Held in the Dark: What the Black Moon Means for Slow Growth and Inner Strength

Discover how this rare lunar phase deepens intention, mirrors story, and honors unseen transformation.

In When Marnie Was There, Anna’s aunt’s home glows gently against the night — a reminder that even in darkness, we can be held in safety while quiet transformations take root.

Moon Phases and Energetic Influence

The moon’s rhythm is more than a pattern in the night sky—it’s a force that quietly holds and shapes growth, both in the natural world and in us. Each quarter carries a distinct role in that cycle.

• New Moon – Invisible from Earth, this is the germination stage. In farming traditions, it’s when seeds are sown, germinating in darkness before sprouting toward light. Like seeds disappearing beneath the surface of the soil, energy draws inward. In our own lives, it’s an ideal time to set fresh intentions—choosing what to plant, even if it will take time before you see the results.
  

• First Quarter – The moon appears as a half-circle, growing each night. This is the push toward visible growth—leaves unfurling, shoots reaching higher. It’s a phase for acting on your intentions, taking concrete steps, and building momentum while the energy is naturally expanding.
  

• Full Moon – Fully illuminated, it represents peak visibility and culmination. Crops ripen, flowers open at night, and human activity often reaches a high point of expression or clarity. This is the time to evaluate intentions you set at the new moon—celebrating what’s come to fruition and adjusting what needs refinement.
  

• Last Quarter – As the light fades, it’s time for harvesting, pruning, and releasing what’s no longer needed—preparing to return to stillness. This phase supports clearing out what stands in the way of your next cycle of intentions, making space for new seeds to be sown.

What Makes the Black Moon Different

Most seasons—between a solstice and the next equinox—contain three new moons: early, middle, and late. But every so often, the timing of the lunar cycle (about 29.5 days) and the length of the season (~90 days) align so there are four new moons in a single season.

The third of those four seasonal new moons is called a Black Moon. It isn’t a different phase—it’s still the same fertile beginning of a lunar cycle—but it’s rarer, marking an extra point for rooting, grounding, and unseen preparation.

This seasonal Black Moon is a rare pause in the rhythm of the year before the season turns. Because the exact new moon alignment for 2025 happens in the early hours of August 23, many will experience two nights in a row without visible moonlight—the night before (August 22) and the night after (August 23). It’s a longer, more nourishing stretch of darkness, like extra days of rain for freshly planted seeds, extending the time for what’s germinating to strengthen before it breaks the surface.

Like seeds in soil or a caterpillar in its cocoon, this extended darkness offers just a little more time for what’s forming to take shape—shielded, unhurried, and readying itself for the moment it will emerge.

The Germination Stage in Nature

The new moon’s darkness is a phase of germination—a time when growth shifts out of sight so it can happen in safety. Farmers have long known that without moonlight to pull energy upward, plants send roots deep, establishing the stability needed for healthy growth.

Nature repeats this principle again and again. A seed under soil is held safely, insulated from harsh conditions while it transforms internally. A cocoon is a sealed chamber where the old form dissolves entirely, held in stillness while the new form takes shape. From the outside, these stages look uneventful, yet they are often where the most important changes occur.

These same patterns show up in the herbal world, too. Many seed-based herbs carry a kind of timing intelligence—teaching us to trust slowness, wait for the right moment, and gather strength in stillness. Their medicine isn’t just in what they do, but when they act. We explore that more in this reflection on seed-based herbs and the patience they ask of us.

The Black Moon magnifies this stage. With its rare timing—and in this case, its two consecutive moonless nights—it lengthens the space before a new cycle begins. In life as in nature, that extra time at the threshold can make the step forward more certain and more powerful.

A threshold is the precise point between what was and what will be. Sometimes it’s loud and visible; other times, it’s just a breath before the leap. We’ve explored this turning-point quality in nature before in The Turning Point: What the Trees Know, where seasonal changes in the forest mirror the inner readiness we can feel in our own lives. The Black Moon is that quiet breath—a rare, extended moment to gather unseen strength and revisit the intentions you’ve sown, clarifying them before the next stage of growth begins.

The Germination Stage in Stories

Stories often hinge on such moments, though they don’t always announce themselves.

In When Marnie Was There, Anna’s most significant change doesn’t happen during her encounters with Marnie but in the quiet spaces between them—afternoons of solitude, restless nights, and long walks with thoughts she can’t yet name. These stretches, like time underground for a seed, give space to process what’s been learned, softening grief and building trust until the heart is ready for connection.

In Spirited Away, Chihiro’s decision to save Haku follows a long, deliberate pause. She doesn’t spring into action the instant she realizes what’s at stake. Instead, she observes, weighs her understanding of the world she’s entered, and commits inwardly to a course she knows will demand everything from her. That pause changes her—by the time she moves, the choice is unshakable.

And in My Happy Marriage, Miyo’s first weeks in her new home could look stagnant from the outside. But in that stillness, she is testing her surroundings, learning what safety feels like, and slowly accepting that she is allowed to take up space in her own life. This hidden period is what allows her later courage to take root; without it, the visible acts of strength would have no foundation. This kind of inner shift echoes what we discuss in What Your Favorite Anime Says About Your Inner Landscape—And the Herbs That Can Support It, where fictional characters become mirrors for our own internal seasons.

The Black Moon, like these story moments, reminds us that what’s hidden isn’t wasted. The quiet, protected intervals—whether in the sky, in nature, or in our own lives—are often the ones that determine what can grow when light returns. Sometimes it helps to mark that pause with a small ritual, like the tea‑and‑story pairings we share in Tea for the Soul: Herbal Infusions to Pair With Your Anime, which offer a way to let quiet moments become deeply nourishing.

An Invitation for the Black Moon

Rather than rushing to plant something entirely new, let this Black Moon be a time to sit with what you’ve already sown this season. Ask yourself: Which tender beginnings are still being held in the dark? Which roots are quietly gathering the strength to support what comes next? Use these two moonless nights to refine, nourish, and protect those beginnings—so that when the light returns, what emerges will be ready to thrive.

Let yourself be held by the dark—not to hide, but to grow.

Join the Conversation

Does the idea of being “held in the dark” bring any favorite stories or scenes to mind? Share in the comments—we’d love to hear from you.