Merry Imbolc, everyone. It’s a day to peer out from the darkness of winter, searching for crocuses and daffodils and other signs of the coming spring.
Honestly, in a lot of ways, it doesn’t feel like spring is on its way. It feels instead like we’ve entered eternal winter (or at least a 4-year winter). So when I got up this morning, the idea of celebrating Imbolc felt a little fake, a little bit like a waste of time.
But as I’ve been sitting with that feeling, it occurs to me that Imbolc falls on February 1 for a reason. Spring is totally not here yet, people. In fact, for me, February has traditionally been The Worst Month of the year, as by this point I’ve hit the peak of my Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Imbolc isn’t about being past the darkness, it’s about looking through it to the other side. Imbolc is about cleaning your house and doing the work of getting ready for spring. So, this year, I’m taking Imbolc as a Call to Action, a time to get to work, and not to be lost to despair.
We will get through this.
And so, today, Maile and I will make a Brighid’s cross (she’ll love that!) and maybe go to sleep with some amethysts under our pillows. I’m not quite sure I’m up for the hair-on-fire dangers of a crown of candles, but I’ll cook a hearty meal, and we’ll eat by candlelight.