When the Moon Breaks the Rules: Eclipses, Blood Moons, Blue Moons, Supermoons & More

What is a Blood Moon? What causes a Blue Moon? Is a Super Moon really "super?" Why do eclipses happen, and what do they mean in astronomy, astrology, history, and modern witchcraft?

In this episode of Magic in Motion, we're exploring every fascinating way the Moon breaks the rules.

For thousands of years, people relied on the Moon as one of the most dependable rhythms in their lives. It marked the passing of time, guided planting and harvesting, influenced tides, illuminated the night, and helped entire civilizations organize their calendars.

And then, every so often, the Moon did something unexpected.

It turned red. It disappeared. It seemed larger than usual.

Without modern astronomy, these rare events inspired myths, legends, celebrations, magical traditions, and countless questions that people are still asking today.

Together we'll separate science from superstition, folklore from documented history, and modern magical practice from popular internet myths as we explore:

• Blood Moons and lunar eclipses
• Solar eclipses, annular eclipses, hybrid eclipses, and penumbral eclipses
• Blue Moons and Black Moons
• Super Moons and Micro Moons
• Void of Course Moons
• Lunar Nodes
• The Saros and Metonic Cycles
• Moon halos, moonbows, Earthshine, lunar coronas, Moon illusions, occultations, conjunctions, and more

Along the way we'll talk about eclipse folklore, witchcraft, astrology, lunar magic, Blood Moon water, practical spiritual practices, and why many of these rare lunar events remain surprisingly controversial within the modern magical community.

Whether you're a practicing witch, an astrology enthusiast, a moon lover, a history buff, or simply someone who's ever looked up during an eclipse and wondered, "What exactly am I looking at?" this episode is for you.

So grab a cup of tea, step outside if the sky is clear, and join me as we explore When the Moon Breaks the Rules.

Topics: Blood Moon • Blue Moon • Black Moon • Super Moon • Micro Moon • Solar Eclipse • Lunar Eclipse • Total Solar Eclipse • Partial Solar Eclipse • Annular Eclipse • Hybrid Eclipse • Partial Lunar Eclipse • Penumbral Lunar Eclipse • Eclipse Season • Moon Water • Blood Moon Water • Void of Course Moon • Lunar Nodes • North Node • South Node • Saros Cycle • Metonic Cycle • Moon Halo • Moonbow • Earthshine • Moon Illusion • Astrology • Witchcraft • Lunar Magic • Moon Phases • Full Moon • New Moon • Magic in Motion • The LightFUL Witch

Transcript

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Welcome to Magic in Motion. I'm Platform Asano, the Lightful Witch. Here we explore witchcraft, everyday magic, and the practice of bringing attention to ordinary moments. Because your craft doesn't have to live outside of daily life when it's woven right into the rhythm of your day. That's Magic in Motion. Welcome back to Magic in Motion. I am Kat the Lightful Witch, and I am just so grateful you are here today. Thank you for joining me. I hope today's episode finds you well and having a great week and staying cool. Here in the Northeast, we've had some especially balmy weather these last few weeks. So while it's been hot, it's just been more swampy than anything else. And we keep getting these like little teasers of rainstorms that you think are gonna clear away the humidity, but actually leave it feeling more like a sauna than anything else. Not fun. But um either way, we've had sunshine and we're just enjoying whatever we can of summer. And I hope um you're doing the same. So this month we are on a bit of a spectacular ride with our dear friend the moon. So I thought today it would be fun to chat about some of the more fascinating lunar events that we have coming up and kind of the rule breakers of what we've gotten used to as, you know, the typical lunar cycle. So just generally with these sort of lunar specials, whether it's an eclipse or a supermoon or a blood moon or one of those rare events that have everyone suddenly asking, wait, what does that mean? These are the moon events that seem to capture our imagination, unlike anything else that happens in our night sky. So here on the podcast, over the past couple of months, we've spent some time getting to know the moon a little bit better. We've talked about new moons and full moons and the rhythms that they invite us into. Um, if you haven't listened to them already, they are two fantastic episodes. I highly recommend checking them out. Um, if you haven't already given them a listen, but we've also got some episodes on the not so distant horizon. We'll do an episode on the waxing phases and the waning phases. So just to sort of round out the quarters, but I guess it's because those steady, dependable cycles are, to me at least, really such a beacon for my practice and just for me personally. So I think it's really interesting that every once in a while the moon does something unexpected. It breaks the rules, it turns red, it disappears, the sun vanishes in the middle of the day, or there might be two full moons in a month, or sometimes the moon just looks like it's hanging a little bit lower and a little bit larger than what we're used to. But on every single one of these happenings, people start to ask questions. They want to know: is this rare? Is it significant? Is it good luck? Is it bad luck? Is it something that um calls for me to do something special or not do something? Or is the world gonna end? I mean, there's a lot of questions that come up when the moon gets tricky. So today I think we're going to hopefully answer some of those questions and we'll take a look at what these extraordinary lunar events actually are. Like why are they happening? How did our ancestors understand them? And how they're viewed in astrology as well as modern, you know, spiritual practices, witchcraft practices, and where maybe a little bit of healthy skepticism can be just as valuable as a sense of wonder. So before we can appreciate the moon when it breaks the rules, let's first understand what the rules are, or at least were. So we'll hop into our old familiar time machine for a minute and travel back before the weather apps, before the weather channel, before printed calendars, before the pharma's almanac, before telescopes and before Copernicus and Galileo, and long before anyone could explain why the moon was doing what it was doing. So we've landed, and it's time to imagine looking up at the night sky and realizing that one object seems to keep showing up exactly when you expect it to. Night after night, month after month, year after year, the moon became one of humanity's earliest clocks, one of our earliest calendars, one of the most dependable patterns people had to organize their lives around. People noticed that after darkness came that tiny sliver of light. That sliver would grow larger every evening and eventually become brilliantly full, light up the fields, the forests, the rivers, the coastlines, and then just as predictably, it began to shrink again until it disappeared into the darkness before beginning the whole journey all over again. And that cycle repeated itself roughly every 29 and a half days. It was reliable, it was comforting and predictable. And long before people understood gravity or orbital mechanics, they understood patterns. And patterns meant survival, right? So communities learned that the moon could help them measure the passing of time. Entire cultures would build their lunar calendars around these repeating cycles. They would time their planting and their harvesting to them. They would watch for seasonal migrations and when to anticipate stronger tides. Um, they would organize travel for those nomadic cultures. Um, they would know when to hold festivals or mark sacred observances just by watching the moon overhead. And even many of the names we still use for the full moons today grew from that practical relationship. The harvest moon, the wolf moon, the snow moon, the crow moon, these weren't poetic names dreamed up centuries later. They were reminders, just little memory markers tied to what was happening