The changing sky has always given people natural points for observing time. The Sun marks the days and seasons, the Moon measures shorter cycles, and annual events such as meteor showers reconnect us with patterns beyond our everyday lives.

Each New Moon marks the beginning of another lunar cycle. It gives us an opportunity to pause, reflect on what has become clear and decide where we want to direct our attention next.

My New Moon Practice brings this reflection into the body through movement. Each month has its own character, influenced by the tree period, zodiac sign and natural events surrounding that particular New Moon. The intention is to notice where we are within the wider cycles of the year, then choose a clear focus for the month ahead.

Within qigong, movement, breath and awareness support the smooth flow of Qi through the body. Every New Moon has a Yin quality, associated with darkness, reflection and turning our attention inward, but its balance changes with the season.

A summer New Moon carries more Yang than a New Moon in the darkness of winter because it arrives within longer days, greater warmth and increased activity. Leo adds further Yang through its connection with the Sun, fire, confidence and action.

This practice brings these qualities together: Yin gives us time to reflect and find clarity, while Yang gives us the mental and physical strength to act upon what we know.

Today, 12 August 2026, the New Moon in Leo arrives alongside a solar eclipse and the peak of the Perseid meteor shower. The New Moon occurs in London at 6:36 pm, with excellent conditions for seeing the Perseids later tonight, weather permitting.

Join the New Moon Practice

August New Moon

Today’s New Moon falls within the Hazel period of the modern Celtic Tree Calendar, which runs from 5 August to 1 September. In The Dragon Compass, the tree period provides the seasonal anchor for each monthly practice, connecting the lunar cycle with the natural world.

Hazel has long been associated with wisdom, knowledge, inspiration and clarity. Its symbolism describes the moment when separate thoughts connect and understanding begins to take shape. An answer may have been developing for some time before suddenly becoming obvious. An idea may arrive quickly, yet feel as though it has been growing beneath the surface.

In the Ogham alphabet, Hazel is Coll, associated with the hard C sound. Its connection with wisdom appears most clearly in the Irish story of the Salmon of Wisdom.

In the story, nine hazel trees grow beside the Well of Wisdom. Their nuts fall into the water, where they are eaten by a salmon. Through eating the hazelnuts, the salmon receives the knowledge they contain. The poet Finegas spends years trying to catch it, believing that whoever eats the salmon will gain its wisdom.

When he finally succeeds, he asks the young Fionn mac Cumhaill, pronounced Finn muh-Cool, to cook it for him. Fionn burns his thumb on the hot fish and places it in his mouth. In that instant, the salmon’s wisdom passes to him.

Wisdom grows on the trees, falls into the water and is carried by the salmon before reaching Fionn. Knowledge moves through nature before becoming available to the person ready to receive it. The story also shows that insight may arrive unexpectedly. Finegas deliberately searches for wisdom, while Fionn receives it through an unplanned moment.

Hazel can also be viewed through the Hermetic principle “as above, so below.” The phrase is a modern paraphrase of a line from the Emerald Tablet, attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. It expresses the relationship between the greater world around us and the smaller world within us. Applied to Hazel, it connects the outer world with the inner world, and the conscious mind with what is developing in our subconscious. Through reflection and movement, we can bring that inner knowledge into the body and give it form through our actions.

Hazel also has a practical character. Its long, flexible stems have traditionally been used for baskets, hurdles, fencing, woven panels, walking sticks and divining rods. Individual rods can be bent and woven together to make something useful and strong. This gives Hazel a physical connection with adaptability, skill and bringing separate strands together.

Hazel represents the ability to recognise what matters, connect ideas and use what we know. Inspiration becomes valuable when it is carried into our choices and actions.

The New Moon takes place in Leo, a sign traditionally associated with the Sun, heart, creativity, courage, confidence and self-expression. Leo has a strong outward quality. It asks us to recognise what matters to us and give it visible form.

In traditional astrological body associations, Leo is linked with the heart, upper back and thoracic spine. These areas provide the physical focus for the practice. Movements through the upper spine and ribcage create openness through the front of the body while developing strength and mobility through the back.

Hazel brings insight and understanding. Leo provides the courage to act upon them. Together they raise a useful question for the coming lunar cycle:

What has become clear, and what am I ready to do with that knowledge?

The theme for this practice is:

Strength and clarity of mind. Courage and confidence in action. Knowledge and protection from the universe.

Today’s Solar Eclipse and the Perseid Meteor Shower

A solar eclipse can only occur at New Moon, when the Moon passes between the Earth and the Sun. Today, totality will be visible along a path crossing Greenland, Iceland and northern Spain. From the UK and Ireland, it will appear as a deep partial eclipse.

In London, the eclipse begins at approximately 6:17 pm, reaches its maximum at 7:12 pm and ends at 8:06 pm. Around 91 per cent of the Sun’s disc will be covered at the maximum. The exact timing and coverage vary according to location, with more of the Sun covered further west.

The New Moon is usually invisible because its unlit side faces the Earth and it occupies the same area of the sky as the Sun. During today’s solar eclipse, the usually invisible Moon will become visible through its outline across the Sun. This gives the eclipse a fitting connection with Hazel: something already present becomes clear.

The eclipse also creates a visible meeting of Yin and Yang, as the dark Moon passes across the bright Sun and briefly changes the balance of light.

Eclipses have inspired stories across many cultures. In Norse mythology, Sól personifies the Sun and Máni the Moon. They travel across the sky while wolves pursue them, forming part of an ongoing cycle of light, darkness and time. During an eclipse, the familiar light changes and draws our attention to movements that are usually too gradual for us to see.

Anyone viewing the eclipse must use certified eclipse glasses or another approved solar viewer. Ordinary sunglasses do not protect the eyes. Binoculars, telescopes and cameras require filters fitted to the front of the equipment.

Later tonight, the Perseid meteor shower reaches its peak. The Perseids are active from 17 July to 24 August, with the greatest activity expected tonight and during the early hours of 13 August. Today’s New Moon means there will be very little moonlight to obscure the meteors, creating especially favourable conditions if the sky is clear.

The Perseids appear when the Earth passes through a trail of debris left behind by Comet Swift-Tuttle. Tiny particles enter the Earth’s atmosphere at high speed, producing the bright streaks commonly called shooting stars.

A meteor may only be visible for a second, yet it immediately catches our attention. Like a sudden moment of insight, it arrives quickly but its effect may remain.

The eclipse will slowly reveal the outline of the hidden Moon, while the Perseids will create sudden lines of light across the darkness. Both reflect different aspects of clarity. One gradually reveals a shape, while the other arrives as a brief flash.

These images sit naturally beside Hazel’s connection with insight and Leo’s relationship with light, creativity and action. Awareness allows us to recognise what is emerging. Reflection helps us understand it. Intention gives it direction.

The Hazel New Moon Practice

The practice focuses on mobility through the thoracic spine, upper back and ribcage, alongside expansion through the chest. The movement feeling is open and purposeful.

Through movement, breath and awareness, the practice supports the flow of Qi while bringing Yin reflection and Yang action into balance.

During the reflection, consider what has become clearer during the previous lunar cycle. It may be something you have recently realised, an idea that keeps returning or knowledge you already possess but have not yet used.

Then choose one intention for the month ahead. Keep it clear enough to remember and practical enough to guide your actions.

You can watch the Hazel New Moon in Leo practice here:

Click Here to Join Me in this New Moon Practice

Please move within a comfortable range and choose the options that suit your body today. Stop if you experience pain, dizziness or discomfort. Seek advice from a qualified health professional if you are unsure whether this practice is suitable for you.

Find out more

International Meteor Organization (2025) 2026 Meteor Shower Calendar. Available at: https://www.imo.net/files/meteor-shower/cal2026.pdf.

NASA (2026) What’s Up: August 2026 Skywatching Tips. Available at: https://science.nasa.gov/solar-system/whats-up-august-2026-skywatching-tips-from-nasa/.

Royal Museums Greenwich (2026) How to see the 12 August 2026 partial solar eclipse. Available at: https://www.rmg.co.uk/stories/space-astronomy/how-see-12-august-2026-partial-solar-eclipse.

Time and Date (2026) Moon Phases 2026: Lunar Calendar for London. Available at: https://www.timeanddate.com/moon/phases/uk/london.

Trees for Life (n.d.) Hazel mythology and folklore. Available at: https://treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/trees-plants-animals/trees/hazel/hazel-mythology-and-folklore/.

The Green Parent (2024) Celtic Tree Ogham: Hazel (The Knower). Available at: https://thegreenparent.co.uk/featured/celtic-tree-ogham-hazel-the-knower/.

This is the time of Lammas, traditionally observed around 1 August in the Northern Hemisphere and often described within the modern Wheel of the Year as the first harvest festival.

