Under the quiet cloak of the Capricorn New Moon, we stand at the threshold—a liminal space between endings and beginnings, the final exhale of one year, the tender inhale of the next.
This moon carries the weight of Saturn—stern teacher, keeper of time, architect of the invisible scaffolding that holds our lives together. Its presence presses upon us, not to break us, but to forge us. Like coal becoming diamond, it asks us to meet the pressure with devotion, with trust, with a fierce willingness to turn inward and steady ourselves.
Black Tara, the fierce mother of protection and transformation, walks with us here. She invites us to shed the old skins—the habits, fears, and heavy layers that no longer serve our becoming. She holds us steady in the fertile dark, whispering, "Here, in the quiet, your roots grow strong. Here, you remember your true shape."
Beside her stands Pan, wild god of the mountains, with his steady hooves and untamed spirit. He teaches us the sacred play of discipline—how to move with intention and agility, how to find the path where others see only cliffs and shadows. He reminds us that the climb is not just labor, but also joy.
This moon is both a mirror and a seedbed. It reflects our shadows and our light, our limitations and our potential. And yet, it also offers a fertile ground for planting dreams—not the fleeting kind, but the ones with roots that can hold firm through storms.
So let us listen. Let us sit in the stillness and hear what arises in the quiet. Let us honor the weight and the wisdom of this moment. And when we are ready, let us begin—step by step, breath by breath—to weave the dreams we carry into something solid, something true, something timeless.
The Capricorn moon rises, and we rise with it—steadfast, anchored, and ready to meet the year ahead with clarity, courage, and heart.
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