Back when time was measured by tides and not timestamps, rituals weren’t extra they were essential. The moon was the world’s calendar and a compass to navigate our mundane everyday lives. Our ancestors didn’t ask what’s the plan for Monday? They asked what is the moon doing tonight?
Fast forward to now, and with astrology back in the spotlight, many of us are more intrigued by the invisible threads that tug at our lives behind the scenes. Many of us use the new moon to set intentions and the full moon to release what no longer fits. But if you stop there, you’re missing the rest of the story because the moon moves through eight distinct phases in a 29.5-day lunar cycle.
The New Moon in Cancer is the first of the summer (its cycle started on 23 June), here’s how to plan around it and the rest of the summer’s lunar cycles.
New Moon: the invisible start
This is the darkest moon phase as there is no light. This is the moon’s disappearing act, and she’s daring you to do the same. Step off the grid. Turn down the volume. What do you want that you’re too scared to say out loud? Miss Luna is here to offer a blank page and ask: what now?
Light a match. Whisper a wish. Stop explaining yourself and start again, on your own terms.
Everything begins here.
Waxing Crescent: little move, big magic
It’s not a full glow-up, it’s essentially the moon’s “soft launch” energy. A chance to move slowly, and build something without the pressure to be something. This is the phase where small choices matter. You don’t need a five-year plan. You actually need a good breakfast and a clear yes. Try. Fail. Try again. That’s the magic. The only thing you have to do right now is not give up.
First Quarter: build or bounce
Half-lit. Half-shadow. You might feel a little friction under this moon. If you set an intention under the New moon, check in with your progress and ask yourself: Are you serious, or were you just flirting with your future? This is when resistance shows up, to prove you want it.
It’s decision time. And no, you can’t journal your way around it. Put your name on the thing. And follow through. You’re either in or you’re not. Choose.
Waxing Gibbous: cut the excess and keep the gold
You’ve been building patiently and now it’s time to make some edits. Not everything you started is coming with you. This moon phase is a prep kitchen, so you can trim the fat. What does it look like to declutter the mental tabs so you can sharpen the vision? This is the part where you become the kind of person who can hold what you asked for.
Full moon: the big reveal
Boom. This is your inner camera flash, when the truth lights up like a disco ball.
You might cry. You might rage. You might fall in love with your own reflection. Celebrate the hell out of yourself. And then? Let go of the dead weight. Whether it’s a project that’s no longer working out, or a relationship that has reached it’s end. The version of you that can’t survive the next chapter.
Waning Gibbour: debrief and drop the wisdom gems
The moon starts to shrink, but your wisdom doesn’t. This is the phase of reflection, of storytelling, of now that I’ve been through it, here’s what I know.
Share what you’ve learned about yourself and your attachments, or the very least integrate it. Let it land. The urgency is gone. Good. Use the calm to sort through what’s useful, so you can turn your experience into an offering.
The Last Quarter: give it back to the earth
You’re stepping out of building mode now, so this isn’t the time to initiate anything new. It’s the moon winking at you to exhale. You’ve survived the plot twist. Now what do you need to recover? Tie up loose ends. Drink water. Pay what you owe to yourself and to others.
The Dark moon: intuitive hits
At this lunation junction the moon is gone. Zero visibility with maximum intensity. This is when you dream in symbols. Grieve something you didn’t have time to grieve. Rest like it’s sacred. Go quiet, but don’t go numb. This is soul work. And so, it might feel a little like an eerie calm before the New moon storm.
So here’s the deal, you can keep grinding, or you can let the moon offer you a blueprint older than capitalism, sharper than any calendar app. My advice is to sync up with Miss Luna and slow down. Everything is cyclical, and you’re right on time, you’re never behind.