Lammas invites us to pause at summer’s peak and recognise what the season has produced. It is a celebration of food, nourishment and the abundance of the land. It also offers a spiritual opportunity to consider what has been growing within our own lives and what may now be ready to gather, acknowledge or share.

In 2026, the landscape around me in Gloucestershire tells a different story. After a long period of very little rain and repeated heatwaves, much of the countryside has turned brown. The ground is dry, plants are under strain and the usual green abundance of summer feels far less visible.

It has made me wonder what the first harvest means during a year when the land itself appears exhausted. There will still be crops gathered and fruits ripening, although the harvest may be smaller, earlier or harder won. Perhaps Lammas also offers a time to acknowledge the vulnerability of the land, the value of water and the many conditions that allow abundance to grow.

Wherever you are, take a moment to look at the landscape around you. What is the season showing you this year? Perhaps the fields are full, gardens are producing generously and fruit is ripening on the trees. Perhaps the land is dry, growth has slowed or the usual signs of abundance feel harder to find.

Seasonal festivals gain meaning through this direct relationship with the world around us. The traditional themes of Lammas offer a starting point, while the land itself tells us how the season is unfolding here and now.

What appears to be thriving? What is under strain? What has adapted to the conditions? What has reached maturity, and what may need more time?

These observations can also guide our personal reflection. Our own lives contain seasons of visible abundance, slower growth, adaptation and conservation. The harvest we recognise may look different from the one we expected, yet it can still reveal what has developed, what has sustained us and what deserves our care.

The meaning of Lammas

The name Lammas comes from the Old English hlāfmæsse, meaning “loaf mass”. It refers to an English Christian custom in which a loaf made from the first wheat of the new harvest was brought to church and offered in thanksgiving. The observance marked the beginning of the cereal harvest, traditionally around 1 August.

At the heart of Lammas is the transformation of grain into bread.

A field of individual plants is harvested and the grain is milled, mixed, kneaded and baked. What began as seed becomes nourishment. The loaf represents the combined work of the soil, sunlight, rain, farmer, miller and baker. It carries a whole network of relationships within it.

This gives bread a spiritual significance extending far beyond the food itself. It represents life, labour, patience, transformation and our dependence upon the natural world. It also belongs to the shared table, where nourishment becomes part of family and community.

Lammas reminds us that abundance grows through relationship. The land provides, people cultivate and the harvest is received with gratitude.

Lammas and Lughnasadh

Lammas is often called Lughnasadh within modern Pagan and Wheel of the Year practice. The two festivals share a place in the seasonal calendar and contain related themes, although they come from different cultural and religious traditions.

Understanding that distinction allows each festival to retain its own history.

Lammas developed within the Anglo-Saxon and English Christian tradition. Its central image is the loaf made from the first grain and offered as an expression of thanksgiving.

Lughnasadh, also written Lughnasa and known in modern Irish as Lúnasa, belongs to the Gaelic tradition. It marked the beginning of the harvest season and was historically celebrated in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. Its name is associated with Lugh, an important figure in Irish mythology.

Lughnasadh is commonly pronounced approximately LOO-nuh-suh in English, although pronunciation varies according to language and regional usage.

Traditional accounts connect the festival with gatherings established by Lugh in honour of his foster-mother, Tailtiu. In Irish mythology, Tailtiu is associated with clearing the land for agriculture, giving her story a direct connection with cultivation, effort and the fertility of the earth.

In more recent centuries, many Lúnasa gatherings took place on the last Sunday in July or the first Sunday in August, with mountain gatherings, pilgrimages and harvest fairs continuing in different areas.

Lammas and Lughnasadh therefore meet at the threshold of the harvest while carrying different stories.

Lammas centres upon the first loaf, thanksgiving and the English grain harvest.

Lughnasadh centres upon Gaelic seasonal gatherings, the beginning of harvest and the traditions surrounding Lugh and Tailtiu.

Modern seasonal practice often brings their symbolism together. Both recognise the relationship between the land, human effort, nourishment and community. Their differences add depth to the season and allow us to appreciate the varied ways people have honoured the beginning of harvest.

The spiritual meaning of the first harvest

The first harvest carries a different quality from the harvest celebrations that come later in the year.

It marks a beginning. The land is offering its first ripe produce, while much remains to grow and mature. Early August therefore holds both fulfilment and possibility. Some things are ready to gather, while others are continuing to ripen.

This can become a meaningful point for reflection.

We may begin the seasonal year with intentions, ideas or hopes that resemble seeds. For me, that sense of beginning belongs most naturally to Ostara. The spring equinox feels like a true new year, as light returns, growth becomes visible and the land begins to awaken. Midwinter carries its own importance, although it feels more like a time of stillness, reflection and preparation.

By Lammas, we may be able to see the first results of what we have cultivated since spring. Some things grow quickly. Others require time, attention and changing conditions.

A personal harvest can take many forms. It may be a project reaching completion, a skill developed through practice or a clearer understanding gained through experience. It may appear through a friendship that has deepened, a decision that has brought greater alignment or the ability to recognise our own needs more clearly.

The harvest gives visible form to a process that has already taken place.

A field of ripe grain carries months of growth within it. In the same way, our own achievements often contain countless small choices, repeated efforts and moments of learning. Lammas gives us an opportunity to see the whole process and acknowledge the part we have played within it.

Gratitude, abundance and responsibility

Abundance can be easy to overlook when our attention moves quickly towards the next task, plan or season.

Lammas encourages us to notice what is already present.

This may include the food available to us, the people who contribute to our lives, the knowledge we have gathered or the resources that support us. Gratitude begins with awareness. We pause long enough to recognise what nourishes us and where it has come from.

The harvest also carries responsibility.

Grain must be gathered at the right time. Food needs to be stored, prepared or shared. Seeds may be saved for another year. The harvest asks us to participate wisely in the cycle of receiving and giving.

Spiritually, this can encourage us to consider how we use what we have cultivated. Knowledge can be shared. Time can be offered. Food can be placed on a communal table. Someone else’s work can be recognised. A creative idea can be brought into the world where it may support or inspire others.

Abundance becomes part of connection when it is consciously received and thoughtfully shared.

Summer at its peak

The phrase “summer’s peak” contains a subtle seasonal truth.

By early August, summer has reached a point of maturity. In some years, this may appear as richly green trees, full hedgerows and fields glowing with ripening crops. In others, the land may be dry, faded and shaped by prolonged heat. The signs vary from year to year and from place to place, yet the movement of the season continues.

The summer solstice has passed, daylight is gradually decreasing and the first harvest marks the beginning of the turn towards autumn.

Lammas draws our awareness towards this relationship between maturity and change. It encourages us to observe the season as it is, appreciating what has developed while remaining attentive to the conditions affecting the land.

There is a particular spiritual beauty in recognising a moment while we are living within it.

We may notice berries and seeds forming, crops being gathered, leaves changing colour or plants conserving their energy. Each of these signs tells us something about the season, the landscape and the ways life responds to changing conditions.

Simple ways to celebrate Lammas today

A modern Lammas celebration can be simple and personal. It may draw upon the symbolism of bread and grain, the wider abundance of the season or your own spiritual relationship with nature.

You could bake a loaf of bread and take time to consider the people, skills and natural elements involved in creating it. Sharing the loaf with family, friends or neighbours reflects the communal meaning of the harvest.

A seasonal meal made with locally grown produce can become another expression of gratitude. Visit a farm shop or market, notice what is currently available and learn where your food has been grown.

Walking through the countryside offers an opportunity to observe the season directly. Look for ripening grain, blackberries, rowan berries, hazelnuts, seed heads and the changing quality of the light. Notice what is abundant in your local landscape.

You could also create a small seasonal space using fallen grain, flowers, seeds, fruit or a candle in warm harvest colours. Each item can represent something you value or something that has supported you during the year.

Lammas can also be marked through reflection. You may wish to write about one or more of these questions:

What has grown in my life during this year?

What is ready to be gathered or completed?

What continues to need time and care?

What has nourished and supported me?

What can I share from my own harvest?

These questions create a personal connection with the season while allowing the meaning of harvest to emerge through your own experience.

Recognising life’s small harvests

The first harvest reminds us that meaningful growth may begin with modest signs.

A single loaf represents a whole field of grain. A bowl of fruit represents months of blossom, pollination, sunlight and rain. The result may appear simple, while its roots reach deeply into time, work and relationship.

Our own lives contain many small harvests. They can be found in something we now understand, something we have learned to do or a choice that has helped life feel more manageable and enjoyable. They may also appear in the confidence to continue nurturing something whose full harvest will come later.

Lammas offers a spiritual pause within the movement of the year. It asks us to notice the abundance already around us, honour the effort behind it and appreciate the connections that make nourishment and growth possible.

As summer reaches its peak and the first harvest begins, we can receive the season with awareness and gratitude.

We can gather what is ready, share what we can and allow the rest to continue ripening in its own time.

