Saturn: A Threshold Guardian That Guides Us By Slowing Us Down
A photo-essay journey exploring the archetype of Saturn and its relationship to the Threshold Guardian archetype
Note: I’m releasing this on the weekend of June 8-9, when just after a New Moon in Gemini, the Moon, Venus and the Sun (in that order) square Saturn, so the Saturnian energies are very alive for these next few days and, really, through the next month of this Moon cycle.
As a man with the Sun, the Moon, Mercury and Jupiter in my natal chart in Saturn-ruled Capricorn, the archetype of Saturn is near and dear to me.
“Near” and “dear” are not words most people use to describe their relationship with Saturn because in traditional astrology it’s known as the “greater malefic,” which in modern fictional trope language could be translated as “the Big Bad.”
There’s certainly some truth to this. After all, Saturn is associated with the following traits: isolation, oppression, opposition, depression, decay, and austerity. In addition, miners, ascetics, stinking, muddy places, and bearers of dead corpses fall into the traditional Saturnian archetype.
Those words don’t convey a happy holiday at the beach.
Talk to someone with Astro 101 level knowledge, and they’ll likely warn you about the dreaded “Saturn Return” which occurs at the end of our 20s when Saturn returns to the same part of the sky it was in when we were born. It’s a period when this archetype checks in on our progress and tells us, sometimes harshly, that it’s time to grow up and fully enter adulthood.
By the time Saturn comes around again for its second return at the end of our 50s, if we haven’t learned these lessons, it’s very possible that Saturn will find unpleasant ways to end our time here on Earth, or it might simply set us up for a lousy elderhood filled with regret.
But here’s the thing: all of this negative talk is just one way of looking at only one side of Saturn’s complex archetype, and it ignores its more potentially positive manifestations.
A Linguistic Trick To Understanding Saturn
Ultimately, Saturn rewards steady, consistent effort over Time.
I used those “st” words, steady and consistent, deliberately.
Astrologer Rick Levine, a fellow language lover, gifted me the following trick to understanding the Saturnian archetype: words with “s” and “t” that usually make a hard sound, and that relate to Time are often Saturnian words.
“Start,” “stop,” “first,” and “last” all fit the bill, and there are others if you put your mind to it. How about “history,” “past” and “erstwhile?” (Thanks, ChatGPT for that last one!)
The “st” doesn’t have to be connected in the word itself; it’s more how they make a hard sound and fit the nature of the Saturnian archetype. Now, Saturn’s asking me to leave this language geekery because while Saturn doesn’t mind if we take our time, it prefers that we stay on task—there are two more! Saturn, ever the taskmaster, staying the course.
This leads me to a concept from archetypal storytelling that I believe is a more accurate representation of Saturn than the “Big Bad,” and that is the Threshold Guardian. (Threshold is a sneaky “st” Saturnian word, a bit softer than usual, but as we’ll see, it should be on our list.)
And to talk about it, I’m going to share a story and lots of photos from a journey I took four years ago.
A Picture-Perfect Day For an Adventure
Journey back four years ago to a pristine, perfect early May day in 2020 here in central Japan. I was in between jobs without a lot to do, and the greater world was fully immersed in COVID craziness. However, unlike lots of supposedly free countries, Japan didn’t go nuts with lockdown rules, so I was free to come and go when and where I pleased, but that didn’t stop my Windows PC from invading my peaceful, cozy bedroom with messages like the one below.
I was a steady bike rider throughout 2019 and 2020, riding around 1,000 kilometers per month, and most of my routes were along one of the many pleasant, safe, and flat riverside bike paths in my area.
On a few occasions, I cycled to the very end of the main cycling road along the Tone River (photo above), about 30 kilometers north of my house. On those rides north, I noticed an extremely shiny building that I’d never seen before off to my left in the mountains.
Curiosity piqued, I decided on that Friday morning in early May I simply had to ride my bike all the way up to this building to find out what it was. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.
The Journey There
The first 20 kilometers or so were on the familiar and mostly flat bike path next to the river, so everything started out wonderfully. I knew things would get tougher once I began to head up into the mountains, however.
Before I got there, I was greeted by one of my favorite Japanese critters, this tanuki, or Japanese raccoon dog, in the photo below. Funnily enough, before 2020, I had thought these were mythical creatures from Japanese fairy tales, but during that spring, I ran into three of them on my adventures, including this guy, etching them permanently into a warm place in my heart.
