The Supermoon and the Work of Closure
The Supermoon this week arrives just as New Jersey’s Legislature is sprinting toward the end of its session — the final push before a new body is seated in January 2026. Supermoons exaggerate what’s already there: the light is brighter, the tides pull harder, and everything that’s been simmering suddenly comes into full view. Trenton feels like that right now.
End-of-session energy has its own gravitational force. Priorities that have lingered for months move quickly. Issues once considered stalled suddenly reappear. Agencies, advocates, and stakeholders are all trying to land what they can before the gavels come down.
And layered on top of that is a new intensity: with the new governor’s transition teams now announced, everyone is trying to understand what the next administration will look like. Names are circulating. Early signals are forming. Inside the agencies, people are quietly — and sometimes not so quietly — trying to figure out where they will land in January. Who will stay, who will move, who will lead, and what that will mean for the work.
This is the part of the cycle when pace accelerates and clarity lags. The pressure to close out priorities intersects with the uncertainty of what — and who — comes next. The system is shifting its weight, and the gravitational pull can be strong.
The Supermoon is a fitting symbol for a moment like this. Illumination isn’t always comfortable. It amplifies what’s working and what’s not, what’s urgent and what’s overdue, what must be finished now and what will inevitably carry forward into the new administration.
For people working in and around government, this period tests steadiness. It demands discernment. Not every rumor is a signal. Not every urgency is real. Not every vacancy or appointment reveals what it seems to. The leaders who navigate this moment well know the difference between movement and noise.
As I’ve written before, these transition points reveal the discipline behind the work. The ability to stay grounded while the landscape rearranges itself. To keep execution clean even when the environment is anything but. To maintain clarity when the spotlight turns bright — or when it swings unpredictably from one name to another, one agency to the next.
The Legislature will finish its session, the Supermoon will wane, and the new administration will take shape. The questions about who will go where will settle; they always do. But right now, the task is closure. Not rushing, not reacting, but finishing with intention.
Because the way we close one cycle shapes how we enter the next.