The Moon is one of the most familiar presences in our sky, yet it never appears quite the same from one night to the next. It can be a narrow curve of light close to the horizon, a bright circle illuminating the landscape, or seemingly absent from the night sky altogether. These continual changes form the lunar cycle, a visible and repeating pattern that people have observed, recorded and used for thousands of years.

I am approaching the lunar cycle as a subject of personal study, observation and reflection. I am neither an astronomer nor an astrologer.

As a Pisces, I have always felt drawn to the Moon. Within the astrological correspondences used by the Golden Dawn, which later influenced the Rider–Waite–Smith tradition, The Moon card is associated with Pisces. This adds another layer of personal interest for me.

I pay attention to the Moon each day, noticing where it appears, how much of it is illuminated and how its position changes across the sky.

Whenever I see it, I find myself saying, “Hello, Moon.” It has become a simple and familiar acknowledgement of its presence.

I also enjoy trying to photograph the Moon, although capturing its detail can be challenging without a telephoto lens. Even when the photograph does not fully reflect what I can see, the process encourages me to pause, look carefully and appreciate the moment.

My interest lies in understanding what is happening in the sky, how people historically used the Moon within their everyday lives, and how cultural and symbolic meanings developed around its changing appearance.

Astronomy gives us measurable explanations for the phases. History shows how people used lunar knowledge to measure time, organise calendars and understand the night sky. Modern lunar and astrological writing offers another layer of interpretation, which I will identify clearly where it appears.

Understanding the lunar cycle

The Moon produces no light of its own. The light we see is sunlight reflected from its surface. At any one time, the Sun illuminates half of the Moon. As the Moon moves around Earth, our viewing angle changes, allowing us to see different amounts of its illuminated half.

The Royal Observatory Greenwich and the National Space Centre explain that a complete cycle from one New Moon to the next lasts approximately 29.5 days. This is known as a lunation or synodic month.

The cycle is commonly described through eight phases: New Moon, Waxing Crescent, First Quarter, Waxing Gibbous, Full Moon, Waning Gibbous, Last Quarter and Waning Crescent.

The four principal phases are the New Moon, First Quarter, Full Moon and Last Quarter. These occur at particular astronomical moments. The crescent and gibbous phases describe the changing periods between them. The Moon itself changes continuously, so the eight phases are best understood as recognisable points within a flowing cycle.

A waxing Moon is increasing in visible illumination, while a waning Moon is decreasing. A crescent Moon appears less than half illuminated, and a gibbous Moon appears more than half illuminated.

The Moon completes one orbit of Earth in about 27.3 days when measured against the distant stars. The phase cycle takes approximately 29.5 days because Earth is also travelling around the Sun. The Moon must move a little further before it reaches the same relationship with Earth and the Sun again.

The Moon as a measure of time

Long before mechanical clocks and printed calendars, the Moon offered people a visible way to follow the passage of time. Its cycle is short enough to observe over several weeks and regular enough to divide the year into recognisable periods.

The connection remains within our language. The English word month shares its origins with Moon, reflecting the relationship between lunar cycles and early ways of measuring time.

A lunar month lasts about 29.5 days, while twelve lunar cycles total roughly 354 days. This is around eleven days shorter than the solar year, which created an enduring challenge for calendar makers.

Different societies developed their own solutions. Some calendars remained lunar, following twelve lunar months without maintaining a fixed relationship with the seasons. Others became lunisolar, combining lunar months with occasional adjustments to keep the calendar aligned with the solar year.

These systems continue to shape religious and cultural life. The Islamic calendar follows lunar months, with the appearance of the new crescent holding particular importance. The Hebrew calendar is lunisolar, as is the traditional Chinese calendar. Each system developed according to its own cultural, religious and practical context.

In Britain, the Royal Observatory Greenwich works with Muslim communities through public Moon-sighting activities connected with the beginning of lunar months. Observing the first crescent remains a living practice, showing how direct attention to the sky continues alongside modern astronomical calculation.

The Moon, Passover and Easter

Easter also shows how lunar and solar calendars became woven into religious history.

The events commemorated during Holy Week and Easter took place around the Jewish festival of Passover. The early Christian term Pascha is connected with Pesach, the Hebrew word for Passover. Early Christian observance therefore developed within a Jewish historical and calendrical setting.

The Hebrew calendar begins its months according to the lunar cycle. Passover falls in the month of Nisan, close to the spring Full Moon. Early Christian communities differed over the precise timing of their annual commemoration. Some observed it on the date of Passover, while others observed it on the following Sunday.

A Christian method of calculation gradually developed in which Easter was placed on the Sunday following the first ecclesiastical Full Moon associated with the spring equinox. This preserved the historical connection with Passover while creating a separate Christian calendrical system.

Differences between the Julian and Gregorian calendars later contributed to differences between the dates used by Western and Eastern churches.

The date of Easter therefore carries several layers: the Jewish festival of Passover, the lunar month of Nisan, the season of spring, the Christian observance of Sunday and the later development of ecclesiastical calendar tables.

The Moon in everyday life

The phases of the Moon shaped the practical experience of darkness. Before electric lighting, the difference between a Full Moon and a Moonless night could alter what was visible after sunset.

A Waxing Crescent provides a short period of light after sunset. The First Quarter remains visible into the evening. A Full Moon rises around sunset and can illuminate the whole night. The waning phases rise progressively later, moving into the late-night and morning sky.

Knowledge of the cycle could therefore help people anticipate when moonlight would be available. This may have supported travel, work, gatherings and other activities taking place beyond daylight hours. The Moon’s value would have varied with the season, weather, landscape and local conditions.

English Heritage describes the Moon as an important source of night-time light for ancient people, particularly during winter, while its regular phases provided a convenient way of measuring time.

The organisation is also continuing to explore possible lunar connections at Stonehenge, including the much longer 18.6-year cycle known as the lunar standstill. Some aspects remain open to interpretation, which is important to acknowledge.

The Moon was both practical and symbolic. It offered light, indicated time and created a shared point of reference in the sky.

The eight phases of the Moon

New Moon

At New Moon, the Moon lies in approximately the same direction as the Sun when viewed from Earth. Its illuminated half faces mainly away from us, while the side facing Earth appears dark. The Moon is also close to the Sun in the sky, making it difficult to see within the brightness of daylight.

The New Moon marks the beginning of a new lunation, although the Moon generally remains invisible for a short period. The first observable sign of the new cycle comes when a narrow crescent appears in the evening sky.

For communities using observational lunar calendars, the disappearance and return of the Moon carried practical importance. The appearance of the new crescent could establish the start of a month and determine the timing of religious observances, shared activities and calendar dates.

In modern lunar and astrological writing, the New Moon is often associated with beginnings, possibility and intention. These themes are symbolic interpretations based on the Moon’s apparent disappearance and return. They belong to contemporary reflective practice and carry no single universal meaning.

Waxing Crescent Moon

Following the New Moon, a thin crescent becomes visible low in the western sky after sunset. Its illuminated area increases each evening as the Moon moves further from the Sun’s apparent position.

The Royal Observatory Greenwich explains that the first crescent can be remarkably fine and may remain visible for only a short time. Its visibility depends on atmospheric clarity, geographical location, the Moon’s height above the horizon and the angle between the Moon and the setting Sun.

The Waxing Crescent gave people an observable marker for the beginning of a lunar month. Its appearance also signalled the gradual return of evening moonlight.

Modern symbolic interpretations commonly connect this phase with emergence, early development and growing direction. The association follows the visible increase of light after the New Moon.

First Quarter Moon

The First Quarter occurs when the Moon has travelled approximately one quarter of the way through its phase cycle. Despite the name, half of the visible disc appears illuminated. The word quarter describes the Moon’s position within the cycle.

At this stage, the Sun and Moon appear about 90 degrees apart in the sky. The Moon generally rises around midday, remains visible during the afternoon and sets around midnight.

The Society for Popular Astronomy describes the First Quarter as a particularly interesting time to observe the Moon’s surface. Sunlight reaches the lunar landscape at an angle, creating shadows around craters, mountains and ridges. These shadows allow the details of the surface to stand out clearly.

In modern astrological practice, the First Quarter is often connected with choice, activity and commitment. This interpretation is partly linked with the approximate right angle between the Sun and Moon, known astrologically as a square.

Waxing Gibbous Moon

During the Waxing Gibbous phase, more than half of the Moon’s visible disc is illuminated. The area of light continues to grow each night as the Moon approaches fullness.

The word gibbous describes a rounded form that is larger than a semicircle. At this stage, the Moon rises during the afternoon and remains visible through much of the evening and night.

For people accustomed to reading the sky, the Waxing Gibbous Moon indicated that the lunar month was approaching its midpoint. It also brought an increasing amount of light during the hours after sunset.

Contemporary lunar writing commonly associates the Waxing Gibbous phase with development, preparation and refinement. These meanings draw upon the image of something approaching fullness while continuing to change.

