Why The Moon? by Mitchell King

“The Moon is earth’s oldest temple holding the potency of countless prayers since the dawn of time… a bell whose ringing brings you into the field of the Mother, where body and soul can quietly drink.”–Dana Gerhardt, Astrologer and Columnist

In The Many Veils of The Moon: A Grimoire of Lunar Magic for the Green Witch, moon magic is more than a series of spells. I use it as a way to connect with the earth and natural world around the practitioner–from creating and anointing the witch and the creation of their magical tools, to the growing and tending of herbs. But, the hard question, one that I’ve struggled to answer more than once, is: Why the moon? Why is the moon so central to your practice?

And it is a hard question to answer! So much of the moon is felt and understood, rather than spoken and rationalized.

Oh, there’s history, of course. That’s the easy part to talk about.

The Moon was once an important figure in the lives of everyone: farmers, sailors, animal workers, healers, astronomers, poets, and more. The phases of the moon dictated when crops were planted and harvested, when ships left port and returned to harbor, when armies marched and babies were born, and when the dying finally let go and were laid to rest. The Moon was not a decoration. The Moon was not a metaphor. The Moon was a clock, a calendar, a compass, and, for many, a God or Goddess.

But, these days, it seems as though the only people left who hold the splendid pearl of the night in high regard are those most inclined to dance beneath it: witches. We are moonstruck. We are ephemeral things dancing in the dim-lit dark and laughing.

And what a gift that is!

While the rest of the world doomscrolls past moon-rise without a second glance, we are the ones standing outside in our backyards, leaning out of apartment windows, or driving to the edge of town to find a dark enough sky. We are the ones who notice. We are the ones who feel it – that ancient, inexplicable pull in the chest, like a tide responding to something enormous and silver and impossibly far away.

But why the moon?

Why are we so enchanted and called to work our magic, beneath her supervision?

It’s hard to say. I know for myself, growing up in Texas, the night and the moon were things that allowed me to express myself in an otherwise unsafe environment. It was the end of the day’s relentless heat, the sun baking the red clay into bricks beneath my feet, and it was a time when everyone else slept–and I could do what I wanted freely. The moon was, and is, many things to me: a guardian, a watchful eye, a friend, a keeper of my secrets.

And maybe that is why so many of us are called to work our magic in tandem with the moon: much like our other magical tools, we build an individual and unique connection with the moon over the course of years, like a beloved and worn deck of Tarot cards or a set of divining bones. For each of us, the moon is there, and in each of our practices, it may do similar things: we cast spells for growth or goals as the moon heads toward fullness, and we banish, cleanse, and obfuscate when the moon goes dark.

These things are nearly universal.

But I’d bet that each of us has our own private traditions and rituals that reflect our unique relationship with the moon, whether that’s literal dancing beneath it or giving it your secrets. For myself, I’ll share here, with you, that I like to write my wishes in moonwater. I dip a twig in a jar of clear water like a quill and ink and then leave it in the dark beneath the moon’s light.

That is unique to me.

And every witch I’ve talked to has something that they do, something unique to them and their story, the “how” of their craft, that they do with the lunar presence.

So what about you? How does the moon fit into your practice? Do you write in moonwater? Do you dance in the moon’s light or shadow? And what does it say about the story of your craft?

At the end of a long day of being someone else for other people, the moon asks us:

Who are you? And why are you here, in the dark, with me?