October 22 – Under the Hunter’s Moon

Celebrating the full moon of power, purpose, and protection.

The Hunter’s Moon rises large and luminous, its amber light spilling over fields stripped bare after harvest. It is the moon of preparation — of gathering what remains, of fortifying hearth and spirit before the deep descent into winter. The name comes from a time when hunters relied on the moon’s glow to track game in the long autumn nights. Its rising close after sunset meant extended light, a gift for those who labored beneath it. Yet beyond its practical history, the Hunter’s Moon carries a potent spiritual charge. It is a moon of instinct, of clarity, of readiness — a reminder that survival and sacredness are one and the same.

To stand beneath this moon is to stand in the final fullness of the year’s light. The next full moon will come when the veil is open and the cold has settled in. But the Hunter’s Moon belongs to transition. It bridges the lush life of summer and the silent dreaming of winter. Its light reveals both abundance and absence — what you have gathered, and what you have yet to release.

Look closely at the world under this moon. The air is sharp with the scent of leaves and smoke. The fields shimmer silver, alive with motion you cannot see. There is a restless energy that quickens the pulse. This is the moon’s hunting rhythm — not of killing, but of seeking. Spiritually, to hunt under this moon is to pursue truth. It is to ask, with focus and courage, What am I truly after? What is essential to me as I move into the dark months?

The Hunter’s Moon calls us to awareness. Its light strips away illusion, revealing both the prey and the predator within us. The prey is what we chase: our goals, our desires, our hopes. The predator is the part of us that acts with purpose, that seeks transformation, that knows instinctively when to move and when to wait. Neither is good or evil; both are sacred aspects of survival. When balanced, they make us whole. When divided, we become lost — either starving from inaction or reckless from hunger. The moon teaches balance between pursuit and patience.

Tonight is a perfect time to renew your sense of purpose. Begin by standing under the moonlight, letting it touch your face and hands. Breathe deeply, filling your lungs with cool air. Feel your heartbeat sync with the rhythm of the night — slow, deliberate, steady. The moon does not rush; she moves through her phases with calm inevitability. Let her stillness enter you. From that stillness, clarity will come.

If you keep a journal or grimoire, write by moonlight. Note what you have harvested this year — achievements, lessons, even losses that carried wisdom. Then write what you now seek. This is not a time for vague wishes, but for direction. The Hunter’s Moon favors specificity and sincerity. If your aim is true, the energy of the night will lend strength to your intent. Fold the paper and keep it near your altar, or burn it in a small fire to release your intentions into the air.

You may also create a simple ritual of offering. The hunter in ancient lore always gave back to the land, thanking the spirit of what was taken. In your own way, honor this reciprocity. Place a bowl of water outside under the moon, or pour a little wine or cider into the soil as an offering of gratitude. Whisper a promise to use your power wisely in the months ahead. The act binds you to the rhythm of the earth, reminding you that taking and giving are two sides of the same breath.

The Hunter’s Moon is also a moon of protection. In old traditions, people carried talismans blessed under its light — knives, tools, or iron charms — to guard against spirits that wandered as the veil thinned. You can craft your own simple charm tonight. Take a small stone, bone, or piece of wood that feels right in your hand. Hold it up to the moon and say, “Moon of strength, guard me in shadow and light. As you endure, so shall I.” Keep it with you through the dark season, a quiet anchor of courage.

For those who follow goddess paths, this moon often belongs to Artemis, Diana, or the Great Huntress in her many forms — protectors of wild places and guardians of balance between life and death. Offer them a candle, an apple, or a few drops of honey in honor. Ask for their guidance in your own hunt — the pursuit of wisdom, healing, or self-understanding.

The Hunter’s Moon glows differently than any other. It has a steadier fire, an almost physical weight to its light. If you gaze long enough, you may feel a pull in your chest — the primal memory of nights spent under vast skies, when our ancestors looked up to the same moon, trusting her glow to lead them home. This is collective memory awakening. Every human who has ever lived has felt this light. When you stand beneath it, you stand among them, one heartbeat in an unbroken line of seekers and survivors.

As the night deepens, let the moonlight wash over your home. Open your window or step outside and breathe it in. Feel how it cleanses and strengthens you. The Hunter’s Moon does not offer comfort in the usual sense; it offers resilience. It does not promise safety, but the strength to meet what comes. This is its gift — fierce clarity born of acceptance. The season will turn; darkness will grow; but within that darkness burns your own inner flame, made brighter by this night’s glow.

When dawn approaches and the moon begins to sink, take a final moment to thank her. Whisper your gratitude for her guidance, her steady light, her reminder that you too can hunt for meaning in the dark. As she fades into the pale horizon, remember that her power does not vanish — it descends into you, into the earth, into everything that endures quietly through the coming cold.

The Hunter’s Moon asks you to walk forward with purpose. Let your instincts sharpen. Let your courage rise. Trust that you carry everything you need. The forest of your life stretches wide before you — shadowed, beautiful, unknown. Step into it beneath the moon’s last silver fire, and know that you are guided, guarded, and alive.