Full Moon

At Full Moon, the Moon lies approximately opposite the Sun in the sky. The side facing Earth appears fully illuminated. It generally rises around sunset, reaches its highest point during the night and sets around sunrise.

The exact Full Moon occurs at a specific astronomical moment, although it may appear almost completely round across more than one night. Its bright and recognisable appearance made it an obvious marker within the month.

Before widespread artificial lighting, the Full Moon created a distinct period of increased night-time visibility. Its light could extend activity beyond sunset and would have been easily recognised across a community.

Full Moons became linked with festivals, stories, religious observances and folklore in many parts of the world. Their meanings varied widely. Different traditions connected the Full Moon with fertility, fulfilment, transformation, danger, mystery, celebration or spiritual power.

Modern lunar writing often associates it with visibility, culmination and illumination. These themes come from its appearance as the most fully lit phase of the cycle.

Waning Gibbous Moon

After the Full Moon, the illuminated area begins to decrease. During the Waning Gibbous phase, more than half of the Moon remains visible, although it rises later each night.

The Moon gradually shifts from the evening sky towards the late-night and morning sky. The direction of the sunlight across its surface also changes, producing a different pattern of light and shadow.

The waning phases may feel less familiar to people who usually observe the sky in the evening. The Society for Popular Astronomy explains that the phases after the Full Moon are best seen during the morning, when the same lunar features appear lit from the opposite direction.

Some modern astrological systems call this phase the Disseminating Moon and associate it with communication, sharing and the integration of experience. The term belongs to a developmental interpretation of the lunar cycle that became influential during the twentieth century.

Last Quarter Moon

The Last Quarter, also called the Third Quarter, occurs when the Moon has travelled approximately three quarters of the way through its cycle. Half of its visible disc appears illuminated, while the light continues to decrease.

The Moon rises around midnight, reaches its highest point around sunrise and can often be seen in the morning sky. As at First Quarter, the angled sunlight makes shadows and surface features particularly noticeable.

British astronomy organisations commonly use the term Last Quarter, while Third Quarter is widely used elsewhere. Both names describe the same phase.

Modern symbolic interpretations often connect the Last Quarter with review, understanding and reorientation. These themes reflect the idea of a cycle entering its closing stages.

Waning Crescent Moon

The Waning Crescent is the final visible phase before the next New Moon. It appears as a narrowing curve of light low in the eastern sky before sunrise.

As the Moon moves closer to the Sun’s apparent position, the crescent becomes thinner and more difficult to observe. It eventually disappears into the brightness surrounding the Sun, completing the visible cycle.

For people following lunar calendars, the Waning Crescent showed that the month was drawing towards its close. Attention would soon turn towards watching for the appearance of the next evening crescent.

Modern lunar practice commonly associates this phase with completion, rest and preparation. Some astrological writers call it the Balsamic Moon, using a term historically connected with balm and restoration.

Where does the Dark Moon belong?

The term Dark Moon appears frequently in contemporary spiritual and astrological writing. It usually describes the interval when the final Waning Crescent has disappeared and the next crescent has yet to become visible.

Astronomy generally includes this interval within the New Moon phase. It is not commonly listed as a separate ninth astronomical phase.

Writers use the term in several ways. Some apply it specifically to the period immediately before the precise New Moon. Others use it for the whole period when the Moon is invisible. Some use Dark Moon and New Moon interchangeably.

The term can still be useful when its meaning is explained. It describes a recognisable experience of the cycle: the Moon remains present in its orbit while absent from the visible night sky.

The Dark Moon is also distinct from the phrase dark side of the Moon. The Moon has no permanently dark side. Every part of its surface receives sunlight during the lunar cycle. The side hidden from our normal view is more accurately called the far side.

The Moon, the seasons and agriculture

The Moon offered a convenient way to measure shorter periods of time, while the Sun and the changing seasons guided the agricultural year.

For farming and pastoral communities, close attention to the seasons was essential. Planting, grazing, harvesting, food storage and animal care depended upon changing daylight, temperature, weather and local conditions.

The people who built and used prehistoric monuments such as Stonehenge lived within farming and pastoral communities. English Heritage describes the monument’s clear relationship with the solar cycle while continuing to investigate possible lunar connections.

Traditions of planting and harvesting according to particular Moon phases have existed in various forms and remain popular today. Historical practice and scientific evidence need to be considered separately. Lunar calendars may have helped communities count days and coordinate work, while broader claims that particular phases directly improve ordinary plant growth require stronger scientific support.

The Moon’s practical value is clear. It helped people recognise the part of the month, anticipate available moonlight and organise shared activities within the wider seasonal year.

The Moon, tides and coastal life

The Moon also has a measurable physical relationship with Earth through gravity. Its gravitational pull, together with that of the Sun, contributes to the regular rise and fall of the oceans.

New and Full Moons occur when the Sun, Earth and Moon are broadly aligned. Their combined gravitational effects produce a larger tidal range known as spring tides. Around the First and Last Quarters, the Sun and Moon act at approximate right angles, producing the smaller tidal range known as neap tides.

Coastal communities developed detailed knowledge of their local waters. Understanding tidal rhythms supported fishing, harbour access, travel across tidal routes, gathering food and navigating estuaries.

Local geography, water depth, weather and atmospheric pressure also influence the timing and height of tides, so lunar phase forms one part of a more complex pattern.

This relationship between the Moon and Earth’s water raises further questions about the human body and lunar influence. That subject deserves its own careful exploration, separating measurable gravitational effects, current biological research and personal experience.

Preserving lunar knowledge

As systems of astronomy and timekeeping developed, knowledge of the Moon became incorporated into manuscripts, calendars, watches, clocks and navigational instruments.

The British Library holds medieval manuscripts containing tables of the Sun, Moon and planets, alongside records of weather and astronomical calculations. These objects show the close relationship between observation, mathematics, calendar-making and the beliefs of their period.

Later clocks and watches displayed the age and phase of the Moon alongside the date, season, length of daylight and position of the Sun. The British Museum holds examples of calendar clocks that included the Moon’s phase within its 29.5-day cycle.

These instruments placed the lunar cycle within everyday systems of time. They also reveal how astronomy, astrology, religion and practical knowledge often existed alongside one another in earlier periods.

Historical records tell us what people observed, calculated and believed. Each layer needs to be understood within its own context.

The development of symbolic meanings

The changing Moon naturally invited comparison and metaphor. Its disappearance and return could suggest renewal. Its growing light could represent development. Its fullness could suggest completion or revelation. Its decline could be associated with ageing, withdrawal or the ending of a process.

Different cultures developed their own stories, deities, calendars and ceremonial practices around the Moon. The Moon has been understood as female, male, both, neither or beyond human categories, depending upon the culture and language concerned.

This diversity is important. Statements such as “the Moon represents intuition” or “the Full Moon means completion” can sound universal, although they usually come from particular cultural, spiritual or astrological systems.

The familiar contemporary sequence of New Moon intentions, waxing growth, Full Moon fulfilment and waning release belongs largely to modern Western lunar spirituality.

British authors Jo Cauldrick and Alison Davies are among the contemporary writers who use the lunar phases as frameworks for creativity, seasonal awareness and personal reflection.

The developmental interpretation of eight distinct symbolic phases was strongly influenced by the twentieth-century astrologer Dane Rudhyar. His work is relevant to the history of modern astrology, while current astronomy provides the scientific account of the Moon and its phases.

Observing the Moon today

Modern calendars and astronomy applications can tell us the exact time of each lunar phase. Direct observation adds the experience of place.

The Moon’s height, colour and apparent size vary across the sky. Clouds may obscure it. Trees, buildings and hills change the view. A crescent may appear above the remaining colour of sunset or beside a bright planet.

Earthshine may faintly illuminate the darker part of a young crescent. This happens when sunlight reflects from Earth onto the Moon.

The Moon can be observed with the unaided eye, binoculars or a telescope. It can be recorded through notes, drawings or photographs. Following it from the same place across a complete cycle can reveal how its position and rising time change.

The waxing phases are generally easier to see during the evening. Observing the waning half of the cycle involves looking later at night or during the morning.

The Moon can also be experienced in relation to the landscape. Its light falls across fields, buildings, trees and water. Its path changes through the seasons, while weather and local surroundings shape what can be seen.

The Moon and The Dragon Compass

Through The Dragon Compass, observing the lunar cycle can support a deeper awareness of gradual change and our connection with the wider natural world.

Astronomy helps us understand what we are seeing:

• History shows how lunar knowledge supported timekeeping, calendars, religion and everyday life.

• Cultural traditions reveal the different meanings people developed around the Moon.

These strands can remain distinct while contributing to a richer understanding.

The Moon provided our ancestors with a visible measure of time and a changing source of night-time light. Its gravity contributes to the tides, and its phases continue to shape cultural and religious calendars.

Watching the Moon today draws attention to changes that unfold slowly. The difference from one night to the next may be small, yet the wider pattern becomes visible over time.

