I am Kate Silveness & this is my Dark Moon Newsletter.

I woke up on Monday the 23rd rather different from how I'd gone to bed. I'd had a stroke. Words weren't coming out right, and my right arm was doing its own peculiar thing entirely. What followed was a full blue-light ambulance adventure — the sort of thing that sounds quite dramatic and, I can confirm, absolutely is, though not in a fun way. The ambulance crew were genuinely lovely, however. Top marks there.

I've never really spent much time in hospital, and while the people were kind, being indoors for over a week is not my natural habitat. The CT scan and MRI scan added a certain snug quality to proceedings that I could have done without. Two small marks were found inside my head, which the experts confirm were the stroke. I am feeling very grateful that I woke up that Monday morning. Full stop.

Words don't flow quite as they once did — I'm told that will improve. Exhaustion is apparently part of the package with the medication. I am adjusting. Slowly. With a certain amount of colourful inner commentary.

I've closed the live bit of the radio station down for now. The music and podcasts are still flowing. You can find some of my music and podcasts at this link — a few bits and pieces rescued from the airwaves.

For now, I'm going to be a bit slower. Today the moon is in Capricorn, which means many things feel slightly sideways anyway, and words are harder to catch than usual. I'm told a great deal of what I'm experiencing is normal after a stroke — the emotional overreaction, the fog, the exhaustion — and I'll be honest, I'm a little suspicious of this "normal" everyone keeps going on about. I have fewer spoons than I did a few weeks ago, and I can't do as much as I once could.

But I will rise again, in a different form. That is, if nothing else, what I do best. I need to be creative, so creative is what I shall build myself back into being.

Radio is still playing…. Catch it here

This is my dream self — the one who comes to me in the form of threads in the dark. I found her name on a gravestone in Wales many years ago. There are so many Kates in this world that I wanted something entirely mine, something singular. I do have another name, one given to me during a shamanic ritual — Swift Arrow Woman — though I'm still working out how to introduce her at parties.

Gibbs is my maternal grandmother's name, which is why I was drawn to it. It sat surrounded by Evans on that stone, a very common Welsh name that also runs through my mother's side. So I asked very nicely if I could borrow it, felt a rush of warmth in response, and took that as a yes.

When I returned a month ago — we were passing through and I felt a pull to go back — I left flowers and a crystal or two. It was like visiting an old friend.

This life is not all there is, no matter how fast and relentlessly the material world is spun at us. I am not yet healed from whatever passing neuron or returning genetic curse left its mark on my brain that morning on the boat — but I am okay. I am moving through the states of being as best I can.

My overthinking, questioning mind is not as clear as it was and is having rather a tough time of it. Why me? is such a childish question, and what did I do to deserve this? is equally daft — the answer to both being, of course, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And yes, I can still quote that without looking it up. My sense of humour may be getting a little sharper by way of compensation. My language is a bit muddled, but still reliably scattered with profanities when the occasion demands.

The sun’s out, the panels are soaking it up, and everything hums. Solar tech has me off the grid, free from petrol generators and tangled wires, while power banks keep me connected even when the towpath feels a thousand miles away.

Little wins matter too. A £6 shower pump now shifts water from plastic tanks into the big steel boat tank. Simple. Cheap. Genius. It’s the sort of clever tech that makes off-grid life smooth, green, and, honestly, kind of magical.

I’m always on the lookout for gear that keeps this life flowing—portable solar, power banks, eco-friendly tech, anything that lets a moony soul wander without leaving sparks behind. Companies with off-grid tech: your audience isn’t just me—it’s a whole tribe of curious, adventurous humans watching, wondering, and dreaming about a life less plugged in.

Got something clever to show off? Let’s make it part of the tow path.

The Fool steps forward once again with a light pack and an open sky, standing right on the edge of something new. This isn’t about being reckless—it’s about that moment where life shifts and you can feel it in your bones. A crossroads. A nudge. The quiet (or not so quiet) knowing that you can’t stay where you are, even if you don’t yet know where you’re going.

In tarot, The Fool is the beginning of the journey, but in real life it often shows up in the messy middle—when you’re overwhelmed, questioning everything, or standing on the edge of a change you didn’t exactly plan. This is where the cards come into their own. Not fortune-telling, but reflection, pattern-spotting, and grounded insight into what’s actually going on beneath the noise.

If you’re navigating transition, emotional overload, or one of life’s many “what now?” moments, I offer structured, grounded online tarot and coaching sessions. We use the cards as tools—not to tell you what to do, but to help you hear yourself more clearly, make sense of the chaos, and take your next step with a bit more steadiness.

You can book your spot over at weavesofwaves.net and we’ll let The Fool point its nose towards whatever new path is calling you.

Sleep has been… interesting lately. If your mind won’t switch off, your body won’t settle, or you’re lying there replaying life at 3am like it’s a bad late-night rerun—you’re not alone. So this week’s treasure is simple, practical, and designed to actually help: two guided sleep meditations from the Dark Moon Whispers bag.

These are gentle, voice-led journeys to help you come down out of the noise, soften the edges, and drift into proper rest. No fluff, no pressure—just something to listen to when the world feels a bit too loud and your nervous system needs a hand finding the off switch.

✨ Sleep Meditation 1
✨ Sleep Meditation 2

Put your headphones on, get comfortable, and let yourself be guided. You don’t have to force sleep—just give yourself the space to fall into it.

Not to be listened to while driving or operating machinery. For relaxation and entertainment purposes only.

Thanks for reading all the way to the bottom of the cauldron. If any of this hit a nerve, feel free to hit reply and tell me which bit. I do read them.
I’ll be back with more cosmic weather, towpath mutterings, and whatever the cards, the gremlins, and the radio cough up between now and then.

If you enjoyed this, please do like, share, or forward it to another creature of the shadows who might need a bit of dark‑moon company – it helps more than you know and keeps the cauldron bubbling for us all.