Of The Stone of the Place: A Poem for the Brigid Poetry Slam

Of The Stone of the Place by Robert Frost
(with slight variations by Sia)
Posted in honor of the annual Brigid Cyberspace Poetry Slam

I farm a pasture where the boulders lie
As touching as a basketful of eggs,
And though they're nothing anybody begs,
I wonder if it wouldn't signify

For me to send you one out where you live
In wind-soil to a depth of thirty feet,
And every acre good enough to eat,
As fine as flour put through a baker's sieve.

I'd ship a smooth one you could slap and chafe,
And set up like a statue in your yard,
An eolith palladium to guard
The West and keep the old tradition safe.

Carve nothing on it. You can simply say
In self-defense to quizzical inquiry:
"The portrait of the soul of Grandmother Iris.
It came from where she came from anyway."

Wishing a Happy Lunar New Year (Year of the Metal Rabbit) and a Joyful Imbolc to all here.

Don't forget to feed the birds.

Sia

My thoughts today are with the people of Egypt and all those longing and working to have their voices heard.

Letting Go at Imbolc

Today is Old Imbolc, the actual cross quarter day in the Wheel of the Year. Today in honor of Imbolc, I am cleaning house, both inside and out. Today I am mediating and letting go of some old hurts and some disruptive/negative attachments. I am also working on my gratitude list and writing letters to people I cherish (and who cherish me) or catching up with these loved ones by phone.

Today I am thinking and writing and talking to others about what it means to let go of old hurts and to forgive someone as a Pagan. Today, in my rituals, I put some of those hurts on the bonfire or let them flow into ground for earth to break down and renew as only Gaia can. Today I bless and release some pain I've been carrying around for a while because it no longer belongs to me. In fact, it never did.

This brings me back full circle to what I learned when I first entered ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) meetings over 25 years ago. It's this: letting go of hurts and forgiving someone who hurt me is not something I do for them. It is something I do for myself. I do it so I can move forward without the burden of pain, resentment and anger that I've been carrying. It is about my freedom, my healing and my survival. For me, it is a critical component in my recovery. Dislodging that harmful, pain-filled energy inside my chest allows light and air into my life and supports my joy, my creativity, and my physical health (for this burden adds to my stress which weakens me, and keeps the weight on, as well). Letting go, as we call, it also enhances my capacity to love and be loved.

I've been doing this work for over 25 years, and it has always been worth the struggle it takes to let go. To quote my old sponsor, a woman who had crawled through the emotional equivalent of ground glass to get to a place of peace and compassion and who, all gods bless her, had a wicked sense of humor, "Why should those $#*@ers get to live rent-free my head?".

Today, I also forgive myself for those times I missed the mark; when I failed myself or my loved ones in word or deed (or simply by not paying enough conscious attention) or when my lack of wise judgment or compassion caused pain. I cannot move forward without this blessing and release. I accept that fact without any need for further shame or guilt, without wallowing in received shame or guilt from any religion, culture or family and without needing anyone, a priest or a god, to do it for me. I am all the priestess I need and my connection to the sacred well is for me to tend, and me alone. I accept that gift and the responsibility that comes with it.

So it is that my Imboc rituals this week are done to restore balance, whether it be balance between me and another person, former me and me today or me and that which is greater than me of which I am a part. In in all these cases, I now know that I can make a mistake without being a mistake, a lesson that took me years to learn, and my rituals are loving and warm hearted as a result. Yes, they can be bittersweet, but their focus makes them more sweet than bitter, and there, right there, we come to the very soul and center of my practice.

Life gives us the test first and the lesson afterwards

I accept the lessons (even when they are brought to me by difficult people, even when I bring them on myself). I accept the understanding each lesson brings because I don't wish to repeat dysfunctional behavior or let others engage in behavior that brings pain to me. That is what it means to me to forgive and let go, to bless and release, as a Pagan. I do not forget, forgetting simply means I haven't learned, but I don't obsess or dwell on it any more, either. I do learn the greater lesson which is how this event fits into my life story, and what tools it brings me that I can use today, and how my understanding can help and support others on the path. In other words, because I am a practicing Pagan, I know how to let go and learn in ways that are useful, creative, healing and full of meaning.

With all that in mind, I would like to share this quote today. Take what you need and leave the rest:

"The purity of the Imbolc symbolism is very much part of the newness of the year. Life is refreshed by cleansing, by letting go. This is a time to release attachment to past pain, to let go of whatever out-dated stories about yourself and your life you are hanging onto, to allow the healing of forgiveness and acceptance to soothe old injuries of heart and soul.

