Journal Entry, February 2nd.............................................Transition from Winter to SpringOrigins:In Ireland, where green first appears after the long winter, Imbolc (or Oimelc) was a pastoralist's holiday celebrating the first new lambs, their nourishment and growth--with a thorough spring cleaning and rekindling of the hearth fires. Imbolc is especially sacred to Bridgid, the Goddess of healing, poetry, smithcraft, warmth, fire and the sun! Today, Imbolc, Candlemas or Groundhog Day is a welcome chance to call back the green of springtime in the darkest stretch of winter.
All alone in the far paddock, near the pig pen where I can hear the excited feeding of a sow, the countryside is absolutely bleak and gray in the cold early light. The brown mud underfoot sparkles with frost, and crusts of snow cling onto every desolate surface. I could’nt imagine what I might be expected to see in the garden now! All of a sudden I could feel a little hand in mine, and looked down to see a pink cheeked, red headed toddler in a pale green snowsuit smiling up at me. He pulled on my arm, so I followed. He was new at walking, so we slowly, slowly made our way toward a lonely plateau ringed by granite rocks. Someone had deliberately placed them into a circle. The baby went on, and I wondered whether I should take him back to the homestead, when he stooped down and called to me...”See?” He said, and pointed with his little fat hands to a slender, supple, bright green stalk that had pushed up toward the sun on the warm side of a stone. Amazing.
Imbolc Rocks...Late Winter NatureFebruary Foods
Of Pigs and Potatoes
Elemental Homeschooling
Our Imbolc
Brigid and Cerridwen
Crafts of Imbolc
Links to the Earth
to return to the Table of Contents.
L a t e W i n t e r N a t u r e
For Euro-Americans such as myself, stone circles, along with Merlin and the Druids, hold a major franchise in the collective unconscious. We can’t help it or deny it. There is a quality about stones in sacred arrangement that speaks particularly--though by no means exclusively--to the European soul. Circles, dolmens, cromlechs, and mysterious stone passageways into the earth are among the oldest signatures of our culture. For centuries our ancestors entered the dark, stone linteled passageways much as Hopi elders enter their kivas: to fast, to commune with ancestral spirits, and to awaken to the fire deep within Mother Earth. And on other ritual occasions they went to the stone circles.The circles are the ancient “medicine wheels” for Europeans: they mark carefully the cardinal directions and lunar and solar alignments for ceremonies we can now only imagine.
The standing stones speak to me of the union between Earth and Sky my ancestors knew, long before the cathedrals came. These stones are deeply rooted in the earth as they mark the turning of the seasons and the patterns in the stars above. And their very alignment with one another generates a powerful dynamism. Their oldest names attest to this: Stonehenge is “the Giant’s Dance,” and the little circle near Killarney is “the dance of the seven maidens.
The deer have come down and the big-horn,
They have followed the sun to the south
To feed on the mesquite pods and the bunch grass.
Loud are the thunderdrums in the tents of the mountains.
Oh, long, long
Have we eaten chia seeds
and dried deer's flesh of the summer killing.
We are tired of our huts
and the smoky smell of our clothing.
We are sick with the desire for the sun
And the grass on the mountain.
The purest essence of the energy of the heaven-earth world coalesces into rock. It emerges, bearing the soil. Its' formations are wonderful and fantastic. Some with cavernous cliffs, revealing their interior; some with peaks and summits in sharp-edged layers...The images of all things appearing in appropriate likenesses. Within the size of a fist can be assembled the beauty of a thousand cliffs...Confucius once said, "The humane man loves mountains," and the love of stones has the same meaning. Thus longevity through quietude is achieved through this love.
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F e b r u a r y F o o d s
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Of P i g s and P o t a t o e s
Dearly Loved Children
Is it not a sin
When you peel potatoes,
To throw away the skin?
For the skin feeds pigs
And pigs feed you.
Dearly loved children,
Is this not true?Anon
traditional counting rhyme
Pigs are wonderful creatures. They exhibit the intelligence and affection of dogs with the independence and individuality of cats. Perhaps because they are so intelligent, many cultures tell stories of people being turned into pigs. Likewise, their skin is similar to humans', and unlike grazing animals, they may only digest what humans eat. Sows are extremely giving and patient with their piglets, and will fiercely protect them from danger. Their sensitive noses can burrow around in the deep dark soil to detect the rarest of fungi: truffles, buried from up to a foot deep and twenty feet away.
