Ain’t No Party Like a Full Moon Party!
On the last day of June, a thought struck me like lightning: What if I hosted a gathering of women in my backyard?
I checked the calendar, and there it was—just about two weeks away: the next Full Moon. Why not? I thought. It became my excuse, my spark, my offering. And just like that, the idea became a Full Moon Party.
It was simple and casual. There were light refreshments, a cozy fire, and places to sit and chat with the beautiful women who came. On the table were index cards and pens, inviting each person to write down the things that were no longer serving them—things they were ready to release. Then, one by one, those cards were offered to the fire, their sacred words lifted in smoke as a symbol of letting go.
One of the refreshments was a red dandelion pesto I had planned to serve with crackers. Originally, it was intended to be a slightly untraditional pesto—bold, earthy, a little bitter. But as I made it, the texture wasn’t quite what I expected. So I leaned into improvisation, adding creaminess and small adjustments until it became something else entirely. Not what I had planned… but somehow better.
And maybe that’s the most fitting symbol of the evening. What we bring doesn’t always turn out exactly how we envisioned it to be. Sometimes it softens, surprises us, becomes something unexpected—and still deeply nourishing.
I had invited all the local women I could think of—neighbors, friends, family, and even women I’d only interacted with on Facebook. Only a few came, but they were the ones who resonated with the moment. And the women who gathered formed a beautiful mix: new friends, neighbors, and family. Some didn’t know each other before that night, yet they opened up, shared, and supported one another with a kind of vulnerability and presence that felt rare and precious.
There wasn’t a grand agenda or a list of things to accomplish. Just space. Space to breathe, to feel, and to be together.
We sat in a circle—unstructured, open, honest. Stories were shared. Emotions surfaced. Laughter and tears both found their place. And as I looked around, I realized this is exactly why I wanted to create these gatherings in the first place.
We need more spaces where women can come as they are. Where reflection isn’t rushed. Where vulnerability is met with presence, not judgment. Where we remember that we are not alone in the things we carry—and that we don’t always have to carry them.
Our lives move in cycles, just like the moon. There are times to begin, times to shine, and times to release. This night reminded me that we’re allowed to honor all of those phases, together.
I plan to continue hosting Full Moon gatherings as the seasons allow, and I hope others will feel inspired to join me—or even host one of your own. For now, I’m just deeply grateful for the women who showed up and leaned in.
May the connection we shared continue to ripple quietly outward. Until the next moonrise. 🌕