Blue Moon
Blue Moon by Sayaka McPherson
I wonder if the question asked most of Sagg anything is to do with the sheer audacity. Fearless or shameless or just shouting the whole truth without a hint of guile. Most of our relationship to audacity depends on whether we are its intended benefactor, victim or player. Sagg is all three all the time and this blue moon knocks it out of the park. Anticipate revelation, the kind that lands in service of clarity and lets you adjust accordingly.
The strange pinpoint of this Sagg apogee is likely to deliver things that cannot be shoved back under carpets or into boxes and buried deep. The kind of gnosis that shifts trajectories, conjures truth telling and refuses to even try shoving the genie back in the bottle. You can always bank on knowing more after a Sagg full moon than you did before it, but the quieter debate is usually on whether or not you can unsee it. This is Jupiterian wisdom so it expands the frame unilaterally. If knowledge is power, its revelations are not to be sneezed at, snoozed on or ignored.
But the blue moon? Well this is an entirely different creatura in magic. Whilst the debates rages between etymology and astronomy, witches view the blue moon through the lens of the crone and her hard won wisdom. Borne of layers and facets of experience, all that lies in her wrinkles of time. Nothing like the cheap regurgitation that passes for wisdom in these days of formulaic spirituality and artificially generated enchantment. Even those empty calories still speak to the modern hunger for authentic connection to what is truly divine.
The blue moon is the extra (fourth) moon in the season, the penultimate that rarely shares itself with the world. It speaks deeply from the realm of women’s mysteries that have never traditionally been lauded, more’s the pity, for the crone is the oldest wisest. Inevitably the coolest, in every sense, because she cares little and is shaped even less by the gaze of others. Steely and unrelenting in her own. She speaks from the boon of maturity, the bloom of a life well lived and understood, whose reverence for life’s final and most difficult initiations is the platform on which her wisdom is built.
You cannot fake or cajole the connection to your inner crone. And neither can you mistake its veteran’s gait. The depth to crone power and knowing is borne of her proximity to darkness and oblivion. She cannot be love and light-washed, nor dressed up in the priestesses new clothes. She is a death walker. She is an inevitable soothsayer. She is a hard won ally and augur of personal power. She lives deep in the shadows - especially in this overculture - and it takes a long quest all of its own to know her.
The crone, the archer and this deep blue moon all have one thing in common. They are unflinching. Their sight is long in different ways. As a scrying pool this particular Sagg full moon is perhaps unsurpassed in its depth and length, which grants you a days long window in which to use its telescope and microscope alike.
Words c. Kerrie Basha 2026