Jayne Watt

I began working consciously with the Full Moon in 2021.

It came at a time in my life when I was beginning to recognise just how much I had carried. Old wounds were surfacing. Historic experiences were asking to be acknowledged, and I was beginning to understand that healing wasn't only about understanding what had happened to me. Sometimes, it was about deciding what I no longer wished to carry forward.

And so, the Full Moon became a marker for me.
A moment each month to stop. To listen. To acknowledge. And to release.
Over time, I developed my own Full Moon ritual.
On the evening of the Full Moon, I create a sacred space. I light a candle and burn sage, Palo Santo and incense. I sit quietly and write down everything I feel ready to release; fears, beliefs, attachments, old stories, relationships, expectations, emotions and burdens that no longer belong on the road ahead.
Then I speak my Full Moon Release Invocation aloud........listen to it here:

https://youtu.be/lUZdGaqivQM

There is something powerful for me about giving those intentions a voice. Not merely thinking I release this, but hearing myself say it.
I also place my purse, bank cards and coins on the windowsill beneath the Moon; a symbolic reminder that releasing and receiving can coexist. That creating space does not mean creating emptiness; it can mean making room for what comes next.
Outside, I leave a jug of water with carefully chosen water-safe crystals, herbs and flowers beneath the night sky. The following day, I burn my written release and take an Epsom-salt bath, using the Moon water as part of my cleansing ritual.

Fire to release.
Water to cleanse.
And then I begin again.

The Full Moon of 28 August 2026 is traditionally known as the Sturgeon Moon, a name associated with the great freshwater fish that were particularly abundant at this time of year in parts of North America.
For me, there is another beautiful symbolism within the sturgeon. They are ancient creatures, dwelling within deep waters. And perhaps that gives us an image for this Full Moon too; something old rising from the depths to be seen.
What have we carried beneath the surface?
What has lived quietly in our deeper waters?
And what is finally ready to rise, be acknowledged and released?

This particular Sturgeon Moon feels even more powerful because it coincides with a partial lunar eclipse and, astrologically, the Full Moon falls in Pisces.
Pisces is a water sign associated with intuition, compassion, dreams, spirituality and surrender. Within astrological tradition, eclipses are often regarded symbolically as thresholds; times of culmination, revelation, endings and change.

There is something rather beautiful about all three meeting here:
The Sturgeon — what rises from the depths.
Pisces — the waters of intuition and surrender.
The Eclipse — shadow passing across the light.

So, this Moon invites me to go a little deeper.
What am I still carrying that was never mine?
What am I trying to control that I could surrender?
What old grief is ready to move?
What attachment has reached its natural ending?
And perhaps most importantly:
Who am I when I stop carrying what I have already outgrown?

I don't believe release means erasing our history. Our experiences are woven into us. They have taught us, shaped us and brought us here.
But we can honour what has been without allowing it to determine everything that will be.
This Sturgeon Moon, beneath the shadow and light of the Pisces lunar eclipse, I will return once again to the ritual I began years ago.
I will light the flame.
I will write the words.
I will speak my invocation.
I will release what is ready to leave.
And I will trust the space that remains.

And so it is!! 🌕✨💫♓🐟
#SturgeonMoon #FullMoon #FullMoonRitual #FullMoonRelease #FullMoonInvocation #LunarEclipse #PiscesFullMoon #MoonRitual #ReleaseRitual #LettingGo #SpiritualHealing #EnergyHealing #MoonWater #SacredRitual #AndSoItIs

