I used to feel like I was blindfolded on the rollercoaster of life. With each unexpected turn, I felt jarred and disturbed. When I would look out the window and see a full moon, I was surprised. I did not know when it was.
I remember my friend Elle talking about the soon-to-be moon in Cancer as we cooked banana pancakes hungover in my college apartment. While I didn’t subscribe to secular astrology, her words ignited a yearning I didn’t know I had: to feel more cosmically connected to the universe.
Jews are “moon people,” another friend told me. Having an affinity for Practical Magic, The Love Witch, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch, I imagined something campy like lunatic women flailing barefoot in their sheets. But it was this cryptic comment that laid down a welcome mat.
In my senior year, I studied representations of witchcraft in the media and the metaphor that communicated the power of women. My research into lunacy, werewolves, and witchcraft was fun, but I felt like something was missing. I wanted to know how the moon—the dead satellite in the sky—had seared itself so powerfully into the consciousness of humanity.
Approaching a deadline for a draft of my moon paper, jittering on iced espressos at Library West, I wondered whether there was any primordial truth to the moon’s power at all. Maybe it was just another theoretical obsession in academia that I had foolishly latched onto.
It wasn’t until after college that it all finally clicked. I moved from Miami to Minnesota, where Jenna Zadaka, At The Well’s Jewish Education Director, lived at the time. She spoke on a panel that I moderated for a Purim event, where she introduced me to the divinity of the Jewish calendar, with its particular emphasis on the moon.
Then the pandemic hit. I found myself in solitude, confined to my apartment. I needed to find a way to connect back to the rhythm of time, and I had nowhere to go but inward.
I devoted my time and energy to becoming familiar with the Jewish months. I listened to the audiobook In the FLO, which details the different parts of the menstrual cycle: the body’s winter, spring, summer, and fall.
I still remember the visceral sensation of realizing that I wasn’t connected to the cycle of time expressed by the phases of the moon or my seasons. I felt like I had cruelly betrayed myself, though I hadn’t known any better.
Like many young women, I felt chronically unwell, uncomfortable in my skin, and unable to bring the same energy every single day. I struggled against my body, which sometimes left me feeling my desired appearance was unreachable. I had fought against my body, with a linear, masculine lens. When I befriended my biologically cyclical nature, I felt free.
I began to pay close attention to myself and the moon. I learned how particular foods, exercise routines, and lifestyle changes could complement my cycle rather than fight against it. On Rosh Chodesh Iyar, the new moon that marked the beginning of the month, I listened to a class about that month’s dedication to healing. The timing couldn’t have felt more opportune—I was given another chance to shape my perception through cycles rather than racing to a single destination.
Looking back, I see the unfamiliarity with my body and time as my mitzrayim—a narrow place, in which my body and time were strangers. Now I honor when I need to open my hips and heart in a pigeon pose while listening to my favorite music as the smell of banana bread wafts around me. I respect the moon’s waxing and waning as it mirrors my energy levels. I remain resolved to befriend my body by committing to a Rosh Chodesh practice, whether by doing a month-specific yoga flow or taking a few minutes to learn about the month online.
I found freedom when I discovered the synchronicities between myself and the months. When I learned that there is a time for everything, I learned how to trust myself again. Unlike the academic representations of the moon I’d studied, the mystical Jewish dimension of the moon touched my soul. I learned what it meant to belong to the “moon people.”
Without the wisdom of the months, without the sanctification of the new moon, it’s easy to live the hamster wheel life. Living with the months is like ascending on an upward spiral of time, with periodic opportunities to renew, rest, and reset.
At The Well uplifts many approaches to Jewish practice. Our community draws on ancient Jewish wisdom, sometimes adapting longstanding practices to more deeply support the well-being of women and nonbinary people. See this article’s sources below. We believe Torah (sacred teachings) are always unfolding to help answer the needs of the present moment.
In the FLO: Unlock Your Hormonal Advantage and Revolutionize Your Life, Alisa Vitti (audio)
Hebrew Calendar, Inner.org
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