I sleep badly during a full moon. Revealing this to others, I’m often met by a scoff.
I watch it happen. The corner of their mouth twitching, brows lifting to their hairline, eyes freezing to suppress the immense urge to roll them. It’s not surprising. I get it.
Still, I explain that even when knackered, dreamland remains elusive. Woodland ambience soundtracks, Pukka Night-Time Tea, good old box breathing: none of them cut it. Hours pass by in a restless haze. And in a particularly cruel twist, just as the gates of dreamland are finally in sight, I’m yanked back to the darkness of my bedroom. Each time, I’m forced to claw my way there.
When this happens, without fail, I will look to the sky the following evening, and see it.
That obnoxious, full bloody moon.
‘Of course,’ I exclaim.
Like spotting blood in your underwear after days of bloating, migraines and inexplicable breakdowns over the clogged dishwasher filter, suddenly, it all makes sense.
It may not apply to everyone, but there’s actual science behind this one. The moon cycle does impact our sleep.
But the cynics persist.
In recent days, my energy has been low. There’s been far too much introspection, bouts of melancholy, and a general feeling of viewing life through grey-tinted specs.
I don’t think I’m the only one. I’ve noticed it in others around me.
To be frank, my life is not free from circumstances that could reasonably explain a drop in mood. I know this. I’m not daft.
And yet, in unpicking my mood, I turned to the moon.
What I discovered was interesting. I found we are in the home stretch of the lunar cycle, experiencing a waning crescent moon.
Again, it all makes sense.
For celestial muggles, a waning crescent moon is a natural time for reflection. We’re all tired from the month passed, and our bodies, the tides, the universe, are begging us to slow down. We’re in our regeneration phase. It means early nights, time alone, and perhaps a strange yearning to start journalling (not again?).
Yes, I’m aware the logical conclusion is that my emotions are circumstantial, not astral.
But for me, believing the moon could be a factor eases the strain of it.
If the moon is just going through a phase, perhaps I am too. Things might not be so bad. I might not be so miserable. I might simply be a puny speck in an expansive universe experiencing a celestial pull. The same as every other living thing.
For a type-A Virgo like me, such absence of control could threaten to derail my sanity. But for this, I make allowance. Something as huge as the universe couldn’t possibly be controlled, nor should it. Something so beyond the realms of our will can only be met with acceptance. So, I’m learning to acknowledge it, honour it, surrender to it. I’m learning to let the feeling brew.
Should I be doing this regardless of the moon and its phases? Of course.
I should absolutely honour my own emotions, no matter the source. But sometimes, we need a push.
If the moon prompts a check-in, then so be it.
Surely that’s the point.
Part of me wants to shake the cynics. Given the moon dictates the behaviour of the marine life in the Great Barrier Reef, it’s kind of arrogant to deem ourselves the exception. Corals literally participate in an annual sex festival governed by the full moon. I’m not joking. Seriously, read the article.
This kind of backing isn’t unique. There is a tonne of science proving the benefits of a number of hippie-woo-woo practices. For example, meditation, sound therapy, and chanting can all stimulate the vagus nerve. In turn, this switches on our parasympathetic nervous system, which can improve the function of almost every bodily system.
Who would say no to a stronger immune system, lower cortisol, stable blood pressure, and improved gut health?
However, let’s put all that evidence aside for a moment. Let’s shelve the intuition, put a cork in the wisdom handed down through generations, and consider it might all be:
A load of bullshit.
Does that matter?
Nope. I don’t think it does.
Excluding the extreme circumstance of stage-four patients refusing cancer treatment in lieu of juicing, I’d argue there is little to no harm in believing hippie-woo-woo practices can work.
The placebo effect is real. As is the nocebo effect. In part, these concepts encompass the idea of manifesting. Our thoughts impact our health, our perception of everything. Of course they do.
It’s OK to believe whatever you need to in order to get through a hard time. Sometimes it’s crucial.
Reach for those branches of faith. If they bring you comfort, hold onto them.
Whether you charge your crystals under the moon, or simply crave a walk through the woods, if you believe it will heal you, it just might.
Give the hippie-woo-woo-crap a chance. Why not?