Whistling in the dark . . .

The Blessing of Brigit

I am under the shielding of good Brigit each day;
I am under the shielding of good Brigit each night.
I am under the keeping of the Nurse of Mary,
Each early and late, each dark, every light.
Brigit is my comrade-woman,
Brigit is my maker of song,
Brigit is my helping-woman,
My choicest of women, my guide.

The veneration of Bride is one of those interesting conflagrations in Celtic spirituality, the coming together of a pre-Christian goddess and fifth century saint whose stories have been woven together to create a tapestry of legends that continues to intrigue and inspire. Brighid the goddess invented keening after the death of her son and, according to the story, was the first one to whistle in the dark to let others know of her presence.   Brigid the saint traveled through time, had a magic cloak, and always seemed to find a miraculous way to provide for the sick and needy who crossed her path.  They were wise women, known for their powers of healing and both goddess and saint are credited with being keepers of the flame and patrons of poetry. 

Known by many names in the Celtic world-- Brigit, Brigid, Brighid, Bride, Ffraid, Mary of the Gael-- whatever you want to call her, today is her feast day, and the first day of Imbolc, the start of spring in the Celtic calendar. 

A great resource for learning more about
the history and rituals of Imbolc.
 

Part of following the path of Celtic spirituality in the 21st century is reimagining the rituals of the past to fit the world of today. Many of the ancient rituals of Imbolc focus on hearth and home, a realm watched over by Brigit. Cleaning out clutter, kindling the hearth, lighting fires, and inviting the holy to cross the threshold are all activities for the beginning of spring.  Earlier this week I did some decluttering as I sensed a whiff of spring in the air when I spied way-too-early blossoms on a cherry tree near the cathedral and noticed the maple tree in my backyard is kindling little red buds on the tips of its branches. 

But now Imbolc has officially arrived and I'm wondering how to best mark the day.  (Cleaning is NOT an option.)  What keeps coming to me is the idea of tending the flame.  How can I kindle my creative energy, fill that well of writing that I feel is running dry? 

As I was journaling this morning I wrote that I feel like my writing is out there somewhere shrouded in a dense fog and every time I try to reach for it, I end up bumping up against something I didn't expect that knocks me off kilter.  Instead of trying to move forward in the dark, as was my plan for the day when I woke up this morning, maybe for the rest of the afternoon I just need to sit still, be quiet, and wait for Brighid to whistle. . .      

You gotta love a goddess who can conjure up her own light to read in the dark!