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At Imbolc we prepare for and rejoice in the coming spring. It’s a time of clearing away, planning, and preparations. It’s a time of promise and hope. There is still cold to be endured, but the darkest parts of winter are over.
Over the last year our family has been through Hell more than once. While it has fortifies us, it has also left us with a thick layer of ash and detritus of things that no longer serve us, those things we had to burn before we could move forward. A few weeks ago Hubby and I began the process of cleaning out not only the emotional litter and clutter, but the physical as well, and it really has made a lot of difference in our strength as a team.
One of the deities most associated with Imbolc is Brighid. I have dedicated myself Brighid for many years now. I have made offerings and called to her in times of celebration and need, and she has become a very important aspect of my spirit, but lately I have felt the need for a better connection to my inner Brighid, the part of me that has seen me through the times of greatest fire. This year my Imbolc celebration and personal work centered on making this connection. I have a litany of ambitious goals for the coming year, and if there is to be any progress then I will need her with me in all her forms.
The maiden to keep a creative, whimsical optimism to lead me through the most mundane tasks with the knowledge that something magical and truly happy awaits at the end.
The mother and midwife to help me give birth to my ideas and passions and nurture all my undertakings, and to help those around me do the same for theirs.
The crone to have the wisdom to succeed where I can and let go of what just can’t be done.
The warrior to be strong even when I am weary and outnumbered.
The blacksmith to fortify those around me who may feel weak.
The healer to keep myself and my family healthy and tend to them when sickness or uneasiness settles upon us.
The poet to keep the words flowing, the inspiration lighted, and communication smooth.
Never before have I felt the heat of Brighid’s dancing flame and the depth of her healing waters, and never before have I felt so empowered. I spent this Imbolc alone with my thoughts, my soul, and my words, and I was able to finally make a connection to the goddess that has been waiting inside me. All she needed was a spark.
When you plant a seed you have an idea of what it will grow into. You hold that picture in your mind as you watch the seed sprout and move through all the crucial stages of development, until one day it is right there in front of you in full bloom. Sometimes the end result is exactly what you expected. Sometimes you get something completely different, and you can choose to either appreciate it for what it is or feel disappointed. Either way you have invested time, energy, and patience to watch your seed grow.
That’s what it takes to be the farmer, but what does it take to be the seed? What does it take to possibly have no idea what you will become or how long it will take? What does it take to have faith that you will grow into a boon not a burden and trust the one or ones tending to you to know what you need and keep you safe and healthy? What does it take to truly know that all the stages of your growth are important and that the end result is exactly where and what you should be? What does it take to be confident in your knowledge of how to grow and be strong, when to push that growth, and when to let nature take its course?
At Mabon we celebrate the harvest as we reap the rewards of patient tending and take a lesson from the patience and dedication it took to sustain that which will sustain us through the cold season. This year my message has been a hard and heavy one about no longer looking at myself as the farmer and instead accepting my place as the seed. Where I would generally shape I must let myself be shaped. Where I would guide I must let myself be lead. This doesn’t mean I stop trying, it simply means I try differently. Patience, intuition, and introspection. Only then can I grow into something that will sustain and reach its full potential. Only then can I nourish the world.
It has been over six months since Hubby and I were released from a coven that had once felt like our family. At the time I was hurt, but I moved on, only to now discover an inescapable anger at not ever getting the chance to discuss any of it before it was taken to the Elders of our tradition, never getting the chance to explain or defend myself against things that had been either blown out of proportion or just plain made up. This lead to feelings that I was broken in some way. Maybe I was delusional and this other version of reality was the truth. I was confused, but now it dawns on me that I honestly have no idea where any of it came from.
The first big sign that there was a problem was being told my attendance was an issue. Up until that year I had only missed one event, one that had been rescheduled for our moving day after it had been set . Up until that year I had been to more events in my tenure with the coven than the High Priest, who always had a creative excuse, and was never questioned. The only reason I started missing events was a change in work schedule that meant working on Sundays, the day most of our events were held to accommodate people who worked on Saturdays. I was even content to bid for a schedule I hated to get Sundays off, but the seniority based bidding system was not in my favour. Not knowing if I could get the shifts covered made it hard to commit myself to jobs for these events, which would leave the coven in more of a bind if I couldn’t make it. To make up for this I would be the first to volunteer day of and first to support coven mates in any other way I could.
