It's the dying time of the solar year, but when the heat breaks here, I snap out of the malaise, and get inspired.
An idyllic shire-like image comes to mind of cozying up to an imaginary fire, to flesh out the story in my heart. I say imaginary, because I live in south Georgia, where fires are not usually made until January, if at all.
I like to think about what I'll do during the long dark nights, gestate something new. This Full Moon's sign is Aries, for flashes on fresh starts like that.
And for a surge of searing truth, that burns off the fog and heightens the sense of purpose.
It's closest to the Fall Equinox, so this one's called the Harvest Moon. Other names are the Travel, Hunter's and Dying Grass Moon.
I know of a courageous truth teller that has been caught in the authorities net, in Germany, for questioning aspects of history. He urged others to trust their instincts, to break out of the trances and spells of lies.
There's that kind of truth telling, the dangerous kind, in a time of universal deceit, a dark age of shouting down wrong think. And then there's the everyday courage to tell the truth, in relationships of all kinds. And that gets stoked now too.
This is the kind of Full Moon, where the truth packs a punch.