Continuous Current: Electricity, Stormwater, and Vision Boards
The Strawberry Moon rises June 29, 2026.
Author: Megan Williams
The Strawberry Moon
The Strawberry Moon is moves us from spring to summer, named for the brief window when strawberries ripen. Pay attention or you'll miss it.
Many spiritual and astrological traditions associate the full moon with emotional peaks or "cosmic storms". These "cosmic storms" often bring pent-up feelings to the surface, making it an ideal time for profound revelations and emotional release.
On Bottled Lightning
We've had a record breaking heatwave here in London interspersed with dramatic thunder storms. It can feel a bit paralyzing at times and there have been quite a few restless nights.
The thunderstorms though felt like a primal shock to the system, a burst of new light and energy, and it got me thinking about the term "lightning in a bottle" or “bottled lightning”.
Usually the term is used to describe catching something rare, a nearly impossible-to-replicate achievement, a moment of genius, a flash of pure luck.
Or it can describe a particularly perfect expression of zeitgeist, such as the original Scream, a film that captured a precise cultural moment. Released just before caller ID and mobile phones became ubiquitous, its self‑aware, meta‑commentary, with characters actively discussing horror genre conventions mirrored the era’s growing obsession with media, voyeurism, and the looming explosion of reality TV.
But the phrase "lightning in a bottle" grew out of the Franklin‑era idea of trying to capture electricity in a physical container. We tend to think that Franklin “got lucky” when lightning hit his kite and he suddenly discovered electricity, a common misperception, when in fact it was structured observation, hypothesis, and repeatable methods that revealed the nature of lightning.
In Franklin’s time, experimenters used Leyden jars (early electric capacitors) to study and store the movement of electricity generated by creating static by, for example, spinning glass globes rubbed with animal fur. They viewed electricity as a mysterious, invisible fluid hidden inside everyday objects that could only be awakened or pulled out through specific actions.
Following on from these experiments, Franklin suggested that lightning was 'one and the same' as this electric fluid and conducted the famous kite experiment to test his theory.
Franklin was certainly not out to have his kite struck by lightning. Nor did this happen. It is by sheer myth that we think this. Instead, the kite collected the energy of the storm, becoming a conductor and allowing the charge to travel down to the metal key on the kite's string. Franklin noticed the loose threads of the string standing on end, the exact phenomenon seen in the lab.
When Franklin moved his hand close to the suspended metal key he receive a static shock with a visible electric spark. He was then able to successfully charge a Leyden jar using the electricity coming down the string. Because this "sky electricity" behaved exactly like "lab electricity", he proved they were the exact same force.
The kite experiment broke centuries of religious and mystical theories, showing that the sky acts exactly like a giant, lab-built electrostatic machine; and led to his invention of the lightning rod, the very first practical technology used to tame and redirect the forces of nature safely into the earth.
Electricity all around us
The electricity was always there in the air, Franklin’s genius lay in designing tools that allowed us to interact with it more intentionally rather than randomly.
If you apply that to magic or manifestation, there's a clear parallel: the energy is already saturating our environment, we can channel it toward an intended direction, instead of waiting for chance.
Recently I've returned to some of my old Scott Cunningham books, my gateway to the craft, and found quite a few sections on storms and lightning calling out to me. I may have missed my chance to perform them for the time being, but I'm inspired to keep a jar around now for the next one.
For those of you not familiar, Scott Cunningham focused on working with the earth and utilizing self-created rituals rather than strict dogmatic rules. Before Cunningham, wicca was largely a mystery tradition practiced only in organized covens.
According to Cunningham, "Electrical storms are times of great energy. The electrical energy of lightning mixes with the magnetic forces of water (rain), thus creating an extremely powerful magical brew".
To harness this energy:
- Hang a jar from a tree to collect stormwater and the electric air.
- You can use the stormwater in future rituals.
- Or place an item in the jar you want to receive this energy,
Stormwater holds a distinct, highly charged vibration, particularly well suited for healing and protection. It can be used to give an extra boost to spells or when you need a result to manifest quickly
Keeping the Spark Alive
In Franklin’s world, storms and static shocks produced quick, chaotic bursts of electricity, dramatic, but fleeting. The Leyden jar turned those bursts into something you could store, hold, and come back to. Suddenly, what had been a momentary spark could be stored, revisited, and discharged with purpose.
That’s what a vision board really is: not a wish list, but a container. A way of telling your future self, “This is real. This matters. Don’t let this spark evaporate" - a modern Leyden jar. Vision boards don’t conjure desire from nowhere; they store the impulse. When we add an image, phrase, or scene to a board, we’re bottling that brief voltage so we can return to it, feel it again, and act on it deliberately rather than hoping we remember how it felt.
Inspiration gives you the spark; the vision board gives you the circuit.
We talk about “lightning in a bottle” as if it’s pure accident, a rare spark we’re lucky to witness once. But Franklin’s jars and rods, Cunningham’s stormwater, and our own vision boards all point toward deliberate action, not luck. The electricity is all around us, the magic lives in the decision to keep catching the charge.
Vision Board of the Month: Ripening
The Strawberry Moon is the moon of sweetness arrived. Not anticipated but here, now. Named by Algonquin peoples for the brief window when wild strawberries ripen in northeastern North America.
The name carries a specific kind of attention. Not "this will come eventually." More like: it's here now.
That's the board prompt for this moon. Not what you want to build. What is already built, already ripe, already waiting for you to pick it.