We were also told we didn’t answer emails on time, something I admit I’m terrible at, but I detest Yahoo groups as it seems to hate smartphones, and it had honestly never dawned on my to send messages via Facebook until it was angrily thrown in my face that I could and should have done so. I Hoot Suite my status updates. That’s about as far as my internet communication goes when I’m at work or sleeping on couches on work nights. I assumed anything pertinent enough would warrant a phone call or text and gave input I had as soon as I had the means. Never did I read in any charter that I was required to be glued to Yahoo. Along that line, whenever I did have anything I felt would actually enrich the conversation in any way I posted it, and it was usually ignored, blown off, or rejected anyway.
Which lead to the next journey in lack of perspective, my attitude and behaviour at events. I can be talkative, but when I’m processing or thinking I’m quiet. It’s not an attitude. I’m not sad or angry or miserable. I’m contemplative. I’m quiet. I also have Fibromyalgia and have learned how best to reserve my energy for when it is really important, so I’d store it during meet and greet in order to have it during rituals. Still, I was told that my “unpredictable” behaviour had been addressed several times and had not been corrected. Wait, what? When did this happen? Was it on a Sunday, because I probably was not there. The best part was the claim that I brought a “dark energy”(scary, I know) to rituals with me, that it was questionable whether or not it was to the benefit of the coven that I be sharing it, and that it had also been brought to my attention before, again not to my knowledge. That’s when I saw the tell-tale signs of a loophole. Dark energy? Really? Because I had asked for a little support and help, which was subsequently met with silence on a good day and rejection on a bad day, or because I brought that fact to their attention?
While a meeting was set to discuss these things it was never held. Our fate was simply decided, our reputations sufficiently smeared to people who had no connection to our coven, and honestly, who knows what anyone was told. Probably the same things we were, which were horrendous. For a long time I wondered at their validity and was distrustful of both myself and my abilities as a witch. Maybe I was bad.
But this, my friends, has not been written to smear my former High Priest and Priestess. It has been an exercise in looking back and realizing that even people who are supposed to guide and teach us can be misguided no matter how well they mean, but even that was not the point.
The point here was what I believe started the road to our release. Our High Priestess meant well when she took Hubby’s girlfriend at the time aside and told her she didn’t belong in our marriage. As true as that statement was, it wasn’t for the reasons she believed, nor was our marriage any of her business. I had gone to her for emotional advice a few times, and her only answer had been to leave my husband or stop being poly. That’s not what I needed, and it wasn’t was we needed. We were still navigating the rocky road to polyamory, and mistakes were being made almost daily, but the answer was not to give up or to have our High Priestess mettle in our affairs. When Hubby approached her about it she immediately cooled to us both, and whenever we spoke it was all business. She and our former High Priest became judgmental, and we always felt like they were trying to catch us doing something wrong. It was the beginning of the end, but it lead us to re-evaluate our choices and how we run our poly relationship.
Hubby and I have moved on, and while we don’t practice as regularly as we did as part of a coven, we still have our faith. We are stronger, more united, and more at peace. Our marriage is happier, and we are still poly and loving it. Do I miss my old coven? Of course I do, though I can’t imagine what any of them think of us based on last year’s events. I mostly miss having a group to work with and being a part of a larger collective. I miss our elders, but I know the time will come when Hubby and I will be able to sit and speak with them again.
What have I learned? I’ve learned to write more meaningful solitary rituals. I’ve learned to listen to myself and my results for guidance instead of always turning to someone else for help. I’ve learned to handle large-scale rejection, how to assert myself, but also when to let go and let people have their realities. I’ve learned to have faith in myself and not let anyone’s judgment of me bring me down, that no one lives my life but me, and that no one knows how to live my life no matter how much older or wiser they may be in other areas.
