Before we get into the Full Moon, a quick announcement that the third cohort of The Grove: Spring/Summer 2026 officially opens for registration tomorrow, and will kick off on March 1st of this year. For folks in need of spiritual direction, of community with like-hearted artists and writers, of an external container to enforce an anti-capitalist slow-down: this is for you. The Grove is a six-month, community-oriented container for gentle, seasonally driven spiritual direction and creative devotion, led and facilitated by myself and my wife Meg Jones Wall (aka 3am.tarot). More coming tomorrow.
And now, for the Full Moon.
The Full Moon is exact at 13 degrees of Leo, at 5:09pm Eastern.
Coming off an opposition to Mars just prior, it’ll spend the rest of the night moving toward an opposition with Venus, carrying solar virtues into the realm of art. The sun brings visibility and casts out the darkest shadows. In order to treat the wound, we must see it fully. The sun is the burn of cauterization, the heat of warming that which had frozen. The sun’s light heals; to bear witness is a powerful, potent thing. This is the medicine of Sol.
It is also the medicine of a Leo moon. Leo is the courageous lionheart which itself is ruled by the sun. When we have a lunation in the sun’s own sign, there is extra potency to its themes.
And I’ve been thinking about the sun a lot lately. In part, because of the sunshine song from Heated Rivalry (aka “I’ll Believe in Anything” by Wolf Parade). In part, because I’m waiting on notes from my editor on the literal ~sun chapter~ of the forthcoming Astrology for Artists — the most foundational chapter of the book. In part, because I’m thinking about my upcoming D&D game, where my light cleric’s name is literally Lucy Sunshine. And in part because I’ve been engaging in intentional solar devotion since winter 2024.
When I say I’ve been “doing solar work,” what I mean is that I’ve been working on my capacity for visibility — and everything that topic brings up. The wounds are many, and I’ve yet to touch the bottom. There’s the belief from my evangelical upbringing that to receive any glory for myself rather than God was sinful. The “no, you first; I couldn’t possibly take up space —” instinct instilled in AFAB folks and women generally (also see the online saying, “I did a thing”). Formative, painful experiences of sudden virality (and subsequent hate mail) on 2010s Tumblr and Twitter. And of course, leaving my abusive evangelical marriage and coming out as queer, experiences detailed in Heretic which cost me countless friends and family.
For all that writing a memoir is profound solar work, I fear that writing one didn’t solve my (12th house sun) insecurities. If anything, it shone a brighter light on exactly what needed to be “done.” Turns out that Attention and Visibility, Authenticity and Integrity are lifelong journeys with inextricably interconnected roots and wounds.
And the medicine for a deficit of visibility, or a discomfort with taking up space, is — of course — to practice being visible, to practice taking up space. The latest stage of my solar journey, such as it is, started with small steps in winter 2024, supported by the Golden Sol II: Sun Without Sin series from Sphere & Sundry (referral link). I’ve spent most of the last year knee-deep in a re-brand that has yet to be announced; the incubation and chrysalis metaphors are strong. Most recently, my efforts have been supported by Captolia’s #sickofmechallenge on Instagram. However, I’ve been an inconsistent participant in the challenge, in part because talking about my work when a city I used to live in is under occupation has felt impossible.
If the sun is about our relationship to visibility, then the moon in Leo highlights how our nervous system, our physical body, is able to hold and receive attention.
… something which is objectively harder to do when our nervous system is being actively fried by fascism.
Self-promotion can feel selfish when the world is burning.
Posting a selfie with your bestie can feel insignificant when the algorithm is dominated by breaking news that in any other year would occupy six months of a news cycle, but in 2026 is just the top of the hour.
The desire to even do or share art at all can feel non-existent when your neighborhood is putting together a rapid response team.
But if, as I said earlier, in order to treat the wound, we must see it fully, then it follows that artists are some of the people who help us see the whole g-d picture.
Artists and writers (including journalists) do inherently solar work that is, under fascism, inherently healing.
We show the full picture of what’s going on, like Don Lemon and Georgia Fort in Minneapolis and Bisan Owda in Palestine, reflecting society back to itself.
We process and compost and integrate and in so doing offer up anthems for resistance, like Bruce Springsteen’s haunting “Streets of Minneapolis” or ’s “The day a poet is murdered by ICE.”
We offer an alternative vision for the future, like — and I’m being so real — Heated Rivalry, with a decidedly Jupiter in Cancer-inflected hope for tomorrow.
Folks ask “give me your eyes / I need sunshine,” and we as artists provide, shining on a light on what’s wrong as well as what might yet be. Like mutual aid and community protection, it’s not on any one person to “solve” something; it’s all of us together, lifting each other up, supporting and sharing each others’ work.
This Full Moon in Leo, we need visionaries who aren’t afraid to throw out the old and start fresh with a blank canvas.
We need you(r) writing. We need you visible. Now more than ever, we need you taking up space, holding a lantern, and lighting the way.
Writing Prompts for the Full Moon in Leo
What about visibility is comfortable or uncomfortable to you? Where are you happy to take up space, and where do you struggle? What are one or two small ways in which you might practice Visibility over this next month?
Who do you love following, reading, watching, etc. in ~these times~? What artists or creators give you comfort, or inspire you, or help you make sense of what’s happening? Take a moment to reflect on what qualities draw you to these people in particular.
What were you beginning, initiating, thinking about, or realizing on/around the New Moon in Leo on July 24, 2025? How has your relationship to yourself, or to visibility and attention, shifted during that time?