in the natural world, of what food would become available, or what work needed to be done, or what season was approaching. The moon just became something people could count on. And if the moon looked a certain way, you had a pretty good idea of what came next. So a new moon meant that the sky had gone dark again and another cycle was beginning. And then as the moon waxed, its growing light reminded people that the month was building toward fullness. The full moon would illuminate the landscape and mark the midpoint of the lunar month. And then as the moon waned, it signaled that the cycle was drawing toward its close before beginning over again and over again and over and over and over. And the rules became familiar. People didn't know all the science, they didn't need to, they knew what to expect. And there's something really reassuring about living in a world where you know what comes next. But every so often, sometimes only once in several years, and sometimes once in a generation, sometimes in just ways that arrived without any warning at all, the moon stopped behaving the way everyone expected. It glowed a deep red, it disappeared into the earth's shadow, or the sun would just vanish in the middle of the day. The calendar suddenly could gain an extra moon or have a fiery ring around it, or just look bigger than usual. And for those people whose understanding of the world depended on reliable patterns, these weren't just interesting astronomical events, they were interruptions and moments when one of the most dependable objects in the sky suddenly behaved in an entirely unexpected way. Imagine how unsettling that could feel. If the moon, one of the few constants in your life, could suddenly change. What else could? It's no surprise that cultures all around the world created stories and ceremonies and warnings and celebrations and traditions around these rare events. Some were seen as powerful omens, and others became sacred moments. Sometimes they inspired fear and sometimes it was awe. But thousands of years later, we understand far more about the science behind what's happening. We know about the shadows and the orbits and the light and the atmospheric refraction and the geometry. But even with all of that knowledge, most of us will still stop what we're doing when the moon does something unusual. We will still walk outside, we will still look up, we will still take pictures that I can never get to look like what I'm actually seeing. Anyone out there, please comment how to take a moon picture because I just can't do it. They're pathetic. And I think that's one of my favorite things about these rare lunar events. They remind us that even something we've watched our entire lives can still surprise us. So today, let's explore every fascinating way the moon occasionally breaks the rules. Now that we've established what the rules look like, right, let's talk about one of the most dramatic ways the moon can occasionally break those rules. It changes color. So before we get into the blood moons and blue moons, it's worth pointing out something kind of interesting. As humans, we tend to assign meaning to color almost instinctively. A red sky at dawn gets our attention, right? There might be storms on the horizon, it might be a rough day for those sailors out there. Or the water has a greenish glow and it feels strange all of a sudden. Or for any of you foliage lovers, um, I grew up in the Northeast, and when the leaves change colors, everything kind of turns different shades of flame, right? So you could look at a landscape of trees and it almost looks like it's on fire. It's beautiful. But when I moved out to Colorado, I fully expected that to be the case and it wasn't. All of the aspen trees just turn all different shades of like golden yellow. So things literally just glow golden. It's it's beautiful. And then in the Smoky Mountains, they turn all different shades of purple. But regardless of what region you're in and what color your leaves turn, it really does make you stop and take notice. Those colors really do affect us. And of course they would. And they people are left to wonder why. You know, why are they turning these colors? And before we could explain it with science, people would tell stories about it. So let's start with one of the most dramatic color changes of all, and that's the blood moon. Because if you didn't know any better and you just walked outside tonight and looked up to see the moon glowing a deep coppery red, how would you feel? Would you think it was beautiful or curious, or would you be left feeling a little bit unsettled? Because even today, when we understand what's happening, there's something about a blood moon that feels almost otherworldly. It's one of those sites when even people who never pay attention to astronomy suddenly walk outside and look up. So, what is a blood moon? Okay, a blood moon is simply a total lunar eclipse. That's it. The term blood moon isn't a scientific classification, it's a nickname that became popular because of the moon's reddish color during the eclipse. And the science behind it is actually quite elegant. So when Earth moves directly between the sun and the moon, our planet blocks the sun's direct light from reaching the moon. And if Earth had no atmosphere, the moon would just disappear into the darkness. But instead, something really remarkable happens. The sunlight bends as it passes through Earth's atmosphere. So most of the blue wavelengths that we see normally just scatter away. And that's actually the same reason our daytime sky looks blue because of those short, those shorter wavelengths. But the longer red and orange wavelengths continue to bend around the earth and reach the moon. So during a total lunar eclipse, the moon is actually being illuminated by every sunrise and sunset that's happening around the edge of the earth all at once. I love that image, right? A blood moon isn't glowing because something's wrong. It's glowing because it's being lit by the combined light of every sunrise and sunset happening across our planet. Now, imagine seeing that before anyone understood atmospheric scattering. Ancient civilizations around the world would often interpret blood moons as really powerful omens. Some believed a great beast was swallowing the moon. Others imagined dragons or wolves or jaguars or serpents attacking it. In China, people beat drums and made as much noise as possible to frighten away the dragon they believed was devouring the moon. Across Mesopotamia, lunar eclipses were considered significant enough that kings would sometimes appoint temporary substitute rulers to symbolically absorb any misfortune that the eclipse was believed to foretell. Who doesn't love passing a buck, even in history? As witchcraft and folk magic traditions developed throughout Europe, eclipses often became times of observation rather than action. Many cunning folk and later traditional practitioners viewed them as liminal moments when ordinary patterns were temporarily suspended. So rather than casting spells, they were more likely to pause magical work and watch carefully for signs, record unusual dreams, or wait until the eclipse had passed before beginning something new. Modern witchcraft has taken that conversation in several different directions. As you recall, we had a blood moon earlier this year, and I mean the interwebs were just exploding on what to do and what not to do. Many witches have come to associate blood moons with release and transformation, shadow work, truth, breaking old patterns, and profound personal change. Astrologically, lunar eclipses are often described as bringing hidden things into the light or revealing what we've been willing or unable to see. Whether or not you personally believe that, it's hard to deny that eclipses naturally invite reflection simply because they're unusual. And we'll get more into eclipses in just a minute, but this is where we do run into one of the biggest conversations in modern witchcraft. Should you perform spell work during a blood moon? Well, there isn't one universally accepted answer, some which is avoid eclipse magic