Look up.
You and I might be oceans apart, yet we are looking at the same moon.
There was a time when people turned to the moon as a mirror of the true self. They believed that if you listened closely, it would unveil the hidden landscapes of the soul. Each full moon was revered—a quiet call to witness ourselves with clarity, to sift through what remains and release what no longer serves. Some of us still guard our great-grandmothers’ ways, tending to their wisdom as the moon tends to the tides. Perhaps you do too in ways that you do not yet realise.
In the north, the earth is waking, stretching into the warmth of spring. The ground softens, and life begins to stir. Earthworms rise, loosening the soil, making way for the flowers that will soon dress the bare earth. They call this the Worm Moon, a quiet herald of renewal.
In the south, the shift is different—a slow turning inward, a quiet folding into rest. Here, this moon is known as the Corn Moon or Harvest Moon, marking a time of reaping what was sown in preparation for the long, colder months ahead.
This full moon is accompanied by an eclipse. When the moon emerges from darkness, it glows a deep crimson—thus, its name: the Blood Moon.
Long ago, when the rocks were still soft, Tswana mothers would use this time to deworm their children, believing that the worms gathered in one place, making them easier to remove. They also saw the Blood Moon as a time when the veil between worlds grew thin. A time to speak to the ancestors, to offer gratitude for a good harvest, to listen for wisdom carried on the wind.
And in the language of the stars, this full moon rises in Virgo—the meticulous artisan of the zodiac. Virgo weaves meaning into the smallest details, urging us to bring order to the spaces within and around us. You may feel a quiet pull to clear, to refine, to make room. Be gentle with yourself—change takes time. Honour the delicate balance between structure and surrender.
Above all, remember this: The same moon that pulls the tides shapes the land, turns the seasons, calls forth endings and beginnings. And because we are nature, it stirs something within us too, whispering—once again—it is time for change.
Across many traditions, water is used to mark transition—to cleanse, to release, to make space. Today I offer you a sacred bathing ceremony passed down from my great-grandmother. A ritual of clarity and calm. May it b you the same stillness and renewal it has offered me time and time again.,
A Ceremony for Clarity and Calm
Gather:
- 2 cups of sea salt or Epsom salt (for purification and muscle relaxation)
- 1/2 cup dried rosemary (for mental clarity and grounding)
- 1/2 cup dried lavender (for relaxation and emotional calm)
- 2–3 tablespoons honey (dissolve in warm water before adding to the bath for skin nourishment and a touch of sweetness)
You can steep the herbs in a bowl of hot water first (like tea) and strain before adding to the bath, or place them in a muslin bag for easy cleanup.
For a deeper aromatic experience, you can burn an incense of your choice.
Drop the salt blend into a warm bath. Run your hands through the water, watching as the elements dissolve into something new. Let the warmth carry the scent of rosemary and lavender, unfurling gently into the air.
Light a candle, let its glow soften the edges of the moment. The flicker reminds you that change is never still—it moves, even in silence. Let the incense curl through the air, tracing the shape of memory.
Step into the water. Let the warmth unfurl the tightness in your body, the places that have held too much for too long.
As you soak, allow memory to rise—not as weight, but as witness. What are you holding that no longer belongs? What can be left behind in these waters?
When you are ready, step out. Wrap yourself in a soft towel or robe, cocooning yourself in warmth. Pick up your journal and let the words spill freely, like water finding its way downstream.
Tonight, the moon watches over you, as it always has. A new season is unfolding. Let it carry you forward.
A Wishlist
The Girl Gone Authentic Journal shares these recommendations purely out of appreciation. We are not affiliated with nor earning from any of the mentioned brands. These selections are made with intention, honoring craftsmanship, quality, and the spirit of slow living.
About Nice Things
There are objects that hold stories—hands that shaped them, traditions they honor, quiet beauty they bring into our lives. Nice Things is a gentle gathering of such pieces. A thoughtfully curated selection of artisanal finds, independent brands, and timeless objects that invite slowness, presence, and delight.
Rooted in craftsmanship and intention, each month’s selection flows with the rhythms of The Sunday Club and The Tea Garden, weaving meaning through the things we choose to keep close. This is not about consumption but connection—to makers, to traditions, and to the small wonders that make the everyday feel special.
Visual: Kobayashi Kokei, The Bath, 1918
Words: Khumo ya ga Seamogano
