PINK MOONS AND PAPER COLLARS- April's Full Moon and Relfection

By The Psychic Cowboy 

In 8th grade, I chose to be a priest. 

It was for a mock interview assignment in an employability skills class. We were told to dress the part, speak as if we were already living the role, and field interview questions like we were walking into our dream job. Most kids picked something like firefighter, nurse, or engineer. But not me. I showed up in a suit, fully committed to becoming a druid priest—the kind that carries a silver sickle, walks barefoot through sacred groves, and cuts boughs of oak beneath a full moon. 

I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was completely serious. 

One of my teachers, smiling at my enthusiasm, tucked a handmade paper clerical collar into my shirt. And just like that, I was officially “ordained”—at least in spirit. I talked about my plans to get certified through the Universal Life Church, back when almost no one knew you could be legally ordained online. I spoke about energy, ritual, nature-based wisdom. I felt seen, maybe even validated. 

Everything was going perfectly… until the final question: 

“How is the date of Easter determined each year?” asked Ms. Johnson. 

I froze. My head was spinning with spells from To Ride a Silver Broomstick, Pow-Wow Hexcraft, and The 21 Lessons of Merlin. I had dragons in my imagination and moon phases mapped on my wall—but I had no idea how Easter got picked. 

Ms. Johnson didn’t shame me. She didn’t say, “You should know this.” Instead, she quietly led me to the bookshelf and said, “Let’s find out together.” 

I don’t know if she knew the answer herself. That wasn’t the point. What stuck with me wasn’t just the answer—but her willingness to search with me, not above me. 

We learned that Easter is set as the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox. 

And that blew my mind. 

This Christian holiday, so full of lilies and light, wasn’t just a date on a modern calendar—it was timed to the moon. It was a rhythm. A whisper from nature. And to me, that was confirmation: the magic I was falling in love with had always been there, woven into the threads of tradition, hidden in plain sight. 

Now here we in April. The full moon rises— it’s the Pink Moon. 

Named not for its color, but for the early blooming wildflower phlox subulata, the Pink Moon is soft, delicate, and rich with meaning. It’s the smallest full moon of the year, but it still knows how to shine. It is also called it the Fish Moon, the Breaking Ice Moon, or the Sucker Moon—signaling the thaw, the return of ducks and geese, and the great migration back to life ( A great way to let someone backinto your life after blocking them is to offer a Dum Dum Sucker in Raspberry). 

It’s the moon of Persephone rising.  Of Demeter exhaling.  Of Christ returning.  Of Bambi and Flower getting... well, twitterpated.  And of the Horned God, stretching after winter’s slumber. 

There’s romance in the air.  Not just the romantic kind, but the kind that says:  Life is returning.  And you are still here to feel it.