Third High Day Recap: Imbolc 2014

NOTE:  This essay is not in its final form.  It will undergo several revisions before it is  "submission" worthy. 

       For quite some time, I’ve been troubled by the fact that performing ritual has been an awkward and unnatural experience for me.   I’ve participated in group ritual before, and can easily commit the entire script to memory so I won't be encumbered by flipping pages or losing my place..  I admit—I’m not the world’s most inspiring orator, but I know that can be improved with time and practice.  So I began to wonder:  Do my problems stem from the fact that the gods are as unimpressed with it all as I am?  That the distance that has developed between us, whether real or imagined, is due to my hazy intentions and distracted heart?  

        

      I approached this year's Imbolc celebration with simplicity and few expectations.  It started earlier in the day when I took a long walk in my woods and visited the site I have chosen to build my sacred grove come spring.  I collected enough freshly fallen snow that once melted, would be placed in a small blue glass jar to be blessed by Brighid.   The sense of anticipation built as I wrapped myself up in the multi-colored ritual shawl I had knit for myself with all the skeins of yarn leftover from the many blankets, shawls, and scarves I had crafted as holiday gifts for family and friends.   

     I performed the ritual just minutes before midnight on February 1^st, and it was the first time that I had ever felt truly inspired and became physically aware that I was in the presence of the Kindred.   I can’t express the experience in words, but I just felt different.  

            I’m a solitary ADF member and perform my rituals alone.  It was quiet in my room, except for the soft snores and sighs from my dogs who were sound asleep and oblivious to the proceedings.  I lit the candles and poured an offering of goat’s milk to Brighid.  The words I spoke, although familiar to those I have recited in the past, finally found their true voice and I was filled with an empowering sense of love and gratitude.

            When the ritual was complete, I brought my shawl outside where it would hang beneath the cold, star strewn winter sky to be blessed by Brighid when she passed by sometime during the night.  The jars of melted snow and goats milk were placed in my window sill.  The candle I lit in Brighid’s honor, and whose flame I will tend to until it is extinguished at the Spring Equinox, was left to burn all night.

        
      

OMENS DRAWN:  Questions asked:  Do you have any wisdom to share and is there anything you require of me?

Shining Ones:  Ruis-Elder: Transition

Ancestors:  Muin-Vine:  Introspection

Land Spirits:  Ur-Heather:  Dreams, Feelings

Brighid- Deity of the Occasion:  Or-Spinille:  Creativity

(Word Count:  550)