Jenny Heston

Claim Your Power and Step Into Your Magick

Ritual

Coming Back to Yourself.

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The Last New Moon of Summer

There is something about September that feels different.

You can almost see the Wheel turning.

The evenings arrive earlier. The mornings have a different feel. The light is changing. The garden is heavy with things that have spent all summer becoming. There is still summer here, but autumn is standing at the garden gate saying, Oi, I’m coming.

And frankly, I’m delighted. 😂

I’m not one of those people desperately clinging to the last hot days of summer. By September, I’m ready. Ready for cooler mornings, sweaters, earlier evenings and that first delicious crispness in the air.

There’s something about September that feels like an exhale.

A threshold.

And I bloody love a good threshold.

On September 10/11 we arrive at the last New Moon of summer, in earthy Virgo. After all that eclipse energy — the shifting, revealing and great big LEAP — this New Moon feels like putting our feet back on the earth.

We leapt.

We may not be entirely sure where the hell we’ve landed.

But here we are.

And perhaps the question isn’t Where am I going next?

Perhaps it’s simply:

What do I need now?

Virgo is connected with health, work, service, routines and the small details of everyday life.

Which could very easily become: New Moon! New habits! Organise everything! Buy a planner! Get up at 5 a.m.! Drink something green! Become a much better human by Tuesday!

Fuck that. 😂

What if you don’t need another self-improvement project?

What if this New Moon isn’t asking you to reinvent yourself?

What if it’s asking you to come back to yourself?

I’ve been thinking about the difference between routine and rhythm.

Routine can become something we impose upon ourselves. Rhythm asks us to listen.

Nature knows this.

My garden doesn’t arrive in September, look around and decide it hasn’t achieved enough and needs to get its shit together. It responds to the changing light, cooler nights, what has ripened, what needs gathering and what is beginning to let go.

Nature doesn’t stay in one mode all year. Why the hell do we expect ourselves to?

Maybe September is simply an invitation to notice the rhythm you need now.

What nourishes you? What are you tired of? What have you made far more complicated than it needs to be? Where is your energy going — and do you still want it going there?

That last question matters.

Virgo is also connected with service, and there can be a very fine line between service and self-abandonment.

We help. Fix. Accommodate. Carry. Understand everybody else’s needs. Manage the emotional weather.

And sometimes we become so bloody busy tending everybody else’s garden that we suddenly realise ours hasn’t been watered in weeks.

Coming back to yourself might mean remembering what is actually yours to tend.

Maybe that’s why this New Moon feels less like a beginning and more like a return.

Instead of asking, What new habits should I start?, try asking:

What would I like to return to?

Walking amongst the trees. Writing. Making something. Going to bed earlier. Sitting outside with your coffee. Dancing around the kitchen. Turning the bloody phone off. Spending time with people who make you laugh.

Those little things that make something inside you go:

Oh. There I am.

Virgo understands the power of small things.

And after eclipse season, perhaps small is exactly what we need.

We don’t need another great leap. We don’t need to know what the next six months look like.

We can put our feet on the earth, notice where we are and listen.

I’ve created a Virgo New Moon Ritual for Clarity, Health and Harmony to help you do exactly that — a little space to pause, clear some of the noise and notice what you want to tend as we move toward autumn.

So light your candle. Do the ritual. Get quiet.

And instead of asking who you’re supposed to become next, ask:

What would help me come home to myself?

The eclipse asked us to leap.

This New Moon invites us to land.

And September whispers:

Come home.

You don’t need to reinvent yourself, Gorgeous Soul.

Perhaps you simply need to come back to yourself. 🌑🍂

The Glorious Reveal….

· ·

A Playful New Moon Solar Eclipse Ritual

This New Moon Solar Eclipse in Leo invites us to step out from behind the roles, masks and expectations we have collected and remember the glorious, creative being underneath them all.

This is not a ritual for improving yourself.

You are not a renovation project.

It is a ritual for seeing yourself, celebrating what is already alive within you and reclaiming the pieces you may have tucked away because they were too loud, too strange, too playful or simply too much for someone else’s comfort.

And because this is Leo, we are not going to whisper our way through it.

There will be music. There will be a crown. There may be dancing of questionable quality.

Perfect.

You Will Need

  • A small mirror
  • A gold, yellow or orange candle—or whatever you have
  • Paper or lightweight card
  • Scissors, tape and coloured pens
  • Five small slips of paper
  • A bowl
  • Music that makes you feel gloriously alive
  • Something playful to wear

Never look directly at the Sun during an eclipse without certified eclipse glasses. This ritual can be performed indoors and does not require viewing the eclipse.

Create Your Crown

Make yourself a simple paper crown. It does not need to be elegant—a wonky crown made with enthusiasm is far better than a perfect one made with clenched teeth.

On the inside, write:

I do not have to perform to belong.

Decorate the outside with words, colours and symbols representing your aliveness: creativity, courage, humour, joy, wildness or whatever feels true.

This crown is not about being better than anyone else. It represents your willingness to take your rightful place in your own life.

Arrive as You Are

Light your candle and take a few slow breaths.

