The Heart Re-Members

Cancer Season & the New Moon: From Head to Heart

Cancer season is here, and with the arrival of the new moon, we’re offered a sacred moment to pause, reflect, and begin again. We’ve just transitioned from Gemini—a sign of air that rules the mind, thoughts, and communication—into Cancer, a water sign that governs our emotional landscape.

As the weather of the stars shifts from head to heart, it’s a potent time to notice how our thoughts and emotions shape the beliefs we carry.

When a strong emotion arises, the mind often scrambles to make sense of it. It starts searching—flipping through old memories and past experiences—until it lands on something familiar, something that confirms an old belief we’ve been carrying about ourselves or the world. Many of these beliefs took root in childhood, formed while we were still learning how to feel safe. Over time, they become so deeply woven into our inner world that we may not even notice them anymore.

In this way, our emotions become powerful gateways—leading us to shadow thoughts that flash by so quickly we barely notice. But beneath those flashes, there is often an original wound (OW) calling out for our attention. This Cancer new moon invites us to walk hand in hand with our inner child through the process of healing.

Reiki can be a gentle and powerful ally on this journey from head to heart. During a Reiki session, the nervous system is invited to soften, allowing the body to enter a state of deep rest and receptivity. From this space, old beliefs and emotional patterns can rise to the surface—not to overwhelm, but to be witnessed, felt, and released.

Reiki helps create a safe energetic container for the inner child to emerge. The loving, nonjudgmental energy of Reiki meets those early wounds with compassion, offering them what they may not have received the first time: tenderness, presence, and unconditional support.

In the quiet of a session, many find that long-held emotions begin to move, revealing insight, clarity, or simply a deep sense of peace. The energy doesn’t push—it flows. Just like water, it finds its way to the places most in need of healing.

The moon feels most at home in Cancer. It symbolizes intuition, sensitivity, and the nurturing energy of the mother. Let this be a time to turn inward. To wrap every strand of emotion—especially the tender ones—in love. And to offer your inner child the comfort, safety, and understanding they’ve always deserved.

La Misma Luna

We are all under the influence of a powerful full moon. It’s closer to the Earth than usual and appears to hover in the sky in what astronomers call a standstill. Its potency not only pulls at the tides, it pulls at our hearts and the hidden parts of ourselves we don’t always want to look at.

This moon shines a light on all of it: our beauty, our brokenness. The things we’re proud of and the things we’re not. It doesn’t ask who’s worthy—it just shines. On all of us. Across borders and across beliefs.

Algonquin tribes called this moon the Strawberry Moon, named for the sweet berries that ripen this time of year. This moon is also in the sign of Sagittarius—a sign that brings fire, truth, and the urge to move forward. Sagittarius invites us to celebrate life, seek meaning, and connect to something bigger. It’s hopeful, expansive and brave.

But hope and sweetness do not come easy when the world feels this heavy.

In a collective moment of shift, truths are rising and old systems are being questioned and with that comes the emotions that spring from spiritual friction—grief, anger, uncertainty. It’s a lot to hold. And under a full moon, especially one this strong, everything can feel amplified.

So we ask that the emotions that are stirred under this Strawberry Moon be our teachers. Let them wash away all of the things we’re not and help us know who we are at our core.

This morning I asked my mother what she makes of all the turmoil happening with families being separated, children left alone, protests against ICE and the calling of the National Guard and now the Marines in Los Angeles. She said there is a feeling that there is not much we can do in the face of such power. She continued that this power is like the ocean you cannot control the tides or the waves but you can most definitely jump in to save a drowning man.

My hope is that we remember we are part of something larger than ourselves. We are not isolated in our becoming. Just like the moon doesn’t shine for one place or one people, this moment isn’t just personal—it’s planetary. We are in a process of remembering, releasing, and reimagining. And while the path may feel uncertain, we’re walking it together under the same moon.

New Moon Medicine: Reclaiming your Narrative

A New Moon occurs when the Moon sits in it’s shadow between the Earth and the Sun. Not mistaking the darkness for absence, we are invited to pause, reflect and listen. New Moons are sacred times to plant seeds, both physical and metaphorical. We become like seeds planted deep in the earth going inward, retreating, remembering our path, and charting a course forward with intention.

This month, on May 26th the New Moon falls in Gemini, the sign of communication, curiosity, and connection. Gemini energy is quick, playful, social—and under this sky, we are called to look closely at the stories we tell and the words we use, especially with ourselves.