This daily relationship with the Moon is one of the reasons I wanted to understand its phases more fully, including the astronomy behind them and the ways people have lived alongside the lunar cycle throughout history.

I am interested in continuing to observe that pattern, learning from the knowledge that has developed around it and allowing my own understanding to grow from what I see and experience.

Sources and further reading

Dr Maggie Aderin-Pocock, The Sky at Night: Book of the Moon: A Guide to Our Closest Neighbour

British Library, astronomy and astrology manuscript collections

British Museum, lunar clocks and calendar instruments

Church of England, resources on Holy Week and Easter

English Heritage, Stonehenge and the major lunar standstill

National Space Centre, guide to the phases of the Moon

Royal Observatory Greenwich, guides to Moon phases, crescent sightings and the lunar calendar

Society for Popular Astronomy, lunar observation resources

World Council of Churches, explanation of the date of Easter

Jo Cauldrick, Muse with the Moon

Alison Davies, The Lunar Year: Moon Magic Through the Seasons

Dane Rudhyar, The Lunation Cycle, included for its historical influence on the modern eight-phase astrological model

Earlier today, at 10:43 am (BST), we reached the New Moon, marking the beginning of another lunar cycle. As it happened, I was teaching a Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi class, which felt rather fitting. While we were moving, breathing and becoming more aware of ourselves, another lunar cycle had begun.

The New Moon is almost invisible because, at this point in its orbit, the illuminated side of the Moon faces away from the Earth. Although hidden from view, it marks the beginning of a new lunar month.

Astronomically, a New Moon occurs when the Moon lies between the Earth and the Sun. The Moon doesn't produce its own light. It reflects sunlight, and as it orbits the Earth we see different amounts of its illuminated surface. These changing views are known as the phases of the Moon. From the New Moon, the illuminated portion gradually increases as the Moon waxes towards the Full Moon before waning again over a complete cycle lasting approximately 29½ days.

This rhythm has remained unchanged for billions of years.

For thousands of years, people looked to the sky to understand the passing of time:

The Sun measured the day,

The Seasons measured the year

The Moon measured the month.

In fact, the English word month shares the same linguistic roots as moon, reminding us how closely the two have always been connected.

For many cultures, the New Moon marked the beginning of a new month.  It helped organise farming, religious festivals, travel and everyday life. People simply looked up.

One fascinating example comes from the Coligny Calendar*, discovered in eastern France and dating from around the second century AD. It is generally accepted to have been created by Celtic people living in Roman Gaul. Although scholars continue to debate exactly how every part of the calendar functioned, many interpret it as recognising both a bright half of the lunar month, as the Moon waxed towards fullness, and a dark half, as it waned again. This suggests that careful observation of the Moon played an important role in measuring time and understanding the changing seasons.

Traditional Chinese calendars also used the New Moon to mark the beginning of each lunar month. Each culture developed its own traditions and beliefs, yet all began by observing the same Moon. That simple act of observation shaped calendars, festivals and ways of understanding the passing of time.

That, for me, is fascinating.

The New Moon is a reminder that nature is always changing. Winter becomes spring. Spring becomes summer. Leaves emerge, flourish and fall, making way for new growth. The tides ebb and flow. The Moon follows the same pattern.

Nature unfolds through the present moment, one stage allowing the next to unfold.

Perhaps there is something we can learn from that.

The New Moon offers a natural opportunity to pause, reflect and ask a simple question.

What is my next step?

Today's New Moon occurred while both the Sun and Moon were in Cancer. In Western astrology, Cancer is traditionally associated with home, family, belonging, emotional security and nurturing. If these themes resonate with you, they can provide a focus for reflection.

Where do you feel most at home?

Who helps you feel accepted?

How could you create a greater sense of belonging, security or care over the coming month?

Looking through a Daoist lens, the New Moon can be viewed symbolically as the Moon's most yin phase. Yin is traditionally associated with darkness, receptivity, potential and rest. It represents the point from which the next cycle begins. As the Moon waxes, light gradually returns before reaching its fullest expression at the Full Moon, after which the cycle begins again.

Each phase has its own place within the cycle, each giving rise to the next.

Life moves in cycles. There are times for activity and times for rest, times for growth and times for reflection, times for beginning and times for letting go.

Think of each New Moon as nature's monthly invitation to begin again.

Take a few minutes to reflect on the month that has passed. Notice what you've learnt. Consider where you are today. Lasting change often begins with one small step, followed by another.

Whether you see today's New Moon through the lens of astronomy, history, astrology, Daoist philosophy or simply as one of nature's many rhythms, perhaps it serves as a reminder that every month offers another opportunity to begin again.

The past has lessons worth carrying forward.

The future will unfold in its own time.

The present is where the next step begins.

Further Reading

*The Coligny Calendar (2nd century AD)

https://time-meddler.co.uk/the-coligny-calendar/

You may not notice what your body is doing during an ordinary day because your usual habits feel normal to you. You may only realise that your shoulders have been lifted when you let them drop, or notice that your jaw has been tight when it begins to ache. You may discover that you have been holding your breath while concentrating because you suddenly take a large breath afterwards.

The same can be true of the mind. You may move through the day without noticing how often the same thoughts repeat, how quickly your attention moves from one thing to another or how much mental effort you are using. You may only recognise that your mind has been busy when you finally stop and realise how difficult it feels to settle.

These are ordinary examples of the mind and body responding to what you are doing and experiencing.

I notice this relationship most clearly when I am by the ocean. I may arrive carrying thoughts, responsibilities and the general pace of the day, then after some time by the water I feel calmer and more settled. I am not consciously trying to change how I feel, but the surroundings, the sound of the sea and the change of pace affect both my body and my state of mind.

Daoist philosophy has helped me think more carefully about this connection because it approaches the person as a whole. The body, breath, thoughts, emotions and attention continually influence one another, and practices such as Qigong and Nei Gong can help you become more aware of these relationships.

Awareness is something you can develop. Much of your attention may be focused on what you are doing, where you are going and what needs to be completed, so you may have very little sense of how you are standing, where you are holding tension or what is happening in your mind while you complete those tasks.

A movement practice can make some of these habits easier to recognise. When you move slowly enough to pay attention, you may notice that one shoulder lifts more than the other, that you grip with your hands, that your knees lock or that you use more effort than the movement requires. You may also notice that your attention keeps drifting, that you become impatient with unfamiliar movements or that you are thinking about the next part before you have completed the one you are doing.

These observations begin to show how closely physical and mental habits are connected. A difficult movement may lead you to tense your body, hold your breath or become frustrated. Feeling physically uncomfortable may make it harder to concentrate, while worry or mental pressure may affect how freely and confidently you move.

You do not need detailed knowledge of anatomy or psychology to begin. You can start by noticing what you can feel, what you are thinking and where your attention goes.

Breathing forms one part of this awareness, although you may have no clear sense of your usual breathing pattern. Holding your breath while concentrating, sighing frequently or taking a large breath afterwards may be easier to recognise than small changes in the depth or speed of your breathing.

Thoughts can also be difficult to notice because familiar patterns feel normal. You may become aware that you are repeatedly thinking about something that has already happened, mentally preparing for a future conversation or moving through several tasks in your mind at once. Once you notice this, you can begin to understand how it affects your concentration, emotions and physical state.

Awareness gives you more information about what is happening. You may notice that you are gripping, bracing or holding tension, while also recognising that you feel rushed, distracted or mentally overloaded. This allows you to decide what would support you at that moment.

You may change your position, release your hands, move for a few minutes, finish one task before beginning another or take a break from the amount of information demanding your attention. A small adjustment in the body may help the mind settle, and a clearer mental focus may change how you hold and use your body.

This is one of the reasons I am interested in Qigong and Nei Gong. They involve physical movement while also giving you time to notice how your body responds, where your attention goes and what happens in your mind when a movement feels unfamiliar or requires concentration.

Qigong, Pilates and other movement practices can develop this kind of awareness when they encourage you to pay attention to your own experience. Over time, you may begin to recognise physical and mental habits that have been present for years and have always felt normal.

Much of modern life directs your attention towards tasks, screens, deadlines and responsibilities. It can be easy to move through the day responding to each demand without recognising what is happening in either your body or your mind. Regular movement, reflection and observation can help you notice these patterns earlier and understand how they affect you.

These ideas connect closely with The Dragon Compass because my work goes beyond teaching exercises. I want to help you become more aware of what is happening in both your body and your mind, including how you move, what you feel, where your attention goes, the thoughts and habits you repeat, and how each of these affects the others.

I am still at the beginning of my study of Daoist philosophy, and I know there is much more to learn. What has stayed with me is the understanding that the mind and body continually influence one another, and that becoming more aware of our physical sensations, thoughts, emotions and responses can help us understand ourselves more clearly.

