Category — Imbolc
Oh hello! Did you think I had been eaten by gnomes? or my pets? or that Scotty had finally beamed me up and beyond to the blue yonder? Disturbing thought.
No, here I am, all is well, sort of. But this New Year time through January and February has been more intense than I ever remember it being. I’ve had to resort to tidying the odd cuboard to calm my nerves on occasion. This is what I found in the latest poke around a dark drawer – last year’s intention list – ha, ha, let’s see how I did….
Hmmmmm, not bad on balance, but slightly disconcerting that I marked myself on my own list…at least it wasn’t in red pen.
The hardest part about January was losing someone I loved.
I have always considered myself to have come from a world of women, to have been surrounded by women – mothers, godmothers, girlfriends and daughters. They nurture me, hold me, inspire me, they are my life.
And yet I have been blessed to have had the most wonderful men in my life too – father, uncle, godfather, partners and sons, who, now I look closely, have been interesting, thoughtful, and funny and who have also gently shaped who I have become.
To have lost one of these men suddenly seven years ago was heartbreaking. To be losing another, in slow motion, even more so. But to have been given this time with them, in the first place is surely the best treasure that I have been gifted.
Saying goodbye to someone has made me take a long, hard look at this thing we call time. It is so hard to measure, and yet that is what I am trying to do. Suddenly, it is more precious almost than the breath in my body, and I really don’t know how much of it I have, for my own life, or for any of the other precious people in my world, and there are many. How can it be that life is so very long, and hard sometimes, and then it is over, in the smallest moment, with that final breath?
In the middle of the saddest time of this last 6 weeks, I was able to get away for a few days. I sat in a roundhouse with my sisters, and passed on my blessing for strong endings and brave new beginnings. It went into a cauldron tended by a beautiful woman land guardian, along with the spells, prayers and wishes of nineteen other women. It was stirred in, mixed together with ocean totems and we have each taken a jar of it home. Mine is sitting here expectantly, waiting. In a way, I guess that is what I am doing. Sitting, waiting, for what, I do not know. But there is a space growing, so we will see.
In the meantime, there is plenty of work and organising to be done with Wool Against Weapons – 25 weeks left! And I am counting all the small blessings that are keeping me going in this winter time of change……
the best rice pudding in the world – you clever girl, for nailing the ultimate recipe and sharing it with me -
……a funny beast to share it with, he makes me smile (when I am not wanting to kill him for his bad deeds)
….sharing the best and maddest time with gorgeous women, preparing food together and laughing A LOT…
….the gentle smell of Suzi’s beeswax melting slowly in my kitchen, to make balm and honey…
…..finally seeing two years worth of ocean treasure collected up and ready to make into totems by my ocean sister…
….and because Imbolc’s light has quietly crept in to this winter grey, the making of Brigids crosses and the wonderfulness and pale green of spring bulbs – the sweetest blessing. May we all slowly unfurl ourselves, mend and stretch in to this new time….
February 10, 2014 5 Comments
Quietly, without ceremony or fanfare, Imbolc arrives. Candles are lit, Brigid’s crosses are woven, and my eyes scan my days for bluer skies and light returning. I have made it this far through the winter.
What is Imbolc then? What does it bring? It is a wonderful fire festival, a reminder of what burns inside, what endures. What waits and grows. The seed, a dream, dream seeds. And just to help us remember that all things return, the very first snowdrops arrive in our woods.
When everything seems bare, and barely there, what is it that keeps me going? Where are my strong roots? What is it that I believe in?
Do I have roots that I can trust, or am I just the palest of flowers that is brave enough or foolish enough to poke my head above this cold winter earth?
I want to tell you about a woman who is surviving, who is enduring, who will not let go or give up. A woman with strong, strong roots. Her name is Haneen Zoabi, she is my age, and she is a Palestinian Israeli citizen, committed to finding peaceful solutions. She was brave enough to stand for Knesset, parliament, in the recent elections, despite continued bullying and death threats by people who are afraid. I am not for or against any person, group or cultural idenity. I am pro-peace and I love her vision and absolute resilience.
She is the first female MK in an Arab party (Balad), and she is focused on employment for women, an end to violence against women and girls, education and children’s rights. She believes, as I do, in equality for all. Those are deep roots.
While the world keeps turning, wars keep going around and around in circles, and my little stream keeps flowing through my valley – we need a quiet surviving of spirits that are determined and brave, that will not be flattened by strong winds, by winter, by darkness.
People who carry on, no matter what. Women who can ride storms, live with being afraid and hated and still weave amazing ideas in to a big scary not-ready-for-them world.
This woman, like so many intrepid women today, means business. In 2009 she met with Code Pink and the Women’s Coalition for Peace, in 2010 she boarded a flotilla with other activists to protest the Occupation of Gaza. And then there is my small world. Where is my energy this Imbolc, where will my thoughts be in the coming seasons? Where we put our words and our hearts, well – it counts. What we focus on grows.
This Imbolc, let there be colour, imagination, growth in brave directions, a holding out for better ways, more peaceful days. Let us cheer on these women, in their quiet surviving.
February 2, 2013 2 Comments
Oh the high blue skies, the returning light…….and deeply bright sunshine, the longed for ice and piercing cold fristy-frostiness, the fireside sitting with knitting longing still with me….and the stirrings of new ideas and artwork bubbling inside me…..Imbolc and her quietness is here
February 2, 2012 No Comments