New Moon, New Moon

“Love transforms us. Reveals our potential. Reveres what is inherent, even if unrealized, within us. It forms us in its image. Fortifies us with its strength. Instills within us the honorable duty to carry its message forward.” — Chani Nicholas, Today’s New Moon in Aries, The Courage to Love

The moon sings to me, speaks to me, calls to me.

Lingering in its shadow last night, I felt the whisper of a beginning. And tonight, I’ll walk out to the lavender in the front yard and whisper into the purple the spell that I want to bring into being. I’ll sing to it a song of love.

The purple only started to reveal itself this week, after the rains cleared. Vibrant and startling. Bursting forth toward the sun.

Each new moon, I step outside and connect to the moment of almost. I’ll connect to the moment of longing and magick.

I’ll open my eyes and my heart to the divine, and the ritual will begin.

One of the lavender plants in my yard (2017).

Simple. True. Devotion.

It might take moments. It might take minutes. It will take just as long as it needs to take.

Sometimes I’ll write a note to myself, sometimes a love letter, sometimes a story. I’ll tuck it away in the place I always tuck it away, away from eyes, away from my eyes. Let the spell do what it does. Answer how it will. Inform and inspire.

Sometimes I’ll craft something or start to craft something, leaving the unfinished work for the cycle to fullness. Each step as a new movement in a familiar direction.

Turning, turning.

There’s often a moment when my eyes will close and a deep breath fills my chest. I’ll hear my heartbeat. Steady. And the energy will pour in and fill the spaces of me that have dreamt of emerging.

I’ll remember.

I’ll remember.

Perhaps I’ll call to Aphrodite or Artemis or Persephone. Perhaps I’ll call to the nameless ones who came before, who started the story of the world. Perhaps I’ll call to the springtime. To the blossoming and the awakening.

Or maybe my heart will be silent. Listening.

I don’t know what will happen. (But can I ever really know?)

With each new phase, there is a chance to remember. To remember potential and the potential of this world…even when the light is less, even when the shadows feel closer.

Shakespeare wrote that one should not swear by the moon, the inconstant moon. But I do. Again and again. For in that change, there might be change. The shift that pulls me back to love. Again and again.

Let this moon be a prayer.

Let this moon be a song.

Let this moon be a spell.

Let this work be a blessing.

And then the night will fall. The moment will release. I will step back through the door and begin where it begins.

About the Author

I'm a Witch, a priestess, international teacher, often-vegan, invocateur, ritualist, drummer, writer, moon devotee, Sagittarius, and Reclaiming initiate. I am committed to facilitating community growth and connection through ritual creation, storytelling, moon magick, drumming, and embracing beauty in all of its forms. And I am delightfully devoted to Aphrodite, Hecate, Iris, and the Norns. You’ll often find me writing poetry, singing to the moon, crafting songs, and looking for a snack. Here, I'll be writing about the moon, ritual, rewriting personal and collective stories, and poetry. And letting inspiration take the lead.

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