altogether, believing the energy is just too unpredictable for intentional manifestation. Others feel that these are some of the most powerful nights of the entire lunar cycle. Personally, I think the answer depends on what you're trying to do. If you're hoping to gently manifest a new relationship or invite more peace into your life, or bless your home, or make everyday moon water, I would probably wait for a regular new or full moon. A blood moon feels a little more suited for work that's already asking for transformation, releasing an old habit, cutting energetic cords, shadow work, truth seeking, breaking unhealthy patterns, or letting go of stagnant emotional energy. Those themes feel much more aligned with the symbolism of a lunar eclipse. Um and and that, like I said, really translates to that the blood moon water in particular when I think about it. If you've downloaded my Blood Moon Water Guide from the Lightful Library on Patreon, um it's fantastic because I love it. But um, and it's free. Go go check it out. But um you'll see it and you'll recognize some of these correspondences because I really do. I like using blood moon water for the transformational spell work or shadow work or something that's releasing like a karmic pattern or a truth-revealing ritual, clearing stagnant energy out, or just supporting periods of meaningful personal change. It's probably not the moon water I would ever reach for when blessing a new home or charging my crystals or setting gentle new moon intentions. Um I mean, could you? Of course. There's no moonwater police, but I do think different lunar events naturally lend themselves to different kinds of magical work. Personally, I don't think eclipses need to be feared. They're one of the most breathtaking natural events our planet offers. They're really less about trying to force something into existence and more about paying attention to what's already changing. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do during an eclipse isn't just cast a spell, it's just to simply stand beneath the same sky our ancestors stood beneath thousands of years ago, and remember that wonder has always been part of the practice, which brings us to another moon that causes a surprising amount of confusion, and that is the blue moon. First, it's almost never blue. Sorry, I know, but disappoints almost everybody because a blue moon is just an extra full moon. Most people have heard the phrase once in a blue moon, and that's because blue moons don't happen very often. On average, they come around every two to three years, and and here's where things get a little interesting, because there's actually two accepted definitions of a blue moon, and they're both correct. The one most people know is as the second full moon within a single calendar month, and that happens because a lunar cycle lasts about 29 and a half days, while our calendar months are only 28, 30, or 31 days long. Yes, I know leap year 29 days once every fourth year, but either way, they don't align just exactly perfectly. So the timing lines up just right once in a while, and two full moons will squeeze into the same month. Now, the older definition comes from the seasonal calendar because normally each season contains three full moons, but occasionally a season will have four. So rather than shifting all of the traditional full moon names forward by one, the third full moon was called the blue moon, allowing the final full moon to keep its expected seasonal name. So who's right? Well, both. The seasonal definition is the older one. The monthly definition became widely accepted during the 20th century after a calendar-related misunderstanding was widely published and eventually took on a life of its own. But today you'll hear both definitions used, and just don't be surprised if different books or websites give different answers. Astronomically, nothing unusual is happening. The moon isn't changing. Our calendar is just trying to organize a rhythm that doesn't divide evenly into months. It's less of a strange moon and more of a quirky calendaring event. Um, but spiritually, blue moons are often viewed as amplifiers. Many people associate them with second chances, expanded opportunities, um time to complete long-term goals, or just giving extra attention to something that normally only comes around once. And I like that symbolism. Not because the moon itself has changed, but because our experience of time has. A blue moon reminds us that calendars are something humans invented. Nature has always been following its own rhythm, and it's gonna always continue doing whatever it's going to do, regardless of what outlook tells you. But um, before we leave this section, I do want to clear up one other myth that I hear surprisingly often, and that is that the strawberry moon is not strawberry colored, the pink moon is not pink, um, and the snow moon isn't covered in snow. So just like the wolf moon is not shaped like a wolf or has like a bat signal of a wolf projected on it, none of these names describe the moon at all. It's actually describing life on Earth. So the strawberry moon marked the season when wild strawberries were ready to harvest. And the April Pink Moon was named for the creeping flocks. It's one of the earliest spring wildflowers, and it's got bright pink blossoms that kind of grow in a blanket across the ground. It's one of my favorite things to look for here in New Jersey. Um, it's definitely one of my first like spring is here signs. But um, anyway, the way that the full moon appeared, it would glow brightly and it would illuminate the pink that was covering. The ground, hence the pink moon. Um, the moon, again, itself, it just stayed exactly the same. It just illuminated the world that was changing beneath it. And I think that's one of my favorite things about these traditional moon names. They remind us that our ancestors weren't just watching the sky, that they were paying attention to the relationship between the sky and the earth. The moon wasn't marking time, it was helping people to notice what season of life they were living through. So we have seen the moon turn red and we've learned why it occasionally earns an extra place on the calendar. But changing color isn't the only way the moon breaks the rules. Let's look now at what's probably the most dramatic way the moon breaks the rules when it disappears, or perhaps more accurately, when it makes something else disappear. Most of us have probably seen a photograph of a total solar eclipse. The sky grows dark in the middle of the day, the birds become a little confused, um, temperatures drop slightly, and a brilliant white halo will surround what looks like a black hole in the sky. And it's breathtaking. It's also one of the few astronomical events that can completely change the way a familiar landscape feels. So imagine standing outside on a sunny afternoon and the shadows become softer. The light starts to look a little bit different, not like a sunset, but not like an approaching storm either. It's something very unique. The animals begin to behave as though evening has arrived. So birds will return to their nests, and insects that normally become active at dusk begin making noise. Even the air can feel strangely still. If you've ever talked to someone who's experienced a total solar eclipse in person, you'll often hear them say the same thing. Pictures don't do it justice. So what's actually happening? A solar eclipse occurs when the moon moves directly between the Earth and the Sun. So even though the moon is about 400 times smaller than the Sun, it's also about 400 times closer to us, which means the two appear almost exactly the same size in our sky. And that's an incredible coincidence. In fact, as far as we know, Earth is the only planet in our solar system where this happens so perfectly. When those three bodies line up just right, the moon blocks some or all of the sun's light. And that alignment can happen in several different ways, which is why we have a whole family of solar eclipses. And we can start with the one that everyone hopes to see. That's the total solar eclipse. During a