I don’t know where I’d be had I left Hubby or insisted on going back to monogamy. One burnt cookie doesn’t make the whole batch a failure and that particular relationship was not typical or a portent of where our path would lead from there. It was what it was, an opportunity to grow and learn.
We were never given a chance to clarify our position and defend our actions because their judgmental hole of negativity had been dug too deep already. Maybe they had tired of us. Maybe we had outgrown them. In any case, it was time to take the next step, and we have in many ways, but we have many more to go.
This is me, letting go of the anger that’s been hiding inside me. Forgiving, officially forgetting, and in some ways even thanking.
“miles to go before I sleep” – Robert Frost
Go now, stop taking it all so seriously.
Litha, the longest day of the year, a day of potency and joy, and a celebration of opportunity.
This is the first summer solstice I have spent covenless, yet it comes in a year that has been more substantial and blessed than most. I feel more powerful, more healthy, and more driven than I have in years. Still, this has always been one of the celebrations in which I surround myself with friends and loved ones, and this year it seems to be lacking.
As the day approaches I find myself on several precipices at once. I am on the verge of being a licensed driver for the first time in my life, I am taking huge steps with both my personal and professional life, my health is ever improving, and though we are in a time of change within our family we are still in a very positive and healthy place. My first focus will be to empower my final push in all of these areas.
My second focus is the present. There is no coincidence that summer represents celebration, flirtation, and youthful abandon. It has become abundantly clear to me that I let myself keep my eyes firmly fixed ahead of me, and that much of my energy and frustration is spent on the next step instead of the current one. A recent conversation reminded me that this was not, and should not, always be the case. I need to embrace the spontaneity that once fed my spirit and let myself live in the moment a little more. I need to enjoy the now and not worry about where it leads. I also need to stop letting past experiences hold me back. I am not who I was, and I have wrung every drop of lesson I can from those memories. I can no longer let myself hide behind apprehension in the guise of self-preservation. I need to live my life rather than always planning the next minutes of it or fearing a rerun of my past. Tomorrow will come whether or not I’ve put it in my Google calendar, but today will never come back.
My solstice ritual this year will be unplanned. I will find myself a spot near the river or in a park somewhere and let it happen however it feels right. I will most likely be alone, and more and more I’m content with that. I will have a few basic items with me, but for the most part my spirit will be my ritual tool. This will be an exercise in flow and living in the present, tapping into a place from which I used to draw all my strength, blending it with the energy I’ve found elsewhere and honed over time, and using my drive and determination for the future to fuel the fire. Only by finding and combining all three tenses within myself will I truly be using my full potential, and it’s time.
No matter what your plans are for the solstice this year, I want you to enjoy the day for the day, not just for what it leads you toward. I think you’ll find a lot more power and meaning in it as a moment than as a stepping stone. I know I will.
Go now…be now.
It’s that time of year again. Well, it’s several “that time of year”s again, but I mean one in particular. As witches, it is our 15 minutes of fame. Suddenly, we’re everywhere. We’re in movies, cartoons, the costume aisle at Target (what exactly is a Future Witch anyway?), and all sorts of mass media. The History Channel starts running documentaries about everything from the Salem Witch Trials to the rituals of the Knights Templar. For a couple of weeks no one has any problems with us. Now, I realize that’s a grave simplification, and there are still people who make their displeasure with the pagan community known, but for a short time every year we are a flamboyant commercial cliché. In a few months we will see the same thing as Christians everywhere fight their own “Jesus is the reason for the season” battle, even going as far as the ever more popular image of Santa bowing over the baby in the manger. This image alone is why I write on this particular topic, because it illustrated something poignant about holidays, the innate fact that they are both sacred and secular in nature does not have to be a negative thing.
There seems to be a belief that Jesus Christmas and Santa Christmas cannot coexist. I believe that they can, and do, as two separate pieces of a celebration. In some ways the two have become two unique holidays, as some people celebrate one but not the other. I don’t believe it is disrespectful, and I don’t ever believe a day that brings people together in a spirit of joy and hope is wrong. Pagans have been doing it since before it was Christmas, calling it Yule, and we didn’t complain when new holidays with suspicious similarities started cropping up.