There is no need to become calm, spiritual or impressively serene. If your socks don’t match or the cat has already sat on your supplies, you are still welcome.

Say:

I arrive as I am.
I release the need to perform.
I welcome all that is alive and true within me.

Reclaim What You Have Hidden

On each slip of paper, complete this sentence:

I am ready to reclaim my…

Perhaps it is your voice, playfulness, creativity, confidence, curiosity, wildness or ability to say no without writing a twelve-page apology.

Fold the slips, place them in the bowl and choose one.

Ask:

What would this part of me like to do?

Let the first simple answer come. Perhaps your playfulness wants to dance, your creativity wants to make something or your voice wants to speak honestly.

Write down one small, real action that will give this part of you room to live again.

Meet Your Own Gaze

Place the crown upon your head. Yes, really.

Look gently into the mirror—not to inspect or criticise, but to witness the person looking back at you.

Say:

I see the self beneath the roles.
I recognise the light that has always lived here.
I forgive the ways I learned to disappear.
I do not need applause to know my worth.
I belong here as myself.

Now offer yourself one genuine compliment that has nothing to do with being useful, productive or pleasing.

Begin with:

Something glorious about me is…

Say it aloud, even if you blush or laugh.

Especially then.

Let Yourself Be Alive

Put on your music and move for the length of one song.

Dance beautifully. Dance badly. Sway, bounce, shimmy or wave your arms like an enthusiastic inflatable tube person.

There is no audience and no performance—only your body remembering joy.

When the song ends, place your hand over your heart and say:

My aliveness is sacred.
My joy matters.
My creativity is an offering.
My voice belongs in the conversation.
My light was never the problem.

Close the Ritual

Place your chosen slip beneath the mirror until you have completed the action it asked of you.

Thank the Eclipse, your heart and the gloriously imperfect person you are becoming more willing to see.

Blow out your candle and say:

I do not shine to be admired.
I shine because I am alive.
I belong without disappearing.
And I am ready to be revealed.

Keep your crown. Wear it whenever you forget who you are—or whenever doing the washing-up requires a little more majesty.

And if you are feeling bold, would love to see an image of your crown!

The Buck Moon: Grow Wild, Take Up Space & Feed What Matters!

· ·

Gorgeous Soul,

Can you feel it? There is something growing in the dark.

The Buck Moon rises on Wednesday, July 29, carrying an energy of nourishment, strength, healthy boundaries and unapologetic expansion. She reaches her fullest at 7:35 a.m. here on the West Coast, so look for her glowing beautifully on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings.

July’s full moon takes her name from the male deer—the buck—whose new antlers are growing rapidly at this time of year. What begins as something tender, covered in soft velvet, will eventually become strong enough to protect him, establish his place and carry him through the season ahead.

But those antlers cannot grow from nothing.

Their size and strength depend upon what is available to nourish the buck: rain, rich soil, abundant plants and a healthy habitat. If nourishment is scarce, growth is limited.

Nature, as she so often does, makes the lesson gloriously clear:

You cannot continually deprive yourself and still expect yourself to flourish.

You cannot run on crumbs—crumbs of rest, crumbs of affection, crumbs of joy, crumbs of time—and then wonder why you feel depleted. Nor can you pour all your energy into everybody else’s garden while your own quietly wilts in the corner.

The Buck Moon asks you to look honestly at what you are feeding.

Are you nourishing the dreams that make your whole being light up? Are you strengthening the relationships that strengthen you in return? Are you investing time, care and energy in your own gorgeous life—or are your needs forever being shuffled to the bottom of the list?

Because you are not an afterthought.

And taking up space does not mean pushing anyone else out of the way. It means no longer folding yourself into smaller and smaller shapes to make everyone around you comfortable. It means allowing your voice to be heard, your boundaries to be honoured and your gifts to be visible.

It means standing in your own patch of sunlight and saying:

I belong here too.

Growing Into Your Power

There is a lovely difference between forcing yourself to become someone else and allowing yourself to grow more fully into who you already are.

The buck does not spend the summer anxiously comparing his antlers with those of every other deer in the forest. He does not wake at three in the morning convinced that his rack should be bigger, more impressive or further along.

He eats. He rests. He moves through the forest. He trusts the ancient intelligence of his body and the rhythm of the season.

Meanwhile, we humans are often flapping about, attempting to bloom, harvest, heal, launch seventeen new projects and completely reinvent ourselves before lunchtime.

The Buck Moon reminds us that meaningful growth is not built through frantic striving. It is created through nourishment, attention and repeated small choices.

We grow into our power through practice, not perfection.

Every time you honour a boundary, you grow stronger.

Every time you choose what nourishes you rather than what merely distracts you, you grow clearer.

Every time you speak honestly, rest without apologising, learn something new or devote time to what genuinely matters, you strengthen the foundations of your future.

A meaningful life is not created all at once.

It is grown—one choice, one threshold and one season at a time.

What Are You Feeding?

Full moons illuminate. They bring things into view—including the things we have been cheerfully avoiding while hoping they might wander off by themselves.

This moon may reveal where your energy has become scattered. You might notice too many half-fed projects, obligations that no longer belong to you or relationships that continually consume your attention without offering anything nourishing in return.

