Muse of My Own Making
A Ritual Story of Presence, Pleasure and Becoming
The Full Moon in Aquarius rises today at her peak, carrying the expansive clarity of air and the unwavering truth of fixed energy. I feel her illuminating the places within me where my individuality meets the collective vision, where my courage to stand apart strengthens the whole. She calls me to embody my uniqueness, to trust the value of my voice, and to let go of the patterns that keep me dimmed or diluted.
This August Moon is also known as the Full Sturgeon Moon, named for a time when sturgeon, ancient and resilient fish, were once most abundant. Spiritually, I feel her speaking of longevity, survival, and thriving through cycles of scarcity and plenty. Her message to me is one of enduring strength, patience, and the wisdom that comes from moving steadily through life’s depths. She reminds me that resilience is not just about pushing through, it is about aligning with the rhythms that sustain me and letting myself be nourished as I grow.
Her energy mirrors exactly where I am now. I am in a cycle of deep release and intentional becoming, my body joining in through the sacred rhythm of my menstrual flow, my womb shedding as the Moon swells and recedes. The Sturgeon Moon’s presence feels like an elder’s blessing, affirming that my willingness to honor this moment, to slow down, to feel it fully, to let it transform me, is building a foundation that will hold me for years to come. Tonight, under this luminous meeting of Aquarius insight and Sturgeon Moon endurance, I claim my right to live in the fullness of my presence, my pleasure, and my becoming.
Intention
I step into the peak light of the Full Moon in Aquarius with my whole being. I stand in the space between what has been and what is becoming, knowing that every breath I take in this moment is both a release and a calling-in. I honor the alignment of my body, the Moon, and the cycles that connect us all. I recognize this is not a coincidence but a weaving, my womb, the Earth, and the Moon speaking in one voice.
I release the need for external permission to speak, create, and be seen in my fullness. I release the reflex to dim or soften my truth so it can fit into smaller spaces. I release all lingering stories that say joy must be earned, creativity must be justified, or pleasure must be delayed. I release the weight of expectations that are not mine to carry, the echoes of voices that told me my way was too much, too different, or too soon. I release the patterns of over-explaining and shrinking that I once used to keep myself safe. I release the chains of past-life patterns, ancestral restrictions, and old versions of myself that believed magic was something to be hidden.
I bring in the joy that flows without condition, joy that expands with my breath and settles deep in my bones. I bring in the pleasure that sparks creation and anchors me in my body, reminding me that my senses are sacred messengers. I bring in the courage to express my truth with power, grace, and delight. I bring in love that fuels my rise and mirrors my brilliance back to me without distortion. I bring in creative energy that moves like breath— easy, endless, and infused with my essence.
I bring in an abundance of emotional support, the kind that strengthens my foundation and adds longevity to everything I am building. This support expands the tenacity and drive of my will, sharpens my ability to reframe challenges into openings, and deepens my presence in each moment. I call in relationships, opportunities, and experiences that nourish my Spirit, ignite my curiosity, and hold me accountable to the greatness I already carry. I feel safe, protected, and well in my vessel, and from this place I rise into more.
I bring in the unshakable knowing that I am my own muse, my own source, and my own masterpiece. I claim my right to create from a place of wholeness, not lack. I choose to embody my brilliance without apology. I choose to move forward with clarity, delight, and a deep trust in the timing of my life.
Ritual Story
It is 3:55am and the world is holding its breath. The Full Moon in Aquarius is at her peak and the light she spills is neither night’s shadow nor morning’s glow. It is something else entirely. Something that lives in the space between. I step into that space, barefoot, feeling the cool whisper of the Earth beneath me. The air hums with electricity, quiet yet alive, as if every particle around me is listening. Even the trees seem to lean in closer, their leaves still, their roots deep in the dark soil, holding the memory of countless moons before this one. I close my eyes and feel it, the stillness before the next inhale, the pause between the heartbeats. This is the hour where stories are rewritten.