It is an excellent time to review what has and has not already been achieved, and to assess which of your dreams you still want to pursue and which ones you might as well let go of.

It's a potent time to clear away past disappointments, to let go of old ideas about yourself, and step fully into the present. And on the mundane and physical level, it's a great time to clear out and give away all that stuff you no longer need."

- Elsa P

Go well stay well,

Sia

Related Links:

Spiral Steps On-line Support Group - All Are Welcome
anonymous, non-cross talk, meeting

JK Rowling on the Fringe Benefits of Failure

I have another offering to make for Imbolc. This is JK Rowling giving the Harvard Commencement speech. She choose to talk that day on the power of failure. This heartfelt talk is something every artist, writer, speaker, activist and organizer will appreciate:

Text & Video: J.K. Rowling Speaks at Harvard Commencement from Harvard Magazine on Vimeo.

Found at TED: Ideas Worth Spreading

The 5th Annual Brigid Poetry Festival

As Hecate has noted, it's time for the 5th Anuual Brigid Poerty Festival, a tradition begun by Anne Hill. Hecate has written (her usual) inspiring and insightful posts on Imbolc and poetry. Take the time to read those and then check out the original poem written by Anne Hill at her blog.

Would you like to contribute? Then post a poem (or poems) on your own blog and post a link in the comments section at Anne's Blog O Gnosis.

Blessed Imbolc to you and yours. Here is my offering.

Ode To A Chesnut On The Ground by Pablo Neruda

From bristly foliage
you fell
complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany,
as perfect
as a violin newly
born of the treetops,
that falling
offers its sealed-in gifts,
the hidden sweetness
that grew in secret
amid birds and leaves,
a model of form,
kin to wood and flour,
an oval instrument
that holds within it
intact delight, an edible rose.
In the heights you abandoned
the sea-urchin burr
that parted its spines
in the light of the chestnut tree;
through that slit
you glimpsed the world,
birds
bursting with syllables,
starry
dew
below,
the heads of boys
and girls,
grasses stirring restlessly,
smoke rising, rising.
You made your decision,
chestnut, and leaped to earth,
burnished and ready,
firm and smooth
as the small breasts
of the islands of America.
You fell,
you struck
the ground,
but
nothing happened,
the grass
still stirred, the old
chestnut sighed with the mouths
of a forest of trees,
a red leaf of autumn fell,
resolutely, the hours marched on
across the earth.
Because you are
only
a seed,
chestnut tree, autumn, earth,
water, heights, silence
prepared the germ,
the floury density,
the maternal eyelids
that buried will again
open toward the heights
the simple majesty of foliage,
the dark damp plan
of new roots,
the ancient but new dimensions
of another chestnut tree in the earth.

Update from Anne - Collection of Poems at Delicious.com
Yvonne has set up a system: if you post a poem this weekend, go to delicious.com and enter your post url with the tag brighid2010. (Or get a geeky friend to do it for you; it’s not super intuitive.) If you just want to read all the poetry, search for the brighid2010 tag at delicious and all our posts will show up together. Magic!

Photo used w/ permission

Related Articles:

Reclaiming Brigid: Celtic Goddess, Saint, Soul Smith, Creatrix & Leader

Old Imbolc: What Sacred Well Are You Tending?

Festival of Trees - A Poem for Imbolc 2009

Welcome Brigid - Poems for Imbolc (2008)

A Collection of Poems from the Silent Poetry Reading at Imbolc

Because Brigid Loves to Laugh (video)

Seeds for the Birds: Old Imbolc

Can You Feel It? Imbolc!

Old Imbolc: What Sacred Well Are You Tending?

Madam the dog woke me early by pushing her large nose into my arm and making snuffling noises. She likes to wag her huge tail in such a way that it goes "fwap, fwap" against the end table. Fiendishly clever beast; she knows that one push is allowed when all she wants is attention and an early breakfast and that I have the right to roll over and ignore her when I need more sleep but we agree that two or more pushes and those "fwaps" mean "Outside, now!". This morning I got nosed awake at six, so after she did her business I made a cup of my favorite coffee and we strolled out together on to the back deck. The sunrise was fiery and full of birdsong. It's going to be a beautiful day.