All snark aside, there is nothing wrong with secular celebration. As little witches our kids learn to honor their ancestors on Samhain. In time, they will learn the Wheel of the Year and what the sabbats mean. They learn Samhain traditions and correspondences in the same way we know and celebrate them. They learn to respect and revere the holiday as something sacred. They also get to dress up in the costumes of their choice, go trick-or-treating, carve pumpkins, and all the other fun stuff that Halloween brings. In that same vein, Santa will visit our house on Christmas, but we will have had our Yule fire.
It is also important to note that when the kids are older they will also know the history of the traditions for both sacred and secular holidays, as one is just as important as the other. We must know about our history and how our cultures have evolved over time. We must know how people of the past have celebrated and why to really appreciate the seasons now. Yes, we add our modern touches, which are also important, as holidays must grow and evolve with us, but nothing can grow without roots.
There is nothing that says that celebrating a secular holiday takes anything away from the sacred holiday that generally accompanies it. We are complex and beautiful creatures, and it is that multi-dimensional capacity that makes us unique. While the sacred days bring us together in the spirit of faith, the secular days bring us together in the spirit of community no matter what our beliefs are. The more fundamental reason for the season is joining in celebration, no matter what you call it.
So, yes, this weekend I will be partying in costume, handing out candy dressed as the most cliché witch I can muster (don’t judge me, the costumes are all in storage), and honouring my ancestors in both private and group ritual. I will watch the same rerun documentaries on the history channel, and I will giggle every time they use the same outdated clip of some Samhain ritual from the 70s. I will meet with friends and family of all beliefs and traditions, and we will find a few moments of joy and laughter in a time when there is so much negativity and uncertainty flowing about us. This, my friends, is the reason for the season. Well…this and giant bags of candy.
Go now….smell my feet, give me something good to eat…
As I mentioned in my last wedding post, our day was beautiful. It was also a full Wiccan ritual handfasting before a group of Catholics, Lutherans, and other various and sundry people unfamiliar with our faith. When we started planning our ceremony we put a lot of thought into how we would present the ritual and how much we wanted to show our guests. The goal was to stay true to our spirituality while not alienating close friends and family. Aside from losing our first several officiants, this was the biggest hurdle we faced. It was imperative that our wedding reflect who we are, but were all of our guests ready for such a candid display?
While we are not a closeted family we are also not always obvious in certain company, so for some this would be the first taste of any of it, and for some time we worried about reaction. Would people walk out of our ceremony? Would there be scandal if I danced with my boyfriend or girlfriend? Would there be concerned lectures about how marriage should run or how our souls were troubled? I’ve heard these lectures before, but I didn’t want them to stain my wedding day.
Therefore, we had two choices. One, try to disguise our ceremony as something ecumenical, or, two, not care about the reaction. Option one fared several failed attempts, but it the end it went down in a glorious flaming show of self-destruction. There were just too many things we weren’t willing to compromise. This is when we both realized it didn’t matter anymore what the reaction would be. It was vital to us to be bound using our spiritual traditions and no one else’s, and there was no way we could honestly do that by trying to camouflage the parts that might make people feel uneasy.
At that point we set our charts to education rather than placation. I put basic information on our wedding site, and we did our rehearsal in the comfort of our bridal suite with immediate family present. We mitigated surprise wherever we could, even putting a blurb in our program encouraging participation. As we began to let go of our trepidation the ceremony began to write itself. The final result held all the facets that were meaningful to us with no ambiguity or shielding. While still slightly nervous, I couldn’t imagine our ritual being any different, so we took a deep breath and stopped revising.
The morning of the wedding the magick really began. As we set up the alters most of the people helping we at least mildly familiar with pagan symbolism and correlation, but I found that those who weren’t were observing. Some even asked questions. I felt a sense of pride and peace as I explained the qualities of each elemental alter to my dad, realizing he understood and accepted that part of me as he has with every new curveball I throw his way. I started to feel we’d made the best decision by being true to ourselves. If anyone was going to judge us it wouldn’t be anyone who mattered. I had finally let go of that last shred of feeling like I had to be someone else in certain circles. That day I was all me, and it felt good. I mean ecstatic first breath of new life good. If they couldn’t accept me the way I finally have in recent years I had no apologies.
