Planetary Transits describe a highly precise astrological clock, and fundamentally, those that are truly very important are quite rare in a lifetime; we experience a few each year, which is not necessarily enormous.
When they approach a sensitive point in the birth chart, they color our lived experience in ways that astrological manuals sometimes struggle to describe, hence the importance of personal testimonies (each chart being specific, with its own nuances, which can color interpretations).
Today, then, I present my own, not necessarily more important or more representative than any other, but one that may perhaps help certain people better understand their own transits.
In the spring of 2025, I experienced the conjunction of Saturn and Neptune slowly approaching my natal Moon in Aries in the first decan, an influence that settled in over the medium term in several phases, still active through the first four months of 2026.
What began as a mere abstraction on a chart became, month after month, an embodied experience: a journey between hypersensitivity, psychic instability, devotional and sacrificial strength, and more cyclothymic dimensions.
Far from claiming any universal truth, I wish here to share a raw testimony, structured in three parts: what astrology says about this according to usual theories (and for comparison), how I experienced the approach phase (late spring and early summer 2025), and what the exact conjunction of the first quarter of 2026 was able to express.
Saturn/Neptune Transiting the Moon: The Theory
In astrology, the Moon represents the emotional world, inner security reflexes, family, and the maternal archetype.
Placed in Aries, it expresses itself with immediate frankness, a need for authenticity, and a tendency to react quickly, often impulsively.
When a Saturn transit joins the natal Moon, traditional astrology speaks of emotional maturation, taking responsibility, sometimes solitude or confrontation with inner limits.
Conversely, a Neptune transit over the Moon opens the floodgates of permeability: one absorbs atmospheres, unspoken tensions, the sufferings or fragilities of the world, but this can also aid mystical revelations.
The conjunction of Saturn/Neptune transits thus embodies a paradox to manage between Earth and Water: How, in particular, to give form to the emotional world ?
A priori, the Moon, as a Water planet, will be much more at ease with Neptune, another Water planet, but far less so with Saturn (an Earth planet, cold, restrictive), which tends to dry it out.
Of course, these indications remain symbolic and theoretical tendencies, and an enormous number of factors intervene to modulate them.
For example, the entirety of each person’s remaining birth chart, the degree to which one lives one’s chart, and also the age at which these phases may be experienced, hence what one may or may not have already accomplished in terms of evolutionary patterns beforehand, etc, etc.
The Constitution Phase of the Conjunction (Spring–Summer 2025): Submersion
Toward the end of spring 2025, the Saturn/Neptune conjunction began to weave itself together; the orb gradually tightened around the natal Moon, and with it, a new psychic atmosphere settled in.
I did not experience it as a shock or a particularly revelatory, mystical phase (as I have known when my progressed Sun formed a conjunction to my natal Neptune), but rather as a phase of “submersion”.
My emotional receptivity became exacerbated in an almost physical way: sounds, lights, the moods of others, the energy of places…
Everything resonated more loudly, more deeply, somewhat like a “magnifying glass effect” and resonance upon emotional energies.
The external world was felt more intensely on an emotional level, for example, with heightened sensitivity while watching a film or consuming news about the world (I quickly understood that I needed to disconnect if I did not wish to drown in it), or in response to the moods of loved ones.
June 2025 truly marked a peak of psychic instability, quite difficult to live through…
Yet I also have Neptunian dominants in my birth chart, so I do not particularly fear these forces by nature; but here there was a form of excess and over-saturation, truly painful, in which I struggled to set limits.
Days oscillated between acute emotional lucidity (too sensitive for my taste) and a difficult-to-name submersion (fortunately, I have Saturnian Earth anchors that were also able to help me, certainly).
The Aries Moon, accustomed to reacting in a straight line, found itself projected onto terrain of emotional quicksand.
It was precisely in this need for grounding that I found an interesting channeling of these energies: helping my aging parents !
