New Moon in Taurus: This Body, This Garden

Honoring the Earth element, sacred pleasure, and the roots of your becoming

👋 Hi, I’m Anaïs. Cycle & Ceremony is my lunar ritual newsletter, a rhythm of reflection, seasonal practice, and sacred re-entry. I write about living in tune with the moon, with your spirit, and with the cycles that don’t always make sense on a calendar.

🌿 If you're seeking slower, soul-rooted tools for moving through change, this space is for you. My work weaves together ritual, mysticism, and psychospiritual guidance. It's not about perfection. It's about practice.

🌓 You’re reading a moon letter, part of a bi-monthly rhythm that arrives on the New & Full Moons. Each post includes reflection, affirmations, ritual, and a deeper offering inside The Inner Tide (for paid subscribers).

🪐 Read time: ~7 minutes
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Healing is not linear.

Lately, it’s been slow. Frustrating. Sometimes tender, sometimes hollow.
Three steps forward, two steps back, slow movement.

This Taurus New Moon meets us in a threshold:
the space between freedom and revelation.
We’re no longer who we were,
we are not yet who we’re becoming.
And this moment asks us to live there anyway, finding the pleasure in this in-between.

Taurus is the part of us that wants what’s real.
About nourishing something can actually nourish us.
It speaks through the body, through the earth, through pleasure, through the rhythms of tending: a good meal, a soft sweater, a bill paid on time, a garden watered before it wilts.
It doesn’t care about big visions or spiritual highs if your feet aren’t on the ground.
It asks:

What’s worth nourishing?
What kind of life are you growing and not just dreaming of?
What feels safe enough to grow roots in?
Are your days shaped by your values, or your fears?
Can you slow down enough to feel what's actually working?

This lunation isn’t soft.
It comes with tension: a T-square between the New Moon, Mars in Leo, and Pluto in Aquarius.
That means pressure. Friction.
You might feel pulled between urgency and transformation,
between the need to act and the need to let go.
Mars wants motion. Pluto wants depth.
Together, they push us to confront what’s no longer nourishing and to stop pretending we can carry it all.
It comes with clarity too, if we’re willing to feel it through the body first.

This is a moon of manifestation,
just not the kind you post on your vision board and forget.
This is manifestation through maintenance.
Through small choices. Through alignment over time.
Through what you tend when no one’s watching.
It’s a moon of grounded action.
Of quiet course correction.
Of noticing what you’ve been tending unconsciously and deciding if it still deserves your care.

The energy is not one of blooming.
It’s to cultivate, to nourish
to move slowly, intentionally,
toward what feels rooted, rhythmic, and real.

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🌑 Living by the Moon

A rhythm check-in for the body, altar, and breath

As I sat down to write this lunar love letter, I found myself inside the very themes of this lunation: slowness, steady progress, and the quiet ache of patience.

As someone who is learning (and relearning) patience, how to move slowly without judgment, this is not a neutral pace for me.
As a neurodivergent person, patience means trusting the natural web of pattern recognition and action to weave itself without forcing the thread.
As someone healing from physical trauma, it means being with my body as it is now, not as it once was, or as I wish it to be.

There is grief in that. There is also beauty.
Because even if we’re not where we want to be, we’re still here.
And there’s something sacred about meeting the moment as it is, no matter how in-between it feels.

There’s a myth that stillness means nothing is happening.
Ask the seed. Ask the roots. Ask the body mid-healing.

This Taurus New Moon, grounded in Earth, arriving through tension, reminds us that some growth is so quiet, it looks like rest.

This moon doesn’t ask you to leap.
It asks you to plant.
To feel into the weight of what you’re choosing, not just once, but again and again.
To begin something worth tending.

There’s pressure here (the square with Mars and Pluto).
It might feel like urgency, like a push to act or figure it all out.
But the invitation isn’t to sprint. It’s to act from alignment.

What’s mine to carry forward? And what was I only holding out of habit?

🜃 Elemental Focus: Earth

This lunation is ruled by earth, she lives in the body. She is a ritual moon. A sacred-simplicity moon.
Earth invites you to come back to what is real, tactile, and sustaining.

Your ritual can be rooted:

• Making a slow meal with your hands

• Sweep the floor with care (turn it into a clearing ritual)

• Tend to your altar with fresh herbs, stones, or soil

• Touching your body with reverence instead of critique

• Walking barefoot, or pressing your hands into soil

Earth doesn’t ask for drama.
It asks for devotion.
For small acts repeated.
For trust in what grows slowly and lasts.

✍️ Journal Prompt

What am I ready to plant not as a wish, for tending?

💬 Affirmation

I choose soil that nourishes my roots and honors my growth.

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🌊 The Inner Tide

A deeper ritual container for paid subscribers

🕯️ Altar Invitation