Blessings of Imbolc!
It has been a mild winter here in the UK, and though where I live in Suffolk we haven’t had any floods, the ground is wet and squishy (where it isn’t sandy) and everything is looking forward to a good drying out. The little lawn out back has done its usual shift from grass to moss, and is utterly delightful underfoot (though wet). Deer and pheasants are regular visitors, especially now that food is becoming scarce and we put out birdseed, apples and bread daily. My husband did the RSPB Birdwatch yesterday, and we had a good number of different species to record and submit.
The land is stirring slowly from its light slumber. Last weekend at Druid College we noticed the blackthorn is in flower already, and we had two daffodils over the winter solstice on the south slope of our garden. The buds are on the birch and apple trees, the crocuses are poking through, and colour is slowly returning to the green and brown palette of winter.
As we were out walking yesterday, we felt the sun upon our backs, stronger and warmer than it had been for a long time. The scents from the ground rose to greet our noses with a wonderful sharp, earthy smell. The birdsong is changing, and the badger mums are out in full force foraging to keep their bellies full and provide milk for their young.
It’s a soft time of year, when things happen slowly, unlike the Spring Equinox, when everything seems to happen at lightning speed. We awaken groggy from our slumber, and move with care, taking our time and not rushing anything. This is the goddess Brighid’s time, a deity of infinite patience and understanding, of mindfulness and co-operation.
Tonight I shall be holding vigil after sunset, and on the morrow honouring Her with all that I am. Having spent the last three years getting to know Her better, a shift in our relationship seems nigh, and I eagerly anticipate working with Her guidance and inspiration on an even deeper level. She is the land of Britain itself, the green paddocks and pastures, the brown heathland, the dark forests and wind-swept moors. She is the serpent energy lying just beneath the surface of the earth, stirring it awake with her sinuous movement. She is the holy well and sacred flame. She is inspiration. She is the adder basking in the sun, the ewe and the lamb, the cattle that is so much a part of our history.
I know not what this year holds, but I do know that I walk it with Brighid.
I kindle my soul with the flame of Brighid:
Flame of courage, flame of joy.
Blessings of the deep well be upon me:
Drops of awen on my lips, on my work.
May Brighid guide me in my endeavours
This day and every day.
I lay myself upon the anvil of Brighid;
May my soul be tempered by experience,
May my heart be strengthened with compassion,
May my thoughts be shaped by love,
May I walk forth anew with the blessings of Brighid,
The Forger and the Flame.