I spent time cleaning, organizing, performing small repairs at their home, which also enabled interesting filial reconnections.
Nothing spectacular, either, just a concrete, repetitive, almost ritual service, which I believe helped greatly to soothe the emotional dimension.
Astrologically, one might also see here the fact that Saturn (duty, structure, tangible care) regained somewhat the upper hand over Neptune (compassion, the invisible bond, family memory).
The Aries Moon, for its part, found its natural channel there: direct action, the useful gesture, the expenditure of energy !
This family rapprochement not only alleviated my instability; it also reminded me that sometimes the best way to inhabit a hazy sky is to place one’s hands upon what is real, tangible, concrete (so as not to be drawn into quicksand).
The Exact Conjunction (First Quarter of 2026): The Pendulum of Faith and Doubt
When Saturn and Neptune re-formed an exact conjunction to my Moon, during the first quarter of 2026, the nature of the process shifted somewhat.
It was no longer a question of submersion, but of a more marked (and quite surprising, for me) cyclothymic alternation, which I am not truly accustomed to experiencing (this is not, let us say, in the roots of my character).
For example, weeks could form a cyclothymic rhythm of disconcerting strangeness: from one day to the next, or even from morning to evening, I would swing between two poles that seemed mutually exclusive.
On certain days, a profound calm would wash over me. I felt receptive, light, traversed by a deep faith that had nothing dogmatic about it, but rather felt like a profound, intuitive sense of universality.
It was an intimate contact with the absolute, an impression of “floating just right”, as if I could easily access the unity of the world, and that, deep down, nothing truly mattered, everything was already proceeding for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
And the next day, or a few hours later, the picture would collapse, with a metaphysical pessimism settling in: diffuse anxiety, dark thoughts, nihilism, a sense of emptiness or absurdity; everything seemed ephemeral, fragile, destined to dissolve, and I regretted not being able to make those beautiful Neptunian transpersonal emotions last longer.
What made this experience so destabilizing was its unpredictability and its rapid alternations.
No external event truly justified these shifts (no particular tragedy); it was more like a form of inner combat, an internal indecision difficult to manage.
The Aries Moon, which instinctively seeks an affirmative direction, had to learn to navigate without a compass, somewhat in artistic ambiguity, which was especially active during the month of February 2026.
Perhaps, after all, faith and doubt are not opposed; perhaps they relieve one another permanently in our inner struggles, but it is simply that here I was experiencing this more intensely, with faster (and destabilizing) alternations.
I also put myself in the place of people strongly marked by Water in their birth charts, somewhat like that of Kurt Cobain, whom I have studied, and whose experience I was thus able to understand more deeply.
The advantage of knowing astrology is that I was aware of the cycles I was living; I knew this would not last beyond a certain threshold.
I learned to observe it, not to identify with it, to breathe when vertigo rose, to fall silent and savor when grace passed through (what else could one do ?).
Gentle routines, bodily grounding, writing, and work served as guardrails for me, and perhaps this will be the case for you too, should you ever experience this kind of astrological phase !
Conclusion: Accompanying Transits Without Seeking to Control Everything
Saturn and Neptune did not erase my Aries Moon; they simply invited it to become vaster, and I wished to wait until the end of this conjunction to speak of it more fully (even though Neptune will continue its underlying influence upon it for several more months, given the slowness of its transit).
This period taught me that emotional maturity does not consist in taming one’s waves through force, but in learning to surf their rhythm, even when it escapes “reason” or rationality.
It reminded me that service to others, the concrete gesture (notably through family, via the Moon), can also be a powerful spiritual anchor.
If you are living or will live through a similar passage (or even for other slow transits) I would advise you of just one thing already: observe them without judging, welcome them consciously for what they are and have to teach you; this is the best path.
And remember that transits are merely catalysts of evolutionary processes, not sentences condemning us to live what we do not wish to live; they are simply levers for exploring existence… 🙂