Imbolc – Exquisite Paradox

snowdrop shootsThe days are DEFINITELY longer and the earth is just beginning to emit her irresistible fragrance, JUST. Snow drops are appearing and gardeners’ fingers are itching and turning to trays of seedling hope in anticipation of a warming soil and softening in the fields. On this sunny day I look around and see evidence of the sun’s fire drawing forth the abundance of a sleeping earth. Hope surfaces, tentatively, tenderly. It is truly an exquisite time of year and in ourselves, new-born time.

All this fiery energy holds us in its thrall because of it’s juxtaposition to the vulnerability of newly emerging life. This is animal time, where an appetite for life is making itself felt in our deepest selves. Raw, not wholly formed; wet with the fluids of previous hidden existence, we are being called to show ourselves. We are invited by Nature herself to rise in consciousness and make a bid for life.

Commitment time, Imbolc is a dedication and initiation festival. Making a commitment is a radical act of courage and of hope. It must be tended with care, protection and loving nurture; a dangerous undertaking, worthy and requiring support. Commitment has had a bit of a bad rap in the past, alluding to constraint, bonds and limitations and yet it provides the vessel from which to grow, a stable and faithful promise to protect new life, nurture it and bear witness to its unique creations.

Brigid, the Goddess of Poetry, Smith-craft and Healing sings the heart’s song, creates the containment of a manifest vessel and heals the wounds found on the path of emergence. Feel the fire and tend your vessel with loving kindness, there is a promise of oh-so-sweet bud and flower and fruit for the faithful.

3 thoughts on “Imbolc – Exquisite Paradox

  1. Beautifully written!
    The lyrical nature of your words create a sensation in my being of hidden miracles tentatively reaching through the rich dark earth for the open skies and meager warmth of the winter sun… the shadow hopes of new life soon to come.

    And apparently brings on the urge to wax poetic in a manner I’d thought lost to me over the years.
    I’m reading this after a long, frustrating day that culminated in my clumsy attempt to encourage the family of one of my patients to consider having her admitted to a Hospice agency that would be better able to meet her needs than basic skilled Home Care can. Even long after you posted this I’m reminded that the cycle renews itself….

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