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Pigs are an ancient symbol of all-giving, plenty and fertility. In her Amulets of the Goddess(1993), Nancy Blair writes, "The Sow Goddess was a seed and vegetation protectress very early on...Her ability to fatten quickly and produce many offspring made for obvious fertility and harvest associations." Baltic Pagans formerly honored and cared for a snow white sow in the early spring as an emblem of abundance, while in late summer, the tribe sacrificed a black pig in order to manifest a plentiful harvest and a healthy winter. Norse Frey, God of plentiful harvest, peace and light rides a boar with a bristly coat of gold. The Tantric Buddhist Goddess, Marici, known as the Diamond Sow, rides a lotus drawn by nine pigs. Cerridwen, a British Goddess, can represent the goddess in her crone aspect as a milk white sow which consumes the dead, able to transport them under the soil to the underworld.
Southern French legend tells that Carcassonne castle was once laid seige by barbarians. Months passed and the folk within the castle walls began to run out of supplies, still the enemy waited for surrender. Just as the people faced certain starvation, Carcassonne's Warrior Queen came up with an idea: she fed the very last pig all the rest of the food, stuffing it full. To the amazement of all, she threw the poor pig over the wall. When it burst, their enemies fled: fearful of such magic, seeing that the months of embargo had seemingly no effect.
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.....Likely, the original Mexican pinata was a pig, reflecting the Spanish relation to the legend of Carcassonne. In Germany, pigs represent financial wealth and good luck...thus, the piggy bank. At the New Year, marzipan pigs with clover collars abound as good luck charms. Victorians once ceremonially smashed open a peppermint candy pig with a hammer at the New Year. Sharing the broken pieces symbolically spread around the wish for abundance.
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.....In this century, pigs are both adored and disparaged. To be called a pig is to be called sloppy, disgusting and greedy. Yet pigs in literature and the media are often seen as innocent, good-natured and sweet. Babe, of the 1994 movie of the same name, is thoughtful and highly evolved. Wilbur of Charlotte's Web by E.B. White is curious and nonviolent. Owners of pigs as pets are extremely enthusiastic about pig personality. So while the dirty stereotypes persist for pigs, we are also waking up to their fine qualities, and finding that we are not a little guilty about consuming them.
Traditional English-baby tickling rhyme
Mysterious murky
face of earth
He speaks with midnight fingers
The language of eternal noon.
He sprouts
With unexpected dawns
In his larder of memories
All because
In his heart
The sun sleeps
One eye: Troubles...wait and learn from your mistakes, put things right.
Two eyes: Presents...rewards, secret surprises, good luck!
Three eyes: Friends...positive partnerships, the freedom to make new friends
Four eyes: New Beginnings...finish what you've started and prepare for a fresh start
Five eyes: Travel...changes, brand new ideas, moving forward
Six eyes: Love...deep feelings, listen to your heart
Seven eyes: Wealth...breakthrough to achievement and rewards, as if you are a new person
Eight eyes: Sadness...let go of something that does'nt feel right or suit you anymore
Nine eyes: Happiness...new energy, joyfulness, easy to release something you've outgrown
Ten eyes: Growing...take care, enjoy work and a great harvest is assured.
"Down Cellar," said the cricket,
"I saw a ball last night, in honor of a lady,
Whose wings were pearly white.
The breath of bitter weather had smashed the cellar pane.
We entertained a drift of leaves, and then of snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter, and loved to hear it blow
In honor of the lady, who makes potatoes grow.
Our guest the Irish lady, the tiny Irish lady, the airy Irish lady, who makes potatoes grow.
"Potatoes were the waiters,
Potatoes were the band.
Potatoes were the dancers kicking up the sand.
Their legs were old burnt matches, their arms were just the same.
They jigged and whirled and scrambled in honor of the dame.
The noble Irish lady who makes potatoes dance,
The witty Irish lady, the saucy Irish lady, the laughing Irish lady who makes potatoes prance.
"There was just one sweet potato.
He was golden brown and slim.
The lady loved his dancing, she danced all night with him.
Alas, he was'nt Irish, so when she flew away,
They threw him in the coal bin, and there he is today,
Where they could not hear his sighs and his weeping for the lady,
The glorious Irish lady, the beauteous Irish lady,
Who gives potatoes eyes."
