The Wisdom of Extraction
Kronos, via Google
Even if you know nothing about astrology, you might know about the Greco-Roman deities that Saturn and Pluto are named after. Saturn is modeled after Kronos, or Cronus, who was believed to be Father Time in Roman mythology. He was closely associated with agriculture and the force that propels the seasons through the cycle of life and death. It was believed he devoured his own children, which was understood as a symbolic depiction of the ruthlessness of Earth’s rhythms.
Pluto’s history isn’t exactly light-hearted either; known as the King of the Underworld, the Roman god Pluto and the Greek god Hades are often interchangeable. The etymology of their names reveals how these ancient cultures perceived their powers and personality: Hades was understood as “the invisible” while Pluto was a derivative of Pluton argued by Socrates to mean that Pluto “gives wealth.” However, he’s not referring to tangible wealth like currency, but rather the wealth of souls he harbors in the underworld.
Pluto, via Google
This year my 25th birthday coincided with the widely anticipated 2020 Saturn-Pluto conjunct, an intense union of two planets that only form this aspect approximately every 34 years. Both of these planets were in Capricorn and sat right on my Capricorn Ascendant.
In astrology, Pluto and Saturn present hard lessons to swallow. Saturn delays and restricts in order to teach the importance of patience, limitations, and perseverance. It abhors instant gratification, preferring the reward of obtaining ambition through small steps. Pluto tends to expose and destroy, forcing people to confront the truth with startling clarity. The lesson here is that death is a necessary part of life, a process that must happen if one expects to be reborn.
Both have a sobering effect, which is heightened by the austere sign of Capricorn. The manifestations of Saturn and Pluto in this sign are intense, especially for individuals with Capricorn energy occupying important parts of their chart.
Enter their conjunct with my Capricorn rising. Exit my false sense of security, my track record of burning myself out before I even begin, and my tendency to avoid the hard work of change. My identity was not what it used to be; I felt myself growing out of my skin, shedding old habits and perspectives about who I was.
On my 25th birthday, all of this came to the forefront of my life. My lower right wisdom tooth was sticking out of my gum, angled dangerously close to my second molar. It demanded my attention and asserted that I was going to deal with it immediately. I took a deep breath and spent hours researching what I needed to do to schedule and pay for this surgery without any dental or medical insurance. It was grueling (Saturn) yet transforming (Pluto).
I never understood the value of my teeth. They’re a central part of our body, not just the mouth. Healthy teeth increase life expectancy and reduce the possibility of developing other oral health or medical problems like rheumatoid arthritis, heart disease, and osteoporosis. They’re considered part of the skeletal system, despite the fact they lack tissue typically found in bones.
Teeth make smiling, eating, and talking possible. They provide a foundation, structural integrity. I spent most of my life ignoring and abusing them. I hadn’t been to a dentist for cleaning since I was a teenager and I used to smoke cigarettes and have poor oral hygiene routines. It doesn’t help that access to dental care seems more like a luxury than a necessity. Who cares about teeth?
Only when they hurt.
Most people get their wisdom teeth removed so my experience isn’t unique. I find it ironic that humans have smaller mouths than they did before, but we haven’t evolved enough to no longer grow third molars. They come anyway, regardless if they’re needed. They aggressively assert themselves into spaces they aren’t welcomed or wanted. Their persistence is admirable.
It only makes sense that Saturn, the planet of integral structures, governs the skeletal system, the foundation for our muscles, nerves, veins, and skin. The growth of wisdom teeth is delayed until we move beyond our teenage years into adulthood. Their violent removal is a rite of passage for most people. But into what? Being older and more aware of the scam of American healthcare? Becoming more mature, more aware of the body’s limitations?
Teeth hold stories. Paleontologists study teeth to find out how animals and humans in the past lived. Plaque is still present in the mouths of people who died two hundred to five thousand years ago. Teeth are like fingerprints, unique to every individual.
When teeth are pulled up, it feels like losing part of your narrative. For me, getting mine removed was a catharsis, a final goodbye to the part of me that felt trapped by circumstance, haunted by the past. The reckless years of not caring about my health were suddenly, violently over and I needed myself more than ever. I began to understand that in my lifetime, I have just one body and I want to preserve it.
When I was sedated by the oral surgeon, it felt like floating on the waves of my consciousness. I don’t remember thinking anything in particular, just that my thoughts stretched until they dissolved, quivered and resolved. An hour felt like five minutes, the concrete reality of time rendered meaningless.
As I slowly woke up, I remember focusing on the abstract painting in the room. It was composed of blocks of color with blurred out edges: muted reds, a hazy tan, soaring yellow. The blocks danced with my wavering vision, moving back and forth like a buoy bobbing in the ocean.
I thought of Apollonia, the patron saint of toothaches and dentistry. I prayed to her before I went under, called out to her when my anxiety felt unbearable. In retrospect, I think of Kronos and Hades, of Saturn and Pluto watching the waxing and waning of my new consciousness. I had ventured to the Underworld in pursuit of an evolved identity, offering the bloody roots of my teeth as a token. Not done out of penance or even for blessings, but for transformation.
Cassidy Scanlon is a Capricorn poet and witch who uses her artistic gifts as a channel for healing herself and others. She writes poetry and CNF about mental health, astrology, queer love, pop culture representation, and how social structures shape our perceptions of history and mythology. When she’s not writing, she can be found petting the local stray cats, exploring the swamps of Florida, reading 5 books at a time, and unwinding with her Leo girlfriend.
You can visit her astrology blog Mercurial Musings and explore more of her publications on her website.