I lit a new candle for Brigid and put it into the small chimenea on my table. Together dog and I wandered our property while the cats went their various and slinky ways. Madam kept me company as I watered the lavenders in their pots and filled the bird feeders. She carefully watched as I tossed down shelled peanuts for the Douglas squirrels (taking one or two as her due). I've come to love these tiny russet-bellied squirrels. They are so clever and brave and so very agile but they much smaller than the native grays. We call them Hobbit squirrels.

I took up my basket and Madam and I continued on down to the meadow where I threw down some apples and hazelnuts for the deer and her two does to enjoy during their next visit. (1) Ritual complete, dog and I circled back to our chairs out on the kitchen deck that overlooks the meadow. Madame began work on her newest bone, and I picked up my pen. We spent the next hour together engaged in our tasks, often watching the birds and squirrels enjoy their seed.

Brigid and Imbolc are very dear to me, so I've taken the day off to celebrate in my own way. At lunch, dog and I will meander down to our favorite nursery, the one with a nice variety of native plants and the staff who keep a drawer full of dog cookies for special visitors. Then it's on the wetlands, to look for eagles and the Eurasian Wigeons that have lately appeared. Then tonight I'll cook something special for Himself. Like the holiday itself, our dinner will involve some old favorites passed down through the family, and something new I've been wanting to try.

We could use a cheerful feast. It's been a rough couple of weeks both for my partner and for me because we've both lost valued colleagues to layoffs and a loved one has been ill. Of course, it's much rougher for those going through such changes. We try to be there for them, knowing they would do the same for us. Here we are, only a few weeks into the new year and already there are so many good people losing jobs all over the country. With so much vital energy going in so many different directions, it's a good time to connect with strength, healing, creativity and the many practical abilities embodied by a Goddess like Brigid.

Well, that's it, that's my ritual for Imbolc. Or at least as much of it as I care to share here. It isn't grand or complex, but it is full of gratitude and peace and I have good companions. However you choose to celebrate the turning of the wheel, I hope you find both beauty and good friends.

As I write this some dear friends in the Midwest and Northeastern parts of the United States and many in in Britain are caught up in some of the worst snowstorms they've ever known. (Folks, put out some food for the birds!) Here in the Pacific Northwest we seem to have finished with the worst of winter and now have clear skies and cold, bright sunny days, while friends in California are coping with unusually high temperatures and a looming drought. This network of friends all celebrate Old Imbolc (2) and each of us will honor it differently, depending in the weather, circumstance and our tradition. I suspect that it's always been that way. The day is different for each of us so why should our celebrations be any different? What binds us is much deeper than ritual.

Personally, I don't value any practice set in stone. What touches our hearts, lasts. What is useful to us, what resonates and nourishes, becomes as daily bread. What is not will pass away, as many faiths are finding. While I respect and cherish many of the old ways I use them as a guide not a rule. The older I get, the more I find Pagans who feel the same. In my practice we use the old traditions in order to connect to those who have gone before but we also create our own rituals, meditations and traditions, both for ourselves and our times, as our ancestors most certainly did. My students know that while our ethics stand firm, our rituals and celebrations can be creative, fluid, (and, within reason) eclectic. What matters is the attention and commitment we give to our cycle of days, not what robes we wear. Some of the most powerful experiences I have ever had as a Green Witch are ones in which form joyfully gives way to function. (3) Personally, I find that my own rituals are deepest when they remain simple and speak to time and place. Looked at in this light, this most likely means that Madame and the cats are far better Pagans than I am, since they are so much better at being in the moment. So be it.

These days, I'll do whatever it takes to keep my practice relevant and fruitful, something I need in both good times and bad. Perhaps it means that I need to pay more attention to my spiritual and emotional life. Or perhaps that means more walks with Madam or more time petting cats. Those things certainly clear my heart space.

Friends, family, furry kids, self and (please Goddess) meaningful work. Add, too, in my cherished volunteer work which I do so that the world will be a bit better for my being in it, and, because I love it. This is the community I value and the holy well I tend to every day. This is the service I'm called to. Lucky me.

Wishing the blessings of Imbolc to you and yours,

Sia

Related Articles:

10 Ways to Help Birds in Bad Weather

Endnotes:

(1) Assuming of course, that the animals we know as Murry the Possum, Kinky Friedman the Skunk or Mamma Raccoon doesn't get to them first.

(2) Old Imbolc is the time when this Cross Quarter Day in the year occurs, as opposed to the arbitrary date listed on most western calendars. Here is a helpful table of the astronomical occurrences for solstice and equinox days as well as the cross quarter days.

