Wheel of the Year: Imbolc Reflections
/Of the eight holidays of the Wheel of Year, in the past I’ve felt the least connection with Imbolc—a traditional Gaelic holiday marking the midpoint between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox. It is a celebration of the growing light, and a harbinger of spring, but occurs in the depth of winter. But this year I’ve found new connection to this old celebration. Yes, it is a time of hunkering down, but it is also a time of stirrings, creativity, and divination.
Although Americans look to the secular groundhog, Phil, for weather prediction, the story is much older, and refers to the day that the crone of winter goes out one last time to gather wood for her fire. If the weather is good, she’ll be able to collect a lot of wood and winter will last a while longer. If the weather is bad, she’ll only be able to gather a small amount and spring will return relatively soon.
This year, my 43rd year—and if I’m lucky, my own midpoint—Imbolc takes on special significance. In my earlier years I’ve cultivated a creative practice, something I do almost daily, almost instinctively now, and finally there are little stirrings, promises of manifestations.
I was talking recently with a friend about Pema Chodron’s classic book, When Things Fall Apart. Although bitter disappointment can hit any time of year, there’s something about this time of year that can leave me feeling anxious and depressed. Will winter ever end—the wet weather, the cloudy days, the being couped up. It can feel the same with this season of my life—I work and work but can’t always see clearly where it’s going.
Imbolc is a reminder for me to live in the moment, even in times of confusion. To trust those gentle stirrings, to work towards a sunnier day when the trees are full of life and green. This year I am embracing this holiday that feels in the thick of winter. This year I’m looking for little signs of life, promises of things to come.