An Inner Ritual Under the Light of the Moon
My body begins to feel a purge.
I’ve decided to release what I had kept hidden for so long—locked away in dark drawers, in such a safe place that Mother Earth chose it as a foundation for creation. The feminine has spoken to me. I sit with it, I transform, I embrace myself, I merge. The universe embraces me, and I embrace it in return.
To feel, and feel… and continue feeling a deep void. My soul is being emptied of memories, moments, emotions. They move and rearrange themselves in different ways. My body acts, and I allow it.
These were memories that shaped who I am—some without me even knowing.
I discovered the existence of pure and beautiful keys. Keys that have given me freedom—freedom from guilt, from shame, from rage, and from pain.
I was finally able to understand other parts of myself.
I descended a steep cliff, surrounded by rocks and stagnant waters, which invited me in.
That’s where the first movement began—opening space for something deeper, offering new perspectives and angles on inherited experiences, on events I chose to hide, on voices from other centuries that began to speak to me without me knowing why.
On this journey, I worked with the phases of the moon, allowing each one to guide me through different themes, stirring up primal emotions.
The New Moon led me to the encounter with pain.
Through nightly steams and mystical herbs, I began to listen to the wise whispers entering the womb—the place of all creation.
There, generations of women from my lineage had left messages: unresolved matters, sacred secrets. A great fire began to burn what no longer served, transforming into tears of understanding. Quick breaths rushed from my body, violently burning away the obsolete.
Then came the Waxing Moon, which brought forth sadness—the sadness of what was never resolved, of what was integrated without understanding.
What had no pause, no support, no patience.
Each night I sat in waters, diving into the world of emotions.
My waters merged with herbs like mugwort, dandelion, chamomile, and white rose—sacred plants witches have used for centuries to connect with the mysteries of the unconscious.
Then, revealing dreams would emerge, and stagnant traumas were released—like a necessary birth.
Suddenly, a sense of recognition arose—a fierce empowerment, raw and almost unimaginable.
My emotions and I began to fuse, like a sea of tangled ropes unweaving themselves to find their own path.
The Full Moon brought with it a deep sense of incomprehension.
I was met with a rebellious feeling—stronger than the tide itself.
A fervor in my body, screaming, yearning, a contained rage that slowly tore me apart.
I broke down into sobs and held myself like I never had before.
Heavy tears, like tons, fell from me and my body felt lighter, more fragile.
The whispers of the girl, the woman, the mother, the grandmother, and the many layers of feminine strength released the bitter feeling of once having been separated from love, from creation, from human warmth—and of having lived in the cold, dark cave of rage.
That’s how my body purged some of its bitter experiences.
The Waning Moon brought preparation to birth death.
And what does it mean to birth death?
It was a tough conversation, after having been in such intimate contact with an invisible truth so present within me.
Now I had to face another deep theme: the death of parts of myself I no longer inhabit.
Sometimes we grow so accustomed to living with certain difficult aspects of ourselves that we forget healing also means saying goodbye.
Allowing a new order, creating space for those parts of ourselves that are dimmed by others.
I gathered my courage and said: “Yes, let’s die.”
My final ritual, combining all the elements used throughout the process—water and fire—was an especially sacred moment.
Without fear, and in the sweet comfort of silence, a powerful atmosphere took over.
I felt protected by all the women who accompanied me.
An ancestral and feminine order filled the room. We created a court, a circle of support.
With circular movements, my hips and womb expanded.
I felt a vibrant echo wanting to emerge from within. I sang to myself songs of comfort, and I felt deep joy in being there—witnessing such a symbolic act in a dark room that felt more illuminated than ever.
I felt peace, and I stayed there, observing this process I had never imagined I’d go through.
Held by my lineage.
I caressed myself slowly and offered to Mother Earth my final waters—my final tears from a beautiful process that transformed me.
It connected me with the woman I am and made me feel how this cellular memory carries wisdom from many decades past.
I understood that whenever I feel lost or out of place, I can turn to Her.
She will always hold my secrets, my greatness.
She will be my clean chest, where order and love reign.
Throughout this process, I was guided by an incredible woman: Catarina Catalão a yoni therapist, a wise, young, and gentle soul who was a friend, a sister, and a mentor of light.
Catarina Catalão is a yoni therapist, devoted to working with the sacred feminine and natural medicines.
In a previous article, I shared my experience during a ceremony I attended with her and her partner in Furnas, São Miguel:
This was my second journey guided by her.
Valentina Alvarez
If you’re curious or feel called to work with her, here’s her contact:
📧 catarinacatalaooliveira@hotmail.com
📞 +351 912 270 259
There are truly no words to fully express my gratitude for her beautiful work.
Thank you for being here, reading me.
I hope what I share becomes a form of medicine for your path.