Originally posted on FURIOUSHORDE:
Imbolc is a time of quickening. The word Imbolc is from the Gaelic for “in the belly” and speaks of the promise of spring, even when winter lingers. Think of the earth stretching before arising from her winter bed and her blood warming beneath her skin of soil. Our Quickening Spread for Imbolc is about paying attention to those seed dreams we discovered within ourselves in the dark of the year, focusing on how we can nurture our dream into reality. 1. Seed. What is the dream seed that you hope to grow in the brightening year? 2 + 3. Quickening. What energies are stirring awake within you? What part of your self that has been slumbering is slowly awakening? 4. Fire. What aids and inspires your dream seed? 5. Ice. What blocks and challenges your dream seed? 6 + 7. Forge. How can you support and shape your dream into reality? 8. Surfacing. What of your dream is currently emerging and you should seek to support right now?
Originally posted on FURIOUSHORDE:
The world is going crazy south of us here in Canada and no-one knows how it will all pan out for all of us. Everything feels suddenly hyperreal, as is common when faced with a threat – reality solidifies around survival instincts so we can have this pin-point of focus on the enemy.
There is really SO MUCH wrong in the world it can be overwhelming. My reaction thus far has been to try to keep my eye on all of it, as if in some way this will make it all safer. But this is impossible. It spreads my energies thin and accomplishes very little, other than creating a state of fear and worry. So this year, at Imbolc, I am doing something different.
Here’s a timely little poppet, in honour of Imbolc / Bridget’s Day.
I used to think mediating was hard because well, it was. But my practice had only just begun. Meditation hasn’t changed my life, it’s changed me.
On the anniversary of his death. Come, come, whoever you are.
Great Christmasy post from Gather out of Victoria, about the ancient reindeer goddess of Europe.
But, it’s really like a little pet chaos. No synchronistic external events, that ‘prove’ we are really experiencing something. No. It’s like I am melting away from the world. The Centre is supposed to be where we find Balance. Either I am already there or Balance makes me feel itchy, wanting and cold, with that old restlessness like a tiny constant wind blowing in my ear. Remember, remember. Well? What is it? I have come to the end of my first year in the medicine spiral of my ancestors. We come to the end at the Centre. We come to our end at the centre.
When I first moved to this neighbourhood I was in the grips of a terrible panic. It probably began as postpartum anxiety – my son was only one and a half then – but due to a debilitating lack of sleep with baby, the anxiety and compulsive fear behavior remained. It was extremely difficult. I turned to my altar and prayer for relief, somewhere I hadn’t been for at least the past 10 years. I prayed daily and in earnest for every little thing, I set up altars and tended them with care. I felt some relief but complained of feeling no connection. I asked for a teacher and none came. But then that Spring, funny things started to happen. During our many walks outside we came across animals in need; a baby crow with a broken leg, a dog lost in the depths of the forest on the side of a mountain, a cat lost away from his home, the little sewer rat that walked right up to my feet out in my yard, …
Samhain is one of our favourite holidays! Here’s how we celebrated this year. Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!
I’m wrapping up a year-long traverse deep down into the medicine spiral. Like a medicine wheel but with Celtic leanings, the spiral takes us into ourselves and back out again, shiny and new. So much has come out of these retreat weekends, five in all. At the dawn of each season and corresponding direction, and one more for the heart-centre, we meet, we meditate, we cook food together, we immerse in the teachings. This past weekend was the West, the Fall and Samhain. No matter the lineage, the theme of the West is always the same: death, dying, letting go, receding, resting and digesting. Just think of what’s happening in nature to steer your course (after all we humans are actually a part of it all, even though we vehemently deny it). The trees are bedding down, losing leaves, the plants in the garden receding, dropping into that heavy slumber that protects them through the winter – or perhaps they have been harvested for their gold and then composted, to be digested by the soil. Everything around …