4 weeks ago | [YT] | 1

Jayne Watt

There are stories that belong to a family, and then there are stories that deserve to belong to the world. My grandparents’ story has always been one of those.
A few years ago, I published a small collection of my grandfather’s poetry, From Loch to Love. The title captured more than the distance between Scotland and England; it was a journey from homeland to heart, from war to peace, from one life into another.
My grandfather was born in Pittenweem, in the beautiful East Neuk of Fife. During the Second World War, he left the shores he loved and travelled south, joining the Wolverhampton Police Force. While serving there, he became seriously ill and was admitted to hospital.
The nurse who cared for him would one day become my grandmother.
From his hospital bed, he typed her a poem. That single page became an invitation, then a date, a courtship and eventually a long and happy marriage.
I still have that original typed poem.
When I created From Loch to Love, I knew it had to be included. It is more than a piece of paper; it captures the moment two lives quietly changed direction and our family story began.
My grandfather also produced a small pamphlet of his poetry, donating the proceeds to the Red Cross in gratitude for the care he received during his convalescence. He never forgot kindness, and his writing reflected the things he held dear.
His poems speak of Scotland and the rugged beauty of the East Neuk of Fife; of patriotism, war and sacrifice; of his pride in the police force and the men he served alongside, including those who left policing to join the armed forces. His words are woven with loyalty, duty, humour, remembrance and love.
Publishing his poetry was never simply about preserving old words. It was about preserving the man behind them and honouring a marriage that began with a poem and shaped the generations that followed.
A few years later, I returned to his poetry and realised I wasn’t simply reading his words anymore.
I was hearing them.
I heard the waves against the harbours of the East Neuk, the wind across the Scottish coastline and the pride he carried for the homeland he never truly left behind.
His poems were asking to be sung.
So I gave them a new voice.
I transformed his poetry into songs inspired by Gaelic and Scottish folk traditions, with echoes of sea shanties, rich harmonies, bagpipes, fiddles and strong, uplifting rhythms. Some became tender and reflective; others carried the heartbeat, resilience and spirit of Scotland.
I wanted listeners to feel the landscape within his words; to stand beside the North Sea, wander through an East Neuk fishing village, remember those answering the call of war and hear the laughter and camaraderie of lives lived before ours.
The words remained his.
The melodies became mine.
Together, they became a conversation across generations.
Looking back, I realise my grandfather passed on far more than poetry. He passed on the courage to create and the understanding that words can comfort, inspire and connect people across time.
Every poem I write, every song I compose and every creative project I bring into the world carries a quiet echo of the man who once sat in a hospital bed and typed a poem for the nurse who had captured his heart.
His story became theirs.
Their story became mine.
And through From Loch to Love, their story continues; a reminder that the simplest words can change a life, gratitude can leave a legacy, and love has a remarkable way of travelling through generations.
Enjoy the full version:
https://youtu.be/WnJQq3qN31I
Love Jayne xx💜🙏🪶✨💫

1 month ago | [YT] | 2

Jayne Watt

Hey there beautiful friends,

Thought I should share that I am creating shorts for my Grandfather's songs. You can find all the shorts in my playlist titled: Celtic Roots

www.youtube.com/playlist?list...

......And full versions of each song can be found in my playlist titled: From Loch to Love

www.youtube.com/playlist?list...

Enjoy and thank you kindly for all my subscribers, views, likes, shares and comments.

