We could feel you in the air. The forest was so quiet. As we sat on the front porch in anticipation, Dennis said it was like waiting for Christmas. And then you arrived.
Within hours you had covered everything in a deep blanket of white. The power of your presence something we will likely not experience again in our time on Earth. It was majestic. Your weight caused the trees to bow low and we were soon in isolated sanctuary. No electricity. No travel possible. Called to a place of just being. With you.
Stop, was your message. Attend this depth and silence. Listen.
That night as we lay in bed in the dark, you began to take your leave. The snow cascading off trees was like the sound of rolling thunder throughout the forest. Suddenly I was so deeply sad. Wait…just a bit more. I want to take more pictures. I want to sit and gaze at the wonder of you. Don’t leave us just yet. There is wisdom here and I want to drink in every moment of it. One more look at your majesty. Perhaps a last look of a lifetime.
February 1st. Imbolc. Celebrating Brigit and the first day of Spring as we welcome new life and the promise of new life in this season. The snowdrop is among many of Brigit’s sacred symbols.
The first day of Spring. Granted, with the polar vortex and sub-zero temperatures currently gripping much of this country, it may be hard to think about Spring. But even without the dynamics of climate change, today being the first day of Spring is as challenging to embrace as Beltane, May 1st, being the first day of Summer, or Lughnasa, August 1st, being the first day of Fall, or Samhain, October 31st, being the first day of Winter. In our ‘modern’ western culture we wait weeks longer for the full manifestation of each season before declaring its presence.
It’s almost as if we don’t have the patience for the slow unfolding and awakening of each season. We want to be in the fullness of it. Now. No waiting. And I’m finding at the moment that this applies not only to the seasons of the Earth but also the seasons of our lives.
My new Crone book. I am both humbled and fascinated by the response to it. Humbled that it seems to be deeply meaningful for so many women. Fascinated by the response of younger women, women who are, in some cases, decades from being Crone but who seem ready to name themselves Crone. Ready to have a Croning ceremony for their 50th birthday. Ready to claim the full manifestation of Crone. Now. No waiting.
Being Crone isn’t just about being old…but it is about being old. While I appreciate these younger women may see something aspirational and engaging about holding Elder wisdom, I hope they can appreciate and have patience for the journey. The slow unfolding and awakening. For in this there is unfolding wisdom.