Whether you roll out a mat for Pilates or move through a Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi practice, both methods bring movement, breath and awareness together to support the body and mind.

They come from very different traditions, yet they share several practical benefits. Both can support strength, posture, balance, mobility, coordination and stress management, while offering adaptable, low-impact ways to keep the body moving.

Regular movement plays an important part in maintaining how comfortably and confidently the body functions over time. Strength, mobility, coordination and balance all respond to consistent practice, and even relatively small amounts of movement can contribute to everyday wellbeing.

Neither Pilates nor Shibashi is simply a matter of going through physical movements.

Pilates asks for concentration, control and awareness of how the body is organised and moving. Alignment, stability, precision and coordination all play an important part in the practice.

Shibashi combines slow, flowing movements with breathing and focused attention. The movements encourage awareness of posture, balance, weight transfer and the relationship between different parts of the body.

This attention to movement can also create a quieter mental space. Many people find that both practices help them feel clearer, calmer and more aware of their body by the end of a session.

The role of breathing

Breathing is central to both methods.

In Pilates, breath works alongside movement and can support trunk control, coordination and movement quality.

In Shibashi, slow abdominal breathing is coordinated with the movements, supporting relaxation, body awareness and the natural rhythm of the practice.

Paying closer attention to breathing can also help us notice how stress, concentration, posture and movement influence the way we breathe throughout the day.

For people who spend long periods sitting, working at a screen or moving through a busy schedule, this return to conscious breathing can become a useful form of awareness in its own right.

Strength and mobility without high impact

One of the strengths of both Pilates and Shibashi is their ability to develop the body through controlled, low-impact movement.

Pilates uses bodyweight, resistance and carefully organised exercises to develop strength, stability, mobility and coordination.

Shibashi uses flowing movement, controlled weight transfer and coordinated patterns through the arms, legs and torso. These movements can support mobility, balance, posture, coordination and circulation.

Both practices can be adapted to suit different bodies, abilities and levels of experience. This makes them useful forms of movement across many stages of life.

Posture, feet and balance

Posture and balance are also important within both practices.

Posture influences breathing, muscle activity, joint loading, balance and the way movement travels through the body.

Pilates often places particular attention on spinal organisation, pelvic stability and the support provided by the trunk.

Within Pilates withNIKKi, I also place strong emphasis on the feet and their relationship with the rest of the body. The way the feet meet the ground affects balance, weight distribution and movement further up through the ankles, knees, hips and spine.

Shibashi develops similar awareness through standing posture and controlled weight transfer. As the body moves from one side to the other, attention naturally comes to the feet, legs, centre of gravity and the relationship between stability and movement.

This is where both practices connect particularly well with the Dragon Compass principles of alignment and awareness.

Alignment here means understanding how different parts of the body relate to one another during movement.

Awareness means noticing what the body is doing, how the movement feels and how breath, balance and attention affect the experience.

Supporting everyday movement

The value of Pilates and Shibashi reaches beyond the class itself.

Strength, mobility, balance and coordination support many ordinary activities, including walking, reaching, lifting, climbing stairs, getting up and down from the floor and moving confidently through different environments.

Regular practice can also help us become more familiar with our own movement patterns.

We begin to notice where movement feels easy, where we use unnecessary tension, where balance changes and how our breathing responds.

That growing body awareness gives us useful information.

Two practices with shared foundations

Pilates and Shibashi complement each other particularly well because they share several foundations: breath, posture, concentration, alignment, control, coordination and conscious movement.

Pilates offers structured strengthening and detailed body conditioning.

Shibashi offers flowing, meditative movement with a strong emphasis on breathing, balance and whole-body coordination.

Some people naturally connect more strongly with one approach, while others enjoy practising both.

Together, they offer two different ways of developing a closer relationship with the body through movement.

Both encourage us to pay attention, move with purpose and support the strength, mobility and awareness that help us navigate everyday life.

Interested in trying a class?

Book a Class

Please note: Pilates classes involve both standing and floor-based exercises, so you will need a mat. Shibashi classes are practised standing throughout, although alternatives can always be provided where needed.

After many years teaching Pilates and specialising in corrective exercise and foot mechanics, I have become used to looking at gait, posture and alignment and putting the different pieces of the movement puzzle together. When I watch someone move, I often find myself looking at their feet first.

The reason is simple. The feet form the foundation of the body in standing movement. They influence balance, weight distribution and the way movement travels upwards through the ankles, knees, hips and spine. When we slow movement down, those relationships become much easier to see and feel.

This is one of the reasons I pay so much attention to the feet in my classes. Whether we are working with Pilates, balance exercises, mobility work or Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi, slower and more controlled movement gives the body time to reveal its habits. The feet tend to report back fairly honestly.

You may notice that you regularly put more weight through one side. You may grip the floor with your toes when you balance. One foot may roll inwards or outwards more than the other. One leg may feel much more secure. These are small details, but they can tell us a great deal about how the body is organising itself.

The human foot is an extraordinary structure. Each foot contains 26 bones and 33 joints, along with muscles, tendons, ligaments and connective tissues that all work together to support movement. Every time you stand up, take a step, walk up a hill or balance on one leg to put on a shoe, your feet are responding to changes in pressure, load and position.

Strong, responsive feet help create a stable base for the rest of the body. They also provide sensory information about the ground beneath us, which plays an important role in balance. The muscles of the feet and lower legs are constantly making small adjustments that help us remain upright and move efficiently.

Because the feet work quietly in the background, it is easy to overlook just how much they are doing.

Footwear also plays a part in this.

Our feet spend a considerable amount of time inside shoes, and different types of footwear create different conditions for movement. Sole thickness, flexibility, width, cushioning, heel height and support can all change the way the foot interacts with the ground.

I find this an interesting area to explore because people often become much more aware of their feet once they start comparing how they feel in different shoes. A flexible trainer can feel completely different from a heavy walking boot. A narrow shoe changes the space available to the toes. A raised heel changes the position of the ankle and shifts weight through the body.

The useful question is how your own body responds.

Can your toes move comfortably? Can the foot bend? Where do you feel your weight? Does your balance change from one pair of shoes to another? Does walking feel different?

These observations build awareness, and awareness gives us useful information about our own movement.

Standing posture matters too.

How we organise the feet when we are standing influences what happens when we begin to move. The direction of the feet, the distribution of weight and the relationship between the feet, knees and hips all contribute to the way movement travels through the body.

A common pattern is for the feet to turn outwards. For some people, a degree of turnout is simply part of their natural structure. Hip shape, mobility, previous injury and long-established habits can all influence how the feet sit.

What matters to me as a movement teacher is how the whole body works from that position.

Do the knees and feet move comfortably together? Is the weight spread evenly? Are you sitting back into your heels? Are the toes gripping? Does one side carry more weight?

These patterns are often much easier to notice in class because movement slows down and attention becomes more focused. They also exist outside the class.

Standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle, brushing your teeth, walking upstairs or carrying shopping all give you information about how you use your body.

That is one of the things I enjoy most about teaching movement. The useful part does not stay within the hour you spend in class. Greater awareness begins to carry into everyday life.

You start to notice how you stand.

You notice where your weight goes.

You notice how your feet meet the floor.

You may even notice that one shoe feels completely different from another or that one leg always seems to do more work.

The feet are easy to ignore because they are so familiar, yet they play a central role in posture, balance and movement.

Every step begins there.

And once you start paying attention to them, they have quite a lot to tell you.

January marks the beginning of the calendar year, yet spring feels like the point when the natural year begins to move again. The light is returning, the days are noticeably longer, buds are opening, grass is growing and birds are becoming more active. Wherever you live, this is a time when you can begin looking for the small changes that show the season is turning.

Within The Dragon Compass, I follow the Wheel of the Year alongside the four classical elements of Air, Fire, Earth and Water. The festivals provide points of orientation through the year, while the elements offer a symbolic language for some of the qualities we can observe within the changing seasons.

Air carries movement, change, breath and emergence. Fire reflects warmth, vitality and expansion. Earth connects with nourishment, harvest and the physical landscape. Water carries depth, reflection and the quieter processes of winter. These qualities flow into one another as the year moves around the wheel.

For The Dragon Compass, that journey begins with Air at Ostara.

Ostara: The Beginning of the Year

Ostara, the Spring Equinox, falls around 20 March in the Northern Hemisphere. Day and night are close to equal length and the balance is moving towards longer days.

This is a wonderful point to begin paying closer attention to the world around you. Shoots are appearing through the soil, buds are beginning to open and trees are gradually returning to leaf. The landscape that appeared quiet through winter starts showing visible movement again.

This is where Air fits naturally within the Dragon Compass seasonal cycle. Air carries movement, change, breath, curiosity and fresh direction. You may feel some of that change personally too. Increasing daylight can bring a sense of wanting to move more, spend time outside, make plans or begin something new.

Ostara offers a natural point to consider what you would like to bring into the growing part of the year. Look at what is emerging around you and at what may also be beginning within your own life.

