Three days out. Your nervous system deserves a heads up.
The Full Moon and Mercury Retrograde arrive together on Monday. Let's prepare your body.
Monday is a lot.
On June 29, the Strawberry Full Moon rises in Capricorn at the same moment Mercury stations retrograde in Cancer. Two major astrological events, the same day, hitting opposite ends of the same axis.
Capricorn Full Moons illuminate the tension between private life and public responsibility. Between what you need and what you're accountable for. Between home and ambition, care and structure, what you owe yourself and what you owe the world.
And Mercury retrograde in Cancer stirring underneath it means the emotional undercurrent is about to get loud: old conversations, unresolved feelings, family echoes, the things you've been meaning to say or finally stop saying.
This is not a combination that sneaks up quietly.
So today, three days before it peaks, let's do something your nervous system will thank you for: set an anchor.
✨ SPELL
This ritual isn’t about belief. It’s about repair.
Capitalism has broken your relationship to time—flattened your rhythms, punished your rest, and convinced you every moment must be productive.
The moon disagrees.
Each new and full moon, I’ll hand you a small ritual. Not to “manifest” or optimize, but to reattune your body to a different pace. One that honors cycles, not calendars.
Pay attention to the moon. It’s not aesthetic—it’s antidote.
The Pre-Full Moon Anchor
A ritual for establishing your emotional baseline before the intensity arrives.
Supplies:
A bowl of warm water
Your hands
Steps:
Place your hands in the warm water.
Close your eyes and breathe.
Say: "When the tide rises, I rise with it. I do not disappear."
Bring to mind one thing you want to stay connected to through whatever this retrograde stirs up. One value, one truth, one part of yourself you don't want to lose in the noise.
Lift your hands and let them air dry.
This seals the intention into your body. Not your calendar. Your body.
✊ HEX
You don’t need a rundown of the headlines. You’re living them. Whether you’re in the U.S. or just suffering under its ripple effects, the harm is real—and relentless.
This isn’t catharsis. It’s counter-spell.
Each HEX is a ritual of refusal—a channel for holy rage, spiritual disruption, and deliberate, directed dissent.
Here’s who we’re targeting. And what to do about it.
Pride Was a Riot Before It Was a Parade
On June 28, 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn. It was a gay bar on Christopher Street in New York City at a time when homosexuality was illegal in most of the country. Officers arrested patrons and forced them into police cars in full view of the street.
The community had had enough.
What followed was six days of resistance. Bottles thrown. Fires lit. Patrons who would normally have scattered in fear instead stood their ground. Marsha P. Johnson, a Black trans woman and drag queen, was at the center of it. She was a key figure in the uprising and remained one for the rest of her life, alongside Sylvia Rivera, a Latina trans woman who later said she threw the second Molotov cocktail of the night.
A year later, thousands marched through Greenwich Village on the anniversary. They called it Christopher Street Liberation Day. It became the first Pride parade.
Pride was a riot before it was a parade. It was led by Black and Latina trans women before it was sponsored by banks. It was an act of survival before it was a marketing opportunity.
We know all of this. It isn’t news. But it matters because of what Pride has become in the decades since and what it's becoming again right now, in a different direction.
For years, Pride steadily got more corporate, more sanitized, more rainbow capitalism and less revolution. Companies slapped a rainbow on their logo every June and called it solidarity. We named that pattern this whole month: Patagonia, the corporate sponsors pulling back, the brands that lined up for the photo opportunity and disappeared the moment it cost them anything.
But here's the thing about a movement that started as a riot:
It never actually needed the sponsors. It never needed the parade floats or the rainbow merchandise.
Sylvia Rivera spent her life fighting to make sure the movement didn't become only about white, middle-class, palatable visibility, fighting (often against people inside her own movement) to keep the focus on the most marginalized: homeless trans youth, sex workers, people of color, the people Pride was built to protect in the first place.
So today we hex the sanitization.
We hex the version of Pride that forgot it started as a riot.
We hex the rainbow capitalism that profited from a movement built by people who could not get a bank account, let alone a sponsorship deal…especially those who abandoned us when it became inconvenient to support us.
We hex every institution that wants the aesthetic of Pride without the politics of liberation.
We hex the erasure of Marsha and Sylvia from a story that belongs to them.
And we bless what the riot actually built:
Community that takes care of its own when no one else will, the way STAR, the organization Marsha and Sylvia founded, gave housing and food to homeless queer and trans youth when the world had abandoned them. Visibility that was never about being liked. It was about being free. A movement led by the most marginalized people in the room, exactly the way it should be led now.
Pride was never supposed to be comfortable. It was supposed to be honest.
🔥 On Lineage
Every Pride parade you've ever walked in started with someone who had nothing left to lose and decided to fight anyway.
📞 Action
Support The Marsha P. Johnson Institute, which continues the work of protecting Black trans people, and Sylvia Rivera Law Project, which provides legal services to low-income transgender, intersex, and gender non-conforming people.
With a warm anchor and steady ground,
Keli Lyn Jewel
PS: If you already know something big is coming and you don't want to face it alone, The Deep End is where we prepare together. 1:1 support for the moments that matter most.
