sting away so we can focus on the things we really enjoy doing: teaching and seeing clients. AI can generate a hard-to-dispute (for the average person), ready to cut-and-paste daily horoscope in about 10 seconds. It’s the grit that doesn’t show in the spotlight: what a good qualification in astrology means whether you jumped on the research ship long before AI or are now trying to jump ship and look all presentable and clever for the cameras?

Time and experience shows not only longevity but the ability to survive the good times and bad.

Besides AI doesn’t seem to know the difference between “Cazimi” and “Conjunction”.

I’m marking myself ‘safe’ from being replaced by AI.

Goddess Bless the Australians

I’ve already announced my tour of Australia but I haven’t said much about not going to the United Astrology Conference. I’ve been to UAC twice before and I’m from the Chicago area so I wanted to build my repertoire, not shrink it. As a veteran speaker, of course I wish speakers and attendees luck. I just have my sights on something different.

I’ve been to Australia before but I had to rely on others to help me navigate things like public transport and interesting places to visit. But now I’ve done my homework. Now it’s time to make the work do the work. So far, it’s a 5-city tour, visiting astrology groups across the continent. Both of my previous trips to Australia were restricted because I couldn’t drive (legally). It’s a problem I plan on overcoming in 2026.

This time I’ll also be coming to Australia prepared and this is the groundwork I’ve laid so far:

• an article appeared in the Victorian Astrologers Association magazine
• a review of Zeus on the Loose was published by the Federation of Australian Astrologers,
• and Wellbeing Astrology Magazine carried an article available on newsstands.

These weren’t random, unplanned acts. This time I got coordinated. I did my homework and studied the architecture of bigger, more successful tours. I made the machine better so I can have more free time. Making the work do its job means I have more time to play with the kangaroos.

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

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.