This is not an invitation to judge yourself or begin hacking wildly at your life with an energetic machete.

It is an invitation to pause.

What matters most now?

What deserves more of your care?

What dream, relationship, skill or part of yourself is ready to be nourished properly?

And what smaller distractions can be released so that your deeper priorities have room to grow?

You do not need to do everything. In fact, trying to do everything is often the fastest route to accomplishing very little—except becoming impressively tired and slightly stabby.

Choose what matters. Feed it well. Give it time.

A Simple Buck Moon Ritual

On Tuesday or Wednesday evening, find a quiet place beneath the moon—or near a window where you can feel connected to her light.

You will need:

  • A candle
  • A small bowl of water
  • A leaf, sprig of rosemary or something gathered respectfully from nature
  • Your journal and a pen

Light your candle and place the bowl of water beside it. Hold your leaf or herb and take several slow breaths.

Imagine yourself standing in a summer forest. Beneath you is rich soil; around you, life is growing in every direction. You do not need to chase your strength. You are already rooted within it.

Ask yourself:

What within me is asking to be nourished?

Where am I ready to take up more space?

What boundary will protect what I am growing?

What distraction or obligation am I willing to release?

What would it look like to live more fully this season?

Write without overthinking or attempting to make your answers sound sensible. Let what is true come forward.

When you are finished, dip your fingers into the water and gently touch your forehead, heart and hands.

You might say:

May my thoughts nourish what matters.
May my heart remember what is true.
May my hands help create the life I am ready to live.

Place the leaf or herb somewhere meaningful for the next few days. When the ritual feels complete, return it to the earth with gratitude.

Want to Go a Little Deeper?

If the Buck Moon has illuminated something within you—and you want to explore it with pen, paper and perhaps a cuppa—I have created a collection of Buck Moon journal prompts for you.

They will help you explore nourishment, boundaries, taking up space and the glorious strength that is already growing within you.

Take your time with them. You do not need to answer everything at once. Choose the question that tugs at your sleeve, pour yourself something lovely and see what wants to be revealed.

And Lughnasadh Is Coming…

Just a few days after the Buck Moon, we reach Lughnasadh on August 1st—the first of the three traditional harvest celebrations on the Wheel of the Year.

It is a threshold of gratitude, abundance, sacrifice and harvest. A time to notice what has ripened, what our labour has created and what must be gathered before the season begins to turn.

But we will sink our hands deeply into that particular magick in a separate post later this week.

For now, let the Buck Moon show you what is still growing.

Let her illuminate the places where you have been surviving on crumbs. Let her remind you that nourishment is not selfish, boundaries are not punishment and taking up space is not something you need to earn.

Your life is growing around you.

Feed what matters.

Protect what is tender.

And allow yourself to become gloriously, visibly, unmistakably more of who you have always been.

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.

The Untying

· ·

A Ritual for Releasing What No Longer Needs Your Grip

There comes a moment when we realise we have been holding on for so long that our hands have forgotten what it feels like to rest.

Perhaps you’ve been gripping a relationship long after it changed. A schedule that leaves no room to breathe. Expectations that were never truly yours. Or perhaps you’ve been holding tightly to an older version of yourself simply because she’s familiar.

We clutch because we love. Because we hope. Because we fear what happens if we let go.

But what if letting go isn’t an ending?

What if it’s simply making space for something truer?

This is a ritual of gentle release. There is nothing dramatic here. No grand declarations. No need to force forgiveness or have all the answers.

Just one knot at a time.

You Will Need

  • A length of natural thread, cord or ribbon
  • A candle (white for clarity, or any colour that calls to you)
  • Matches or a lighter
  • A quiet place where you won’t be disturbed
  • A small bowl of water (optional, to represent flow and renewal)

The Ritual

Light your candle and take a few slow, easy breaths.

Feel your feet upon the earth. Notice the weight of your body being held.

Take your length of thread or cord and begin tying knots into it.

One knot for each thing you know you’re gripping just a little too tightly.

A person.

A worry.

A plan.

A disappointment.

A version of yourself you’ve been carrying out of habit rather than desire.

There is no right number. Trust your hands.

When you’ve finished, sit quietly with the cord resting in your palms.

Then begin.

Untie one knot.

Slowly.

Without rushing.

You don’t have to name what each knot represents—not even to yourself. You don’t have to explain it. You don’t have to understand what comes next or what will fill the space it leaves behind.

Simply allow your fingers to loosen what your heart has carried.

One knot.

One breath.

One release.

Notice how different the cord feels as each knot disappears.

Notice how different you feel.

When every knot has been untied, hold the now-smooth thread in your hands for a moment.

Whisper softly:

“I release what no longer belongs in my hands. I trust what is finding its way to my heart.”

Sit with the candle for another minute or two.

Allow yourself to simply be.

When you are ready, extinguish the flame with gratitude, knowing that letting go isn’t about losing.

It is about creating room.

Room for peace. Room for possibility.

Room for the woman you are becoming.

Sometimes the hand already knows how to let go.

It has simply been waiting for your permission.

Release Anxiety And Claim Your Power

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