Lunation.
The online read offering star-aligned advice for the new moon in Leo fades away to that one word, LUNATION, which magnetizes an attraction like a soul-mate.
Whole-souled illumination.
Lunation.
Swoon. Heart-bright captivation. Kismet connection.
Intuition hints at the meaning, but out of sparked curiosity, I still race for a definition.
Lunation : a moon month; a month marked by a lunar phase.
This feminine measurement of time pours pastel loveliness into my restless and eager mind.
Lunation frees me to gently scoop July into my palms and witness the rhythms of inner change.
Let me honor time like the moon, let me acknowledge the cycles and changes of my life like the moon. Let there be a radical acceptance, a full-breathed allowing for constant shifts, for contraction and darkness, and unapologetic unveiling of grandness, majesty, beauty and unquestioned claiming of space. Let there be the trust that softens the complete surrender back to the womb. And here is where lunation and I meet, in the moment before a birth, the in-between space where there’s been death and a flicker of inspiration for a life.
New moon in Leo arrives on the 31st, a Wednesday night that empties me into a needed solitude, a stillness of my own making, a quiet that brings me into the realm of feeling, daydreams, desiring.
What do you want?
What do you really want?
(May I tell you that I get skittish around this question? I skirt around this question, never look her in the eye. I timidly pause at the edge of that answer, but I sense the answer. So I will not tell you. Like a birthday candle blown out with a heart-squeezed tight around the wish silently sung but absolutely never uttered out loud.)
So the new moon is in Leo, and the kindred, spirit-word lunation envelopes me in reflections and enchants me into entertaining possibilities. I lounge in thought while the new moon brews in a potency (proclaims internet saluted astrologists) that will propel planted intentions into vibrant manifestations.
And dear moon, this takes a certain strand of vulnerability, to clearly voice to myself my own deep longings.
And dear moon, this requires an established and healed worthiness that affirms and allows me to receive what I really want to receive.
And dear moon, I feel fearful and hopeful all at once.
So I breathe, and the inhalation pulls me back into gravity, back into a body I daily befriend, and the exhalation invites the fear and the hope to mingle, greets them both as welcomed guests.
And this is my new moon, this is my lunation, this moon month that charts the change. This ability to stay a little longer in the discomfort, to create compassionate space for the distinct phases of my humanity, and make peace with the shadow, even lounge with this shadow.
Here is my fear. Here is my hope.
Here is the new moon and here is my heart pounding in the now and in the yearnings of what could be.
Here is a month that held the most profound change, a lunation that measures my strengthened stretch to soften into all shadowy and lit fragments of me.
And here’s the birth of a lunation that I intentionally move into with full-moon heart.