June 29th Full Moon
Writing and moving with the tides.
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The full moon on June 29th is in apogee, which means it’s at its furthest point from Earth.
I’ve been thinking about what “the furthest point” means, not just astronomically, but as a way of being in the world.
We are mostly water, after all.
Just as the moon controls the tides, I have a friend who moves through the world the same way. Before they can fully arrive at a decision or move through a threshold, before they can crash into the shore with presence and connection and their whole self, they go inward first.
They pull back.
They get to the furthest point away from the horizon before they move toward it. And when they return, they return with such grounded clarity, such openness, that I’ve started to wonder if I’ve been doing it all wrong.
I have never been this person.
I move toward.
I reach.
I want to be close before I’ve given myself the room to understand what closeness even means to me in this moment, in this season, with this particular version of myself.
This full moon is the correction for all of this.
Getting to the furthest point away gives you something you can't find up close. Perspective. Stillness. The space that tells you what you already know.
Writing also does this, but only when we stop performing and start retreating. When we go to the furthest point of ourselves and look back, the page stops being a place to produce and becomes a place to see. The scenes find their truth. The dialogue stops being clever and starts being real. The description stops decorating and starts meaning something.
That clarity doesn’t come from pushing harder. It comes from pulling back far enough that you can finally see the whole shape of what you’re trying to say, trying to feel, and hoping to be.
So this moon is not asking you to write more.
It’s asking you to go further in before you go further out. To retreat before you reach. To sit in the stillness long enough to hear what you already know, because it’s already there, it has been for a while, and it will not come forward until you give it the space it needs.
The furthest point is not the absence of something. It’s where everything becomes clear.
This is where to begin.
Happy Writing,
Licia
Your full moon writing prompt
Before you open a document, your notebook, or your favorite journal, sit for five minutes without your phone. Without a plan.
Then ask yourself: what do I already know that I haven’t put on the page yet?
Not what you think you should write. Not what would sound good. What you know, in the way you know things before you have the words for them.
Write that. Start there. The moon is at its furthest point, and from there, everything is visible.
If the Nocturne speaks to you, you'll love The Margin Notes — a free weekly writing community that offers the container you need to keep putting words on the page. Join us here.