When the Ending Finds You: A Scorpio Full Moon Ritual
This Scorpio Full Moon arrived with a stark kind of truth. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission. The kind that shows you what you’ve been pretending not to know.
Scorpio governs death and rebirth, shadows and secrets, the things we bury and the freedom that comes when they’re finally unearthed. It’s a portal moon—one that doesn’t let us carry what’s no longer aligned into the next chapter.
For me, the message hit close to home. My brother has been struggling with addiction for over 15 years. And now, something feels like it’s coming to a head. The life he’s been living in the shadows may finally be catching up to him. There’s talk of legal consequences, of the law stepping in, of the ending no one wanted but everyone saw coming. He hasn’t been taken to jail yet—but we’re on the edge of something. A reckoning. Truth always finds a way…
I’ve hoped for his healing for so long. I still do. But I also know that sometimes transformation doesn’t come softly. Sometimes the breakdown has to be undeniable before a new path is even possible.
Scorpio doesn’t allow illusions to survive. It wants us to be free. But to get there, something has to die. So I created a ritual. A prayer. A way to honor this threshold—for him, for me, and for anyone standing at the edge of their own becoming.
A Scorpio Full Moon Ritual for Release and Reinvention
You’ll need:
• A candle (black or white, for purification)
• A journal or piece of paper
• A bowl of water or earth
• Optional: a photo or object connected to what you’re releasing
1. Set the space.
Light the candle. Sit with yourself.
Feel your body rooted and speak this aloud:
“Tonight, I honor the power of truth, endings, and the possibility of rebirth.”
2. Write what must end.
Name it. The habits, the identities, the stories.
For my brother, I named the shadow life. The secrecy. The pain.
For myself, I named the illusion of control. The burden of trying to fix what isn’t mine to fix. The grief of not being able to protect him. The cycle of feeling helpless.
3. Speak the prayer.
“I offer this to the Scorpio moon, the keeper of shadows and the gateway to truth.”
For my brother, I ask for protection in the rupture— “May this moment be the threshold of his becoming. May the darkness he faces become a teacher. May he remember his worth. May he choose a new life, even if he must begin from ash.”
And for myself— “I release the weight of carrying what was never mine to hold. I release fear, I release control, I release despair. I trust the process of transformation, even when I cannot see the path.”
4. Let it go.
Burn or tear the paper (safely). Bury it or place it in water.
Imagine the energy being transmuted.
Feel the ending. Honor it.
And know that the beginning is already in motion, even if it’s still invisible.
This moon is not gentle. But it is honest. And that honesty is a kind of love— The kind that breaks you open,
The kind that sets you free. If you’re standing at the edge of something tonight, I’m right there with you.
Let it go.
Let it die.
Let it make space for something true.
