There is a quiet rhythm that has been keeping time long before we ever learned to count days. A silver pulse in the dark. A remembering written in light. The moon does no rush her becoming. She does not cling to what was, or apologize for what is fading. She teaches us that wholeness is not a fixed state of being. It is a cycle.
The lunar cycle is a story of returning.
The new moon arrives, invisible yet potent. A fertile darkness, like a womb, where intention is whispered. A place of seeds, a quiet knowing, of trust without proof. Nothing to show yet, with anything possible.
As the moon begins to wax, she gathers herself slowly. A sliver of light appears and growth is subtle. This is the phase of learning to believe in something before it fully exists, when devotion matters more than visibility.
At the full moon, she is revealed, luminous, unapologetic. This is culmination, illumination, clarity, truth brought to light. The full moon doesn’t ask if she is too much, she just shines. In her light we see what has grown or ripened, what can no longer be ignored.
Then comes the soft exhale. The waning moon teaches release. The art of letting go with tenderness, of honoring what was without clinging to it. Of making peace with endings so that something new can on day begin. The light thins and the lesson deepens. Where rest becomes wisdom. And then once more, the darkeness arrives and begins the cycle again.
The lunar cycle reminds us there is a season for everything and that we are allowed to change shape. There is a time to begin, a time to grow, a time to shine, and a time to release. All of it is sacred.
