Midwifing ourselves through the contraction

On Imbolc, Brigid and the liminality of this time of year

In our home today we celebrate Imbolc, which in the Celtic wheel of the year sits perfectly between the Winter solstice and the Spring equinox.

It is a middle point.

An in-between.

A liminal space.

A time of contracting,

before the new can be birthed from the earth and from the seeds I am sprouting deep within me.

It is a difficult energy to sit with for me. The first signs of spring are awaking around me and beckon me to do more, to move, to create, to come into bloom.

Imbolc is a time of learning to hold the tension. Hold it. It is not quite time. The soil is not quite ready.

Sit with it. Sit with it.

The etymology of Imbolc or Imbolg is unclear, but a common theory is that it comes from the Old Irish “in the belly”. Imbolc traditionally was celebrated with ewe’s milk, the first fresh food of the year, as the first lambs were born.

Can you feel it?

Something is waiting to be born. There is a quickening. A door to be opened.

Sit with it. Sit with it.

Breathe through this time of contraction, as birth is imminent, but we are not quite there.

This is the time to midwife ourselves through the discomfort of the liminal space, through ritual and ceremony.

There is someone to lean on, to set an intention to, to pray upon that will feel like a close friend for many a mother.

Brigid.

Goddess of the fire, the sun and the hearth.

Patron of healers, smiths and poetry.

This time a year, she is the embodied pregnant maiden, wherever she walks, spring flowers will bloom.

Brigid herself is the embodiment of duality. Pagan goddess and Christian saint.

If you have birthed before, you remember these last few weeks before it was time. A sacred window of discomfort and growth, bodily, emotionally and spiritually. A time of preparation.

A beautiful window break away from the fullness of life and to sit with the feelings that come with letting go of the old and welcoming the new.

I am honoring Imbolc with these simple and sacred ceremonies:

I’m lighting many candles.

This afternoon, we will craft fire starters and smudge sticks out of pine and rosemary and sage and straw and beeswax.

We also finally got around to having a hearth installed. So tonight, we will sit by the fire.

We will be sharing food with friends, sit together, reflect together, craft together.

Later, I will take a bath infused with herbs and a bit of warm milk, surrounded by candle light.

It is a day, a time, to make ourselves comfortable. For the wait.

To midwife ourselves through the contraction.

This is a day for remembering “the belly”, for waiting.

A season for bringing milky goodness into our days until you are surrounded by flowers once more.

A day of trusting that we have time.

A day of deep knowing that we, because we are nature, can begin again.

In light,

Eva