Greetings, human. It is I, Tyson—your frost-pawed guide through moonlight and memory.
Tonight, we sit beneath the Cold Moon, the final full moon of the year. Named for the long nights and low temperatures of December, it is a moon of deep stillness and soft survival. A moon for wrapping up, drawing in, and remembering that rest is its own kind of strength.
Find a quiet place—preferably near a heating vent, a blanket, or a very generous cat—and prepare to breathe in the peace of winter’s embrace.
Let us begin.
Step 1: Curl into the Quiet
Sit or lie down in a space that feels like sanctuary.
If you can see the moon, let its cold silver light settle on your skin.
If not, imagine it shining over a frozen landscape—clear, cold, and still.
Breathe in the hush.
Breathe out the leftover noise.
Breathe in stillness.
Breathe out the rush of endings.
Cats do not fear the cold.
We find warmth where it matters.
Step 2: The Blanket Stretch
Raise your arms like icicles melting in the morning sun.
Flex your fingers as if drawing a soft blanket up to your chin.
Inhale deeply—let the cold air clear your thoughts.
Exhale slowly—like breath fogging against glass.
You are not rushing.
You are settling.
Step 3: Let the Moon Glow Within
Picture the Cold Moon above—pale, round, and full of quiet strength.
Let its light enter you like starlight through a windowpane.
Breathe in clarity.
Breathe out clutter.
Breathe in resilience.
Breathe out regret.
Let your body become a warm cave in the frost.
Step 4: The Hearth Purr
If your cat is purring, you are truly blessed.
If not, imagine the low, steady hum of life held safe in the cold.
Now, match your breath to that rhythm:
Inhale softly…
Exhale slowly…
Inhale…
Exhale…
Every breath is a fire built from within.
Step 5: Rest is the Resolution
The Cold Moon doesn’t chase.
It glows.
It watches the world without needing to move it.
Feel your body still.
Feel your breath even.
Feel your paws (or feet) grounded.
This is not the beginning or the end.
It is the moment between—and it is sacred.
Step 6: Return with Moonlight in Your Bones
When you’re ready, wiggle your fingers like they’re thawing beside the fire.
Stretch with slow reverence.
Blink yourself back into the world—not to rush, but to carry this stillness forward.
If your cat is asleep, you’ve passed the test.
If your cat is waiting by the food bowl, your meditation window has closed.
Carry the peace of the Cold Moon with you.
And remember: The year has turned. You are here. That is enough.
Purrs and winter stillness,
Tyson 🐾
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