total solar eclipse, the moon completely covers the sun's bright surface. So for a few brief minutes, daytime becomes twilight and the stars become visible. Planets can appear, and the sun's outer atmosphere, called the corona, becomes visible as a glowing crown almost like surrounding the moon. And this is one of the only times we can safely see the corona without specialized equipment. Historically, total solar eclipses have inspired everything from scientific breakthroughs to absolute panic. Ancient Chinese records describe eclipses thousands of years ago, and some cultures believed celestial dragons were swallowing the sun. Norse mythology tells of the wolves Skull and Hadi chasing the sun and moon across the sky, occasionally catching them before the cycle began again. In parts of India, eclipses became associated with the demon Rahu, whose story is still woven into Hindu mythology today. Among the Celtic and pagan communities, eclipses were often viewed with caution rather than celebration. And while there isn't strong evidence for a single universal Celtic eclipse tradition, many of the folklore accounts suggest that these unexpected darkenings were seen as moments when the boundaries between the ordinary world and the other world felt less predictable. People often paused their work, stayed close to home, and waited for the familiar order of the sky to return. Across parts of Eastern Europe, eclipses were frequently woven into folk magic and protective customs. Families sometimes would cover their wells, they'd bring their livestock indoors, they would postpone important decisions, and they would even carry protective herbs such as garlic or mugwort or St. John's wart. Some traditions encouraged prayers or the making of protective signs over their homes that reflected a belief that unusual celestial events called for extra spiritual awareness. If we look at the Afro and Caribbean traditions that are included in some of the lineages of voodoo and voodoo, eclipses are generally approached with a deep respect rather than treated as opportunities for magical work. While practices vary tremendously between the communities and the initiatory traditions, eclipses are often viewed as spiritually significant periods when observation, prayer, ancestor reverence, and quiet reflection are preferred over attempting any kind of direct magical energy. As with many initiatory traditions, specific eclipse practices are typically passed directly from teacher to student rather than being broadly published. Many rulers interpreted eclipses as messages about their kingdoms, about impending war or potential leadership changes, because the sun represented stability and power and life itself. And that's understandable. If the brightest object in the sky suddenly disappears in the middle of the day, most people would assume something extraordinary was happening. Today, we understand the orbital mechanics behind eclipses, but that hasn't diminished their emotional impact. Many modern spiritual practitioners view solar eclipses as moments of accelerated change, unexpected opportunities, and course corrections, or just entirely new beginnings. Astrologers often describe them as new moons with the volume turned up, suggesting that they can coincide with chapters of life opening more quickly than expected. And again, opinions vary. Some practitioners love working with eclipse energy, others prefer to just observe it rather than actively manifest, believing that eclipses already carry enough momentum without adding additional intention. Personally, I kind of use the eclipses as checkpoints, right? If life has been moving in a direction that feels exciting and aligned, I see an eclipse as an opportunity to maybe make a bigger leap forward than I normally would. What might just be a step forward might be a bigger jump. But it makes me a little bit more confident moving forward. But if on the other hand, things have felt uncertain or heavy or just a little bit off lately, I don't feel pressured to force anything during an eclipse. Instead, I take it as a reminder to just pause and observe what's unfolding, and I give myself permission to let the dust settle before making any big decisions. Nature has already planned the spectacle, so sometimes our only job is to just pay attention to what it's trying to show us. Now, that said, if you're someone who enjoys weaving lunar events into your spiritual practice, there are plenty of meaningful ways to honor an eclipse that don't involve trying to manifest your next big goal. Some people spend the time journaling about what's shifted in their lives since the previous eclipse season. Others meditate or practice divination with their tower or oracle cards or light a simple candle for clarity, or just sit quietly in nature, offering gratitude to ancestors. Um, it could be a great time to cleanse your altar after the eclipse is passed and just sort of help move that energy along, or just spend a couple of uninterrupted minutes observing the sky and appreciating the incredible alignment that's unfolding overhead. Sometimes I think the most meaningful magical practice isn't trying to change the moment, it's allowing the moment to change you. So now total solar eclipses receive the most of the attention, but they're actually one member of a much larger family. We talked a little bit already about lunar eclipses, right? So unlike a solar eclipse where the moon is blocking the sunlight from reaching us, a lunar eclipse happens when Earth moves between the sun and the moon and casts the Earth's shadow across the moon. If you've listened earlier when we were talking about the blood moons, you'll remember a total lunar eclipse creates that beautiful reddish glow. But total lunar eclipses aren't the only possibility. Throughout history, lunar eclipses often inspired a very different emotional response than the solar eclipses. The sun disappearing in the middle of the day could feel immediate and alarming, but a lunar eclipse unfolded more slowly. People watched the Earth's shadow gradually move across the moon, and that gave them time to wonder about what it meant. In Mesopotamia, some of the earliest recorded eclipse observations came from the Babylonian astronomers. They became remarkably skilled at predicting lunar eclipses, yet many of them were still viewed as significant omens, especially for those kings and rulers. So, as I mentioned before, historical records describe occasions when a temporary substitute king would symbolically take the throne during an eclipse so that any misfortune foretold by the heavens would fall upon the substitute rather than the actual ruler. And I love that because I think it's fascinating how no matter the times, people they just don't change. But it's one of the earliest examples of astronomy and spiritual belief existing side by side. We talked a little bit about the Celtic regions for the blood moon, but just lunar eclipses in general often became woven into that folklore rather than formal mythology. So again, we've got limited Celtic eclipse ritual history, but the folk traditions they describe eclipses as nights when the veil between the worlds was thinner or when unseen forces were believed to be especially active. So rather than rushing into those magical workings, many traditions just emphasized observation and protection and allowing the unusual night to just pass before beginning anything new. In parts of Italy and the wider Mediterranean, eclipses were frequently met with curiosity and caution. Regional folklore would sometimes encourage people to pray or remain indoors or avoid beginning any kind of important work or just to make protective gestures over their children and gardens and livestock and whatever they valued until the eclipse ended. Like so many folk customs, these practices reflected a desire to maintain harmony during moments when nature appeared to step outside its usual rhythm. The Eastern European folk traditions, they carried a similar sense of respect. A lot of communities believed eclipses temporarily disrupted the natural balance of the world, so they responded by carrying