Letter to the Moon

Dear Moon,

Your phases have been guiding posts in my journey of self-discovery.

Sitting at my round wooden table surrounded by my plant friends, I am enveloped by their unconditional love. They emanate warmth and generosity of spirit, and I can't help but smile, feeling at ease in their presence.

It's early morning, and I'm seeking a new rhythm, a sense of rhyme and ritual that awakens my sense of participation—joy in watching sentences form, words carrying sentiment and story. I love the feeling of writing and capturing conversations on paper. There's a quiet thrill in knowing that the words flowing through me may contribute something meaningful.

I am a student of it all—this process of co-creating the experience of Life for the soul, how spirit guides and directs us, guarding and nurturing the soul's journey.

Right now, our book club is reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. His words and the story of a shepherd's quest feel like gold—rich and illuminating. There is power in telling a story that shifts perspectives.

As I sit with this New Moon in Sagittarius, I feel its cerebral qualities and hunger for adventure. Yet, there is a stillness emerging, a slower pace that benefits us all.

Last night, as the Moon went dark, I sat in a circle with ten women. We called in gratitude, offering our attention to being. We let our voices fill the room, coding water with our tears and sentiments, allowing ourselves to be seen and to see one another.

Creating these sacred circles and rituals and honoring our tender relationships with ourselves and each other is a true joy.

Dear Moon, your light illuminates the path before me when you are full. Your glow feels deliberate, and it puts me at ease. In your darker phases, I feel inspiration stirring—an invitation to lean into my courage, to share more fully, and be more of myself more of the time. I trust the energy and the impulse to take inspired action. There are so many parts to each of us, so many layers to explore. The full experience of Life is available if we allow ourselves to embrace it.

I want to lean into your wisdom, surrender, let go, and fully inhabit the moment. Life is so generous. As I sit in awe of all that is, with cats curled up on my lap, I marvel at what we humans have created.

This luxury we afford ourselves—how will it all be remembered after we're gone? What will remain? What are we contributing to the great tapestry of existence? Most of our thoughts, our stories, live now in the cloud. And if water, wind, and fire come, the earth will have nothing to bury—how will our words, our shared stories, be found? Will they disappear like mirages on a screen? Do we just start again? Perhaps the messages are encoded in our DNA, in our very cells. Can we trust this to be enough?

I walk along the beach, searching for answers—though sometimes it's enough just to be present with the birds, the seals, the fishermen, and the dolphins. I let my thoughts wander, and I find comfort in the quiet conversation within myself. Parts of me seem to know exactly what I need to hear, and I listen with kindness and compassion. I feel seen and loved in my own company. I recognize the presence of spirit, feeling both my soul and my human self.

All these parts of me value contribution, kindness, and the natural beauty of this world. The birds and the bees are my guides. They remind me to seek rhythm and alignment, to find my guideposts, just as you do, Moon.

And yet, there is resistance.

As I move forward, I meet resistance. The shadows of doubt and frustration that rise up, often just when I feel I'm on my way, remind me that the path I walk is worth walking. In those moments, I can feel the weight of it—the discouragement, the feeling of being blocked or misunderstood. But I have come to recognize that this resistance is its own beacon. It signals to me that I am on the right path. Resistance is an obstacle to climb, a challenge that calls for all my strength. It lingers, yet it holds the key to something deeper, something waiting to be understood.

Only by continuing to show up, climb over, around, or through that resistance will I begin to learn its lessons. If I want to understand the nature of what seems like an insurmountable block—something with many names and many faces—I must face it directly. The perspective and understanding I seek will come in hindsight. So, I move forward. I keep moving.

Charaiveti—Keep moving. This sentiment carries me, reminding me that even when the path seems unclear, or the resistance feels too strong, the act of moving through it is where learning and growth occur.

As I ramble here, one thought after another, I search for a rhythm in my words that might offer something of value to our shared experience. I feel compelled to remind us all of our deep relationship with everything that exists—and the value of that connection. I want to be less distracted, more curious, and more present to co-create with Life and all that surrounds us.

Seeds have been planted.

May they germinate with courage and grow with love into something beautiful and worthy of appreciation.