Tag: earth medicine

Imbolc

In a time when we are receiving news of one environmental protection after another being repealed by the current administration, connecting with the Earth and the ancient traditions surrounding her are becoming more and more important. Celebrating the Earth and our integral relationship to her seems the most natural way to create connection and encourage care. If we see planet Earth as sacred and celebrate her seasons (I’m not talking the Hallmark ones), how can we possibly allow her to be raped, pillaged and abused? How can we disregard the migratory patterns of her birds, the thirst quenching water of her rivers and the life-giving nutrients of her soil– all in favor of cheap oil?  

Only when we feel little to no connection with her can we think it’s okay to favor big business over land and water. Only when we don’t honor the native people who cared for this land for millennia can we think it’s okay to desecrate their sacred sites with bulldozers and pipelines (as is currently happening in Utah). For many, relating to the native people of the Americas and their land is difficult because we come from a lineage of immigrants who view the Native people and their relationship to Earth as “other”. But those of us with European backgrounds can dig into our ancestral roots for rituals that celebrate connection to the natural world too. 

February 1 marks Imbolc, an ancient Celtic holiday celebrating the midpoint between Winter Solstice (the shortest day of the year) and the Spring Equinox (one of two days a year when night and day are equal). Imbolc is the Celtic word for sheep’s milk, as this is the traditional time of year for birthing lambs. This is a time of celebration, as the Winter food supply can be supplemented with milk after many months of rationing and scarcity. By its very nature, Imbolc celebrates the relationship between humans and animals and acknowledges human dependence upon beastly gifts.

Imbolc is a time of assessment as well. Will the provisions put away for the non-growing season last until the plants provide? If not, how else can we find nourishment? How can we work with our neighbors and to make sure there is enough for all? How can we collaborate? Share? What community needs aren’t being met? How and with whom can we meet those needs? 

Imbolc is also a time of planting seeds, both literally and metaphorically. It is a time to review our plans for Spring and Summer crops and Autumn harvest. It is a time to to be deliberate with our actions, acknowledging that what we sew now we will reap later. It is a time for new beginnings, with vision for the future.

In addition, Imbolc asks us to double check that we’ve released the past year. There is too much work in our future to be burdened by carrying around the left-overs of the past. What are we still clinging to that can be composted as nutrients for the new year’s crops? What can be fuel for new growth? 

Imbolc acknowledges that the darkest days of winter have passed and it’s time to think about stretching our limbs as well as our minds. It’s time to crawl out of the darkness and back into the light. It’s time to consider our relationship with earthly time and our earthly space. 

This particular February it may also be time to call our representatives and check into the practices and promised policies of our favorite presidential candidates.

October play

The end of October is almost here, and I haven’t written a thing to share. Not because nothing is noteworthy, but rather because what I’ve been wanting to write seems a tad too intimate and vulnerable and a tad too woo-woo. But the truth is, this is my favorite October on record. Anxiety still rears its head, and the threat of depression looms like it often does in this tenth month of the year, but this particular October the leaves are extra vibrant and the light more sparkly than I remember. Part of the October magic is due to the perfect climate conditions for color, but part I credit to the playful work I’ve been doing. Three times this week I saw some iteration of

what you did yesterday created today;
what you do today creates tomorrow.

I’d like to think that my actions and self-care rituals over the last few months are playing out now, one of which is setting intentions with the moon.

Super witchy, no?

With the new moon I set intentions for habits I want to cultivate and parts of my personality I want to grow as the moon grows big and fat into fullness.

With the full moon I set intentions for habits I want to drop and thinking patterns and grudges I want to release as the moon shrinks to invisible.

Each day I return to these intentions, and standing in front of the altar I build each fortnight, I light a candle and some incense and read the intentions aloud. Every. Single. Day.

How’s that for some magic?

Being so in tune with my intentions, I can’t help but be more aware of my behaviors and how I create my own reality with the words I choose, the company I keep and the actions I take. Decisions become easier and relationships cleaner.

Being so in tune to the moon, I can’t help but be more aware of my cycle and how my moods and energy levels change with the changing shape of this celestial tracker. Checking in with her on the pre-dawn and pitch black drive to middle school, I feel connection to (and participation with) Mother Nature like I never have before.

Being so in tune with Mother Nature, I can’t help but feel supported as the seasons change. The days are shortening furiously fast, and this year, instead of feeling the dread of winter so solidly, I am finding twinges of excitement in the cracks. I am grateful for the way the sun shifts and the light shimmers through the quivering leaves onto different spots in the house and yard like twinkle lights.

Being so in tune with the light, I can’t help but be drawn closer to the sun-based celebrations. We began celebrating the Winter Solstice at home years ago, as a call for more meaning and connection with the Earth, but this year Samhain (Sa-wen) is on my radar too, the half-way mark between the Fall Equinox and Winter Solstice. Like its cousins Halloween, All Saints’ Day and Day of the Dead, Samhain is marked by thinning veils between the land of the living and of those passed, between this reality and those unseen. It’s the season of imagination, divination and magic, the season of celebrating light and dark and the season of co-creating the reality in which we live.

All of this in-tune-ment, intentional attention and Mother Earth support is providing a sense peace that I didn’t know could co-exist with a racing heart, sweaty palms or a deep longing to spend the day in bed. I think the play with the moon and my intentions is helping me to understand the cyclical nature of all things a bit more tangibly. The light grows bright, it goes dim. Feelings arise, (and if I don’t mess with them too much) there they go. And if I focus my intention on my desires often enough, I just may create the playful world I want to inhabit.

Happy magic-making to you.

Boo!