(3) Caveat: As long as my intent is clear and I have done the work required to clear my mind and heart beforehand from resentments, shadow issues and petty concerns; garbage in, as they say, garbage out.

Photo: Douglas Squirrel found at AlanBauer.com

Festival of Trees - A Poem for Imbolc and the Brigid Poety Slam

In honor of Brigid, Goddess of Poetry and Healing, this year my contribution is a poem written Rabbi Jill Hammer (1).

Festival of Trees

When we went to the clearing to visit the trees,
the great trees of the clearing,
mother, grandmother, and daughter,
sister, and faithful gatekeeper,
we blessed them to grow upward,
to spread the wealth of earth into the air
as a fan scatters a breeze across the face.
But when we came to the wise crone,
the old dead tree wrapped in vines,
escorted by milkweed and tall grass,
her we blessed to grow downward
to pour her radiance back into the soil
so that all would grow from her body.
That day in the snow she had the face of an owl,
beak and hooded eyes.
Her call could not be heard.
It was beneath us, under the ground.

Imbolc Poems by Jill Hammer
Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion - Volume 22, Number 1, Spring 2006, pp. 75-82

Posted on calendar Imbolc, for the 4th Annual Brigid Poetry Slam

Blessed Imbolc to you and yours,

Sia

Related Articles:

The Blessings of Brighid

Hacate mentioned this post and I enjoyed it very much as it sums up so much of the beauty of this Goddess and the women who never forgot her. I left this note at Owl's Daughter's blog, and I'll share it with you, as well:

Today, dog and I go to our favorite park, bags in hand, to walk and clean up any litter we find. This is a small, quiet park, little known and not much cared for except by the people who live here, and the odd tourist, junkie or hooker who leave their trash. They defile it, and we make it sacred again so that others can walk among the trees.

Endnotes:

Jill Hammer, PhD, is an author, educator, midrashist, myth-weaver, and ritualist. She is the director of Tel Shemesh, a website and community celebrating and creating Jewish earth-based traditions, and the co-founder of Kohenet: The Hebrew Priestess Institute.

Photo: Spotted Owls in Old Growth Forest

Invitation to Brigid Poetry Slam - Imbolc 2009

Today I would like to share the Invitation to the Fourth Annual Brigid in the Blogosphere Poetry Slam organized by Deborah Oak at Branches Up, Roots Down

She writes:

Feel free to copy the following to your blog and spread the word. Let poetry bless the blogosphere once again!

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2009

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Last year when the call went out there was more poetry in cyberspace than I could keep track of. So, link to whoever you hear about this from and a mighty web of poetry will be spun.

Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.

Thank you, Reya, for beginning what is now an annual event.

I look forward to this every year.

Sia

Related articles:

Because Brigid Loves to Laugh

Welcome Brigid

Old Imbolc

Can You Feel It? Imbolc!

Some Poems from 2007

Welcome Brigid - Poems for Imbolc

This poem is for my friend Owlwind, who is due to have her daughter and first child this week. I post it in her honor for the Third Annual Brigid In Cyberspace Poetry Slam.

Brigid Newly Arrived

Dear child, dear little child,
hardly into the world,
a few weeks into our
cold you intrude your fire
for us to warm ourselves.
Look kindly on our eyes
that gaze down into yours
to quicken our low fires.

Dear wordless little girl,
forgive our words, we live
by them as you soon shall.
Choose wisely as you grow
into your wording age
among their worn meanings
some you will surely need
and we bleed to give you:
luck, charity, courage.

Poem: "Brigid Newly Arrived" by George Johnston, from The Essential George Johnston. © The Porcupine's Quill, 2007.

Art: Brigid's Wheel

Related Articles:

Brigid in Cyberspace - A Day of Poetry for Imbolc

Because Brigid Likes to Laugh

Links:

Fire Goddesses & Fire Gods

Another poem:

The dandelion lights its spark
Lest Brigid find the wayside dark.
And Brother Wind comes rollicking
For joy that she has brought the spring.
Young lambs and little furry folk
Seek shelter underneath her cloak.
W. M. Letts

Because Brigid loves to laugh

Goddess Bless the Bard Holly Tannen, who brings us songs channeled from the half-astral plane, and all those who love words and music.