This Gemini New Moon is a powerful time to become aware of our inner dialogue. In The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz teaches: “Be impeccable with your word.” This is not just about how we speak to others—but how we speak to ourselves. Words carry frequency. They plant seeds. The New Moon guides us to become aware of the stories we tell ourselves and to be crystal clear—to hold a strong vision of purpose. From this place of knowing we realize how our conversations with others can also influence us. When we choose to gossip or speak poorly of others for quick hits of connection it actually pulls energy from the clarity of our goals and dreams. On the other hand when we choose to build people up with our words, we gain strength to boldly move forward.

As Joan Didion wrote, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” We are constantly making sense out of chaos using stories that have been passed down or formed in childhood, especially during moments of uncertainty. When our nervous systems were overwhelmed or our needs unmet, many of us developed internal protectors—one of the most persistent being the inner critic. The inner critic develops in childhood as a protector—keeping us from embarrassment, rejection, failure. But in adulthood, its voice often becomes limiting, harsh, and outdated. When we’re stressed or uncertain, this critic flares up, pushing us into overthinking and self-doubt. Catching ourselves in negative self-talk we can pause and change course—acknowledging this protector with gratitude while reminding ourselves we are safe now in a place where we can meet ourselves with love—in the voice we’ve always needed to hear.

To deepen this reflection, try a simple yet profound narrative therapy exercise called the Tree of Life, developed by Ncazelo Ncube-Mlilo and David Denborough. It’s a fun, creative way to reclaim your personal story, honor your roots, and imagine what’s still to bloom.

In this practice:

• Roots represent the people, places, and traditions that ground you

• Soil is your daily life—what nourishes or drains you

• Trunk is your strengths, values, and skills

• Branches are your hopes, dreams, and goals

• Leaves are loved ones—past and present

• Fruits are the gifts and legacies passed on to you

• Flowers & Seeds are the gifts and wisdom you wish to pass on

• Fallen leaves and fruit are what you’re ready to let go—what you’ll compost to feed your future

Take a journal page and sketch your tree. There’s no wrong way to do it. This is a conversation with yourself—a reclaiming of your narrative. Here’s a free worksheet to guide you.

Through this practice we can become aware of the power of our words. As we work with words, stories, and self-reflection, it’s easy to stay in the mind—Gemini’s realm. But our energy body holds just as much memory, emotion, and wisdom. This is where Reiki becomes a powerful ally. Reiki clears the static that builds up in our field—whether from overthinking, emotional heaviness, or the invisible weight of words unspoken or misused. It helps us drop from the mental chatter into the quiet of the heart, where our deepest truths live.

As you set your New Moon intentions, consider pairing them with Reiki. Whether through a self-healing practice, a session with a practitioner, or simply resting your hands on your heart with breath and presence, Reiki brings your energy into alignment.

When your energy is clear, your intentions become stronger. They root more deeply. They move from thought to form.

This Gemini New Moon, may your words, your energy, and your heart be clear and open. May you speak the story of your becoming with love, and may that story bloom.

The Mending Place-Ancestral Healing

Today, May 20th, marks the anniversary of my grandmother’s passing. Her grandchildren called her Oma. Each year, this date draws me into the heart of her life—resilience stitched with wit, wisdom wrapped in practicality, and a deep, unspoken pain that lingered through generations.

My grandmother was the mother of seven children. She and my grandfather shared a great sense of humor, the kind that brightens chaotic days and turns the wackiness of raising a big family into something beautiful. My mother passed on my grandmother’s love of poetry and literature to me and remarks that my grandmother would often recite it aloud in the early mornings. Her voice, steady and lyrical, became a soundtrack to my mother’s childhood—“Birdy, Birdy” she would say and we would all know what she meant by her inflection-a silly reminder not to take life too seriously. Her life, like so many women’s lives of her generation, held paradoxes. She carried a deeply Catholic sense of worry—always conscious of what others might think—yet she could also brush things off with ease, like when her second husband threw a lamp at her and the therapist expressed worry at my grandmother’s calm demeanor when she said, “Well it was his lamp.” Her strength wasn’t showy, but it was undeniable and so witty that we still laugh about it today. She endured betrayal, judgment, and heartache, beginning with the early abandonment of her family when her father ran off with a family friend—a relationship that had developed while her mother was in the hospital giving birth. It was a scandal they could not live down, and the ripples of it shaped her life—and ours.