It was with that thought that I joined my bridal party at the entrance to the garden where a hundred people were sitting, waiting for the celebration to begin. I could feel Hubby and his men at the other end. He felt it, too. There was a buzz in the air, tangible to everyone. When the music started all the rushing to get ready and worrying about what wasn’t done left me as I grounded and prepared to take the next step in my journey.
The ceremony was exactly what I wanted and more than I could have imagined. A last-minute rain storm had turned the lawn originally planned for the ceremony into a swamp, so we arranged our guests around a fountain in an adjacent garden bordered by tall trees. A good friend played an enchanting cello as Hubby entered to the Imperial March, which relieved whatever tension still lingered. My ladies processed to “Kiss to Build a Dream On”, each one alternating her direction around the fountain. Even the flower girl and ring bearer acted as if they were born for that very day. All of this reaffirmed that we had done well.
I couldn’t help but beam as my dad took my arm and we walked. I know every bride says this, but at that moment I felt beautiful. I felt free, and loved, and nothing mattered but the man at the other end of the aisle. Guests took pictures as the priest cast the circle. They joined in singing our chants and passed the flame with which we lit our unity candle. No one seemed offended or traumatized by the symbolic Great Rite, and aside from a few curious comments and the bride leaving her vows behind and having to improvise, everything ran smoothly.
It was a moving experience, full of acceptance and celebration of not only the love Hubby and I share but also who we are as a family. Not only was our ceremony well received, but for weeks people remarked how beautiful it was and how our happiness and love made it memorable, and I was happy I had followed my heart and my spirit. I had put together a wedding that resonated within me and stayed true to our path. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, going way beyond September 4th, as we joined two families and laid the foundation for a future where we can raise a family and live openly in our faith, in our way, with no regrets or apologies.
I feel blessed, relieved, and loved to have such an amazing group of family and friends. While they may not always understand or agree with our lifestyle, I am not confident we will always find love and acceptance when it matters the most. That’s what it means to be family.
Go now, be yourself.
Last weekend we celebrated Mabon, a festival of harvest and abundance. We are beginning to reap blessings from the hard work we’ve sown, and we are entering a time when we have to look within to assess what is growing there. This also makes Mabon a time for cleaning out and letting go of that which no longer enriches and sustains us. After all, if there isn’t any room for new things they will be left to the elements where most of them will wither and die, and the year’s effort will have been in vain. In a season of duality and balance, light and dark, there must be a balance between what we store and what we release.
This year has been huge in terms of blessings and progress for our family and as individuals. This also meant there came a time to re-evaluate what was still beneficial and good in my life. The answer came swift and hard. I needed to look closely at the people in my life and decide who I could actually call a “friend”. No matter how busy my life get I consider my friends family and make it a personal commitment to make sure I never neglect those friendships, sometimes lieu of personal time and attention. In some cases this has led to beautiful, blossoming friendships that have supported me at my weakest. In others no matter how hard I try nothing will grow. Sometimes something wonderful grows, but has its season and fades away. So why continue to spend valuable time and energy tending these things that are no longer viable in my garden?
This Mabon it was abundantly clear that it was time to thank the superfluous or wilted things in my life for the needs they did fulfill in their own time and acknowledge the need to focus on not just the new, but also the consistently good things that continue to enrich and enliven me. My next steps are big ones, and I can no longer be distracted and held back by cumbersome sentiments that no longer exist. Only by being honest with myself and cutting them free can I move on.
It’s been painful, but it’s also been an amazing healing experience. By tossing aside the detritus in my life I have felt more free, more focused, and more driven than I have in years. All that extra energy is finally going forward, and the space I’ve made available is full of new possibilities.
This harvest has been bountiful,, and I have no doubt that I will continue to be blessed, nourished, and sustained in the coming season. This is the breathtaking feeling of balance. This is the feeling of Mabon.
Go now, harvest something delicious.