Right after I saw this guy, though, things began to get difficult. Now, I don’t have a bike that’s going to be entered into the Tour de France (or a rider, for that matter). No, as you can see in the photo below taken of my bike at the end of this epic day, my bike is just a regular “hybrid” bike, good for getting around town and only going a little bit off-road. It has only seven gears, and well, that’s usually good enough because mostly it’s a bike for the flat area I live in.
After bidding the tanuki farewell, my ordeal began.
Folks, I grew up in the Puget Sound region of western Washington, so I’m no stranger to riding bikes up steep hills. Having said that, in Washington, we have these things called foothills before you get to the mountains. They’re like a warm-up for the real deal.
Japan, as though Saturn—or maybe Mars—designed her to be of tougher stalk, apparently didn’t get this layout design because around here, it’s either kind of flat, or you are in for a steep climb. Like a lot of places back home, that means the roads do switchbacks, climbing sideways up the mountain to reduce the steepness. And while the photo below of one such road on this journey doesn’t really show it, I’m using the word “reduce” very loosely.
So when I came around one of these bends, and three junior-high-age Japanese boys passed me and gave me a look of humorous derision, I knew I may have bitten off more than I could chew.
But folks, I’ve got Mars in the 6th House, the House of Mars’ “joy,” and that means I’m usually up for pushing myself to the limit. In addition, all of that Saturnian Capricorn energy has always made me something of an “ain’t no mountain high enough” type of guy, so I continued onward.
However, I must admit that when I took this photo of the sign saying that the grade was over 10 percent, I seriously considered turning back.
But there was some good news. You might not be able to see it in the photo, but the road I was on sometimes had sections of about maybe 25 meters that were a bit flatter, which gave me a breather and temporarily restored my belief in my sanity for taking on this crazy adventure.
After all, it really was a gorgeous day that day. The temperature was right around 80 degrees Fahrenheit (26 Celsius), and the breeze was delightfully scented as it caressed my skin. In addition, the scenery was really cool, including this mountain, which reminded me of that mountain at the start of Raiders of the Lost Ark, one of my all-time favorite movies. Thinking about that movie, I told myself to stop whining since Indiana Jones faced far worse than steep hills. (“Hills, why did it have to be hills?”)
Eventually, the road sort of flattened out and I came upon a bit of civilization, but much as I love ramen, I’d already packed a lunch and, according to my iPhone, I was going to be at the temple destination very shortly.
And before I knew it, just over 30 kilometers and two hours and fifteen minutes in and Eureka, I was here!
I parked my bike in some shade next to this very cool fountain…
…used the water scooper to splash some water onto my hands and face … and then walked over to the base of these very steep but cool stairs.
Having made it up the steep slope on my bike and feeling invigorated from the fresh water on my skin, this was going to be a piece of cake. And when I reached the top, I was going to—at last—see this shining golden temple on the hill that I saw from so far below and what a feeling that was going to be!
So, I began to walk up the stairs. Sadly, I remember counting them but I’ve forgotten how many there were. All I can remember is that they were, indeed, steep and that, when I got to the top of the stairs I was in for a big surprise.
What I Found There
Are you ready? At last, we’re getting back to the story from the start of this post. You see—well, yes, I suppose you do because he’s right below these words—we have finally come to our Threshold Guardian.
Or, more accurately, our Threshold Guardians, plural.
According to an unclear explanatory sign that was under this guy above, he is derived from Indian culture, but since he was with his friends, I still think he is one of the guardians of this temple.
What’s that? Friends, you ask? Yes, there is one more!
And this one is, I believe, the best example of what the Threshold Guardian signifies and why I connect this archetype to Saturn. Let’s have a look.
Note how, with one hand, he is telling travelers to stop, but the other is facing downward. Now, this next bit is impossible for me to convey with a photo, but when Japanese people tell each other to “come here,” to Western eyes, the gesture they use looks like they are shooing us away, and that downward-facing left hand of this temple guardian sort of looks like the way they shape their hand when they do this.