their protective herbs, saying prayers, and delaying major decisions, or just waiting until the moon had fully returned before resuming ordinary activities. Rather than fearing the eclipse itself, many just viewed it as a reminder to move thoughtfully instead of impulsively. And today our understanding has changed considerably. We know that a lunar eclipse is simply the Earth's shadow moving across the moon, and even so, these nights continue to inspire reflection. Modern spiritual practitioners often associate the lunar eclipses with the release and completion, revelation and forgiveness, and emotional clarity, and they allow old patterns to come to a natural close. If a solar eclipse is connected with beginnings, then a lunar eclipse is frequently connected with the endings that create space for something new. Again, opinions differ. Some witches and astrologers intentionally avoid spell work during eclipses, preferring to just observe them and just direct the energy that they view as already being in motion. Others embrace eclipse energy for releasing habits or clearing emotional baggage, ending unhealthy patterns, doing ancestor work or shadow work, different types of divination or meditation, or just sitting quietly with whatever insights naturally arise. And yes, some people also make eclipse moonwater. Personally, I don't think eclipse magic has to involve elaborate rituals. A tarot reading focused on what you're ready to release works great. Writing something down that you're prepared to let go of and then burning the paper afterwards, yes, you know I love a good fire. But um, you can meditate beneath the eclipsed moon or refresh your altar after the eclipse is passed to clear out the energy of it. Um, offer gratitude to your ancestors, or just spend the time outside enjoying one of nature's rarest events. These all feel like meaningful ways to honor the experience without feeling pressured to do something simply because an eclipse is happening. Now there's also a partial lunar eclipse. We'll have one of those later this month, and that happens when only part of the moon enters Earth's darkest shadow. Instead of turning completely red, you'll often see a dark, curved shadow slowly moving across the moon's surface. It's almost as though someone is gradually dimming one side while leaving the other untouched. Historically, these events were usually interpreted much the same way as total lunar eclipses because people naturally focused on the visible change rather than how much of the moon was covered. Modern practitioners often approach them similarly as well. Some see partial eclipses as representing gradual release. Ongoing transformation is another one that's usually associated with it, or recognizing that meaningful change doesn't happen all at once. Personally, I like that last interpretation the best, that not every chapter closes in a single evening. Sometimes it's unfolding one small step at a time. There's also the penumbral lunar eclipse, and that's sort of the quietest member of the eclipse family. If you've ever looked up after hearing there was a lunar eclipse and thought, I don't see anything, there's a good chance that was a penumbral eclipse. Um, the earth casts two shadows. The darker central shadow is called the umbra, and the lighter outer shadow is called the penumbra. And during a penumbral lunar eclipse, the moon is passing only through that lighter outer shadow. So instead of a dramatic color change or obvious shadows, the moon is just appearing a little bit dimmer or slightly muted, like maybe you need to clean your glasses. But um, you don't, it's the moon. Um, some penumbral eclipses are very subtle and people don't even notice anything at all unless someone points it out to them. I think that's part of their charm. Not every remarkable event announces itself dramatically. So some changes are just visible when you know where to look for them. Whether your approach to eclipses is through astronomy or history or astrology or witchcraft, or just because you love spending time under the night sky, they all remind us of something that humanity has understood for thousands of years. When something familiar behaves in an unfamiliar way, we pay attention and ask questions and we tell stories, and perhaps most importantly, we remember to look up. Now, as fascinating as eclipses are, the moon has another way of surprising us that has nothing to do with shadows at all. Sometimes it's just the calendar itself playing tricks. So we've talked a little bit about the moon changing color and when it disappears, but let's look at something that's not really caused by the moon at all. It's caused by us, or more specifically, our calendars. And one of my favorite things about studying the moon is discovering that sometimes the moon isn't the confusing part. We are. It's us. I'm the problem, it's me. Okay. Anyway, the moon has just been following essentially the same rhythm for billions of years. It's not paying attention to our months, it doesn't know when January ends or February begins. It's not trying to fit neatly inside a planner or a wall calendar. It's just doing its thing. It continues to orbit the Earth every 29 and a half days. And the challenge is that our calendar wasn't built around this cycle. The Gregorian calendar, which much of the world uses today, was designed around the Earth's journey around the sun. Months are 28, 30, or 31 days long, while a lunar cycle averages about 29 and a half days. So those two rhythms are really close, but they're not identical. And over time they drift apart. So every now and then that mismatched creates what feels like a bonus moon. Nothing unusual is happening in the sky, the moon hasn't changed, our calendar is just struggling to keep up. So we'll start with the blue moon. We talked about it earlier. It's one of the ways that the moon seems to break the rules. And we also talked about why people keep arguing about it online. Because when you search blue moon, you get those two different answers. The definition that most people recognize today is the second full moon in a in a single calendar month. But the more traditional meaning is based on how seasons usually contain three full moons. But when it contains four, rather than shifting the traditional names assigned to the moons, the third full moon of the four moon season becomes known as a blue moon. And for me, I take both definitions as correct. I think that's that's part of their charm. Um, you know, sometimes language evolves and traditions overlap, and there isn't one perfect answer. But let's look at the moon's the blue moon's darker counterpart, and that's the black moon. A black moon is essentially the new moon version of a blue moon. Instead of involving full moons, it involves new moons. So just like blue moons, there are two accepted definitions. The one where two new moons happen in one calendar month might be referred to as a black moon, and then the secondary version where there are four new moons in a single season, and the third one we refer to as a black moon. I know the internet loves debating which definition is right. And personally, I don't think that's the most interest interesting question. The more interesting question is why people have become so fascinated by these extra moons in the first place. And I think it's because humans naturally notice anything that feels like a bonus: an extra day, an extra hour, after like the the clocks change, or an extra paycheck in the month, or an extra opportunity. Blue moons and black moons carry some of that same emotional feeling. So whether they're defined by the Gregorian calendar or by the changing seasons, they just feel like we've been given a little something extra. Spiritually, practitioners embrace blue moons as opportunities for gratitude, celebration, abundance, or bringing long-term projects to completion. Black moons often become associated with deeper reflection, resetting intentions, beginning again, or creating space before the next cycle unfolds. Those interpretations aren't based on astronomy, they're symbolic, and symbolism has always been one of the ways