Nancy Lankston
We have arrived at Imbolc – the halfway point between winter solstice and spring equinox.
Days are lengthening, seeds are stirring, animals are birthing. Mama Earth is beginning to awaken from her long winter slumber.
Celebrate that spring is on its way.
#Imbolc
#cycles
#seasons
#WheeloftheYear
Image: Imbolc – The Maiden Awakens
by Annie Louvaine
🕸
Gossamer threads of life hold me,
Perched between Earth and Sky,
Weaving the web, dreaming the dream,
Through the two worlds I will fly.
With you as my muse, Mother,
I create the substance of dreams,
Allowing the artist within me
To fashion my life with esteem.
I mold the clay of experiences
Into a sacred Medicine Bowl,
Capturing the essence of living
As it sings deep in my soul.
Your secrets of creation, Mother,
Have taught me when to destroy
The chains that have bound me,
Limiting the expression of my joy.
You have taught me how to labor,
Giving birth to the visions within,
Setting them free like silver arrows,
Kindling the fire of Creation again.
–Jamie Sams,
The 13 Original Clan Mothers
🕸
Photos by Nancy L
As our Earth grows dark tonight
and the north winds blow,
As the fire dwindles to ash
and ice blankets the land,
May the light of our Sun
find its way home.
~Nancy Lankston
✨
#solstice
#dark
#light
✨
Image: Celtic Tomb,
Ireland
Originally published November 1, 2017
Certain times in our lives are filled with potency and magic. Twilight is such a time, as is dawn. These are magical moments when it is neither day nor night. Birth is another potent in-between time, along with death. These special times mark borders and transition zones. The in-between is a sacred time when magic is afoot.
Here in the northern hemisphere, we find ourselves on the boundary between autumn and winter. The light is slowly fading away as our Sun drops lower and lower in the sky and our nights grow longer. This is another potent in-between time. The ancient Celtic people would celebrate Samhain (Sow-in) at this time. Some tribes chose to celebrate at the 1st new moon after late harvest (November 4th, 2021). Other tribes celebrated at the 1st full moon after harvest. The celebration of Samhain was a beautiful way to honor the seasonal transition out of the light and into the dark.
The veils between the worlds grow very thin during this sacred in-between time. Loved ones who have departed this Earth are believed to be nearby. Many people in Mexico honor this by celebrating Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) at this time.
Samhain is the perfect time to acknowledge and celebrate the sacred cycles of birth – growth – death – rebirth that are an integral part of Nature.
🍁
Some suggestions for acknowledging and honoring the magical in-between time of Samhain:
Take a few moments to honor everything you have “harvested” this year.
Bow to your ancestors and thank them for giving you this life.
Offer love and prayers to loved ones who have transitioned.
Thank the brilliant light of summer and embrace the deep dark of winter.
Listen for spiritual guidance to help you in the coming year.
May I trust in the wisdom of the plants and the animals and the water. May I hear the message whispered in my ear that is for me alone. May I live with confidence that my soul is eternal and my heartbeat and the heartbeat of the world are one. May I remember the Earth is my Mother. May I feel my hand in Hers and have no fear. May I welcome the gifts that come my way.
~Linda Heisel
Irish Waters by Nancy L
This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.
In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.
This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.
The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.
No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.
No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then
for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.
But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.
After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,
so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.
~Billy Collins, Aimless Love
❤️
Image by Nancy Lankston
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
~Mary Oliver