Beltane: Air Moving Towards Fire

By Beltane, around 1 May, spring is well established. Trees are in leaf, flowers are appearing in greater numbers and wildlife activity has increased. Changes that were subtle around Ostara can now happen surprisingly quickly.

This is the movement from Air towards Fire. The changing, mobile quality of spring remains, while warmth and outward activity begin to increase. Plants grow rapidly, hedgerows fill out and the longer days create more opportunity to be outside and active.

Take a look at the landscape around you during this period. A tree that appeared almost bare a week earlier may suddenly carry a full covering of young leaves. Flowers appear along verges and in gardens, insects become increasingly visible and birds are busy with the demands of spring.

The year is gathering warmth and momentum.

Litha: The Height of Fire

The Summer Solstice arrives around 20 or 21 June and brings the longest day of the year. Within the modern Wheel of the Year, this seasonal point is often known as Litha.

This is the strongest expression of Fire within the Dragon Compass wheel. The days are long, the light is strong and the natural world is highly active. Trees carry full canopies, flowers provide food for insects and the landscape shows the results of several months of increasing light and growth.

Fire carries warmth, vitality, activity and outward expression. You can see those qualities throughout the summer landscape, and you may recognise them in your own life through increased activity, social connection, travel, creativity or simply spending more time outdoors.

The Summer Solstice is also a turning point. Once the longest day has passed, daylight begins to shorten again. Summer continues around us, while the direction of the solar cycle has already changed.

Watching these turning points can change the way you experience the seasons. Each one grows naturally from what came before and already contains the beginnings of what comes next.

Lammas: Fire Moving Into Earth

By the beginning of August, the landscape begins to show a different kind of abundance. Lammas and Lughnasadh both sit at the threshold of the harvest, but they come from different traditions. Lammas developed within the Anglo-Saxon and English Christian tradition. Its name comes from the Old English hlāfmæsse, meaning “loaf mass”, and refers to the custom of making a loaf from the first grain of the new harvest and offering it in thanksgiving. Lughnasadh belongs to the Gaelic tradition and marked the beginning of the harvest season in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. Its name is associated with Lugh, an important figure in Irish mythology, and traditional celebrations included gatherings, fairs, feasting, athletic contests and trading.

Although modern Wheel of the Year practice often brings the two festivals together, each carries its own history. Lammas centres on the first loaf, grain and thanksgiving, while Lughnasadh carries the wider traditions of Gaelic harvest gatherings and the stories of Lugh and Tailtiu. Both recognise the relationship between the land, human effort, nourishment and community as the harvest begins.

This is where Fire moves towards Earth.

The growth and warmth of spring and summer have produced something tangible. Grain ripens, fruit matures and seeds form where flowers once grew. The landscape begins showing the results of everything that has developed through the lighter months.

Earth connects with nourishment, grounding and the physical world. At Lammas, those qualities become particularly visible because growth is becoming harvest.

This is a useful time to look at what the year has produced, both around you and within your own life. What has grown well? What has adapted to changing conditions? What is ready to gather or enjoy? What still needs time?

The land provides a simple reminder that development takes many forms and follows its own timing.

Mabon: A Second New Year

The Autumn Equinox arrives around 22 or 23 September. Within the modern Wheel of the Year, it is often known as Mabon. Day and night once again come close to equal length, although this time the balance is moving towards longer nights.

Within The Dragon Compass, Mabon acts as a second New Year.

A little like second breakfast in The Hobbit. Apparently one New Year can be improved upon with another, two is better than one. 🤣

Ostara begins the outward half of the cycle, with increasing light, movement and growth. Mabon begins the inward movement, offering another natural point to pause and consider where you are before entering the darker months.

Earth remains strong around the Autumn Equinox. Apples, berries, nuts and seeds are abundant, harvests continue and leaves begin taking on the deeper colours of autumn. The landscape carries the experience of everything that has happened since spring.

You can use this point in the wheel in much the same way. Look back across the lighter half of the year. What developed? What surprised you? What deserves to continue into the months ahead?

Mabon offers another beginning, this time shaped by experience.

Samhain: Earth Moving Towards Water

By Samhain, around the beginning of November, the movement towards winter is increasingly visible. Leaves are falling, many plants have completed their growth and the main harvest period has passed.

This is where Earth moves towards Water.

The tangible abundance of harvest gives way to a quieter landscape. Roots remain beneath the ground, seeds wait within the soil and many natural processes become less visible.

Water represents depth, reflection and the quieter parts of a cycle. Samhain also carries traditional associations with ancestry and remembrance, giving this part of the year another opportunity for reflection.

As the landscape simplifies, you may find yourself becoming more aware of what you want to carry forwards. Memories, experiences, relationships and lessons can all become part of that seasonal reflection.

Yule: The Depth of Water

The Winter Solstice arrives around 21 December and brings the shortest day and longest night of the year.

This is the deepest expression of Water.

The winter landscape is quieter. Deciduous trees stand bare, seeds remain beneath the soil and many animals have adapted their behaviour to the colder temperatures and shorter days.

There is still activity within the natural world, although much of it is less visible.

The Winter Solstice also marks the point at which daylight begins to increase again. The change is small at first, yet from this moment the direction of the cycle is once again moving towards light.

This can be a useful time to give yourself some of the same space that exists within the winter landscape. Reflection, reading, creativity, rest and quieter forms of movement can all belong naturally within this part of the year.

Imbolc: Water Beginning to Move Towards Air

By Imbolc, around 1 February, increasing daylight becomes easier to notice. Winter still shapes the landscape, while the first signs of seasonal movement begin to appear.

Early shoots emerge, buds begin forming and bird behaviour starts to change. Some signs will depend upon where you live and the conditions of that particular year, which is why direct observation is so useful.

This is where Water begins moving towards Air.

The quieter quality of winter gradually begins to loosen as movement returns. Spring develops through small changes long before the landscape becomes fully green again.

Look for those early signs around you. Perhaps it is the first snowdrop, a different quality of light in the afternoon or birds becoming more vocal. Once you start noticing them, the changing season becomes much easier to follow.

These early movements gradually lead back to Ostara.

Then the cycle begins again.

Following Your Year Through the Land

The dates of the Wheel of the Year give us useful points of orientation, while the landscape tells us how the season is actually unfolding.

Every year is different. Spring may develop early or slowly. Summer may be hot, wet or cool. Autumn colour can appear at different times and winter conditions vary enormously. Paying attention to these changes creates a more immediate relationship with the place where you live.

Look at the light. Notice the weather. Watch what is growing, flowering, ripening, falling or returning to the soil. Over time, familiar places begin to tell you where you are within the year.

Within The Dragon Compass, the four elements provide a symbolic language for that movement. Air carries spring into activity, Fire reflects the warmth and expansion of summer, Earth gathers the growth of the year through harvest and autumn, and Water carries the cycle into winter's quieter depth before Air begins to rise again.

Ostara marks the beginning of this journey, while Mabon provides a second point of orientation as the balance turns towards the darker half of the year.

The Wheel gives you places to pause.

The elements give you another way to explore what you observe.

And the land shows you how the year is actually turning.

The old phrase “children should be seen and not heard” captures something of that atmosphere. It suggests more than silence. It teaches a child to pay attention to how much space they occupy, when it is acceptable to speak and how their behaviour affects the adults around them. For a girl growing up within that kind of environment, emotional restraint can gradually become part of learning how to belong. Smiling may help an awkward situation pass more easily. Agreeing may keep a conversation comfortable. Saying “I’m fine” may avoid further questions. Softening an opinion may receive a warmer response, while managing something alone may earn praise for being capable. None of these moments seems especially important on its own, but repeated over many years they can become a familiar way of moving through the world.

Many women become very skilled at keeping interactions comfortable. You may smile automatically when you feel awkward, soften what you want to say or find a diplomatic way of expressing frustration. You notice the atmosphere around you and instinctively adjust your own behaviour to help things run smoothly. This sensitivity can be a valuable social skill, especially when it supports thoughtful communication and awareness of other people. It can also become so familiar that you begin filtering your own response before you have fully recognised what it is. You feel something, assess the situation and edit the feeling almost at the same time, and after enough repetition that process becomes automatic.

The same thing can happen with language. You may describe yourself as “a bit tired” when you are exhausted, “slightly annoyed” when something has genuinely upset you or say that something “doesn’t really matter” while continuing to think about it for the rest of the day. The words you choose shape how you communicate an experience, but they can also influence how you understand it yourself. When feelings are repeatedly made smaller before they are expressed, it can become harder to recognise their original strength. You become accustomed to presenting the edited version, even to yourself, and what you really felt can get lost somewhere between the first response and the version you eventually say aloud.

