Moon Phases as Spiritual Practice

An essay on the way this practice impacts my disabled days and nights…

Clink, clang, clang, clink, clang, clang—so went the metal/wood moon phase wall art in my much-too-small TJ Maxx cart. 

The oversized piece was on clearance for one reason: it was missing one of the phases—somehow broken off in the process of existing on the display floor. 

And I loved it for that reason. In its unexpected and broken(?) way, it was acknowledging the reality of eclipse—the reality of dark nights, of broken chains that need to break but still hurt when they do, and of the promise that even those darkest, most beaten-up places will not last forever.

A crappy phone picture of my gloriously imperfect moon phase decor

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I was drawn to moon phases around the time I was diagnosed with PTSD and after many years of having severe migraine-inducing allergies. In my particular circumstances, the symbolism of the moon was important to me for two reasons.

First, the moon goes in phases, and my symptoms—mental, physical, and everything in between—go in phases. On days when it’s bad, I remember that the brightness of a metaphorical full moon is on the rise. On days when it’s good, I remember the importance of the darkness of periods of rest. On the really bad days, I remember that eclipses don’t last forever…in a day, in a week, in a month, or maybe even in a year, things will feel better again. Through it all, the moon is still the beloved moon…and I am still the beloved me.

Second, paying attention to the moon phases has been an allergy-friendly way for me to engage with nature. I love watching the phases, learning what they are called, learning about the moon itself, and learning what the moon has meant and continues to mean to so many different cultures, religions, spiritualities, and other communities. And I’ve loved finding meaning for myself within its sacred phases, these ancient rhythms of creation.

With all this in mind, you can imagine how overjoyed I felt when I found a beaten-up moon phase piece of wall decor in the dilapidated clearance aisle of a TJ Maxx—when I saw a set of moon phases with a gloriously off-balance space for the eclipse.

In an odd sort of way, it was nice to see some arguably disabled representation in the phases of the moon, especially since the TJ Maxx side of spirituality-adjacent products is often just lots of toxic positivity with a side of spiritual bypassing. (I do appreciate the budget pricing there though, as a disabled person, and I get and find self-care stuff there just like many other shoppers.)

But it’s nice to know that every once in a while the universe and nature seem to conspire together and I’m able to make meaning and make something magical from an unexpected clearance rack.

And when I wake up and as I write, that piece of wall decor is on the wall, reminding me that come eclipse, brightness, or something in between, I am enough and I am magic.

In Wonder,

Kandi Zeller (She/Her)

Instagram: @kandi.zeller

Fiction: Reedsy Blog

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kandizeller/