But don’t take my word for that specifically. Instead, let me share a passage from the book, The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler and the chapter, “Threshold Guardian”:
“Ferocious-looking demon statues sometimes guard the entrance to Japanese temples. The first thing you notice is one hand held up like that of a policeman gesturing “Stop!” But when you look more closely, you see that the other hand invites you to enter. The message is: Those who are put off by outward appearances cannot enter the Special World, but those who can see past surface impressions to the inner reality are welcome.” (emphasis mine)
Saturn As Threshold Guardian: An Invitation to Higher Stages of Our Lives
Saturn is the last planet in the solar system that (most of us) can see with our naked eye (some claim to be able to see Uranus, but I think you have to know it’s there to have a chance to finding it, and that’s not the case with Saturn). If we think about this, we see that Saturn acts as the last boundary, that guardian, before we enter the outer solar system, where Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto dwell.
In his way, Saturn is asking us, “Do you really want to move past me? Do you really want to venture into the outer edges of our solar system? Those planets out there are really freakin’ cold and you’ll be out of sight of your fellow humans. Are you sure?”
Are you sure?
This was the question a Threshold Guardian asked me in the fall of 2019. At that time, I had made a decision to tell my employer of 16 years that when my contract expired at the end of March 2020, I wouldn’t be renewing it for another year.
It wasn’t a decision I was making lightly, partly because I didn’t have anything set up for after I’d quit. Instead, I had this big dream that eventually got derailed by the COVID craziness.
Still, all the way back in 2015, near the start of the transformative mid-life Uranus opposition that we all go through in our early 40s, I’d “heard a voice” telling me that I’d quit in 2020 and to begin to prepare psychologically for this.
Then, throughout the summer and early fall of 2019, I had more messages and synchronicities amplifying this decision. Whatever that voice is, it’s guided my biggest life decisions, including going to college in Los Angeles after growing up in the suburbs of Tacoma, Washington, and then, just after my Saturn return, deciding to move to Japan.
So, when, in early November, one of my supervisors called me to inquire about my decision to quit in spring 2020 and asked, “are you sure,” he was playing the role of the Threshold Guardian/Saturn. He was putting up that stop sign, giving me an opportunity to turn back if I had second thoughts.
After a brief pause, I answered, “I’m sure.” Maybe he heard that pause, or maybe he was just being a good Threshold Guardian, because he said, “Really?”
This time, I was a bit annoyed, so I quickly said “Yes,” and he didn’t offer any more resistance. No, he’d performed the function of the Threshold Guardian, which is not to be a monstrous obstacle that fights us to our death, but instead is more like an ally that wants to check if we really are ready to go deeper on our journey.
In his book, Vogler writes:
Testing of the hero is the primary dramatic function of the Threshold Guardian. … If (Threshold Guardians) resist you, it’s important to realize they are simply … testing you to see if you are really resolved to change.”
One of the keys to facing a Threshold Guardian is not to see them as an enemy, but as “useful Allies and early indicators that new power or success is coming.”
Vogler continues:
Heroes also learn to recognize resistance as a source of strength. As in bodybuilding, the greater the resistance, the greater the strength. Rather than attacking the power of Threshold Guardians head-on, heroes learn to use it so it doesn’t harm them. In fact, it makes them stronger.
Note there are two more of our “st” words in “resistance” and “strength.” Yes, Saturn makes us stronger by resisting us.
But only if we work with the archetype in a mature way. Saturn is sometimes connected to teachers and, as Vogler writes, “Heroes learn the Guardians’ tricks, absorb them, and go on. Ultimately, fully evolved heroes feel compassion for their apparent enemies and transcend rather than destroy them.”
Going back to that scary Threshold Guardian at the gate of the Japanese temple I ventured to, do you really think an average-sized middle-aged man could directly take on that creature with his big sword and defeat it? The Mars archetype in me might think so, but tapping into Saturn helps us see that sometimes we win our battles by using our wits and, even deeper, by recognizing the apparent enemy as an ally who is inviting us to see reality from a deeper, more mature level.
Can we look at the wrinkled, wizened, decrepit old man and not feel revulsion toward his surface appearance and instead hear the wisdom his many years are offering us?
In some ways, humanity’s journey since moving beyond Saturn with the discovery of Uranus in 1781 has been a collective “yes” answer from our species. At that time, humanity began to liberate itself from age-old societal structures—monarchies and churches—and the age of modern man—democracies and the sciences—was born.
But that wasn’t enough. The discovery of Neptune in the mid-1800s was concurrent with a spiritual revival in the West. This laid the groundwork for the deepening of our psychological understanding through the works of Freud, Jung, Hillman, and others, which coincided with the discovery of Pluto in the early 20th century.
