The last couple of years I have been on a deepening ancestral journey; researching, exploring and understanding more of where my people came from and the traditions that have fallen away. Most recently, this had me considering activities that would be taking place as the seasons transition from one to the other.
Currently, we are navigating the in-between of Winter Solstice and Vernal Equinox, and February 1 – 2 is the ancient festival of Imbolc.
These days, this festival is more commonly known as St. Brigid’s Day, Candlemas, or even Ground Hog Day.
Imbolc commemorates the earliest beginnings of spring. Daylight is lengthening, soon seeds will be germinating and sprouting and soon the Sun will warm us more and more.
This Year
Ms. B and I ventured to retrieve reeds so that I could weave a Brigid’s Cross and more deeply connect with the Wheel of the Year and my lineage.
Note to self: next year, wear rubber boots for this very watery adventure.
An Ancient Symbol
Making a Brigid’s Cross is one of the more traditional ritual of celebrating early spring and are said to protect the homestead from fire, evil and hunger.
The symbol would be hung over the door, windows or within the rafters of the home for a year. The next year’s Imbolc, the crosses would be burnt, and new crosses created.
It is suggested that Christianity incorporated the shape into their own practice but that it is based on the pagan Sun Wheel; each of the four arms representing a season. A reminder that all four of the seasons are the same length, no matter how much we may doubt that during the sleet, rain or snow.
On a misty Saturday afternoon, the music of Hanneke Cassel poured throughout my space as I partook in the slow, yet simple practice of bending and wrapping the reeds to fashion the symbol.
While I had never made one before, something deep within me seemed to stir in remembrance of the ritual.
Somehow I (unimaginably) ended up with too many reeds, which surprised me since I had difficulties finding any to begin with. Not to let any of them go to waste, I ended up making three: one large, one smaller, and one teensie-tiny that will hang from the rear view mirror of my car.
From my home to yours, may you find delight in the unfolding signs of changing seasons!
Thumpity thump thump…
Thumpity thump thump…
Beats my grateful, grateful heart.
Krystin