Blessed Imbolc to all here,

Sia

Links:

Brigid: The Survival of a Goddess

Wheat Weaving

Sacred Places in the Modern World - A wonderful post by Hecate on Imbolc, ritual and finding sacred place in urban settings.

Welcoming Brigid - from Lunaea Weatherstone

Practical Alchemy - A one woman show by Holly Tannen

Recipes:

Barm Brack - Speckled Bread

Other recipes from Ireland

About Holly Tannen:

CD - Crazy Laughter

more of her music can be found at Serpentine Music

Folklore and magic provide the foundation for Holly Tannen's music. While her repertoire includes many traditional folk songs from England, Scotland, France, and the United States, Tannen has attracted more attention with her own songs, including "Online Romance," "Song of the Suburban Shaman," and "Lily of the Net," which she claims were written while channeling entities from what she calls the "half-astral plane." Her ability to straddle between the two worlds has transformed her shows into highly spirited experiences. Reviewing one of her performances, The Oakland Tribune called her "a master at taking a small club and turning it into a magical forest." Studying magic since 1980, Tannen was initiated as a princess in 1984. Four years later, she studied folklore at the University of California at Berkeley, writing a master's thesis paper on the ballads of the nomadic travelling people of Scotland. An associate professor of anthropology at the College of the Redwoods in Mendocino from 1989 until 1996, she continued to lecture on contemporary magic at such locales as the University of California in Berkeley and Yale University. In February 2000, Tannen debuted a one-woman show, Practical Alchemy, at the Helen Schoeni Theater in Mendocino, based on the life and writings of French existential poet Arthur Rimbaud.

~ Craig Harris, All Music Guide

Goddess & Saint

Brigit Haggerty writes this about The Goddess Brigid and her connection to the Catholic St. Brigid

What we do know of her is mainly through anecdotes and miracle stories, some of which are deeply rooted in Irish folklore. She is said to have been born out of wedlock to a maidservant seduced by a prince, sold into slavery by his jealous wife, and then raised by Druids near Kildare where she later founded a monastery on an ancient pagan site. It was there that a fire, tended by twenty nuns, burned continuously for hundreds of years after her death.

So, who was she really? A figure based on a Celtic goddess which was later adapted by the Roman Catholic Church when Christianity came to Ireland? Or was she the daughter of a pagan prince? While many Roman Catholics are often troubled by the inconsistencies of our spiritual heritage, she is so deeply rooted in our Irish customs and culture that the majority of us find ourselves accepting her existence simply on faith.

So, every year, on the eve of her feast day, I will continue to fashion a cross of straw in her honor, call on her for inspiration when the inevitable writer's block occurs, and, most of all, try to live the legacy she left us - especially that of giving to those in need.

A sweet, funny poem about St. Brigid (posted by Brigit Haggerty's on the site Irish Culture and Customs)

The Giveaway
from The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley

Saint Brigid was
A problem child.
Although a lass
Demure and mild,
And one who strove
To please her dad,
Saint Brigid drove
The family mad.
For here's the fault in Brigid lay:
She WOULD give everything away.

To any soul
Whose luck was out
She'd give her bowl
Of stirabout;
She'd give her shawl,
Divide her purse
With one or all.
And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
She'd borrow from a relative.

Her father's gold,
Her grandsire's dinner,
She'd hand to cold
and hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
No matter whose;
Take from her feet
The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
Fetch forth her sister's and her mother's.

She could not quit.
She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
The parlor rug,
Her little
niece's christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
And then the mattress of her aunt.

An easy touch
For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
And grew so holy
That when she died
Of years and fame,
The countryside
Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
With generous girls named Bride or Brigid.

Well, one must love her.
Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
Givingness,
There's no denial
She must have been
A sort of trial
Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
WHO had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
Saint Brigid? Or her near and dear?

Brigid in Cyperspace Poetry Reading - February 2nd

Announcement from Deborah Oak

You are invited to the third annual
Brigid in Cyperspace Poetry Reading

Well, Anne Hill asked if we were going to do this again, and I say YES! Feel free to copy the following to your blog and spread the word. Let poetry bless the blogosphere once again!

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading

WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2008

WHERE: Your blog

WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day

HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.

RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Last year when the call went out there was more poetry in cyberspace than I could keep track of. So, link to whoever you hear about this from and a mighty web of poetry will be spun.

Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.

Thank you, Reya, for beginning what is now an annual event.

Posted by deborah oak at 4:20 PM

------------

My thanks to Hecate for the information - sounds like fun :-)

Sia

Related Articles:

Old Imbolc

Can You Feel It? Imbolc!

