Common Myths About the Full Moon and the Truth Behind Them
Separate superstition from science with help from a Hilton Head Island expert.
Story by Audrey Geib
On nights when the full moon climbs above the salt marsh, the Lowcountry feels different. Silver light dances over tidal creeks, Spanish moss glimmers like tinsel, and familiar whispers return. Teachers brace for restless classrooms. Emergency responders swap stories of busy nights. Ghost-tour guides swear the streets stir with unusual energy. Folklore insists that the moon can tug at our moods just as it pulls the tides.
The belief isn’t new. In fact, it’s etched into our language: “lunatic” comes from luna, Latin for “moon,” and once meant “moonstruck.” In medieval Europe, the moon was thought to cause periodic insanity. Ancient physicians linked epilepsy to lunar phases, and myths of werewolves flourished. Even today the lore lingers.
“I think this has been a common concept and sort of an urban legend in a lot of ways,” said Dr. Gabriela Farkas, a psychiatrist on Hilton Head Island.
When researchers dig into the data — crime reports, hospital admissions, birth records — the results are consistently inconclusive. No uptick in emergencies. No surge in births. No wave of lunacy.
So why do we still believe?
The word lunatic comes from luna, Latin for moon, and was once used as an official medical term. For centuries doctors blamed phases of the moon for fits of madness and seizures.
Seeing what we expect
Farkas points to confirmation bias, a psychological pattern that makes us notice what we expect to see.
“When you have a hammer, you see everything as a nail,” she explained. “If you have this idea that it’s a full moon and people get crazy, then if you’re working in an emergency department, you’re going to think, ‘Oh my God, we’re so busy.’ When, in fact, you may have been just as busy five days ago, but you didn’t attribute it to any external circumstance.”
It’s a trap of perception. A scattered morning feels more scattered if you’ve already blamed it on the moon. A classroom seems more unruly when you arrive expecting chaos. A hectic night in the ER feels like proof of lunar lunacy because you were looking for it.
Confirmation bias is powerful because it feeds itself.
“If the person believes that the full moon will impact them, then it’s probably going to,” Farkas said. “Whereas someone else, who doesn’t even know it’s a full moon, is obviously not going to make that connection.”
A light touch
Still, the moon is not entirely powerless. Its most direct influence comes down to light.
“I always notice when it’s a full moon because there’s more light coming into my room in the middle of the night,” Farkas said. “You’re supposed to have this dark room, but when the moon is full and there are no clouds, there’s more light outside that may show up in your bedroom, so your sleep may be a little lighter or a little more restless.”
Modern studies support her explanation. A 2013 paper in “Current Biology” found participants slept an average of 20 minutes less during full moons. A 2014 followup found a similar 25-minute reduction. That disruption doesn’t spark lunacy but can lead to subtle shifts: shorter tempers, unsettled moods, an edge that makes the world feel a little stranger.
Closer to nature
Generations ago, before electricity, the moon’s light mattered more. Farmers and fishermen lived by its rhythm. Families went to bed when the fire burned out. So a bright moonlit night meant more activity, and the fatigue that followed could easily be mistaken for a shift in temperament.
“When we lived closer to nature, we probably had a much higher impact from these things on our bodies,” Farkas said. “These days we can easily override them with artificial sources of light. I think we’ve sort of lost this connection to nature, in general.”
In that sense, lunar lunacy may be a remnant of a more elemental life. While artificial light dulls the moon’s physiological impact, its cultural and symbolic power remains intact.
Why it lingers
If science doesn’t support the myth, why does it persist? Perhaps because it offers a story, a way to make sense of restless nights, rowdy students or a stretch of bad luck. Perhaps because it connects us, however loosely, to a time when the moon truly did govern human rhythm. Or perhaps because the full moon is simply too captivating not to believe in.
Belief, like the moon itself, has a pull of its own. Here in the Lowcountry it’s hard not to look up at that glowing disc rising over the marsh and feel, at least for a moment, a little moonstruck.
On July 20, 1969, just after Apollo 11 touched down, astronaut Buzz Aldrin took communion on the lunar surface. He poured wine, broke bread and read scripture, turning the first moon landing into both a landmark of science and a moment of quiet human ritual.
Names of the full moon
Across cultures and centuries, people have given each month’s full moon its own character. Many of the names we use today come from old European and Native American traditions, tied to the rhythms of farming, hunting and weather. Here are a few you’ll see shining over the Lowcountry each year:
- Wolf Moon (January): Named for the howls heard in midwinter nights.
- Snow Moon (February): A nod to the coldest, snowiest time of year.
- Worm Moon (March): Marks the thaw when earthworms reappear.
- Pink Moon (April): Not actually pink, but linked to spring’s wildflowers.
- Flower Moon (May): A celebration of peak blooming season.
- Strawberry Moon (June): Coincides with the berry harvest.
- Buck Moon (July): When young deer begin growing new antlers.
- Sturgeon Moon (August): Prime time for catching the big fish.
- Harvest Moon (September): Extra bright, helping farmers work late into the night.
- Hunter’s Moon (October): Lights the way for autumn hunts.
- Beaver Moon (November): Signals the time to set traps before swamps freeze.
- Cold Moon (December): Marks the longest nights of the year.