Today I read an article that really made me pause and think. The issue concerned the Catholic Church’s new pamphlet regarding the conversion of Wiccans. The Catholic Truth Society website (http://www.cts-online.org.uk/acatalog/info_Ex35.html) has it up for sale. I may buy one just to see what it says so I can write a more comprehensive article, but their synopsis has this to say:
Understanding the dangers
To marginalised and spiritually hungry generations the growing spiritual phenomena of Wicca and witchcraft have proved attractive, with much to offer: power, supernatural abilities and socially acceptable agendas such as eco-activism and feminism. This booklet examines their origins, history, beliefs and practices, and then explains Catholic teaching’s cogent assessment of them. Furthermore it explores why young people are attracted to Wicca, and describes ways in which it is possible to bring witches and wiccans to Christ and his Church.
The pamphlet is written by an alleged former Wiccan, and I am immediately reminded of Christine O’Donnell. From the blurbs sited in the article I can’t imagine where this woman practiced or learned her craft. She seems to be prone to stereotype and misinformation.
She talks about the impact Wicca has on the children, because who can resist a scare tactic that uses children as bait, citing “psychological damage that can be done to a young person who is convinced that they have summoned the dead, or have performed a spell that has hurt or injured another.” Man, I can’t remember the last time I had the four year-old help me summon the dead. He’s far more advanced now, and performing his first blood sacrifice on his own. Please, give me a break.
The other piece the article quotes is about offending God by using magick because it “attempts to usurp God”. First of all, I’d never try to usurp God…any of them. Secondly, I was raised Catholic. I used to kneel in front of an onslaught of candles and pray a petition for whatever I deemed important. I would fondle crystal beads offering prayers, attend rituals of benediction and praise, and remember a set of moral codes to live a good and ethical life. Right, kind of like I do now.
The book apparently offers a few suggestions on conversation starters designed to lead to a successful conversion. In my opinion it’s going to be a lot harder to convert people when a majority of them have explored other systems already, many who were Catholics at one time, and decided this is what worked for them. I’m sorry, Ms Dodd, but if these “few simple steps” didn’t work when I was seven, they won’t work now. Please don’t insult our intelligence. We’re already keen on the fact that Catholicism so resembles Wicca. We’re also hip to the fact that this isn’t a new trend for the church. This is something that’s been done before.
On that note, I’ll have you all know I was raised Catholic and have very few unfavourable memories. I’ve always hated the term “recovering Catholic”. I consider many facets of the church sacred and beautiful, and respect anyone who finds Catholicism a good fit for her spirit. This is the first time I’ve been seriously turned off by the church for something personal. Live and let live, my friends. I won’t bring my coven to the church picnic if you don’t bring your picket signs to my Beltane.
This is where we differ, and why I’ll always pick my community. When I started planning my wedding, Hubby’s father was appalled by the amount of covenmates and spiritual friends we were inviting over cousins we hadn’t seen in decades. His justification? He didn’t invite his entire (Catholic) church to his wedding. No, because we’re a family where his church was a group of people to sit with once a week.
In closing, I have a few tips for anyone who has bought the alreadey sold-out pamphlet and may be trying to convert me.
1. Save your breath. Really, I’ve heard it all.
2. I enjoy fire-play. Your stake won’t scare me unless it’s above 70% isopropyl.
3. You still haven’t thanked me for Christmas, Easter, or any of the other “Catholic traditions” you borrowed the first time you tried to convert us all.
4. I may speak to my dead ancestors, but I never eat the facsimile my martyred savior.
Ok, so now I may be getting a little snarky. I apologize, but after 12 years of the Catholic School system I came out of it with a respect and adoration for all cultures and spiritualities. I’m slightly disappointed and sorry that these people will never know what that feels like. I pray for all of them
Go now. Pray for tolerance.
To read the article cited in this blog, go to: http://www.aolnews.com/2011/02/04/catholic-church-issues-guide-on-how-to-convert-witches/?a_dgi=aolshare_twitter
Brighid (Imbolc) this year was unusual for me. On a day where we celebrated the signs of spring emerging from the harsh winter crust I was in a skirt and sandals in 75 degree weather. Still, at home the snow and ice were making it very clear that their season had not passed.
