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It's Midwinter, Brighid please light a fire (under me)!
Being one to really get into the turning of the seasons, as autumn ended and winter approached, I began doing the inward turning spiral. Tucking in for the winter, wrapping up in layers of wool, spending chilly Sundays in a warm kitchen kneading bread and turning pots of vegetable soup. Cocooning. Yum.
But now that it's midwinter the cocoon is starting to feel confining rather than cozy and worse, I'm transforming into Baba Yaga. As I write these words my head is covered in a clear plastic shower cap, and under that a layer of plastic wrap wrapped tightly round my hair to keep the thick, dark henna paste in place. With some luck, in two hours, I can wash out this grainy mixture of powdered leaves and bark (that had a vague spinach smell when I added water) and according to the woman at the health food store, my hair will be thicker, more luxurious and most
important - back to my natural color of dark chestnut - including the alarming number of white hairs that have sprouted up there recently. White hair on my young head. And as I try to compose the next sentences in my head, I rub my chin. Yesterday, I plucked
all of the stray hairs out of my eyebrows and using the magnifying mirror, plucked a good seven hairs from my chin. Some of those were white, too.
My Crone self should be proud of the way she has spent her winter, what with letting the bristles grow on my chin and with cooking up vats of potato and leek soup and all. But it's thankfully time for the Wheel to turn again, and me with it. I'm ready to shake off my winter hibernation, fluffy slippers and wool sweaters. I'm ready for a good dose of Brighid's inspiration! But I need motivation, a good push out the door to see if the sun is shining, but like the good groundhog, if I try to run back in my hole, I sure hope someone will bar the door and keep me outside long enough to search for signs of Spring.
So now in the abyss of my mid-winter blues, I am invoking Brighid for an armful of sunny energy, some soul-nourishment and a big burst of creativity.
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There is a strange yellow flower that bursts into bloom in the south of France, just in time for Imbolc and it is called the mimosa. Fern-like leaves of deepest green hold onto stalks covered with zillions of tiny bright yellow sunbursts of flowers. The market sells them by the armful and that is just the amount needed to scatter them in vases and cups in every room. Each is no bigger than a shirt button, but these
little bursts of fragrant sunshine fill the house with the smell of coming Spring and the promise that the days are indeed getting longer.
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Photo: JPMARRO at
http://photos.linternaute.com/photo/872844/4520990253/192/mimosa_sauvage/
Then I fill my prettiest crystal goblet with warmed whole milk, and sipping it, I think of the nourishment that is ours as a gift of the Mother. I send both Her spiritual and physical nourishment to my bones. On days when I feel lacking in self-confidence, I know I can call on her to hold me up and strengthen me from the inside out.
And finally, I visualize standing as one of the nineteen women tending the Fire Temple at Kildare. Encircling the ageless flame, we stand each with her log. As the fire leaps and crackles, I step forward to add my wood to the brightness. Then I step back as the woman beside me steps forward to add hers. With the rising warmth and the increasing light comes the knowledge that each of us has her individual strengths, and when we add them to the strengths of other women, our communal fire leaps up and fills us all with the inspiration we need to accomplish great things. And Brighid is kindling her fire in me in lots of little ways. By the time I finished this article, my hair was indeed back to a nice deep brown; I'm shining the light of day deep into the darkest corners and getting them cleaned out; I feel better, perkier even and she gave me just enough oomph today to finish writing in time for this issue!
Praise Brighid!
Mut Danu, Priestess of the Apple Branch Dianic Tradition
Imbolc 2007
(The flame has been rekindled at Kildare, and specifically at the Solas Bhride center which looks like an interesting mix of Christian and pagan spirituality. A celebration of events, " Fheile Bhride " Brighids festival, occurs every year in the week leading up to Imbolc. http://www.solasbhride.ie)
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