humans connect meaningfully without repeating the patterns in nature. And what I appreciate is that both the monthly and seasonal definitions point toward the same underlying idea that sometimes the rhythm just gives us one more chance, one more full moon to celebrate what is grown, one more new moon to begin again, and one more opportunity to pause and reflect and realign before the cycle moves forward. So whether you personally work with lunar energy or just enjoy paying attention to the night sky, I think there's something comforting about that perspective. So instead of arguing over which definition is correct, let's just appreciate both versions remind us that the calendar is not perfect. Nature is not trying to fit neatly into the boxes we've created. And every now and then the moon just reminds us who's really setting the schedule. So while calendars occasionally make it seem like we've gained an extra moon, sometimes the moon itself really does change. Not in color, not by disappearing, but simply by appearing a lot. Closer or farther away. So I think most of us grow up thinking the moon follows exactly the same path around Earth every month. In reality, its orbit isn't a perfect circle. If I'm remembering ninth grade Earth science correctly, it is moving in an ellipse. And Mr. Kardonsky, if you're out there, look at that. I remembered something from your class. You just thought I was sleeping. Anyway. But the ellipse is slightly oval, which means the moon is constantly changing its distance from us. Not by an enormous amount, but enough that we can notice the difference under the right conditions. So when a full moon happens while the moon is at or very near the closest point in its orbit around Earth, we call it a supermoon. And the scientific term for that closest point is perigee. Now, supermoon isn't official astronomically as terms go. It was actually coined by an astrologer in the late 20th century and quickly caught on because let's be honest, it sounds a lot more exciting than saying perigee syzygy. I will happily say supermoon until the cows come home. I think most people do. Because the moon is closer during a supermoon, it appears a little bit larger and a little brighter than an average full moon. So before you start imagining a giant moon filling half the sky, the difference, while it is noticeable, is pretty subtle. A supermoon can appear about 14% larger and roughly 30% brighter than a full moon that occurs near the moon's furthest point from the Earth. So if you compare photographs taken under the same conditions, the difference becomes pretty obvious. But if you're just walking outside, looking up without anything to compare it to, the change is a lot more modest. And that doesn't make it any less beautiful. Spiritually, supermoons are often associated with heightened emotions, amplified intentions, and bringing extra energy to whatever phase the moon is already in. So a super new moon might be viewed as strengthening new beginnings, while a super full moon is often connected with celebration and gratitude and release and bringing something a little bit bigger to completion. One practice I really enjoy during a supermoon has very little to do with the moon itself, but I just like to slow down and notice the details because we're seeing things a little bit more closely and a little bit more illuminated. So the little things that I've been too busy to appreciate, maybe it's just having a pen when I need it or a progress on a project that seemed impossible a few months ago and now I've already moved along on it. Or maybe it's a small habit that I managed to make part of my routine and it doesn't even feel like a habit anymore. Um it's just, it's just an is. But super moons feel like nature turns up the brightness just enough to remind us that sometimes the most meaningful growth that we have has been there all along, and that you haven't stopped long enough to notice it until now. So let's travel to the opposite end of the moon's orbit. And that's when the full moon occurs while the moon is near its furthest point from the earth. We call that a micro moon. And the farthest point away is called an apogee. So a micro moon appears slightly smaller and slightly dimmer than average. Again, the difference isn't dramatic unless you're comparing side-by-side photographs or observing them carefully over time. You probably won't notice it much at all. And that's okay. The moon isn't trying to put on a performance every month. Sometimes it's just a little closer and sometimes it's a little further away. The micro moons don't receive nearly as much attention as supermoons, but I think that's a little unfair because there's something really calming about a micro moon. If supermoons are inviting us to zoom in and notice all the details, micro moons are inviting us to zoom out, right? There's nights when I like to ask myself bigger questions. And the micro moon is really, to me, the perfect time to do it. It's the time to ask if I've been spending my energy on what matters most, or have I gotten so caught up in day-to-day that I've lost sight of the bigger picture. Um, a lot of times, too, it's a good time to do a little check-in on what you've been worrying about because maybe it's not as important as it seems if you look at it in terms of a month from now, a year from now, or something bigger. I think creating a little distance is exactly what brings clarity. And the moon hasn't changed in any of this, it's just your perspective on it. So one thing I find especially interesting is how often our eyes trick us when the moon is seemingly up close or far away. Like if you've ever noticed the moon sometimes looks huge because it's coming up over the horizon. And you as I or I've always assumed it was a supermoon. Sometimes it is, but most of the time it's not. It's something called moon illusion. And we will talk about that a little later on, but just want to make sure we're not confusing that with the supermoon because it's usually not quite so noticeable. Um, but yeah, and the next thing I think up until now, every lunar rule breaker that we've talked about has been something that you could actually look up and see. It could be a blood moon, a supermoon, an eclipse, an extra full moon on your calendar. But this next group is different. These aren't things you'll see in the sky. You can't point to them and you can't photograph them, but they do help us understand why many of the moon's fascinating events happen in the first place. And they become surprisingly important in astrology and a lot of modern practices. So let's start with one that can often confuse people, and that's the void of course moon. If you've spent time reading astrological forecasts, you've probably come across one you've seen either void of course moon or a VOC. It sounds very mysterious and maybe even a little ominous. In reality, it's a lot simpler than it sounds. So as the moon travels through the zodiac, it forms a series of geometric relationships called aspects with the other planets. And eventually the moon reaches a point where it won't make any more major aspects before leaving its current zodiac sign. That period of time is called the void of course moon. Sometimes it lasts just a few minutes, sometimes it's a couple of hours, and sometimes it can go even longer. So astronomically, nothing visible has changed. The moon looks the same, it's the moon's relationship to the rest of the sky that's shifted. The concept comes to us through Hellenistic astrology, where astrologers observed that periods without major planetary aspects often seem to correspond with times when plans kind of wandered off course, conversations changed direction unexpectedly, or events just didn't unfold the way people anticipated. Traditional astrology often describes the void of course periods in exactly the same way, not as bad, just less predictable. Some astrologers avoid signing contracts, launching businesses, making major purchases, or beginning important projects during a void of course moon, and others don't worry about it at all. Personally, I think this is one of those areas