Imbolc: The Quickening

      

What is it that stirs underground? 

What lives

in darkness

yet

responds to the

call of

slowly

lengthening

days? 

Life begins in darkness.  But somehow, instinctively the sap knows when to flow.  A day of surprising warmth and the bees fly, tentatively, cleaning out their hive.  Tree buds may consider swelling.  Tiny hardy green shoots may burst through the soil surface.

What is it in you, in me that stretches into the darkness and considers waking?  What is it that cracks open the shell of the seed?  Puts out its first strong yet tentative root, reaching yet deeper into darkness.  Might it be a blind hope of nurture?

And yet, if you were that rootlet, be you nut or weed or flower or over-wintered vegetable carelessly dropped at harvest time, nurture is what you are likely to find.  For deep in the richness of soil lies everything needed to begin your journey towards growth.

And so it is with us humans.  Change may begin very quietly. 

Deep.

Within. 

While our attention is diverted by the stuff-of-life, change sends out the most tentative of feelers.  It isn’t until much later, once change has taken root and begun to grow that it grabs our attention. Our eyes awaken to spring and suddenly we have blossomed in surprising ways. 

But first. 

First, there is Imbolc; the small, silent growth that happens almost without our knowing. 

The quickening. 

As you light your Brigid’s flame or pour Her a libation.  As you pen a few words to Imbolc and to Brigid this season,

Pause. 

Reflect. 

Notice what may be stirring within your soul.  Dedicate that flame or pour that libation, create that poem, not only to Brigid, also to you and your own unfolding.

The Life Force calls us all within our winter’s slumber.  Change is coming. 

Pay attention. 

Listen. 

Listen.

Listen