Her mother—my great-grandmother—held the family together in the aftermath. She took a job as a seamstress, mending suits and sewing garments for others while quietly patching the fabric of her own broken family. Despite the whispers from the church and community about a mother raising children alone, she kept them all going. All of her the children attended Catholic school, and she did what she could to make sure they had structure and stability.

At times it became clear that my grandmother never quite forgave her mother for not trying harder to make it work out with her father. As a child and later as an adult, I could feel that tension—that thread of resentment woven into her strength, her sense of humor, and even her silence.

My grandmother’s deep commitment to social justice was born, in many ways, from the hardship she experienced early in life. After her father abandoned the family in a scandal that left them vulnerable and judged by their community, she witnessed firsthand the sting of poverty and the silence that often surrounds suffering. Perhaps that’s why, well into her 80s, she showed up every week to serve with St. Vincent de Paul, feeding the homeless and offering warmth where the world had gone cold. In giving back, she was not only helping others—she was mending something in herself, refusing to let shame or scarcity have the last word. Her quiet acts of service became her own form of healing, turning pain into purpose, and her legacy into a living example of grace, strength, and radical compassion.

We all carry stories in our bodies. Some are spoken. Some are stitched quietly into the fabric of who we are. Through Reiki , I’ve come to understand that healing often begins with acknowledging the threads we inherited—the pain, the pride, the perseverance.

My grandmother’s life taught me about this kind of ancestral healing—not the immaculate kind, but the real kind. The kind that recognizes the beautiful contradictions in our family members. She passed down not only wounds but wisdom, and I honor her today by sharing a poem I wrote in memory of my great-grandmother, among many things the seamstress.

THE TAILOR

Tailor of tweeds

Seamstress of silks

Sewing together our fatherless days

Into a patchwork of promise

Your work

Closets of men’s suits

From the Haberdashery

On Main Street

Each seam each hem

Standing at attention

Under your nimble strokes of

In and out of fabric

Taking the needle on the long journey skyward

Only to return it back again to the mending place

These suits who taught me how to be a woman

With curtsey and bow

A staged prom-night practice in the arms of wool

Offered sleeves of tweed

To wipe my swollen eyes

And when the world got to be too big

This closet of neighborhood dads was my refuge

Breathing in each cologne and cigarette

Swimming in suits

I found my way back to normal

When whitewashing the house wasn’t enough

When emptying the trash or fixing the dining room chairs wasn’t enough

When furies of facility led to that same

Dog-eared page in the phone book

Your name rubbed raw with questions

That could not be answered from a county away

And still

The hum of the seams and the suits of the neighborhood

Were there to hold me together

Stitch by stitch

As I journeyed out into the world

Only to return home again

To the mending place

If you’re reading this and feeling that nostalgic pull to explore the stories of those who came before you—follow it. That’s ancestral healing. Looking at the good and the bad and how it has shapead you. Where once resentment grew understanding makes way for a deep gratitude. This healing doesn’t always look like ceremony or ritual. Sometimes it looks like remembering. Like telling the truth. Like finding softness for the struggles that hardened the people we love.

And when we bring that awareness to the Reiki table —to the sacred space where energy, memory, and emotion meet—we become the menders. We become the ones who honor what was broken and begin to stitch it back together, thread by sacred thread.

In love and light,

Lora

Blossoming under the Full Flower Moon

Welcome!

I’m so glad you’re here.

I find it auspicious to begin this blog during such a powerful time: the Full Flower Moon on May 12th. This moon was in Sagittarius, a sign all about truth, freedom, growth and expansion. We can’t help but blossom under this moon.

I am excited to hold a space where I can share reflections around the moon cycles, how they connect with energy healing, and what they bring up for us emotionally and even collectively. I find that it is a great focus for inner work. I plan to post around the new and full moons— so that we can pause, breathe, and reconnect together.

Blossoming sounds romantic. Have you heard the quote, “The shell cracks, the insides come out, and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.”- Cynthia Occelli . This is what true blossoming feels like, complete destruction. Not to mention the frustration that comes from our resistance to changes that come with blossoming. We like the familiar and often change feels different and scary. That’s the challenge of this full moon. That’s the gift of this full moon.

With brave hearts, we face the shakiness of uncertainty only to realize the greatest gifts the world has to offer have been waiting for us all along. With lives uprooted we are forced to move on. Some of us facing very unstable times, heavy with burdens and grief. The Full Moon stirs the pot of our inner world and forces us to examine what no longer fits and where we need to make room for growth.

May we cleanse our lives, spaces and spirits of what no longer serves us and make a way for blossoming.

Thanks for being here from the beginning.

With warmth,

Lora