Vachel Lindsay, 1913
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E l e m e n t a l H o m e s c h o o l i n g
Late winter, and the sparkling festivity of Yule is over. Winter seems to stretch on forever: the earth remains frozen, no green in sight. We are tired of the barren cold. It is time to call spring back to us! Deep in the dark soil, the baby seeds are stretching and yawning, starting to feel the pulse of the Mother again quicken them. Soon we'll see signs of renewed life, if we can just wait a few weeks more! 
At Imbolc it is exciting to call the seeds to sprout, and dream to life the return of the green. Especially if you have a connection to Ireland, this is a good time of year to honor our ancestral Emerald Isle: eating traditional Irish foods, listening to music and poetry of Ireland, remembering the British deities that peak in strength at this time of year. The all-giving, fertile pig is the creature of the moment, and she teaches us to have patience, sacrifice, and the coming Spring will mirror her abundance.
Earth is the element of Winter; so stones, caves, salt are all integral to Imbolc. See how water will wear down boulders over hundreds of years: though yielding to the water, the rocks are patient, immovable. Waiting and not yielding, staying still. This is the time of our greatest patience before the season of movement and renewal.
Rock circles are fun to make at this time of year. If you live with children, perhaps you've seen little rock circles they have made outdoors, with offerings of flowers and weeds inside. Place eight large stones equally paced in a circle to reflect the Wheel of the Year. Consult sundials or information on medicine wheels/circles in order to make it accurate.
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O u r I m b o l c
Olivia and I made a rainstick and we planted paperwhite bulbs, and set cress, clover, mustard and lettuce seeds to sprout. After a few days of nothing, they came to gloriously well, stretching their tiny leaves toward the sun. We decorated the altar with lots of pigs, a chartreuse cloth and pale green and lemon yellow candles. We shared a Celtic family meal of baked ham, green onion potatoes, mushrooms with green beans, buttermilk bread pudding and dark chocolate--like the earth--brownies planted with green m&ms. Is it any wonder they are supposed to enhance desire and fertility? We played much Irish music: The Chieftains, The Pogues, Sineád O' Connor, Enya and various ambiant mixtures. We drank lager, laughed much and planted seed wishes in a deep pan of rich soil!
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B r i t i s h C e l t i c
Brigid and Cerridwen
Keep pure your honest ideal, strive ever toward it,
let nothing stop you nor turn you aside.
Mine is the cup of the wine of life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen.
I am the mother of all living and my love is poured out on earth.
I am the beauty of the green earth, the white moon among stars,
And the mystery of the waters, and the desire in the heart of woman.
Before my face let thine innermost divine self
be enfolded in the raptures of the infinite.
Know the mystery, that if that which thou seekest thou findest
Not within thee, thou wilt never find it without thee,
For behold, I have been with thee from the beginning and I await thee now.
Blessed Be.
by Shan from the House of the Goddess, adapted from a recreated charge by Doreen Valiente
From Sinead O'Connor's Universal Mother album.
Amairgin's Song of the Three Cauldrons, translated by Caitlin Matthews
Brigit is the central Irish Goddess. She is known as Brigantia in England and Bride in Scotland. She rules metal work and smithy, fire, poetry, midwifery and martial arts--but is primarily known as a major Mother Goddess. 
Brigit is a face of the Triple Goddess, and able to see all--often represented by an ever watchful eye. The three heart-shaped leaves of the shamrock recall the magical Celtic number of three, as well as the number of Brigit's faces. From nine to Nineteen priestesses once tended an undying fire in her name at Kildare.
Brigid is so central to Ireland that the newly converted people would not give her up, so her name metamorphosed into St. Bridgid, who in Irish Christian myth acts as tender and supportive friend of Mary and as the midwife at Christ's birth. Barbara G. Walker writes that to the Irish people, however, she continued to be a Queen of Heaven and the mother of all the deities of the new religion. As the Saint, she also matched wits with St. Patrick, who is as mythical as she. At times they seem to be consorts, at others, adversaries. It cannot have helped their relationship that Patrick is known for ridding Ireland of snakes, and since Bridgid the saint descended from a pagan goddess and priestess persona, whose sacred healing totem is the snake. So when St. Patrick says he is ridding the isle of snakes, what he means is he is ridding it of pagans. Nevertheless, Patricius and Bridgid were often considered the primal Mother and Father, and were supposedly buried together at Derry Down.
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C r a f t s of the S e a s o n
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L i n k s to the E a r t h
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Welcome Springtime in the garden at
© 1996, 1997, Jill Pederson Meyer
Ostara.