Welcome to Week Fourteen, which aligns with the overall energy of April 2026.
“[Fourteen] is generative. It’s art and creation and divine intervention. It’s that sought-after flow state, that blissful merger with everything that swirls and twirls and feels like Heaven on Earth. That said… Everything is a process, everything is building. Fourteen energy wants us to embrace moments of stagnancy or pause as steps that are promised, but not necessarily indicative of a lack of progress.”
Make no mistake, the Wheel Year is spinning.
Every single week of 2026 will be influenced by the energy of our collective yearly numbers: ten and one (2+0+2+6 = 10, 1+0 = 1).
Meaning for this week…
☀️: “An Apollonian Update for a One Year” — On the Greek god Apollo, his collective invitations for a One Year, and letting in some life energy this spring!
☂️ April’s Notable Numerology — Read more about what to expect from this sturdy, yet frazzled, 14/5 month, plus write-ups for a few special days, and our current (and first!) Community Corkboard, which includes free trials, PWYC readings, daily Venusian rituals, and more!
🌙 Video Tarot Readings on Moonlight — Every time I record a reading for someone on Moonlight, I remember how much I love it. And the reviews speak for themselves: “Wow this was very spot-on and resonated!!! Also love your energy I’m so glad I booked with you <3” Snag yours today and see what spring has in store!
The fourteenth week of a ten/one year (14+10 = 24, 2+4 = 6) wants you to connect with whatever you find beautiful.
April is NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) and The Soup™ Discord Server has a dedicated thread where folks are sharing the most gorgeous creations, as well as their beautiful book stacks. Obviously we’d love to see you there (link to join below), but you can also follow:
Milo @/moondadpoems on tumblr
Hannah on The Floor on Substack
and Jen @/filamentia on tumblr
The fourteenth week of a ten/one year wants you to connect with whatever you find grotesque.
Poetry feels like a space where we can explore all kinds of stories and styles. Punctuation and placement becomes a tool of more specific expression. The tender, the visceral, the horrifying, the difficult, the very essences of experience—they all get to live within the truncated lines of a poem. And yes, songs and scripture count!
I’d like for us to celebrate Week #14 and NaPoWriMo together by reading Strawberry Moon by Mary Oliver, who is also hosting our year ahead forecasts.
(Do read aloud. Don’t skip this!)
STRAWBERRY MOON
1. My great-aunt Elizabeth Fortune
stood under the honey locust trees,
the white moon over her and a young man near.
The blossoms fell down like white feathers,
the grass was warm as a bed, and the young man
full of promises, and the face of the moon
a white fire.Later,
when the young man went away and came back with a
bride,
Elizabeth
climbed into the attic.2.
Three women came in the night
to wash the blood away,
and burn the sheets,
and take away the child.Was it a boy or girl?
No one remembers.3.
Elizabeth Fortune was not seen again
for forty years.Meals were sent up,
laundry exchanged.It was considered a solution
more proper than shame
showing itself to the village.4.
Finally, name by name, the downstairs died
or moved away,
and she had to come down,
so she did.At sixty-one, she took in boarders,
washed their dishes,
made their beds,
spoke whatever had to be spoken,
and no more.5.
I asked my mother:
what happened to the man? She answered:
Nothing.
They had three children.
He worked in the boatyard.I asked my mother: did they ever meet again?
No, she said,
though sometimes he would come
to the house to visit.
Elizabeth, of course, stayed upstairs.6.
Now the women are gathering
in smoke-filled rooms,
rough as politicians,
scrappy as club fighters.
And should anyone be surprisedif sometimes, when the white moon rises,
women want to lash out
with a cutting edge?
if you’re enjoying these weeklies, please share them with one (or ten) friends! thank you!
The below selections were all divined from Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver. May it be a balm from a different kind of Bible.
To find your yearly cycle number, add the digits of your month and day of birth to 2026, and reduce until you reach a single digit. For example, the calculation for my birthday of July 7 looks like: 7+7+2+0+2+6 = 24, 2+4 = 6.
Please note that I reduce doubled digit numbers like 11 and 22 to their root numbers when working with yearly cycles, so please calculate and read accordingly.
Read for your Yearly Cycle, but also check out your prominent chart placements, like Life Path and Public Persona, as well for the collective 1-year.
From “Six Recognitions of the Lord” —
5.
Oh, feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with
the fragrance of the fields and the
freshness of the oceans which you have
made, and help me to hear and to hold
in all dearness those exacting and wonderful
words of our Lord Jesus Christ, saying:
Follow me.
From “It Was Early” —
It was early,
which has always been my hour
to begin looking
at the worldand of course,
even in the darkness,
to begin
listening into it,especially
under the pines
where the owl lives
and sometimes calls outas I walk by,
as he did
on this morning.
So many gifts!
From “Poem” —
The spirit
likes to dress up like this:
ten fingers,
ten toes,shoulders, and all the rest
at night
in the black branches,
in the morningin the blue branches
of the world.
From “Mindful” —
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and overin joy,
and acclamation.
We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, these two
housed as they are in the same body.
From “Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches” —
And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down
to think about it.That was then, which hasn’t ended yet.
From “With the Blackest of Inks” —
Because, Sir,
You have given him,
For your own reasons,Everything that he needs:
Leaves, food, shelter;
A conscience that never blinks.
From “Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard” —
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear -it’s not size but surge that tells us
when we’re in touch with something real,
“The Poet Compares Human Nature to the Ocean From Which We Came” —
The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth,
it can lie down like silk breathing
or toss havoc shoreward; it can givegifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth
like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can
sweet-talk entirely. As I can too,and so, no doubt, can you, and you.
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