The Scorpio New Moon and the Art of Changing Your Mind
A dark sky and a dog with opinions
My friend, there's a new moon on Monday morning, and I've been thinking about it all weekend on the beach at Freshwater with Nyx.
A new moon is the one you can't see. The sky goes properly dark, the stars show off, and Nyx, my black German Shepherd, becomes a sort of moving gap in the night with a tail. It's my favourite kind of dark: not the scary sort, the clean-slate sort. The moon hasn't gone anywhere. It's just between chapters.
And so, it turns out, are a lot of us.
What this Scorpio New Moon is about
The New Moon in Scorpio lands on Monday 9 November, just after 7am here in the UK. I've been reading Colette Baron-Reid's take on it when i was studying for her Intuitive coaching course (colettebaronreid.com), and the short version is this: it's a moon for telling yourself the truth.
It arrives right at the end of the Mercury and Venus retrogrades, which finish on 13 November. Retrogrades have a reputation for chaos (and for blaming your Wi-Fi on the cosmos), but they're really a pause to look back. This one has been nudging us to re-examine what we value, how much we think we're worth, and which stories we're still carrying around out of habit.
Scorpio is deep water. It's the sign of endings and beginnings, of clearing out and composting what's finished so something new can grow. Not glamorous, but honestly? Neither is most real change.
Changing your mind about alcohol
The question Colette offers for this moon is, roughly, what do I need to know about my thoughts and beliefs, and what would help me change my mind?
I nearly fell off my chair. Because that, my friend, is alcohol freedom in a single sentence.
Most of us didn't decide to drink. We absorbed it. Wine to relax, fizz to celebrate, gin because it's Friday, a bottle because it's been a day. Those beliefs got handed to us so early and so often that they feel like facts. They're not. They're a story, and a story can be rewritten.
The lovely thing is you don't have to force it. Willpower is exhausting. Curiosity isn't. When you look at an old belief gently, with a bit of grace and a raised eyebrow ("Does gin actually help me relax, or does it just make me forget I'm tired?"), it starts to loosen all on its own. That's the kind of change that sticks, because you haven't given anything up. You've just changed your mind.
A five-minute new moon ritual
No crystals required (though I won't stop you). Just a cup of something warm, a notebook, and five quiet minutes, ideally before the house wakes up. Write whatever comes, without editing:
What do I believe alcohol gives me? Write the list, however daft it looks on paper.
Where did each of those beliefs come from? A parent, a film, an advert, a friend?
Which of them have I actually tested, and which have I just accepted?
What old story am I still telling about myself that I'm ready to put down?
If I changed my mind about one thing this month, what would make it easier?
Then pick one small intention for the next four weeks, until the next new moon. Small is the point.
"I'll notice what I'm really after when I reach for a drink" is a brilliant intention. "I'll become a completely different person by Tuesday" is not.
If you're doing this at the beach, I recommend keeping the notebook away from the dog.
You don't have to do it alone
Changing your mind is easier with company. If this moon has stirred something up, come and join us in The Fellowship of the Formerly Fermented, my free alcohol freedom community. There are courses, meditations and a monthly live session, and the first 100 members keep free access for life.
Whatever you write in that notebook, be kind to the person writing it. She's doing better than she thinks.
Love always,
Amanda (and Nyx)
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