Imbolc falls on the 1st of February — or more precisely, when the first snowdrops appear. It is the festival of Brigid, goddess of poetry, smithcraft, and healing. But before it is any of these things, it is a sensory experience.
Reading the Land
In early February, the days are noticeably longer than at Yule. Not dramatically — but enough. The quality of light shifts. In the British Isles, the first lambs are born (Imbolc likely derives from "oimelc" — ewe's milk). Snowdrops push through frozen soil.
This is not metaphor. This is observation. The seasonal cycles are not symbolic overlays on a neutral world — they are the actual rhythm of the living earth.
Brigid's Flame
Brigid presides over Imbolc as keeper of the sacred flame. In Kildare, Ireland, a perpetual flame was tended in her honour for centuries. The flame represents the spark of life that endures through the darkest season.
At Imbolc, we do not celebrate the arrival of spring. Spring has not arrived. We celebrate the promise of spring — the evidence, barely visible, that the wheel has turned.
Practice: The Brigid Cross
The traditional Brigid's cross is woven from rushes in a four-armed pattern. The act of weaving is itself the practice: taking raw material from the land and shaping it with intention. This is the essence of Imbolc — the first creative act after winter's stillness.
How to observe Imbolc: - Light a candle at dusk and sit with the returning light - Walk the land and note the first signs of stirring - Begin a creative project that has been dormant - Clean and prepare your space — Imbolc is a purification festival - Weave a Brigid's cross from rushes, straw, or paper
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The Greene Man
Learning from nature in order to self-initiate. A digital mystery school rooted in nature philosophy.