How to Full Moon
I had a long conversation with a close friend recently. She was calling from Europe, and I’m in Australia. Despite the oceans apart, we both had been experiencing heightened emotions this past week. There was something comforting about being halfway across the world from someone, yet feeling the same, at the same time.
She reminded me, ‘It’s the full moon. It has a way of pulling everything up to the surface.’
I’ve heard that before—the idea that the moon’s gravitational pull affects the water within us, much like it does the ocean tides. There are days where emotions well up without clear reason, as if a storm is building inside. I used to resist those feelings, thinking I needed to be composed all the time. But with age, I’ve learned that emotions come in waves. They ebb and flow, whether I like it or not.
Staying by the ocean these days has taught me a lot about the power of waves. On days when the sea is flat, the air feels stale, and there’s nothing to do but sit on the shore and wait. No surfing, no playing. There’s beauty in the quiet, but eventually, the stillness grows tiresome. Then the waves return—sometimes gentle, sometimes wild—and it feels like life resumes. Those ups and downs are what make the ocean alive, and in a way, they keep us alive too.
I’ve seen this play out in other places in my life as well.
Take the stock market, for example. I got into active investing a few years back, thinking I could ride a smooth upward trend if I played my cards right. I was wrong. Stocks don’t just go up—they drop, they climb again, they correct, they surprise. Movement is necessary. A market that only rises is bound to break, and it’s in the fluctuations that opportunity emerges. If everything went up, there would be no sellers, leaving no opportunity to buy. The ups and downs are necessary, despite sometimes feeling stressful.
Relationships, too, follow a similar rhythm. I’ve experienced connections where everything seemed easy at first—until conflict arose, and I panicked, thinking it meant something was wrong. Over time, I’ve realized that those moments of tension are natural, even necessary. It’s through misunderstandings and miscommunications that deeper conversations happen. Some of the closest connections I have today grew stronger only after going through some tough times. As the connection develops into something richer and more honest, I feel gratitude for the ups and downs that I had previously experienced.
Meditating for over a decade now, I used to crave stability, determined to create a life free from the ups and downs. I remember one meditation session early on, sitting cross-legged, hoping for peace but instead finding a mess. My mind wouldn’t stop racing, and I kept thinking, ‘Shouldn’t I be better at this by now?’ But then, somewhere amidst the chaos, it hit me—this is the practice. Just sitting with it all, without needing to fix or force it. That realization felt like taking a deep breath after holding it in for too long.
I realized that my mind, a reflection often of my world, does go up and down, here and there, and will feel more often than not all over. And the goal is not to quiet my mind or stop my thoughts. Rather it’s to witness my reality as it is, and lovingly accept the ups and downs with a smile.
A steady, unchanging life would feel stagnant. It’s the ups that make us grateful, and the downs that teach us resilience. Just like an ECG monitor that measures a heartbeat, life has to have ups and downs. When the line goes flat, it’s over. But as long as it’s moving, there’s life.
The full moon may pull emotions out of me that I can’t always explain, but I’m learning to stop trying to control the waves. Instead, I’m hoping to ride them. Some days I catch a perfect wave, other days I wipe out spectacularly—but that’s part of my journey.
The other night, I stood by the ocean under the full moon. The waves lapped gently at the shore, and the moon’s reflection shimmered across the surface like a silver thread. In that moment, I felt it—the rhythm, the ebb and flow, the quiet truth that everything passes. Some waves you ride, others take you down, but they all belong. They’re all part of the same ocean.
And that is how I learned to full moon.
