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

Hello Dark Moon wanderer – pull up a chair, top up your brew, and let’s have a little ramble through this week’s Dark Moon in Pisces, Spring Equinox wobbliness, towpath tech, tarot, and a few treats from the bottom of the cauldron.

I’m back at the kitchen table with a mug of something vaguely herbal, sorting through the cosmic clutter so you don’t have to. This week we’ve Dark Moons, Equinoxes, canal tech, AI musings, shadowy news, and a few little gifts tucked between the paragraphs.

The recent dark moon felt like the lights going out in the cosmic cinema so we could actually hear ourselves think for five minutes. That deep, velvety pause between cycles is perfect for binning old stories, doing a bit of stealth shadow work, and quietly planting the kind of intentions you’re not quite ready to announce on social media yet. It’s the energetic equivalent of taking everything off the shelves, muttering at the dust, and only putting back what still feels like it belongs to the person you’re becoming.

If you’ve been feeling a little raw, dreamy, or like your insides are three beats out of sync with everyone else’s, you’re in very good lunar company. This is an excellent moment to cocoon yourself in sound, story, and a bit of witchy radio comfort, so if you want some dark‑moon‑appropriate company while you brood, brew, journal, or plot your next quiet rebellion, you can always slip over to darkmoon.rocks and let the station keep watch with you in the dark.

It’s a tender, in‑between kind of dark, so be gentle with yourself and let something kind hold you while everything re‑arranges itself.

This is that brief cosmic seesaw moment when light and dark balance themselves almost perfectly, as the Sun sits directly over the equator and both hemispheres get (more or less) an equal share of day and night.

Astronomers will happily tell you that, technically, the “truly equal” day and night is called the equilux and often lands a few days either side, but symbolically this is the hinge in the year when we tip from the dark half into the light, from winter’s underworld into the slow, green unfurl of spring. In Celtic and other old mythologies it’s a threshold time, charged with rebirth, renewal, and the delicate tension between opposites – light and shadow, inner and outer, rest and growth – which makes it a potent moment to check where your own life is out of balance and to gently nudge the scales back towards something that actually feels like you.

So if you’ve been feeling a bit tilted, this is your cosmic permission slip to shuffle things around until your own light and dark feel like they’re on speaking terms again.

This week’s Tech Dispatch from the Towpath comes with a small hymn of praise to the solar panels, which have been quietly earning their keep on the roof. Every ray they catch is a minute I don’t have to run the generator, which is a blessed relief now diesel prices have decided they’re auditioning for a space programme. The panels aren’t glamorous, but they’re steadily shaving the edges off the fuel bill and giving me just enough smugness to boil the kettle without wincing.

I’ve also been gifted a delightful little (w)anker battery – one of those dinky power banks that punches well above its weight and, crucially, comes with its own tangle‑free cables built in. It’s the sort of unassuming gadget that makes an enormous difference on a boat: phone topped up, router pacified, radio stream humming, all without crawling around on the floor hunting for the “right” lead. It may be small, but in towpath tech terms it’s basically a tiny, portable miracle with delusions of grandeur.

Maybe someone should pay me to give you its name… but for now I’ll settle for the smug glow of a fully charged phone and a quieter fuel bill.

The Fool strolls in at the very edge of the map, pockets mostly empty, heart wide open, and absolutely no guarantee of where they’ll land next – just that it’s time to take a leap of faith into the unknown anyway. This card is that deliciously wobbly moment when you step off the solid ground of “what I’ve always done” and trust that the path will rise up to meet you, even if all you can see right now is cliff edge, big sky, and the faint bark of your own instincts at your heels. If The Fool has been dogging your readings lately and you’re feeling the itch to begin something without a full five‑year plan, you’re very welcome to come and explore what that leap might look like for you over at weavesofwaves.net, where we can sit with the cards, the questions, and the wild possibility of saying yes to your next chapter

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.

This is for you lot – a little something from the bottom of the cauldron. Here’s a private link to a guided meditation for creating your own Dark Moon Inner Sanctuary, a quiet inner hideaway you can return to whenever the world feels too loud or too sharp: https://youtu.be/Vzp4Sq7OGNo?si=uEwbJmk2_6M3DvHs.

Quick disclaimer: this meditation is for relaxation and personal reflection only and isn’t a substitute for medical, therapeutic, or psychiatric support – please listen safely, don’t use it while driving or operating anything sharp or floaty, and do whatever you need to stay grounded and comfortable in your own body.

If you do listen, I’d love to hear how your Dark Moon Inner Sanctuary feels – just hit reply and tell me what you found there.

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.

Next week 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.