Cosmic Café Part 14:
Tea in Saturn’s Garden

A breeze blew through Saturn's lovely courtyard, setting that myriad of colorful blooms into motion. I ventured a glance around and saw that there was an herb garden to my right laid out in the circle of the zodiac. From what little I knew about the connections between the signs and certain herbs, I could see it was perfectly planned. Honeysuckle, thistle and cayenne were carefully blended in the Aries  wedge, fragrant sage was planted next to it for Taurus, and my own sign, Sagittarius, held red clover and rock rose. Needless to say, the array of scents that reached me was every bit as intoxicating as the sight of the garden itself.

I wasn't the only one who thought so, either. There were several bird baths and feeding stations throughout the garden, and at the moment, each was entertaining customers. A dozen or so starlings splashed happily in one bath like a group of children in a swimming pool. Tiny red hummingbirds darted in and out of the honeysuckle, too—in fact, one lovely little creature hovered next to me, examining me quite closely before continuing along to a patch of red salvia. It was delightful here—not at all what I'd expected Saturn's "office" to be like.

I was still enjoying the show when Saturn returned with our tea. I noticed how slowly and deliberately she moved—but Saturn in fixed, solid Taurus wouldn't move any other way. She handed me my cup with a steady, firm hand, and sat beside me, sipping her own. I tasted the concoction, decided it was delicious, and had to ask her what was in it. "Oh, it's a blend—mostly slippery elm, but there's mint in it, too," she answered. "Elm is wonderful for the bones, you know," she added.

I had to smile at that. Of course, Saturn was concerned about bones. All kinds of structures fell under his—I mean, her—jurisdiction, and bones were certainly on that list. She turned to me and placed one of those finely-sculpted, slender hands on my arm. I was once again struck by how reassuring her touch was.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked.

"Of course," I answered. But what could I possibly do for Saturn?

"You can tell them not to be afraid of me, to begin with. What I ask isn't much, and you can point that out, too. Rules and boundaries are necessary at times. And although humanity isn't fond of waiting, there are moments when there's really no other course of action." She paused, sipped her tea, and continued. "When a grandmother extends a hand to stop a child from running out into the road, the child may not like it at the moment, but if they'd gone unchecked, they might be hurt—or killed. When I stop someone from acting, then, it's not because I don't want them to cross that road—it's because it's not safe to try it just yet. Do you understand?" I nodded, and she went on.

"Think of what your Earth would be like if there were no laws, no rules and no discipline. Everything would fall into total chaos. Imagine what navigation in a vehicle would be like without traffic lights, speed limits and lanes. Impossible—and dangerous. Your bodies are vehicles, too, and navigating inside them is like driving. Without rest, routines and understanding your limitations, you'd die."

I had to agree—although, as a Sag, limitations weren't exactly my specialty. After this conversation, however, I was willing to bet I'd be much better at trying.

"The planets follow rules too," she said, and then—proudly, I thought—added, "Even Jupiter stays in his twelve-year cycle."

I smiled at the mention of his name, and Saturn did, too. She shook her head, as if she were thinking about someone she loved but couldn't understand, and stood up. "All right, dear. That's all for now. Have you finished your tea?"

I had. I handed her the cup and followed her through the glass doors to the house, turning to look back at the garden one more time before I left. She opened the front door for me, and took my chin in her hand. "You know you're always welcome here, and we'll have other business to discuss as time goes on. If you need me, call. I'll always be here. But you have things to do, and so do I."

My eyes began to tear up again. I wanted to hug her, but I didn't feel that it was appropriate—and I've got Venus in Saturn's sign, Capricorn, so I'm extremely aware of what's okay and what's not. She touched my back as I stepped through the door out onto the sidewalk, and said one last, Saturnian thing: "Be careful out there, child. Not everyone plays by the rules."

Next Week: Discussing Saturn with Jupiter