When the Moon Whispered “Kenaz” and I Remembered Who I Am

Guys… I don’t even know how to start this one. I’m sitting here absolutely buzzing with this sense of love, light, connection — like the whole universe just winked at me and said, “Yes. You’re right where you’re meant to be.”

Tonight, I stayed up ridiculously late. Like, proper late. Everyone else asleep, house quiet, and me just… in this flow. I’ve been planning out my entire year — but not in the usual “calendar and goals” sort of way. No. This is a living year. A year designed in rhythm with the old ways — with the Wheel of the Year, the gods, the land, and the elements.

I’ve been sketching it all out: which deities and energies I’ll align each weekday with, how I’ll honour them through daily acts and rituals — nine small, meaningful tasks for each day, all rooted in balance, discipline, gratitude, and awareness.

And then, the 9th day of every month… that’s the blót. The feast. The day of honouring, offering, doing. Food, laughter, remembrance — a day to actually live the path, not just think about it.

And as I was writing it all, I just kept feeling this wave of rightness. Like something ancient was leaning over my shoulder, nodding in approval.

When I finally closed my notes, I lay back in bed — exhausted, inspired, and staring up at the moon through the thin veil of clouds. And I don’t know what came over me, but I found myself speaking to it.

Not in ritual, not in ceremony — just pure, unscripted affection.

“Bless me with a strong day, Máni,” I said, “and I bless yours with all the brightness of the sun. I wish nothing more than for others to look up at you and see you for all your beauty.”

I know — sounds mad, right? But it felt real. The words just came out of me, completely natural, like talking to an old friend. And as I spoke, the clouds swallowed the moon again and I thought, “Well, that’s that. Lovely little moment.”

But then — I swear to you — the clouds shifted. Slowly. Deliberately. And a perfect beam of silver light cut through the night and formed the shape of a rune.

Kenaz.

The torch. The flame. The spark of understanding and creative fire.

And it wasn’t just a shape. It was alive. It glowed with meaning. The name, the power of it, was whispered straight into my chest like I already knew it — like my soul remembered before my mind caught up.

Kenaz is illumination — the inner fire that lights the darkness. It’s knowledge, creativity, awakening, transformation. It’s that moment when everything just clicks and you see clearly again.

And as I lay there, completely still, completely awake, I realised what I was being told.

That all this — my planning, my daily structure, my devotion to the cycles and the gods — wasn’t random. It was right.

The torch was lit.

Then, the most incredible thing happened. The light shifted. Slowly, subtly, it changed shape until the glowing lines no longer formed Kenaz, but Mjölnir — Thor’s hammer.

The torch became the hammer.

Inspiration became action.

Blessing became consecration.

It was as if the gods themselves were saying:

“You are seen. You are approved. You are protected. Now go and live it.”

And I just lay there, smiling like a fool, feeling this immense gratitude rise up through me. This sense that I’ve been called back.

Back to alignment, back to devotion, back to wonder.

I feel… reawoken. Reaffirmed. Alive.

The gods are watching — I know it. They’re with us in the rhythm of the days, the turning of the seasons, the breath between silence and action. And I can’t wait to walk this year in their company. To live in accordance with the earth’s cycles, to honour the deities that have guided humankind since long before we had words for them.

Every day will have meaning again. Every day will carry a spark.

And — gods, this part’s so sweet — I actually had to stop writing this halfway through because my little Maisie (my labradoodle pup, my furry heartbeat) started having a little nightmare beside me. Her paws were twitching, she gave this tiny whimper, and I just couldn’t ignore it.

So I set my laptop aside, wrapped my arm around her, and pulled her in close. She nestled right into me, all soft curls and sleepy warmth, and I whispered, “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. You’re home.”

And she sighed — that deep, content little sigh dogs do when they trust you completely — and drifted back to sleep in my arms.

And I swear, in that moment, everything aligned.

The moonlight was spilling through the window like a silver blanket, soft and shimmering. Maisie was safe and peaceful. The world was utterly still. And I just felt it. That overwhelming sense of love, of being seen, of belonging.

The gods above, the moon watching, the pup beside me — all of it one radiant moment of serenity and connection.

I feel enlightened. I feel loved. I feel alive again.

The moon blessed me tonight — and through that blessing, I think the gods nodded their approval too.

The torch is lit. The hammer has struck.

And I am ready to walk this year in full harmony with them — with heart open, will steady, and soul on fire.