A guided full moon ritual evening for the Hunter’s Moon. Ninety minutes of meditation, journalling and a hand-made provisioning ritual to carry you into the dark half of the year.
No experience needed, nothing to explain.
Just come as you are.
The clocks go back that night.
Not the night of the circle itself.
The night after.
But you’ll feel it coming before it arrives.
That heaviness by four o’clock.
The pull to draw the curtains a bit earlier than you meant to.
Your body doing the sums before your calendar does.
I’ve never needed a clock to tell me the light’s going.
I feel it in my shoulders first.
Then in how much I just want to stop.
Stop reaching.
Stop doing.
Stop proving I’ve earned my place at the table.
This is the Hunter’s Moon.
Not the chasing moon, the storing one.
The one that once gave hunters and farmers just enough extra light to finish putting food by before the dark properly closed in.
Not urgent.
Practical.
Patient.
That’s what October has felt like to me this year.
Less claiming, more counting.
Less what do I want and more what do I already have that’s actually going to carry me through.
If that’s landed somewhere in you too, this one’s for you.
Ninety minutes.
No pressure, no performance, nothing to explain to anyone.
We start with a guided meditation, about thirty minutes, lying or sitting, whatever your body wants that night.
Then quiet journalling, just you and a notebook, nobody reading over your shoulder.
After that, a ritual, this month it’s something you make with your hands, not something you have to say out loud.
And we close with one last page, on what you’re choosing to carry forward.
You don’t have to share anything.
You don’t have to have the right words, or any words.
You just have to arrive.
Mats, journal and pen are provided.
Bring a cushion or blanket if you like to be extra cosy, and wear something comfortable, you’ll be sitting on the floor.
This full moon lands in Taurus on the 26th, the day after we meet, and the same night the clocks go back.
Taurus is the body’s sign.
Slower, steadier, less interested in what you want and more interested in what you already have.
What’s actually sustaining you.
What you’re keeping, not what you’re still chasing.
The Hunter’s Moon gets its name from the light it gave people to finish storing food before winter properly set in.
Not a hunt in the dramatic sense.
A provisioning.
Quiet, practical, making sure there’s enough.
And we’re five days out from Samhain, when the old calendars say the veil between this world and whatever’s next is at its thinnest.
You don’t have to believe any of that for it to mean something.
Most of us feel autumn thinning into something.
A quietness.
A nearness to what we’ve lost.
So this month’s ritual is a provisioning pouch.
You’ll fill a small drawstring bag by hand, herbs, grain, a few small tokens chosen by feel rather than instruction, and knot it shut to carry home.
An old, plain kind of magic.
Making sure you have enough, before you need it.
We’ll lay everything out together first, whole and communal, nothing portioned in advance.
Dried rosemary, thyme, mugwort.
Oats and barley.
A pinch of salt.
A little scatter of tokens, coins, dried rosehips, tiny stones, to choose from by feel rather than instruction.
You’ll pick three or four things with your hands before anyone tells you what they’re traditionally for.
Then we fill the pouch together, in near silence, the room doing the same quiet, physical thing at the same time.
There’s something about working with your hands that lets the mind finally stop performing.
Last, the knot.
Pulled and tied, the same evening the clocks turn back, the year closing its hand around what you’re choosing to carry.
The pouch goes home with you, somewhere close, a pocket, a bedside table, a coat, not to be opened, just carried, until the light starts to properly return.
Nothing has to be spoken aloud. You’ll write one word for what you’re provisioning yourself against, fold it, and tuck it in before you tie the knot.
That’s the whole ritual.
No sharing circle.
No performance.
It is for you. Especially if you’ve been the strong one for a while now.
Especially if nobody’s asked you, lately, what you actually need to get through the dark.
Places are limited to twenty, because this only works as a room, not a crowd.
Come exactly as you are.
You don’t have to name what you’re carrying.
You just have to arrive.
Questions before booking? Reach me on 07736314197 or email blossom@penelopesilver.co.uk.
Penelope x
Take a little time for yourself – we’d love to see you here.