Scott’s Saturn
March 14th, 2025
Photo Cred: Natalia James
Writer: Scott Tran
Editor: Tea Malzman
On February 28, 2025, the night sky will host a rare celestial event—a seven-planet alignment. The planets will form a perfect line in space. However, they arc across the sky when seen from Earth, reminding us that alignment depends on perspective. If the conditions are right, Mercury, Venus, Mars, and Jupiter will be visible to the naked eye. But Saturn—the crown jewel of the solar system—will remain elusive, only visible through a telescope.
I used to think alignment worked the same way. If I figured things out and got everything in order, I’d reach some final state of clarity. But like Saturn, alignment isn’t always visible from where you stand.
Throughout my time at the University of Michigan, I’ve been searching for alignment—in my career, purpose, and place in the world. I’d describe my experience as unstable alignment: the destination is clear, but the route keeps rearranging as I learn, grow, and adjust. It’s exciting, it’s exhausting. But isn’t instability part of growing up?
At one point, I was sure a PhD was my path—a way to contribute to academia, make a lasting impact, and reach stability. I spent hours in research labs, unpaid and working independently, chasing what I thought was alignment. But over time, I realized the work felt mundane. My priorities started shifting. I wanted more out of my 20s—something immediate, something tangible. Instead of chasing depth in a single field, I started valuing breadth and exploring industry over academia.
That shift made me question something more profound: If alignment is supposed to be something we strive for, what happens when we change course? Do the choices we once believed in still matter if we walk away from them?
SZA seems to suggest they don’t. In Saturn, she sings,
“I’ll be better on Saturn. None of this matters. Dreaming of Saturn, oh.”
She sounds detached—like nothing in this world is worth holding onto, and her thoughts, feelings, and actions don’t carry any weight.
But I don’t think that’s quite right because if none of this mattered, she wouldn’t be dreaming of something better in the first place.
Everything matters—doubt, frustration, and even the moments we look back on and ask, “Was it a waste of time?”
None of it is wasted. It’s what leads us to the next thing.
Take Saturn’s rings. They’re just a mess inside—tiny fragments of ice, dust, and rock crashing into each other. It looks like chaos leading to nothing. But when you step back, you see a grand picture—dazzling, intricate, concentric bands of color.
Is alignment the same way? Maybe what looks like meaningless randomness—wasted time, wrong turns, thoughts we never act on—forms something meaningful when you step back far enough.
Alignment isn’t about having everything figured out all the time. Sometimes, it’s just about trusting that even the things that feel insignificant or significantly hurt now are part of something grand.
You matter. Everything about you matters.
So tell the people you hold close that they matter, too. Because they need it now more than ever before. And maybe, from a distance, we’ll all see the alignment we’ve been searching for.
