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🌕 Harvest Supermoon in Aries
The moon rises swollen and golden, draped in the heat of her own courage. She asks not for perfection, but for presence, for the brave shedding of what no longer fits the shape of your becoming.
This is the Harvest Moon, the great threshing floor of the soul. Here we gather what has ripened, release what is finished, and stand - bare, honest, luminous - before the altar of our next becoming.
You are invited into a ritual of fire and renewal, a rite to call your courage home, to honor what has ended well, and to meet the coming dark with your own light blazing steady and true.
Harvest Moon.
I lay the old story down like wheat on the threshing floor
what once sheltered me now crackles dry in my hands.
The grain is good. The husk, outgrown.
I bow to both.
This moon burns bright in Aries fire,
calling the brave and the brokenhearted alike
to step forward, bare-faced, unarmored, and alive.
It asks not for perfection, but presence
the kind that trembles and still says yes.
What’s gathered is wisdom: raw, earned, unpolished.
What’s discarded is fear disguised as duty,
and the smallness I wore to make others comfortable.
Tonight, I honor what ripened under my fierce tending
and what I release so that I may rise lighter, clearer, truer.
Aries lights the match; the Harvest Moon fans the flame.
Courage becomes my prayer. Authenticity, my offering.
May I meet myself fully
not who I was told to be,
but who I am when the masks fall and the fire remains.
May my boundaries be clean as a blade of truth.
May my gratitude be a wild hymn.
May my body be a faithful altar
to the woman I am still becoming.
🔥 Ritual: “Fire of Becoming”
A rite of courage, clarity, and release under the Harvest Supermoon in Aries
You will need:
A single beeswax candle (symbol of your inner flame)
A small mirror or bowl of water (to witness yourself clearly)
Paper and pen
Optional: cinnamon, rosemary, or clove (to awaken courage and truth)
A safe way to burn paper, or a small dish of salt to bury ashes afterward
1. Preparation — The Centering Flame
Sit where you can see or feel the moonlight.
Light your candle and whisper:
“I call my fire back to me.”
Watch the flame , not as a thing apart, but as kin.
Feel its pulse answering your own heartbeat. Breathe in courage; exhale what dims it. Let this breath become an offering, a pact between you and the element of fire.
2. Naming the Harvest
On your paper, write what has ripened within you since the year began —lessons, endings, awakenings, initiations. Speak each aloud. After each truth, touch your hand to your heart and say:
“This is my becoming. I am proud of the woman who tended this.”
3. The Burning Truth
Now, write what must be released, the fears, habits, and self-stories that keep you small, quiet, or waiting.
If it feels right, read them aloud, then burn the paper safely. As it turns to ash, whisper:
“I am not who I was. I rise from this flame ; sovereign, seen, unafraid.”
If burning isn’t possible, tear the paper into small pieces and press them into salt or soil to be transformed.
4. Reflection — The Mirror Gate
Hold your mirror or bowl of water before you. Gaze into it, seeing not flaw or past, but the flicker of your eternal self —the one who keeps surviving and softening, the one whose light cannot be extinguished.
Say:
“I see you. I trust the fire that lives in your bones.”
5. Closing — The Relighting
Extinguish your candle with reverence.
“The harvest is complete. The way ahead is clear. I walk in my own light now.”
Optional Embodiment:
When you’re finished, move your body —slow spirals of the hips, deep breaths through the ribs. Let your movement say what your voice cannot. Let it be your prayer of freedom.
Journal Prompt:
✨ What truth within me is ready to burn clean, and what new beginning waits beneath the ash?
🌑 Closing the Circle
As the final embers fade, sit quietly with yourself. Feel the steadiness that remains — the pulse of life continuing beneath the ash. This is what the Harvest Moon teaches: that letting go is not loss, but ripening; that endings are not absence, but preparation.
You are the keeper of your own flame now. Carry it gently into the darkening months ahead. Tend it with rest, truth, and care. Let your becoming unfold like moonlight on new fields , quiet, radiant, and entirely your own.
When you are ready, whisper your thanks to the fire, the moon, and the woman you’ve become , then step back into the night knowing: you ended well, and you have begun again.