I didn’t notice the signs of seasonal depression or the changes within myself until a few years ago. I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area where all my seasons were internal and symbolic, and by the time I encountered the winters of the Northeast I was in such a constant state of depression and emotional flux that the lack of sun never had much of a noticeable effect. All the trials of life seemed to naturally take hold in the winter. Again my seasons were internal.
This year I fell into a seasonal depression like a dark well. It was then piled on top of a wanderlust that became physically painful and the blessing of health well enough to work myself to death. The darkness enfolded me, and all my introspection turned negative. The light within me began to flicker and fade.
A few weeks ago I started to feel my spirit again as some of the ice thawed and Imbolc approached. No, the darkness isn’t over yet, but the light is returning. I started being inspired and creative again, as new ideas and strategies emerge, and I was able to open both mind and heart to embrace life and energy all around me. The dark well in which I had fallen became instead refreshing, quenching, and healing, as once again I felt embraced by Brighid. She had never really left me. She had just been waiting for me to see past my own flickering flame to reconnect with hers.
As Imbolc passed under the brilliant Florida sun I planned the landscape of the beautiful garden that is the coming season of light. I set my goals and began directing energy their way. I cleaned out unnecessary clutter and prepared space for new growth. In the coming season I will forge new bonds, be inspired, and use my gifts to heal myself and the world around me.
Most importantly I will learn to embrace Brighid’s light. I will hear her words and drink from her well, and there is no doubt in my mind that the coming year will be beautiful, powerful, and profound.
As i sat enjoying the Florida sun, I was refueled and ready to face the second half of winter. I found solace int he forest, but I carried its life back to Philadelphia to light my way from the dark.
Go now, find light in your darkness.
The festival of Mabon marks the beginning of the dark part of the year. The leaves are falling, the days are shortening, and the air is starting to chill. It is not yet winter, but a fair part of the bounty has come and gone. To our ancestors it was a lot more scary and unstable of a season than it is now, but we still carry that inherent link within us. Yes, we can go to a grocery store for food, and we have electric and gas heaters whenever we need them, but there is still that intuitive feeling of darkness for those of us who feel the seasons.
This isn’t a bad thing. The darkness is imperative to growth and change. The darkness challenges us to look deeper within and rid ourselves of impediments and weakness. The darkness forces us to face our fears and uncertainties head-on and learn from them.
I admit for much of my life I either lived in the darkness or ignored it. The constant state of imbalance meant I was spinning my wheels when it came to any progress in my life. Living in darkness I missed a lot of opportunities and lost my way a few times. Avoiding it I not only neglected an important part of myself but allowed myself to be comfortable and what I thought was content. In reality all it did was let the darkness grow, until it demanded attention. At that point I was back at living in the darkness. It’s a detrimental cycle to be sure.
I am still learning to not fear the darkness, to take it as it comes, and to let it go. I am still learning to understand that in order for there to be light there must also be dark. I am still learning to not consider darkness “bad” or “evil”. I am still learning to accept that the path is not always well-lit, well-worn, or easily travelled. If it were I would be getting nowhere.
This year we’ve been blessed with a lot of light, but it took us a long trudge through the darkness to get there. Issues with partners and our marriage made us recognize things we needed to resolve to be a stronger couple. Those same issues brought up individual insecurities and resentments from our respective pasts that needed to be addressed before we could progress in our life together. Losing jobs and our house brought us closer to family. On my end it bolstered me to work harder to provide for my household and forced us to learn to save and budget. It also gave us the opportunity to pay off debts that have been blights on our credit for years. Health problems have given me a better look at where and how I need to take better care of my body, spirit, and self in general.
It’s been a rough step in our lives together and separate, but it’s been necessary and in a positive direction. There’s still work to be done, and as we enter another dark season I wonder what it will bring, but I’m learning not to fear it but to embrace and learn from it knowing I will come out a better me on the other side. I know things will come to me as I am ready and able to handle them, and I know that my faith will get me through with a little support and love from my community and my family.
Welcome to the dark time, my friends. What will you learn about yourself this year?