moonletter | strawberry moon, ripening under wide skies

dancing truths, sweet fruit

moonletter | june 11, 2025
full moon in sagittarius

“There is a reason, after all, that some people wish to colonize the moon, and others dance before it as before an ancient friend.” ―James Baldwin

Hello dear reader,

Tonight the moon is full, and this is the Strawberry Moon.

As you might know, the full moon names come from north american Indigenous peoples, including the Algonquin. They recognize this as the short season when wild strawberries ripen in the northern hemisphere (and let me tell you, they are truly tasty over here).

A time for small sweetness, slow harvesting, offerings of red fruit in early summer.

This year, the Strawberry Moon rises in Sagittarius. A fire sign with its gaze always set on distant truths, Sagittarius opens the map and points the arrows for the next question. It's a sign for boldness and humour, of quiet fire under the belly.

This moon carries that fire. It may arrive in your life as restlessness, as a truth surfacing, as a desire to leap or begin again. Sagittarius moons are good for that. They speak to the paths we walk guided by belief, desire, and a sense that something far away is calling.

You might be the kind of reader who goes “But Mari, I’m not into astrology, I don't get it! How can this make sense to me?” (or you may be the kind of reader who says - yes, yes, I'm very into this).

I hear you! I am not an astrologer, I am a storyteller, so this is how I approach the sky:

For me, astrology is not about prediction or tropes. It is like poetry: some like it, some don't, some connect and understand it, some find it annoying. However, poetry is language. And poetry and astrology are human ways to mirror our existence, a mirror of sounds or of stars and motion.

I look at the stars as a way of remembering that we are never separate from the wider rhythm of things. We are shaped by tides. We are pulled by unseen gravity. We bloom under light, we fold into darkness.

When you look at an astrological chart, there is no planet Earth on the wheel. That is because we are reading from Earth. We are the Earth. We are the fixed point, the heart of the story, we are looking at the planets performing their dance around us, and we can feel it. In our blood, in our dreams, in the strange timing of things.

When I first understood that, it changed how I placed myself in the world. I am not just from the Earth. I am the Earth. I am not just affected by the moon. I carry Her shape inside me.

As Carl Sagan said, “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

So... the Universe is also looking at our dance and reaching out to us in perfect rhythm.

We are not separate from the sky. The stars are part of our earliest ancestry, for every lineage of human once spoke with the planets, watched their motion, searched and chartered for meaning. This knowledge is not made only of metaphors, it is also memory. The sky is part of the body.

To reconnect with the cosmos is way to understand the patterns we are living — both personal and collective. A way to see more clearly the moment we are in, and the one we are stepping into.

When we approach the moon phases with reverence, we open space for the wild, the sacred, the necessary. We begin to live as if the universe is in conversation with us... because it is.

So. Sagittarius is the archer. A figure in motion, holding both fire and vision. The bow is drawn with purpose. The arrow follows the pull of the heart.
Sagittarius is a Centaur — half human, half horse — holding a bow aimed toward the stars. In Greek mythology, this archer is often linked to Chiron, the wise healer and teacher, who walked between worlds. He was not like the other centaurs known for chaos and impulse, for Chiron knew plants, stars, medicine, and music. He taught heroes how to live with honour and how to suffer with purpose.

This ancient healer shows us the wild body steadying the sacred aim. The instinct of the animal fused with the vision of the seer. The archer is not afraid of missing the mark. The power is in the drawing back, in the strength to release, in the willingness to focus.

Sagittarius reminds us that freedom lives close to purpose. That direction is a form of devotion. That to live truthfully is also to live in motion.

This full Strawberry Moon brings that kind of movement. A stirring of direction. A question rising from the body and reaching the sparks of brilliance of the mind. The archer responds to rhythm.

This is a moon for brightening the path, either personal or collective, and for honouring the freedom that begins within. For remembering that meaning often lives in how we choose to walk and dance our lives, not just where we end up.

And tonight, you live it under a Strawberry Moon, arriving just before the great turning of the Summer Solstice. Take a moment for noticing. Trusting. One foot in front of the other.

Let this full moon be a moment of connection. Let it be a pause to remember that you are magickal, that your gifts are real, and that the future — mine, yours, and ours — is still unfolding in ways beyond imagination.

Now, let's light a flame.

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a ritual for the strawberry moon

for sweetness and lighting a creative flame

In ancient storytelling, fire has always marked thresholds. The lighting of flame before action. The quiet moment before speaking truth. Sagittarius, too, stands at a threshold: bow drawn, eyes steady, breath held. This ritual invites you to meet that same moment in yourself.

• Light a small fire if you can (in a cauldron, fire-safe bowl, or candle). Let it mirror the archer’s focus, the heat of clarity.

• Place a strawberry near the flame (or, if you're somewhere they are out of season, use a small red fruit or berry, or even a slip of paper or ribbon with the word 'sweetness' written on it).

• Sit for a moment. Let the flame reflect in your eyes. Let your body feel its warmth.

• Say aloud or quietly, or even write it:

  I honour the fire that moves me.
  I call in the sweetness of the earth that runs through me.
  I walk with light, even when I cannot see the end of the path.

• Eat the strawberry slowly, or burn the word in the flame (safely). Let that act be a small gesture of trust.

• Close with breath and gratitude. Let your body speak back to the fire. Let your spirit hold its ember.

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reflections:

• Where am I pointing my arrows to?

• Where in my life do I feel creative fire building?

• What is one truth I have known for a while, but only now feel ready to live?

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Here's something to listen to while you journal or after you read this moonletter:

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a note from the moving boxes

If you read my last essay Unrooting, you know things are in motion over here. I am in between homes, in between places, in between breaths. There is a lot of inner and outer sorting going on, there is grief and hope, all coexisting in the same room.

Because of that, this week’s episode of Goddess, Witch, Woman will be arriving a little later than usual. It is still coming, just finding its rhythm.

Expect a deep dive into the Summer Solstice soon as well! Litha is coming...

In the meantime, you can read Unrooting here if you would like to accompany me on the path:

With breath, movement, and ripe strawberries,

Marianna

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If this moonletter touched something in you, I would love to hear it. You can comment below, share with someone you love, or simply let it settle into your body under the moonlight.

Your presence here is part of the ritual. And if you tap the little heart, other people can find me too.