where it's helpful to hold things with a little perspective. If your baby is born during a void of course moon, that is wonderful. If your dream job calls while the moon happens to be void of course, please answer the phone. Astrology has always been about observing patterns, not creating fear around everyday life. So as a magical practice, I like using the void of course moon periods for things that don't require forcing momentum. They're good times for meditation and tidying up. I'm a Virgo, it's always a good time to tidy up, but cleansing your space out, organizing your tarot journal, or reading, reflecting, or just taking a break, if everything feels a little less driven during the VOC, maybe that's the invitation. Not to stop living, just to stop rushing. So let's move to something else that's fascinated astronomers and astrologers and mystics for thousands of years. And those are the lunar nodes. Unlike planets, the lunar nodes aren't physical objects, they're mathematical points. So remember how we talked about eclipses requiring the sun, earth, and moon to line up almost perfectly? Well, that perfect alignment can only happen because the moon's orbit crosses Earth's orbital path at the two specific locations. So those crossing points are called the north node and the south node. If the moon passes near one of those nodes during a new moon or a full moon, we have the possibility of an eclipse. Without the nodes, no eclipses. So astronomically, they're simply points where two orbital paths intersect. Astrologically, they've taken on a little bit deeper symbolism. The north node is usually associated with growth and learning and future direction and stepping into unfamiliar experiences, whereas the south node is more connected to what's already familiar, things that are existing in your in like in your strengths, things that you're really good at, old patterns, and things that you might be ready to release. Interestingly, these points have inspired mythology across many cultures. So in Indian astrology, they're known as Rahu and Keitu, the immortal serpent, whose story also explains the eclipses. Medieval European astrologers called them the dragon's head and the dragon's tail, and names that you still see in older astrology texts today. As a magical practice, I like to think of the nodes as wonderful journaling prompts because the north node emphasizes like where am I being invited to grow? And the south node is asking, what am I carrying that I've already outgrown? So whether you interpret them symbolically or not, I do think it's interesting that eclipses, the moments when the moon seems to break the rules the most dramatically, can only happen because of these invisible crossing points. Sometimes the biggest events grow from things we can't actually see. And that actually brings us to two cycles that are quietly organizing many of the moon's most spectacular events. So one of them is if you've ever wondered how astronomers can predict eclipses, years or decades or even centuries in advance, this is one of those reasons. This is called the sorrow cycle. And it's a repeating pattern of approximately 18 years, 11 days, and eight hours, but who's counting? After one sorrow cycle passes, the sun, earth, and moon return to nearly the same relative positions. That means eclipses begin repeating in remarkably similar ways. Not identical, but very closely related. And those ancient Babylonian astronomers, they recognized this pattern more than 2,000 years ago just by recording eclipse after eclipse over generations. Now just think about that for a second. They didn't have any telescopes or computers or satellites. They just watched and observed and generation after generation would do it. So it wasn't even like, oh, there's a manual, like we're gonna have it, you know, keep going. Like people chose to do this generation after generation and maintain these records until the pattern revealed itself. And it's one of the earliest examples of humanity discovering that even the most dramatic events in the sky weren't random, but there was a rhythm to it. The metonic cycle is another rhythm that's quietly working in the background. It spans about 19 years. And after 19 years, the phases of the moon occur on nearly the same calendar dates again. And that's why so many lunar calendars, religious observances, and holidays, including the calculation of Easter, still rely on this remarkable cycle. So, like the sorrow cycle, you won't see the Metonic cycle when you step outside. It's something we notice only by paying attention over years instead of hours. And I think that's one of the reasons I love studying the moon, because some lessons appear all at once and others will only reveal themselves after years of observation. So whether you're interested in astronomy, astrology, witchcraft, or just appreciating the incredible rhythms of the natural world, these invisible patterns remind us that not everything important announces itself dramatically. Some of the most fascinating connections are just unfolding quietly all around us. We just have to know where to look. And speaking of looking, let's finish today's episode with a few of my favorite lunar surprises. Not because the moon changes, but because moonlight has a wonderful way of playing tricks on us. And that's our final group of rule breakers. Um, they aren't eclipses or extra moons. The moon isn't actually changing color or getting bigger. Instead, our atmosphere and our perspective and even the way sunlight travels through space create some really beautiful illusions. They're little reminders that sometimes the night sky has a wonderful sense of humor. So let's start with one you've probably seen without realizing it had a name. And that is the moon halo. So if you've ever looked up and noticed that perfect glowing ring around the moon, that is a moon halo. Unlike a rainbow, which forms from water droplets, a halo forms when moonlight passes through millions of tiny ice crystals very high in the Earth's atmosphere. Those crystals bend the light in a very specific way, creating a luminous circle around the moon. People have noticed moon halos for thousands of years, long before weather satellites, communities would believe a ring around the moon meant rain or snow was on the way. Interestingly, there is actually a little truth hiding inside that old saying, because the thin high clouds that contain those ice crystals often arrive ahead of approaching weather systems. So while the halo itself isn't predicting the weather, it can be an early sign that changing conditions are moving in. Spiritually, moon halos are often associated with protection, heightened intuition, or the feeling that something meaningful is unfolding or something big is about to happen. Honestly, I just think that they are breathtaking to look at. Sometimes beauty doesn't need much interpretation. Sometimes it's just enough to appreciate it. Now, don't confuse a moon halo with a lunar corona. They look similar at first glance, but they're created differently. A corona appears much closer to the moon and often shows these soft rings of color. Instead of the large ice crystals, coronas form when moonlight passes through very tiny water droplets in in like these thin clouds. And the light bends and interferes with itself, producing delicate circles that can shimmer with like subtle blues and reds and golds. And they're often a lot smaller than halos, and they can change really, really fast as the clouds move across the sky. But if halos feel crisp and geometric, coronas feel more like soft and like they were painted. Um, and then there's the moonbow. If you've never heard of a moon bow, you're not alone. A moon bow is exactly what it sounds like it's a rainbow created by moonlight instead of sunlight. So they're quite rare because they require several conditions to happen at the exact same time. You need a really bright moon, moisture in the air, usually from mist or if you're near waterfalls, and a very dark sky. So to our eyes, moon bows often appear almost white because moonlight is much dimmer than sunlight. But long exposure photographs