Thus, it’s as though after having Saturn as the guardian of the edge of our solar system for thousands of years, humanity transcended this border, moving past the Threshold Guardian, deciding that we no longer wanted to stay safely in the local skies of our known Universe.
Wrapping Up My Journey Humorously
While the main point of this post is finished, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share the humorous way that day ended. You see, after I passed those Threshold Guardians and began to explore the lovely temple grounds, I began to realize that something was amiss.
Look at this image from Google Earth:
Do you see how there are two temples in it? Yes, folks, that golden shining place I’d seen from the bike trail many miles away was not the temple I’d stopped at. No, I was at a traditional Japanese temple, Mizusawadera Temple, but my so-called destination was the Bukkosan Houso-ji Temple, which a Taiwanese Buddhist sect had only recently built.
However, as this became clear to me and as I pondered whether I should continue up that mountain to that temple, I realized it was getting late in the day. More than that, this Japanese temple was absolutely gorgeous and much more to my liking, being tucked into the trees and such.
In fact, there was another stairway that beckoned…
…and I simply had to climb up it and see what I’d find!
And, boy, am I glad I did. Because when I got there, I found myself in an absolutely gorgeous, mystical forest, the sort of place I sometimes visit in my dreams. Here are just a few of the pictures I took there:
I continued up this path and realized that it actually continued all the way up to the top of a mountain. Alas, I didn’t have time to get all the way to the top and, maybe more importantly, I didn't have the energy to climb down and ride my bike 30 kilometers back home.
So I stopped, had my lunch, and then said goodbye to this lovely forest, promising I’d be back again someday.
Now, you may be wondering: did I fail Saturn’s test by not continuing on my journey and reaching the goal of going to the shiny temple on the hill? It’s a fair question.
However, sometimes the main point of a Saturnian Threshold Guardian is to help us slow down long enough to ask ourselves what we really want to do. Do we really want to keep on our path?
In this case, I took that pause and realized that even though my initial goal was the gaudy temple on the hill, I’d actually ended up precisely where I wanted to be: in a temple much more to my liking, natural, forest-shrouded, mystical, secluded. Perhaps I prefer a bit of seclusion with my Saturn because Saturn is in the 12th House in my natal chart, the house of isolation.
Or perhaps I was just recognizing my limits—another of Saturn’s gifts. Either way, as a threshold guardian, Saturn is different than Uranus, which is the lightning bolt that wakes us from a slumber. It helps us avoid the downside of Uranus, which is acting too quickly and becoming too manic in our decisions. Saturn tells us to reflect a bit before moving further and then, after taking that pause, making a well-informed decision before proceeding.
The Final Saturnian Lesson Of That Day
There was one final lesson for me from that trip: Going down very steep hills on a bike that hasn’t had its brakes checked in a long time isn’t the best idea. In fact, my hands became sore from squeezing my brakes tightly going down that hill, and by the time I got home, I realized I was going to have to go to the bike shop to fix my brakes because they were shot.
In a way, this was another Saturnian lesson: to move through life successfully, we have to spend some time on proper maintenance. Otherwise, we may suffer breakdowns. This includes the equipment, such as bicycles, that we use in our daily lives.
That hasn’t been the easiest lesson for me to learn, but I think I’ve been doing better at it since that adventure in May 2020, and I can thank my deepening relationship with, and appreciation for, the Saturn archetype for that.
Whether or not he arrives in the form of a Threshold Guardian at a Japanese temple or as a supervisor on a phone call, Saturn will show up in our lives. Then it’s up to us to be mature enough to learn his lessons. I’m still learning and always will be, but I’m more and more thankful Saturn is here to guide me, even if he can be a real pain in the rear sometimes. Thank you, Saturn, and thank you for reading.
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You can also check out my epic novel of magical realism set in the momentous years following 9-11, “The Teacher and the Tree Man.” You can find that book in full here, or broken down into four shorter books (book 1, book 2, book 3 and book 4) or you can listen to it for free.
Last, I have two old works of media: a blog from 2011--2018 and a podcast that was active from 2020-2023.
That was an excellent read mi amigo. A lot of great words, thoughts and lessons to ingest. I will have to re read this and listen to the podcast as well. Bueno cosas compa!