We’ve just passed through a blood moon eclipse—a celestial moment that, for some, marks a turning point. Whether or not you follow planetary shifts, there’s something undeniable in the air right now. A quiet rearranging. A slow shedding. A sense that what was misaligned is beginning to fall away, piece by piece.
I’ve felt it in subtle ways. The truths that were once blurred by rose-coloured glasses are coming into focus. The things I used to tolerate—out of habit, hope, or fear—are no longer sitting quietly in the background. They’re asking to be acknowledged, released, or reshaped.
Change rarely arrives with fanfare. More often, it shows up in the mundane:
• A sudden urge to clean out your wardrobe (which is what all my kids did, of their own accord).
• Rearranging a room that no longer feels like you (which I did to three rooms at once).
• Fixing a broken chair that’s been wobbling for months (also completed in this last week).
• Ending a conversation that’s been draining your spirit (admittedly, I still have one or two pending on this, but it's on my to-do list).
These small acts are not just chores—they’re signals. They’re the body’s way of saying, I’m ready to move forward, even if I don’t know where forward is yet.
But here’s the part that’s hardest to sit with: change takes time. And the in-between—the space between what was and what will be—is often uncomfortable. It’s the waiting room of transformation. You’re not who you were, but you’re not quite who you’re becoming. It’s tempting to rush it. To demand clarity. To want all the answers, all the shifts, all the healing now.
But if everything arrived at once, it would be too much. The beauty of change is in its pacing. The slow reveal. The way it teaches us to listen, to trust, to honour each step. Getting everything you want all at once might sound ideal, but it would rob you of the richness—the texture—of becoming.
If you’re in the midst of change, here are a few quiet rituals to help you stay grounded and open:
Clear One Small Space: Choose a drawer, a shelf, or a corner of your home. Let it reflect who you’re becoming—not who you were. This isn’t about perfection. It’s about intention.
Write a Letter to Your “In-Between” Self: Not your past self. Not your future self. Just the version of you who’s here now—waiting, wondering, unfolding. Let it be kind. Let it be honest. Hand writing it too, takes on another level of therapy.
Choose One Thing to Release: It could be a habit, a relationship, a belief, or even an object. Something that no longer fits. Let the act of releasing be ceremonial, even if it’s quiet.
Track the Subtle Shifts: Keep a small notebook or voice memo log of the tiny changes you notice. A new thought. A different reaction. A moment of clarity. These are the breadcrumbs of transformation.
Let the Moon Be Your Witness: Whether you believe in astrology or not, the moon is a powerful symbol of cycles. Let its phases remind you that change is natural, rhythmic, and never rushed.
So if you’re in that in-between space right now, know this: You’re not stuck, you’re unfolding.You’re not behind, you’re aligning.You’re not broken, you’re being remade.
Let the blood moon be a quiet witness to your transformation. Let the rearranged furniture, the cleared cupboards, the difficult goodbyes be proof that something is shifting. And let patience be your companion—not because waiting is easy, but because it’s sacred.
You don’t need to rush toward the next version of yourself. She’s already on her way. And when she arrives, she’ll feel like home.