The house is quiet.
It’s late, or early—those hours when the world loosens its grip and the body speaks more honestly than the mind.
The Moon is full in Cancer.
Not theatrical. Not loud.
Just present—round, watchful, close to home.
As the calendar turns, I’m not asking what I want to achieve next year.
I’m asking something softer, and harder:
What stays with me as I cross into 2026?
The Moon Answers in the Language of Home
Cancer is the Moon’s own sign.
It governs memory, nourishment, protection, and the body’s subtle intelligence. Under this Full Moon, emotions aren’t problems to solve—they’re signals to listen to.
At the same time, much of the sky is weighted with Capricorn energy. Practical. Demanding. Unsentimental. It asks for responsibility, long timelines, and an honest structure. Together, Cancer and Capricorn form a quiet tension:
Care versus duty.
Home versus expectation.
Tender truth versus inherited roles.
This Moon doesn’t ask me to choose sides.
It asks me to choose what is real.
Clearing Without Drama
There is a misconception that letting go must be dramatic. That growth requires fire, rupture, declarations.
This lunation suggests otherwise.
What’s falling away now are not relationships torn apart, but self-images quietly outgrown.
Old ideas about who I must be to belong.
Old alliances are maintained out of habit rather than resonance.
Old inner voices that confuse discipline with punishment.
I notice who reflects my actual shape to me without distortion.
People. Places. Even foods.
Those are not luxuries—they are survival tools for the year ahead.
Nourishment as Truth-Telling
Under this Moon, nourishment becomes a form of honesty.
Not the food that proves something.
Not the ritual that exhausts.
But the meal that says, “This is enough.”
Warm. Familiar. Uncomplicated.
Something that can be eaten slowly, without commentary.
Cancer teaches that the body remembers everything. Capricorn reminds me that I cannot carry everything forward. Between them, a simple instruction emerges:
Feed what sustains you. Release what drains you.
A Small Full Moon Practice
Nothing elaborate. Nothing performative.
A bowl.
A warm, comforting food—soup, grains, something soft.
Silence, if possible.
Before eating, one sentence spoken inwardly:
- This no longer needs to come with me.
After the last bite, one sentence kept:
- This is what I choose to carry.
That’s it.
No spectacle. Just alignment.
Crossing the Threshold
2026 will ask for endurance, not urgency.
For relationships built on mutuality, not obligation.
For structures that support life, not consume it.
As I cross the threshold, I’m not bringing everything with me.
I’m bringing:
- What feels like shelter
- What reflects me honestly
- What nourishes without asking me to perform
The Moon watches.
The kitchen is still.
And that feels like a good beginning.
