IMBOLC 2023

Imbolc= Irish ‘im’olk’ = ‘in the belly’/oi-melc = ‘ewe’s milk’ 

“We are the way light enters the universe”-Padraig O’Tuoma, who attributed this line to poet Kay Ryan while he was in conversation with Krista Tippet. For their conversation, see www.onbeing.org, Padraig O’Tuoma and Marilyn Nelson, October 28 2021. 

Bring on the lambing! The spring peepers! The hen’s eggs!

And yet…Spring is not all barefoot skipping and flower-picking. 

Change is in the Air

Changing onward can be downright uncomfortable. If you are like me, life constantly demands you to stretch yourself in the places where you are most stiff and frozen.

January 30, 2023. The first bulbs poke through the frozen ground here in Shoreline, WA. Yesterday, I broke earth with the hori hori that my brother-in-law gifted me for Hanukkah. The sunlight BLAZED, and I recklessly tore off my scarf, my jacket, my socks! Spring is coming! Now look at today:

I wanted to be comforted, uplifted. To be reassured that waking early to scrape ice off my car and drive my exhausted, whining son to school was worth it. That rationing one cup of coffee for myself matters, that whether or not I turn the radio dial to the latest catastrophe, heartbreak, and crime matters. Does it matter if I get up today at all? I know that I do matter to my five-year-old. But Five-year-olds are notoriously ungrateful. If what I get back for my efforts is ‘You’re dumb! You are poop!’, it does make me sort of question.

I needed Reverend Judith Laxer’s February teaching from Gaia’s Temple, not yet delivered. So I revisited the teaching from Feb. 14^th, 2022 entitled “Good Grief!” 

Who knew, I have more grief? My mother and father wounds. The melting icecaps and glaciers. The turmoil and pain for countless displaced peoples including Syrians, Ukrainians, and Afghanis.

Ongoing state-tolerated murders of black people. Don’t stop saying their names. 

The children traumatized from being caged and separated from their parents at our borders. 

The children slain senselessly while attending school. 

The disappearance of wilderness.

How can we possibly be accountable and not buckle under all this grief? One answer: re-commit to revolutionary love. 

Finding Light

“The world is in transition. Out of this darkness, we have a chance to birth a new world — a healthy, multiracial, and sustainable future. But we need you to last. Your life matters. Your voice matters. You have a role to play.“-Valerie Kaur

Join me in birthing beloved community, along with thousands inspired by Valerie Kaur. Visit www.ValerieKaur.com

(I am on the last few pages, sensing that when finished, I will flip back to the first page and continue. It is a blueprint for our times).

Another answer is to take care of our grief. Do Rev. Judith’s guided meditation, found on her ‘Good Grief” podcast episode, Feb. 14, 2022.

Here is a chance to mother ourselves. Any time we need to, we can crawl into the warm safe lap of the Great Mother for a time. 

Birthing a better world, like birthing anything, comes in fits and starts. If we are to transform all the way through, we must learn a deeper way of nurturing ourselves. Mother Earth, be with us.

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Mother Earth Awakens

By Nora Lark

~A tale inspired by an Ostara myth and Aureole Lopez-Shulman’s “Lady Spring”

Mother Earth was resting in her tree. Deep beneath the roots, where it was warm and dark. She sat with her hands in her lap and her chin on her chest. Suddenly, a ray of light shone in between the roots. Mother Earth awoke.

            “Oh!’ She thought, ‘I must have dozed off”. 

She peered out of her door. There was the world, bright and sparkly, beckoning to her. 

            “Is that blue sky I see?”

So Mother Earth stepped out. The ground was frozen. The frost on the tree branches all around sparkled. 

            “Brrrr”, said Mother Earth, “I need to put on another layer.”

Once properly bundled up, Mother Earth explored her forest with delight. It was as if she was seeing it for the first time! Everywhere that she stepped, there in her footsteps sprang up little snowdrop flowers. But brrr, that wind was chilly, wasn’t it?

            Mother Earth came to an alder stand. You know, the trees with the long yellow tassels this time of year? A flock of winter songbirds had settled in the thicket. Perched on the delicate branches, they all had their feathers fluffed out to keep warm, and they looked like festive ornaments. 

            “Hello, dears!” Mother Earth was about to say, when she noticed something peculiar. All the songbirds had their eyes fixed on the same spot. They were staring down at something on the ground. Mother Earth approached. It was a little songbird, the smallest of them all, just lying on the frozen earth. Its eyes were closed. Was it alive?

            Mother Earth bent down and scooped up the light little body into her hands. It lay in her palms, and she could feel a faint, fluttering heartbeat. 

            She bent her head down and blew her warm breath softly on the little bird. Her breath smelled like flowers.

            The songbird opened its eyes. It stood up, tiny feet tickling Mother Earth’s palms. It fluffed its feathers just as puffy as can be. Then it let out a sharp “cheep!”

            Mother Earth chose a sturdy twig, deep in the alders , out of the direct wind. She set the now bright-eyed songbird on this twig. 

            “Cheep-cheep-cheep!” sang the songbird. Mother Earth was satisfied.

            “Goodbye, dears. Now I am cold! I’ll see you again soon.” She turned in her tracks and made her way home again, through the glittering forest to her own tree. 

Everywhere that Mother Earth walked, snowdrop flowers bloomed in her footsteps. Mother Earth ducked beneath the roots of her tree, into the warm darkness. Ah, she sighed in pleasure. Time to rest a little longer. Soon, she knew, she would awaken again with renewed vigor. But for now, a teensy weensy nap.