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
Imbolc is upon us. Celtic stories tell us that the Cailleach—the divine hag Goddess who rules over winter and death—gathers firewood for the rest of the winter on Imbolc. If the Goddess Cailleach wishes to make the winter last a lot longer, she will make sure that the weather on Imbolc is bright and sunny, so she can gather plenty of firewood. But, if Imbolc is a day of foul weather, it means the Cailleach is asleep and winter is almost over.
The Cailleach was worshipped by the Celts as the sacred Earth Mother in her bare winter form. And she is not just a dark and evil hag who arbitrarily decides how long winter will be. The Cailleach is also the Bone Mother who collects the bones of the animals that die in the winter. The Bone Mother is said to sing or pray or sleep over the bones all winter long. She does this out of love, so that the animals will cross over and can return as new life in the spring.
There is a magic to Imbolc and the early days of February. It is there, running just beneath the surface. Can you feel it? Mama Earth holds the seeds of spring safe for us all winter. As the cold wind blows and the snow piles up, she holds them safe in her soil.
#Imbolc
#Bone Collector
#Hag Goddess
Last night it rained. This morning when I walked the dog, there was a scent in the air that took me a moment or two to place… Then suddenly I remembered; it is the smell of soil waking up, coming alive after its long sleep. It is the smell of spring.
Go outside and sniff the air. Do you smell it? Listen. Perhaps you can hear the gentle whispers? Mama earth is beginning to stir. All winter, she has quietly held the seeds of spring in her soil body; she has coddled them and kept them safe, waiting for the time to sprout. And now spring is almost here and the seeds are stirring, preparing to crack open and grow new life.
The chickadees know; they whistle to each other from every treetop in my neighborhood. My dog knows; she sniffs at the soil with new interest. And the sheep know; they birth their lambs in February, knowing spring is almost here. My Celtic ancestors celebrated Imbolc at the time of lamb birthing. It was their way of honoring the end of winter and the promise of life returning to the land. Modern man has turned Imbolc into Groundhog Day, but I personally prefer the celebratory air of ancient Imbolc.
It has been snowing and snowing here, even more than usual. And I had begun to worry that winter might decide to go on and on and on. But then, on a cold, wet day in February, I hear earth’s whispers and I get a whiff of her soil coming alive. It feels like I just received a message from a long lost lover. And I instantly know that the spring I crave is on its way back to me.