Coming Home

Gorgeous Soul,

Have you ever had one of those weeks where life seems to keep whispering the very same message, but through completely different voices?

One moment it’s a musical.

The next it’s a football match.

Then it’s a parade.

Then you look up into the night sky and realise the Moon has been whispering it all along.

That was this week for me.

It started with a trip to see Kinky Boots, and oh my giddy aunt… what an extraordinary evening! The music was infectious, the performances were phenomenal and the energy in the theatre had everyone grinning from ear to ear.

Yet underneath all the sequins, sass and spectacular boots lay something much deeper.

The show is inspired by the true story of Steve Pateman, whose family shoe factory was on the brink of bankruptcy. Rather than closing the doors on four generations of family history, he found an unexpected path forward by creating fabulous thigh-high boots for drag artists and transgender women under the wonderfully named “Divine Footwear.“

Who would have thought that a struggling shoe factory could become a story about belonging?

One lyric has stayed with me ever since.

“Accept yourself and you’ll accept others too.”

Such simple words.

Yet perhaps they are some of the bravest words any of us will ever live.

How much of our lives have we spent trying to fit into shoes that were never made for us?

How often have we squeezed ourselves into other people’s expectations, softened our edges, dimmed our light or apologised for the very qualities that make us beautifully unique?

Then Sunday arrived with our glorious Pride Parade.

The streets became awash with colour, music, feathers, laughter and love. People danced without embarrassment. Families cheered from the sidelines. Friends hugged complete strangers. Creativity flowed through every costume and every smile.

What struck me most wasn’t simply the celebration.

It was the feeling.

For a few precious hours, people weren’t trying to become someone acceptable.

They were simply allowing themselves to be seen.

And isn’t that what every human heart longs for?

Not approval.

Belonging.

The freedom to stand in our own skin and know we are enough.

Then came Saturday’s FIFA quarter-final between Norway and the UK.

What a match!

Ninety minutes wasn’t enough. Then came another thirty minutes of extra time before the UK finally prevailed.

But strangely, the score isn’t what I’ll remember.

Before a single ball was kicked, both teams stood together in silence to honour a 25-year-old South African footballer who had recently passed away.

For one quiet moment, competition dissolved. There was only shared humanity.

Then, after giving absolutely everything they had, players from opposing teams embraced one another with genuine warmth and respect. There were hugs. Smiles. Encouragement. No bitterness. No grandstanding. Simply an acknowledgement that someone else’s success never diminishes our own.

As I reflected on the week, all these seemingly separate moments began weaving themselves together.

Authenticity. Compassion. Courage. Belonging. Home.

Then I realised why.

The Cancer New Moon arrives on Tuesday.

She doesn’t come crashing in with fireworks or fanfare. She arrives like the tide—quietly, steadily, almost unnoticed until you realise the shoreline has changed.

Cancer is the Moon’s own sign. She is water, memory, ancestry and belonging.

She is the keeper of the hearth, the guardian of home, the Divine Mother who reminds us that there is extraordinary strength in tenderness.

She is also the shape of you that existed before you became so very good at accommodating everyone else.

Before you learned to make yourself smaller so others would feel more comfortable.

Before you apologised for your sensitivity.

Before you convinced yourself that your intuition wasn’t to be trusted.

Before you forgot what your own heart sounded like.

This New Moon doesn’t ask you to become someone new.

She simply invites you to remember.

To remember the parts of yourself that have always been there, patiently waiting beneath the layers of expectation, responsibility and survival.

Like water, memory has a remarkable way of finding its own path home.

Perhaps that’s why Cancer is such a powerful moon for tending the heart. She encourages us to slow down long enough to hear our intuition whispering beneath all the noise.

She invites us to bless our homes, create sacred spaces, honour our ancestors, work with our dreams, strengthen our emotional boundaries and nourish the people—and the parts of ourselves—that have quietly been asking for a little more love.

This isn’t a moon of striving. It’s a moon of returning.

Returning to your own wisdom. Returning to your own rhythms.

Returning to the version of yourself that existed before the world convinced you that you had to earn your place by accommodating everyone else.

As I look back over this past week, I can’t help but smile.

The theatre reminded me.

Pride reminded me.

Football reminded me.

And now the Moon is reminding me too.

Perhaps the greatest act of courage isn’t becoming someone extraordinary.

Perhaps it’s remembering who you have always been.

So when Tuesday’s New Moon rises, light a candle.

Bless your home. Pull a card. Sit quietly with a cup of tea. Listen to the silence between your thoughts.

Ask yourself, “Where have I abandoned myself in order to belong?”

Then ask an even gentler question.

“What would it feel like to come home?”

Have a beautiful Cancer New Moon, delicious lovely. I highly suggest you try this glorious ritual called The Untying (it’s easy, you have everything you need and it’s power is woosah!)

May your home be filled with peace, your heart with compassion and your spirit with the quiet certainty that you have always belonged—exactly as you are.