Be kind to yourself
Much Love
Jayne xx 🪶✨💜🙏💫

2 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 2

Jayne Watt

Mindful Listening
There is a way of listening that most of us were never taught.
Not the kind that fills silence with sound, nor the passive hum of music drifting through a busy mind, but a listening that asks something of you. A listening that requires you to arrive, to sit fully within the moment, and to let the world speak before you decide what it means.
In that same quiet circle, held together by glowing screens and unseen threads of care, an invitation was offered. A playlist; simple in appearance, yet deliberate in its design. It was called Mindful Listening. Not background noise. Not distraction. A practice.
The songs themselves were familiar, yet layered with something deeper when approached with intention. Dancing On My Own by Robyn carried the quiet dignity of solitude. Chandelier by Sia trembled with fragile strength. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd opened a doorway to absence and longing.
There were echoes of survival in Gangsta’s Paradise by Coolio, raw reverence in Take Me to Church by Hozier, and the hypnotic questioning of identity in Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) by Eurythmics. Even the rhythm of everyday life found its place in 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton, while Human by The Killers and Human by Rag'n'Bone Man asked, in their own distinct voices, what it truly means to be.
There was comfort in Stop Crying Your Heart Out by Oasis, tenderness in The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack, and a declaration of self in I Am What I Am by Gloria Gaynor.
A familiar shimmer returned in Heart of Glass, reimagined by Miley Cyrus from the original by Blondie. Love unfolded in its purest form through Endless Love by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie. And somewhere within the pulse of Jack Your Body by Steve 'Silk' Hurley, there was movement, an insistence that even in stillness, life continues to dance.
But the music was never the end goal. It was the doorway.
The real work began in the listening.
Each person was asked to choose just one song—the one that did not simply sound good, but stayed. The one that lingered in the chest, that pulled gently (or sharply) at something unnamed. And then, to sit with it. Not as analysts, not as critics, but as witnesses to their own response.
To listen with ears, not assumptions.
To notice the lyrics, not what the mind thinks they say, but what they actually offer. To feel before interpreting. To let the song land without rushing to label it. And then, softly, to ask:
Why does this find me here?
What does it stir?
Who returns in its echo?
When have I felt this before?
In that pause between sound and meaning, something subtle begins to shift.
Because so often in life, we do not truly listen. We hear just enough to trigger our own internal dialogue, and from there, we respond not to what was said, but to what we have told ourselves was said. Conversations become mirrors of our own thoughts rather than bridges between people. Misunderstandings take root not in malice, but in absence. An absence of presence.
Mindful listening interrupts this pattern.
It asks for stillness in a world that rewards reaction. It invites humility, the quiet recognition that perhaps we have not yet fully heard. And in doing so, it opens a different kind of connection. Not just to music, but to each other.
Within that small circle, scattered across distance yet united in intention, this practice became something more than an exercise. It became a remembering. That to listen, truly listen, is to offer respect. To offer space. To offer care.
And perhaps, if we carry it beyond the songs, into the ordinary conversations of everyday life, we begin to soften the edges where misunderstanding once lived.
We begin, quite simply, to hear one another.

Please listen......https://youtu.be/noSm7BVuTHY

Much Love
Jayne xx💜🙏🪶✨💫

3 months ago | [YT] | 2

Jayne Watt

Happy May Spring Bank Holiday to you all. 🌿✨

Long before it became a modern Bank Holiday, this time of year was honoured across Britain through ancient Celtic and pagan traditions that celebrated the returning warmth of the sun, the fertility of the land, and the full awakening of spring.

Our ancestors would gather among wildflowers and green hillsides to welcome the turning season with music, dancing, feasting, bonfires, and the weaving of ribbons around the Maypole — a beautiful symbol of life, unity, growth, and the sacred connection between earth and sky. Villages would crown May Queens, light Beltane fires, and celebrate the promise of abundance after the long darkness of winter.

Though the modern Spring Bank Holiday was officially established in 1971, its spirit still carries echoes of those older traditions — a pause to gather together, laugh loudly, rest deeply, and honour the beauty of life blooming once again.

So wherever you are this weekend — in gardens, forests, beaches, pubs, caravans, or simply resting at home — may the old fires of joy, renewal, and connection burn brightly around you.

Happy Spring Bank Holiday everyone. ☀️🌸
Much Love
Jayne xx💜🙏🪶✨💫

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

Jayne Watt

I was working front line during the Covid-19 pandemic. I created a WhatsApp group amongst family and friends to help support their well-being during this very uncertain time. Mindful Listening was part of that WhatsApp group. Enjoy the short, full version of this project coming soon.
Much Love
Jayne xx💜🙏🪶✨💫

4 months ago | [YT] | 2

Jayne Watt

Thanks for listening to the Quick clips........Full versions available from October 2026!!
Next Album.......Lyrics from my youth!!
Looking forward to sharing with you xx🙏💜🪶✨💫

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

Jayne Watt

Hey there beautiful women of the world,

I'm creating a space for my community to gather, share stories, science and wisdom.
I'll be releasing some short podcasts on the inevitable menopause.
Please comment, ask questions and share your stories.
A sacred and safe space to talk.