Art: Brigid by Lisa Iris

Seeds for the Birds: Old Imbolc

Imbolc celebrations began in our home at sunset on Feb. 1st and resumed again at dawn the next morning. We use fire, seeds, bread, (1) milk, and meditation to celebrate Brigid. This is only the beginning. In our home Imbolc begins on Feb 2 and lasts through the 9th. The actual astronomical midpoint in the year (the cross quarter day) is on Saturday, February 4th.

I don't plant seeds outside for this holiday. That would be silly with winter frosts still on the way. (1) Instead I make sure to keep our seven bird feeders full, as the cold nights can be cruel and the beasties need food to survive. We provide various kinds of seeds for the different species of birds on our property. I also put out a peanut feeder for the squirrels. I love our squirrels, the bloody little thieves. My favorite coffee mug has a picture of a squirrel dressed in a beak mask and blue wings holding a sign that says "Feed the Birds"

Much of the focus of my ritual this year was on Brigid as Healer because my partner was due to go in for surgery that week. He is home now, and doing fine.

Much of my free time is spent reading the thoughts of others about this holiday and keeping my own green journal, as well. A good deal of my "hearth time" this time of year is spent in cleaning and organizing (even more so now that we're moving). I like to clear out the weeds in my garden (both real and metaphorical) and fertilize where needed (in the real world and elsewhere). I look forward to sending a receiving email notes filled with blessings, good wishes, pictures and poetry. Most of these come to me from female friends who, like me, hold Brigid dear.

I took special pleasure this year in reading the Imbolc posting by Jason, a delightful Greenman (and a snazzy writer) who composes the Wildhunt Blog. His section on Brigid (2/1/06) was both lovely and informative. Anne Hill included some wonderful poems by Elien Bass and William Matthews on her blog this year. I sent a note about these to Rowan Fairgrove who, it turns out, has taken her poetry classes out in Santa Cruz. Rowan in turn kindly sent me the link to Ellen's website so I could check out her workshops, and she included a news update on celebrations at Brigid's Well in Ireland.

Some Imbolc sites inspire me. Others make me laugh. Years ago I found an essay on Imbolc that made me groan and giggle. I've since filed it under "Stupid Pagan Tricks." Every now and then I pull it out and give it to good hearted urban types with fantasies about the outdoors.

One year, our Priestess decided/divined that Candlemas/Imbolc was the proper time to Initiate our Dedicants. She also decided/channeled the information from our Guides that the influenza tradition had arisen because we weren't in harmony with nature. Therefore, those desiring Initiation would have to do an all-night Vision Quest outside, and a Sweat Lodge at dawn. Mind you, this was during February in the Northeast....

So much of what our ancestors did comes down to the dread of winter and the hope of spring, to seeds and farming and the migration of herds. Tens of thousands of years ago they knew the sea lanes and could track the flights of birds and follow the movements of whales and stars to new lands. Some followed the sea, some followed the deer and the caribou. Those who stayed on land knew how to find water, how to make beer or cheese, and how to help early the lambs be born. They valued woodland and weather lore, coupled their sky watching with common sense and brought their people up from mere survival into abundance, and made our poetry possible.

Such wisdom is worth honoring for it's own sake, as anyone who has ever tried to brew beer, bake bread, make tools or heal the sick can tell us. Is it any wonder then that Her gifts are so very practical? Those of us who watch the natural world take nothing for granted for we know that everything changes. Brigid teaches us the miracle in everyday things, and how to hold beauty in our hearts.

Blessed Imbolc,

Sia

Endnotes:

(1) Gardeners know better than to put seeds in the ground before the winter frosts are done. Most Pagan gardeners plant seeds in greenhouses and seed trays, and transplant these in March. Imbolc is when we order all those seed and gardening catalogs and begin to dream...

(2) I find it baffling that so many people who practice an earthwise spiritual tradition related to the seasons will plan their celebration around a date on their glossy paper calendar and ignore what father sun and mother earth are actually doing. Beltane is a good example of this. Many Pagans have no idea of the history of the calendar changes by the Romans and the Catholic Church, so they don't realize that the astronomical date for Beltane is closer to the 5th, and that certain calendar changes in the Middle Ages cost our ancestors 11 days, which meant that Old Beltane celebrations would have occurred in the middle of an ancient May, when the weather was much warmer. (This is actually the time when you'll see flowers blooming en mass in England and Northern Europe and when there is far less chance of freezing as we frolic in the wo-ods).

