Thank you for joining us!
Before we begin our devotional, I wanted to share a Comment Highlight from last week:
On our discussion, where we talked about what we’re cultivating internally and protecting from the “killing frost” of negativity,
commented:Oh I love this question!! I’m questioning sustainable growth whilst managing and protecting my energy after some mentioning advice that didn’t ring true for me - it’s a remind we are always our own biggest mentors if only we can quiet the noise to hear the voice.
I love this sentiment and wanted to highlight the truth of it: advice, even well-intentioned, needs to be considered before simply taking it on. Wise words, Claire, and thank you! Claire Venus writes a wonder-filled newsletter called Creatively Conscious—check it out!
If you want a chance to be featured in next week’s Comment Highlight, all you have to do is post a comment on any of this week’s posts or threads. That’s it!
Now, on with this week’s devotional…
there! each brown branch lit with tiny buds, shivering against the cold, perhaps or maybe trembling with life; light! green, and alive the hearthfires under the earth are kindled and the green flames are lining the hedgerows as we pass hand-in-hand below.
This week, a trio of mysterious and beautiful celebrations mark the end of winter and the earliest stirrings of spring: Imbolc, Saint Brigid’s Day, and Candlemas. The full details of each celebration are beyond the scope of this devotional, but here are the essentials.
Imbolc and Saint Brigid’s feast day fall on February 1st, and these are ancient Celtic observances to welcome the first cold fires of spring. Brigid is a wonderfully colorful figure in Celtic folklore, both Christian and pagan, and Imbolc refers to the season when ewes would first show signs of lambing, as the word means in the belly. Candlemas falls on February 2nd, and on this day some Christians would bring their candles to the church to be blessed for the following year, among many other traditions.
Here on this land where I live, despite the lingering cold and frosts, I cannot deny that something is trying to wake up. On the forest path where the dog and I walk daily to the pond, buds are forming on bare branches. Just a hint that something warm is alive within the death, that a flame is kindled below. The days are longer. The sun feels warmer on my face, even if my fingers are numb.
Soon, our collective season of wintering for those of us in these northern climes will be over, and our season of beginnings will get underway. Soon enough we will be planting, and opening the windows wide, and sweeping the hearth, and cleansing the winter stagnancy from our bones. Soon we will bid winter goodbye, at least for now.
As February’s cold sun dawns and its green flames kindle, we may ask ourselves: what last steps do I wish to take as my wintering comes to an end?
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Is it acceptable to admit to a certain climate-related schizophrenia? I, too, am eager for spring green, and its first tiny signs are a thrill, just as the first time the thermometer hits 60 degrees always feels like a harbinger of summer. But when the sun is out and the air is warm 5 months hence, I know I'll occasionally miss rainy January days tucked under the fuzzy red throw, cozy and content. reading the Saturday away with nary a shred of guilt. As wintering comes to an end, I expect I'll sigh as we put the red throw away, and I'll wonder if I have enough line for the weed whacker. I'm gonna need it.
Aw thanks for the feature!! Still absorbing my own wisdom here for this week too... 🥰✨