Capability can become part of the same pattern. Being dependable, organised and able to cope often receives positive recognition, so you become the person who remembers things, sorts things out, keeps going and handles whatever needs doing. There is genuine strength in capability, but it can also become such a familiar identity that expressing uncertainty, tiredness or the need for support starts to feel unfamiliar. You may continue functioning effectively while carrying far more internally than anyone around you realises, and sometimes you barely realise it yourself. The body may start giving you information before your thoughts fully catch up, through tiredness, tension, irritability, changes in sleep or a persistent sense of pressure that seems difficult to explain.

Many women also become highly practised at editing their reactions in real time. Something happens and, before responding, you quickly consider your wording, facial expression, tone of voice and the likely response of everyone else involved. This can happen in a fraction of a second. You may know exactly what you want to say, while another part of your mind is already working out how to say it in the most acceptable way. Thoughtful communication has real value, but when this internal editing becomes automatic, your own reaction can be pushed further into the background. Over time, it becomes easy to focus on how your words will land while paying less attention to what those words were originally trying to express.

This often sits alongside a strong awareness of the emotional environment. You notice changes in tone, sense when someone feels uncomfortable and pick up tension in a room before anybody mentions it. You adapt your conversation, behaviour or expectations according to what is happening around you. That awareness can develop through personality, family dynamics, work, caring responsibilities and life experience, and it can be a real strength. The challenge comes when attention is habitually directed towards everybody else and your own internal signals become quieter by comparison. You may know how everyone else feels while your own answer takes much longer to appear.

For some women, the most honest part of the day comes when they are finally alone. The conversation is over, the work is finished, everyone else has been dealt with and there is finally enough space to recognise what has been carried through the day. Thoughts replay, feelings become clearer and emotions that were managed earlier may begin to surface. This is one reason someone can appear composed throughout a demanding day and then feel everything much more strongly once they reach home, get into the car, take a shower or lie down at night. The feeling has often been present all along. Privacy simply gives it enough room to be noticed.

These ways of managing yourself usually develop for understandable reasons. They may have helped you belong within your family, navigate school, build relationships, succeed at work or move through complicated social situations. Some of those skills may still serve you very well. Awareness allows you to recognise which parts are useful choices and which have become habits that happen before you have even had time to think.

That awareness can be surprisingly simple. You begin to notice when you are genuinely being diplomatic and when you are making your own experience smaller. You recognise the difference between capability that feels strong and capability that is using all your available energy. You notice when your attention to other people has become so absorbing that you have lost track of your own response. From there, you can begin listening for the first version of what you feel, before years of habit edit it into something easier to present.

Sometimes the most useful questions are also the simplest. What am I actually feeling? What do I really think? What is my body trying to tell me? Giving yourself enough space to hear those answers can gradually change the relationship you have with your own thoughts, emotions and needs. Recognition brings understanding, and understanding gives you more choice in how you respond, what you express and what you continue to carry.

I was just 12 when it landed, on a day I was going swimming with my dad to his sub-aqua diving club. Which I loved, and could only go in the school holidays because it was a late finish for a school night. I can remember it like it was yesterday, not 38 years ago, that’s how much trauma it creates. I was devastated. How could I go swimming now?

Luckily, I have a very practical mum who got me using tampons that very same day, and after an extremely embarrassing moment of not being able to get one out, I went swimming that night and all was well.

At school, back in the 80s and 90s, girls were made to wear only gym pants, I think that’s what they were called, for athletics in the summer. How embarrassing. ‘Luckily’, the other sports we could wear a teeny weeny netball skirt, eye roll here. Then we were forced through the showers with the PE teacher standing watch, whether we needed one or not.

This is only a small impact that periods have on a girl’s life.

Thinking about it now, it is traumatic. Whether you are the first to start your period or the last, the boys think it’s hilarious and take the mick tirelessly, adding to the humiliation.

As a young girl, there is so much to deal with just on the physical side, and in managing the practical requirements periods necessitate. Then add in the rollercoaster of hormones and the emotions that these hormones create.

It’s no surprise girls can be labelled ‘over-sensitive’ or cry all the time. There is so much more to deal with. But labelling someone over-sensitive adds another level of shame, another thing we need to try and manage or mask.

I think this is when anxiety began for me, although I didn’t know it then. All of a sudden, I hated Sunday afternoons because I was already worrying about going to school the next day, even though I quite liked school most of the time. I had great friends and enjoyed learning. I was confused as to why I had this knot in my stomach as soon as I heard the EastEnders Omnibus theme tune on a Sunday afternoon. It impacted my weekends. I couldn’t enjoy them like I thought I should.

I went to school every day. I barely had any time off with sickness, because I had FOMO, the fear of missing out. What if I missed something really important, or my friends decided not to be my friends anymore?

This ‘what if’ underpins anxiety for me. What if I can’t answer clients’ questions? What if no-one comes to class anymore? What if they like her more than me? What if the sky falls down? But what if the sky doesn’t fall down, Nik?

When I am in a phase of deep anxiety, I can only see the sky falling down. I am writing this on the 7th January 2026, following a two-week break for Christmas and New Year. I spent the second week in a phase of deep anxiety. What if no-one comes back to class?

Monday afternoon was my first class in 2026, and I was so nervous I was shaking. What if no-one turns up? What if I can’t remember how to teach Shibashi? What if I get it in the wrong order? What if I say something stupid? Well, people did turn up. I didn’t forget how to teach. I didn’t get the order wrong, and I always say silly things, so nothing new there. The sky didn’t fall down. I immediately felt better.

Some women experience their first glimpses of anxiety during pregnancy. As previously mentioned, mine was in childhood, so I was already ‘what if-ing’. I am not going to list the what ifs here, because luckily my what ifs didn’t happen, but I know some people’s what ifs did happen, and I don’t want to trigger any trauma.

Surprisingly, my significant ‘what ifs’ happened post-birth. What if I can’t look after this tiny human? What if I forget about them and leave them at the shops, like my mum left me outside a local shop in the pram in 1976. Obviously all was well, she remembered and went back for me, and there I was. It was a different time then. Luckily, we look so alike, otherwise I might have to question, what if someone else took me home? Haha. What if they are still wearing nappies when they start school? What if they still need a dummy to sleep at 15 years old?

This is when anxiety started affecting my life regularly. Catastrophising everything. Being unable to shake off the spiralling thoughts in my mind, the tightness in my chest, not being able to breathe, minor panic attacks, heart palpitations. Not being able to attend social events, not answering the phone, not opening letters, not opening emails. None of this happened all in one go. It built slowly.

Each what if regarding the children slowly ebbed away. They went to school not still in nappies. I hadn’t left them anywhere. They are now fully functioning young adults who are independent enough to keep themselves clean and alive.

So why had I been hit with another bout of anxiety in the summer of 2019? Everything was going well. My Pilates business was booming. I married my second husband in February. These were my two big what ifs after the ones surrounding my children. What if my business fails? What if no-one wants me? Following the separation with my first husband, it made no sense.

Until I went to the GP and listed my symptoms and was diagnosed as perimenopausal. What? I’m only 43. Surely it can’t be. Menopause happens when you are 50, doesn’t it?

Apparently not.

HRT helped. Then COVID threw a hand grenade into my business and all our lives. I went into overdrive, pivoting from in-person classes to an online business, streaming live classes, not wanting to lose any of my members. Because what if we couldn’t afford to pay the bills and became homeless?

So I did everything I possibly could to keep everyone happy and engaged. But inevitably, members fell away the longer we were locked down, then allowed out, then locked down again. I was exhausted. I had no energy left to rebuild the business. So in November 2022, I closed my business and got a proper job, employed full-time for the first time since 1999.

Apologies, I digressed.

Puberty, pre-natal, post-natal, and perimenopausal all equal significant fluctuations in hormones, all contributing to varying degrees of anxiety and many other symptoms, from acne to as much facial hair growing on your chin as you are losing from your head, but that’s for another blog.

Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi opened a whole new world to me. Traditional Chinese Medicine is thousands of years old and has helped millions of people worldwide. Steeped in Buddhist and Daoist philosophy, Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi has helped me manage my anxiety and realise that meditation really does help, even when performed moving whilst in a class environment.

I am at the beginning of this journey and have a lot to learn. They say that Tai Chi is a 20-year practice. It is something that opens door after door to new perspective, understanding, and awareness. Just doing the movements helps mentally and physically, then with more practice it helps emotionally and spiritually too, not religiously, more soulfully.

If any of my story resonates with you, leave a comment below and tell me how you manage your anxiety or your main what if moments. Maybe you have experienced the same periods of deep anxiety during the four Ps, puberty, pre-natal, post-natal, and perimenopause. I would love to hear from you.

I help women manage their anxiety through Tai Chi Qigong Shibashi, a meditative movement practice. Maybe I could help you too. As I mentioned earlier, I am still managing my own anxiety peaks and troughs, which I hope in time will become fewer and fewer. During these times, we can help each other.

Interested in finding out more?
Click the link: www.theshibashisanctuary.com