I stand with my spine straight, my shoulders loose, my chest open. The Moonlight brushes over my skin like anointing oil, sinking in as if it has been waiting for this exact moment to meet me. I breathe it in until my ribs ache with the fullness of it. My womb joins this ritual, releasing in her own rhythm, mirroring the Moon’s light as it pours across the Earth. I feel the slow, steady pull of that release deep within me, a tide going out, making space for something new. The warmth of red raspberry leaf tea rests in my hands, grounding me, nourishing me, reminding me that release is not just an ending. This is preparation for what will come next. My crown is already on my head. I can feel its weight, not as a burden but as a steadying presence, keeping me rooted in my own sovereignty.
The air is cool and clean, and when I inhale, it feels like it is sweeping through every corner of me, dusting off old rooms I haven’t visited in years. Each breath carries the memory of all the times I doubted myself. Each exhale clears those echoes from my body. My senses sharpen. I can hear the faint shifting of the soil beneath my feet, the way the Earth seems to exhale with me. Somewhere in the distance, water moves, a river or maybe just the memory of one, carrying its own whispers to this moment. These are not just words tonight. They are vows. They are laws I am placing into the architecture of my being.
The Moon is a mirror and it shows me my 3rd house lit up like a constellation, my words, my voice, my way of weaving thought into power. It shows me my 5th house glowing with color and laughter, reminding me that my art is sacred and my love is a gift. It stretches my vision to the edges of my 9th house, where truths are born and carried far, unbound by borders. I see visions there and some versions of me yet to come, standing in places I have not yet walked, speaking to people I have not yet met, planting seeds I will one day watch bloom.
I tilt my head back and let the Moonlight wash over my face. My skin tingles. My heart feels wide, as if it could hold entire galaxies. The quiet is thick with possibility, and I know that everything I am calling in has already begun to move toward me. The air is so still I can hear my heartbeat. I speak my intentions aloud and feel them wrap around me like silk, gliding into my body, imprinting on my Spirit. Each word rises to the Moon and falls back down, amplified, folding itself into my bones until I am vibrating with my own frequency.
My pleasure is holy. My joy is revolutionary. My voice is the spell. I am fucking magical and I am writing a new script. I am the author, the muse, and the masterpiece. The Moon’s light seals it. My breath seals it. My Spirit says it is done.
Gratitude & Reflection
As the Moon begins to shift in the sky, I feel the edges of this moment settling into me like warm embers. The cool air carries a quiet that feels ancient, as if it has witnessed countless women stand in their own becoming beneath this same light. I place my hands over my heart and give thanks for the courage it took to stand here and claim myself. I am grateful for every version of me that carried the weight until I was ready to set it down. I am grateful for the nights when I kept going even when I didn’t know how, and for the days when I rested because my body demanded it.
I give thanks for the stillness that holds me in this in-between, for the Moon’s light that reveals me to myself without judgment, and for the deep knowing that I am safe to expand. I honor my body as part of this ceremony — the strength of my legs, the openness of my chest, the rhythm of my breath, the wisdom of my womb. She releases with the Moon, carrying away what no longer serves me, and in doing so, she makes room for more life, more joy, more love.
The red raspberry leaf tea nourishes me from the inside, its warmth traveling through me like a blessing. Every sip is a reminder that tending to myself is part of the magic, that care is not separate from power, that nourishment is fuel for my becoming. I am grateful for the love and emotional support in my life, both seen and unseen, knowing it strengthens my foundation and fuels my dreams. I give thanks for the Earth beneath my feet, steady and generous, holding me through this release.
I honor the cycles that have led me here and the cycles yet to come. I acknowledge that nothing is wasted — even the pain, even the pauses, even the moments that felt empty. All of it has been part of my making. In this gratitude, I seal my intentions with trust, knowing that what I have called in is already weaving itself into my life in ways I can feel and in ways I cannot yet see. I am held. I am whole. I am ready.
Thank you, Spirit. Àṣẹ.