13 & 14 June 2025
Many people adore the full moon — they feel energized, lighter, even blissful when the moon is at her brightest. For me, it’s often the opposite. Full moons tend to leave me drained, heavy with sleep, and sometimes a little low. When the moon retreats into her darkness, that’s when I feel most alive.
This particular full moon was said to be rare — the closest the moon will be to Earth for another eighteen years. Energetically, the collective has been stirring; the ether, the spirit, and the quantum planes have been alive with movement. For those of us sensitive to these shifts, actively working in those layers, it’s not always easy to navigate.
My body was already low, still recovering from days of fever and fatigue, but yesterday I woke with a hint of relief, the heaviness easing slightly. Thankfully, I had nowhere to be except my reception shift, so I could rest, letting my body recalibrate to the waves of new frequencies pulsing through both the physical and emotional.
We had an early start today — the bus to Ipoh left at 7 am. The station was just a short walk from the hostel. After a quick coffee to wake us up, we boarded, ready for the next little adventure. It wasn’t a long ride, and both of us drifted in and out of naps as the cityscape gave way to lush green forest, smaller homes, and humble shopping centres.
When we arrived, the bus dropped us opposite one such centre. While waiting for our pickup, we wandered through the shops and were swept up in a sudden buzz of excitement. Young girls and boys appeared in bright, traditional dress, a small stage set up in the courtyard. Music poured through the speakers — joyful and rhythmic — and then dancers, graceful and glowing, stepped onto the stage. I’m still not sure what the occasion was, but it felt like a warm, unexpected welcome to this part of Malaysia.
Local students had artwork on display nearby — vibrant pieces in every stage of progress — their pride shining as they explained their creations. We bought doughnuts for breakfast and sat watching it all unfold, a perfect little pocket of happiness to start the day.
Soon after, Eric’s friends arrived and whisked us off for a quick tour. We stopped at a local café rich with history, walls lined with black-and-white photographs and old wooden furniture polished smooth by time. Over a traditional breakfast, the conversation flowed easily, and then it was time to head toward the farm.
The deeper we drove into the forest, the thicker the air became. The humidity clung to my skin, heavy and unrelenting, but the beauty of it — the towering trees, the symphony of birds, the wild green pulsing all around us — eclipsed any discomfort. Our guides beamed with pride as they pointed out fruit trees and edible plants I’d never even heard of. We sniffed, tasted, and savored each discovery — sharp, sweet, bitter, tangy — flavors as wild and varied as the forest itself.
By the time we arrived at the farm, I felt like I might actually melt into the earth. The newly built house offered little reprieve, with no fan or AC to soften the heat. But gods, it was beautiful. The view stretched out into the green, an endless expanse of ancient trees breathing with a hum I could feel in my bones. The air was thick with an energy I didn’t fully understand but somehow recognized — familiar and welcoming, as though the forest knew me, too.
And as evening approached, so did something special. We began to prepare, knowing the night ahead would carry us on a very different kind of journey…
Click to read A Sacred Return to Self.