#menopause #midlifetranformation #selfdiscovery #emotionalhealing #personalgrowth #spiritualawakening #intuitivedevelopment #empowerment #confidence #clarity

With Much Love & Kindness
Jayne xx🙏💜🪶✨💫

4 months ago | [YT] | 1

Jayne Watt

Hi there beautiful world,

I have released a few shorts and sneak peek videos of tracks from my forthcoming album and playlist; "Adolescence Volume 1".... this is a selection of lyrics that I wrote whilst I was a teenager. The emotions I felt at the most developmental time of my life, whilst navigating joy, sorrow, pain and achievement. The conflicting emotions of life and the determination to persevere.

More shorts will follow over the next month and I'll release full versions in October this year. I'm sure you'll enjoy this window into a very personal space. Each song will have an explanation regarding my age when it was written and why I wrote it.

Thanks for listening, reading, commenting, liking and sharing my content........
.....Enjoy!!
Much Love & Gratitude
Jayne xx🙏💜🪶✨💫

5 months ago | [YT] | 1

Jayne Watt

.......Carreg y Bwci continued......

Celtic Roots


There are lineages that sit neatly on paper—names, dates, places inked into tidy records.


And then there are lineages that live in the body.


Mine is the latter.


It begins on the eastern edge of Scotland, in the salt-washed air of Pittenweem, where the North Sea breathes against stone and harbour walls, and the past is never far from the present. The East Neuk of Fife carries a particular tone—weathered, enduring, shaped by tide and toil. From my grandfather, that current flows—quiet, resilient, carrying the memory of a people who learned to live with wind in their bones and horizon in their gaze.


Then, the land shifted—but the current did not break.


At ten years old, my roots reached into Wales, into the deep green lungs of Carmarthenshire and Ceredigion, where language itself carries ancestry, and the hills hold stories that predate written word. This is not a borrowed belonging. It is lived, earned, absorbed through years of walking, breathing, raising children upon that soil. The borderlands where I stood—where Carreg y Bwci rests—are not edges, but meeting points. Confluences of identity.


Two Celtic streams, Scottish and Welsh, winding toward one another—not to compete, but to merge.


Within me, they do not sit side by side—they braid.


The rhythm of the sea from Fife meets the quiet vastness of the Welsh hills. The endurance of one, the mysticism of the other. Salt and soil. Wind and root. And somewhere in that weaving, something awakens that is older than either nation alone: a Celtic remembering. Not as an idea, but as a felt truth. A patriotism not of borders or flags, but of spirit—of land, language, ancestry, and the unseen threads that bind them.


It is perhaps no coincidence, then, that I was drawn—again and again—to Carreg y Bwci.


Because that place is not passive.


It sits along what many would call ley lines—those subtle currents said to move through the earth like arteries, carrying a quiet charge between points of ancient significance. Whether named as myth, geomancy, or something not yet fully understood, the experience of such places speaks for itself. There is a coherence there. A hum beneath perception. A sense that the land is not inert, but alive in a way we have forgotten how to articulate.


And I have not forgotten.


At Carreg y Bwci, my lineage does not feel divided. It resolves. The Scottish blood in me does not stand apart from the Welsh ground beneath my feet—it answers it. The currents recognise one another. As though the lines beneath the earth rise to meet the lines within me.


I stand upon that mound, and something aligns.
Not dramatically, not with spectacle—but with certainty.


The ceremonies I have held, the solstice light passing slowly across the sky, the full moon opening the vastness above me—these are not separate from my heritage. They are expressions of it. Continuations. The ancient Celtic relationship with land, sky, and cycle, carried forward not through doctrine, but through presence.


And in those moments—when the wind moves across the ridge, when the horizon stretches without end, when the stone holds its quiet vigil—I am not reaching for connection.


I am inside it.


The ley lines beneath Carreg y Bwci do not simply pass through the land.


They pass through me.


And in that meeting—of ancestry, place, and awareness—I become what my roots have always intended:


Not a visitor to the land,
but a living extension of it.

5 months ago | [YT] | 1