I once received an invitation to a full moon ritual from a Wiccan Coven nearby. It was set to occur on a Saturday. The moon had turned full the Wednesday before and was waning on the night in question. Ironically, the ritual was dedicated to abundance and prosperity. When I asked them about this, they said they were too busy to gather that Wednesday. They were nice people, too, just not real clear on the concept. I politely declined the invitation and wished them well. I'm sure the moon mistress who so loves woods and wild things blessed their endeavors as She thought best :-)


Art: Ellen of the Trackways by Ian Lowe

Can You Feel It? Imbolc!

Note 1/09 This was written when we still lived in California. Things are a bit different here in Oregon, and I'm building a new, native habitat and learning new plants - Sia

Can you feel it?

I notice the changes in the neighborhood every day now when I walk our dog. The birds are singing (my Rhododendron sounds like a wildly popular cabaret) and everywhere we go the trees are in full bud. New leaves are coming out on the rose bushes, the bulbs in the ground are about to pop with daffodils, tulips, and Jonquils (1) and the weeds have overrun my garden.

Drat those weeds.

Since the sun came out, I see my neighbors again. They are all outside trimming and mowing and planting and generally running amok in their haste to put in some flower beds, and get some color back into their world. It's time to clear out my own bed of weeds before it's too late and we become a scandal and a hissing.

February 9th marks the Lunar New Year in 2005. The frosts are usually over by then and so this is when I traditionally plant my seeds, put out something x-tra special for the birds, and celebrate my own version of Imbolc, which involves learning from the past and looking towards the future. (2)

I plant a wild garden, using mostly native shrubs, herbs, and Mediterranean plants. It tends to look more free form than most other gardens, especially this time of year, but I know what I've put there, and what it will look like soon, so I can afford to wait, knowing that color and scent and great beauty will soon be mine again, along with butterflies, and bees and birds and the lower water bill that is my reward for planting draught tolerant species. All this wonder will soon be mine, if I can just get those rotten weeds out of the way.

Ah....metaphor. Ain't it grand?

There is a sweeter feel to the air, just now, a tingle and a tang, a sensual vitality. Can you feel it? The energy? It makes me think of a great artist standing backstage, warming up for Her big aria.

It's still a bit brisk and chilly out where we are, especially at night, and the stars sparkle and dance in their turning, making a splendid spiral for those willing to leave their TV sets long enough to go out and take a look. It's a sacred time, a time betwixt and between, a time of immense possibility. Gods, I so love this time of year.

Don’t let it fool you, though. There’s more harsh weather to come. Even so, it’s a good time to plant the hardy varieties, clean closets, and take a walk outside, and it’s an ever better time to rest and relax in front of the fire with a good book or a loved one. There’s nothing dark about this time of year, really. If you only look around you’ll see the life coming up and about to spring out all around you. If you have the courage to look inside, as well as outside this season you’ll see the promise this Path holds for a truly authentic life. This is our birthright. Along with that right comes the call for self creation and renewal. This is our our greatest challenge.

Blessings of the season to you and yours,

Sia

(1) Jonquil - isn't that a lovely word? It sounds like the name of a medieval dance or a rare Amazonian bird.

(2) My celebration of Imbolc is done as my personal New Year. It has four main features to honor the four directions: Gratitude, Cleansing, Planting (and/or Planning, if you prefer) and Giving (In my case, most often, to the birds, animals and wild spirits in my home and garden, but also to others in need). I generally foster some kittens this time of year, and donate items to a domestic violence shelter , a homeless shelter, or our local thrift store for charity. This year, many of my metaphysical items are going to the Pagan Garage Sale.

This day also involves the use of three colors for meditation and inspiration: the White of milk and stars for wholeness and balance, the Yellow of sunlight and flowers for inspiration and joy and Green of Gaia and for growth and renewal. The Goddess I most invoke at this time is Bridgid, along with two other deities who protect our house and hearth. My friend Reed uses a blended Pantheon of both male and female deities. Others I know work with the spirits of the land or use no pantheon at all or work with Christian, Jewish or Buddhist avatars - it is best if you find your own way.

This is also a time for us to use fire, candles, and water in our rituals and we honor the Green Man (also known as the Horned God) who strides the land in his role as protector, death God and progenitor.

Sia

Art: Lady of the Water by Brian Froud