reveal their beautiful colors much more clearly. If you ever get a chance, there's some really cool creators on Instagram that do the time-lapse videos and um and you can really catch them there. I think moonbows are just one of those delightful reminders that nature still has surprises waiting for us. Even something as familiar as a rainbow has a nighttime version. And then let's look at something a little more subtle. Um, have you ever noticed that during a thin crescent moon, you can sometimes faintly see the rest of the moon's outline glowing in the darkness? That soft glow is called earth shine. It happens because sunlight reflects off of the earth, travels to the moon, and then gently illuminates the portion that isn't receiving direct sunlight. So, in other words, the earth is shining back onto the moon. I love that. Leonardo da Vinci was one of the first people to correctly explain Earth shine hundreds of years ago. And before then, many people just accepted it as another mystery of the night sky. But sometimes you'll hear Earthshine called the old moon in the new moon's arms, which I think is one of the most poetic names in astronomy. Um and then let's tackle another thing that we sort of touched on when we were talking about supermoons. It's something I think everyone's experienced. It's when the moon rises over the horizon and suddenly looks enormous. People start taking pictures. No, I still can't get those right either. Don't worry. Um, but someone will say, wow, that must be a supermoon. And sometimes they're right. But most of the time, what they're looking at is called moon illusion. And the moon itself hasn't changed size. Your brain kind of has, or at least its perception. When the moon is low on the horizon, your mind is comparing it to the trees and the buildings and the mountains and everything else around it. So those familiar objects make the moon appear much larger than it really is. Then as it climbs higher into the sky and those visual reference points disappear, the moon suddenly seems much smaller. It's one of those old optical illusions that humans have just noticed for years and still can't quite wrap their brains around it. Even today, scientists are still studying exactly why we interpret them this way. And then here's one that surprised me when I first learned about it. Because most of us hear that the moon always keeps the same side facing Earth. And that's true mostly because of a gentle rocking motion called liberation, we actually get little glimpses around the edges of the moon over time. So by the end of the year, we've seen nearly 59% of the lunar surface instead of exactly half. It's almost like the moon slowly peaks around the corner every now and again. And finally, let's end with two quick sky watching terms you'll probably hear from time to time. An occultation happens when the moon passes directly in front of another object in the sky that temporarily hides it from view. That object might be a bright star or even a planet. It can feel a little like watching the moon play hide and seek across the sky. The other is a conjunction. And this, on the other hand, is more when um two celestial objects appear close together from our perspective on Earth. So, like the moon beside Venus or the Moon beside Jupiter, they're not actually close together in space. They only appear that way from where we're standing. So they're often some of the most beautiful nights to step outside and look up. One of the things that I love most about this entire group is that none of these moments ask us to memorize anything. They just invite us to notice a ring around the moon, a rainbow at night, a crescent softly lit by reflected earthlight. They're all just small surprises that are tucked into an object that we've been watching our entire lives. And I think that's why I'm so fond of the little tricksters, because they remind me that even after thousands of years of watching the same moon, there's always something new to notice every time I look at it. And I'm just so thankful for. That. And speaking of gratitude, before we wrap up today, let's take one small moment together. Wherever you are right now, if you are walking the dog or enjoying your quiet hours or washing out your jars to make some eclipse water, or just having my least favorite conversation of the day, what's for dinner? Just take a slow breath in and a slow breath out. Today we have talked about all the ways the moon occasionally breaks the rules, the moments when it turns red or seems to disappear or looks bigger or smaller, or when our calendars can't quite keep up with it. And even the little tricks of light that remind us the night sky still has a few surprises up its sleeve. As you sit with that for just a moment, I'd invite you to feel gratitude for the opportunity to keep wondering, for living in a time when we can appreciate both the science that explains these incredible events and a sense of awe that they continue to inspire. For the people throughout history who carefully watched the skies and shared what they observed and passed those stories forward so we could continue learning from them today. And finally, gratitude for every excuse the moon gives us to pause and to step outside and look up and share a moment with family and friends or complete strangers who all happen to be watching the very same sky. I hope the next time you hear someone mention a blood moon or a supermoon or a blue moon or an eclipse, you'll understand a little more about what's happening overhead. And more importantly, I hope you'll take a minute to experience it for yourself, to align your magic with it, and really just feel a part of something so much bigger than you. After all, some of the most memorable moments beneath the night sky aren't the ones we read about later. They're the ones that we just remember to look up for. So if today's episode resonated with you, I hope the next time the moon does something unexpected, you'll be able to step outside for a few minutes and experience it for yourself. At the beginning of this episode, we talked about how our ancestors came to depend on the moon because it was one of the few constants they could count on. And maybe that's why it's those rare moments that still capture our attention today. Not because they happen often, but because they remind us that even the most familiar things can still surprise us. If you'd like to keep living alongside those lunar rhythms, my book, My Lunar Year 2026, is available in print on Amazon. And the companion digital pages are released throughout the year inside the Lightful Witch Circle on Patreon. I'm already hard at work on the 2027 edition, and I'm also incredibly excited that the By the Light of the Moon daily series that we do on Facebook and Instagram. And then we also have that eight-day forecast free in our Lightful Library. I know a lot of you follow along with it. So very exciting news. It will be getting its own bound companion book for 2027 as well. So the two books pair together beautifully, especially if you're like me and just enjoy following every phase of the moon, even the rule breakers. So with that, I would say keep looking up. Take good care of yourself, keep finding your own magic in motion. And until the next time, if you'd like more ways to weave magic into the motion of your life, you can find me on Facebook at the Lightful Witch or in my Lightful Witches circle on Patreon. Be sure to check out the free Lightful Library where I share lunar practices, journaling prompts, tarot spreads, spell work, shadow work, and practical tools for living a little bit more intentionally. You can listen to Magic in Motion on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and wherever you like to listen. And if you enjoy working with the rhythms of the season, my books and journals are available on Amazon. Until the next time, remember how bright your light is and notice the magic you bring to whatever you choose to shine it on, whether you're taking a quiet pause or moving through your life in motion. This is Cat Formasano, the Lightful Witch, wishing you a day filled with light.