This is the second in a series on how the planets help us navigate change. You can read about Jupiter and growth here.
Photo by Bernd 📷 Dittrich on Unsplash.
The Moon is a companion of the night. She is our light in the dark. She is a nurturer, a caretaker, a comforter. She is the womb, the chrysalis, the oyster. She is a warm blanket on a fall day, a steadying breath, the care of community, a visiting ancestor in a dream. She is wax and wane, death and rebirth, ups and downs. She is the crossroads, she is the liminal, she is change itself.
I think the Moon is the advice that says, “Just be.” Be with the uncertainty. Be with the questions. Be with your feelings—the grief or the anger, the fear or frustration. Hold their hands. Let yourself feel tender and human and feral. Let your feelings grow big and then watch them shrink. Big then small. Over and over, as many times as you need.
In my mind, the Moon is the voice that says, go for a walk. Sit under the trees and the sky and the stars. Let them soften something inside you. Let them hold you.
Let your people hold you, too. The living and non-living. The human and non-human. Reach your heart outwards. Ask for what you need. It’s okay if you don’t know what that is some days. It might be different today and tomorrow. It might be brand new to you.
“Full Moon, Limache, Chile,” by Alfredo Helsby, public domain.
The Moon sits above us and urges: Open. Soften. Change shapes as you need. Fall apart. Put yourself back together. Be here. There’s no rush. Let yourself take it all in.
Listen, she whispers.
What parts of you need attention today? What is your body asking for? What would nourishment feel like? What would feel like solid ground?
The Moon’s work is vulnerable. With her, you discover what it feels like to be held. To let your feelings stay until they’re done. To tend to your heart, to your body, to all that’s moving inside. Not to your swirling questions, but to your tender, uncertain self. She asks what care and sustenance feel like, what the quiet voice inside you needs, what inner safety (the kind that can’t be lost, only found) means. And to try to find them, to let them stand beside you. Because they are what walks you through change. They are how you become new.