It’s Imbolc and my garden is yielding flint. Rock is floating, resting on the soil that is sighing with its first breath… this time, so much is resting on the small signs. Life is here, it is happening and taking shape. That flint, heavy and cool in hand, is seeking the light. Flint, out of which we make weapons, with which we build shelters, by which we summon fire; is rising.
This moment, this year is like no other I remember, I have always hungrily awaited the brave blossoms and sweet tubers, succulent and vulnerable… And yet, I am harvesting flint. Strength, indomitability, promise that that which is emerging from the deepest part of our earth, ourselves, will be seen, will lend its gifts to the season of promise and of new beginnings. The darkness of deepest winter is behind us, despair and folding in, chaos in the dark. It is from this slumbering time which we must rise, upward, always focused on the Light. Resolute and propelled by the dark and secret earth, we move in trust. Faith informs action, ignited by the awareness that we must move forward; there is no going back. Though our creations are as yet undetermined, they are our own and we have an opportunity to shape our future.
Brigid is Mistress of the Forge and so she calls us to forge anew, to create a way of healing and new life. We live in uncertain times and life is demanding our presence, not as passive onlookers but as participants. The urge for new life is quickening and we have choices to make, weighty ones. What will we dedicate our energies to? What will we fashion from these gifts of earth and fire?
The 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.