The Moon and Me

I’ve often wondered why I am drawn so intensely to the moon.

Not in a casual, admiring way but in a way that feels magnetic, bodily, undeniable.

Tonight the pull feels stronger than usual.

I catch myself stopping, looking up, pausing mid-thought as if something inside me is responding before I’ve had time to ask why.

Why this light?

Why this quiet presence in the sky?

Why does it move me in a way so few things do?

The pull is so powerful.

As I stand under it tonight, I realise this isn’t a question that lives in the mind.

The answer doesn’t arrive as explanation, it arrives as sensation. My breath slows. My shoulders soften. The noise inside me recedes. Something deeper begins to listen.

And it occurs to me that I don’t look at the moon, I meet it.

The moon doesn’t demand anything of me. It doesn’t rush me forward or ask me to be clearer, stronger, brighter. It simply exists in rhythm, waxing, waning, disappearing, returning. Never apologising for change, never trying to hold a fixed form.

In its presence, I slow down to my own natural rhythm.

I feel a quiet recognition. A knowing without words.

When I am with the moon I can simply be who I am.

The moon offers permission.

Permission to ebb.

Permission to pause.

Permission to change without explanation.

The moon reflects light it does not generate, and I recognise myself in it.

Reflective, intuitive, responsive, quietly powerful. A way of being that does not push forward, but listens, senses, and knows when to rise and when to rest.

Tonight, standing beneath this familiar glow, I understand something I didn’t know I was waiting to remember.

I am not meant to be constant.

I am meant to be cyclical.

I am not meant to perform my way through life.

I am meant to move in rhythm with my own inner tides.

The moon doesn’t pull me toward it.

It draws me inward.

Back to the part of me that knows stillness is not stagnation, that retreat is not failure, that grace lives in allowing life to unfold rather than forcing it forward.

Tonight, the moon is not something I admire from afar.

It is a companion.

A mirror.

A reminder.

And in its quiet, luminous presence, I feel it clearly

this is not about the moon at all.

It is a return to me.