I could feel the moon humming below the horizon all day. The sun—one of my oldest and dearest friends—shone brightly overhead, but tonight, it was the buck moon who haunted my thoughts like a new lover: always present, always pulling. I watched the shadows of the pines stretch and lean, their golden glow dissolving into a hushed twilight.
By the time the full moon rose, the humans in my town had already begun to unravel—a naked carjacking in a field. Strange, wild behavior, yes... but under the silvery tug of a full moon, I can’t help but adore how gloriously weird we are.
But it wasn’t just people. The animals were restless, too.
The day before, I’d been sunbathing on the deck when I heard sounds—a sharp bleating, almost childlike. It was close. My heart jumped. I live near families with small kids, and for a split second I thought Oh God… a coyote?
I bolted into the woods.
I started yelling, loud. If there was a predator out there, I wanted it gone. That’s when it happened.
A fawn burst from the trees—right in front of me. So close I could see the whites of his wide, frightened eyes, the clarity of his spots. He was terrified. Maybe of me. Maybe of what had just let him go. Maybe of everything.
He sprinted across the path toward safety—and moments later, his mama came crashing through the brush behind him. I stood there, breathless. Awestruck. Humbled. The moon wasn’t even up yet and she was already shaking loose my armor, calling me to attention.
I was grooving to Like Cockatoos while washing the evening’s dishes, anticipation crawling up my spine. The moon was calling. My skin prickled as the heavy drums and guitar gave way to the cello and violins... I knew the stones I had gathered for this month's drop were about to absorb a message tonight. A potent one.
Shed what no longer serves you.
Even now, I feel the echo of it across my skin. Such a simple instruction—like Marie Kondo for the soul. It sounds gentle, but make no mistake: it's an initiation. The bucks all around me, the white-tailed deer, the elk, the moose - are shedding too. Antlers fall after the rut to make way for velvety new growth. Stronger. Sharper. Wiser.
I hiked the hill in the dark to greet the glory of her fullness. She wasn’t casting bold shadows tonight—she lingered low, peeking between the trees, glowing soft yellow from the smoke of nearby wildfires. I spread my blanket among the yarrow, laid out the crystals on the mirror, and turned my face toward her glow.
What am I still holding on to?
Shame. That old skin, that weight I keep trying to wear like armor. But it’s never fit right, and I know it.
Shedding can hurt. Skin. Bone. Fear. Identity. Stories. Attachments. And still—if you're honest—there’s something in you that’s ready to be released. Something that no longer nourishes you.
Are you holding onto it? What would it look like to let it go?
Blessed Buck Moon, beloveds.
If you felt something stir while reading this, I’m crafting talismans under this very moonlight—charged, cleansed, and woven with a heart full of servitude. Explore the first Bloomspun drop here.
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