Imbolc & the Moon

on trusting the future we can't yet see

One thing I love about living in the Midwest is being able to enjoy the four distinct seasons. As I write this I am watching juncos and sparrows fight over seeds that were scattered about under our maple tree. A feisty family of squirrels disrupts our feeders on a regular basis which leaves small piles of seeds on the snowy ground for the birds to find. In the garden, there are fragile green sprouts poking up through the cold dirt and snow and I’m pretty sure the sugar maple sap will start running soon.

I have been journeying through the wheel of the year for about 7 years now, and I love observing and appreciating all the ways the world changes as it turns through the year. The pagan wheel as we know it today, is actually a tapestry woven of many cultural threads. It’s roots go back to ancient peoples from all over¹ who marked their days with fire festivals, fertility rites, and agricultural customs. The wheel you see most often these days was developed in the early 20th century as a way to bring these traditions together into a coherent map that many people follow and weave into their own traditions (religious & otherwise). For me, this means that there is something new and seasonal to cherish and celebrate every 6 weeks though the year. This rhythm of celebrating in my own small, intentional way, has been a grounding and stabilizing practice in a season that has often felt confusing and disorienting.

You can find a lovely description of the Wheel here.

I was reflecting on this midwinter time of year and noticing that it is often a dark period for me, literally and figuratively. In January 2016 my youngest child was born, which was at once beautiful and terrifying as she had a very complicated birth. It was also the year of a very complicated presidential election which made my postpartum feel intensely fraught and vulnerable. In January of 2020 my youngest had to go back to the hospital to have abdominal surgery and what was supposed to be a 2 day inpatient recovery turned into 5 days with lots of stress and uncertainty. I remember gazing out the windows of our hospital room - watching crows and starlings as they swooped through gray, foggy midwinter sky. It was such a disorienting time. I felt both free of ordinary responsibilities, and also tied down, stuck in the monotony and fear of hospital life - the endless monitoring, pain management, and mindless TV watching. And just a few short months later we were thrust into the global pandemic! And then in January of 2021 (still in the midst of pandemic!) I remember turning on NPR in my kitchen to listen to the live coverage of a domestic attack on the Capital. Phew. I think there are some deep memories that resurface this time of year that make these days feel especially heavy and cold.

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This week we celebrate the midway point between the winter solstice and spring equinox: Imbolc. My kids love pronouncing this word as it is such an unfamiliar sound to their modern tongues. Imbolc (pronounced im-bolk or bolg) is a Gaelic word for “in the belly” because this was the time of year when sheep would be pregnant with their lambs right before spring. With or without sheep, it reminds us when things are dreary and dark (single digits here!) we can remember that the earth is waking up and the sun is on it’s way back to us. It’s also the time of year when seeds are stirring “in the belly” of the earth. The earth herself is quickening. I read something from Tara Rubinstein a few years back that has lodged itself in my heart: Imbolc is a holiday to trust the future we can’t yet see.

I pulled a card for this season and I got the Moon. The deck that I’m using combines the big energy cards with the pip cards, so this one is paired with 8 of hearts (cups). There is a dark moodiness to this card. In traditional decks, the 8 of cups shows a figure, disappointed and unsure, walking away from 8 cups toward a moonlit path. It’s such a good match for the energy I’m feeling right now in this new year. The figure asks, What should I bring with me…what should I leave behind?

The Moon (8 of Hearts), The Illuminated Tarot

The Moon is a card of mystery and darkness. It is card about trusting intuition, learning to walk in the dark, and exploring the subconscious. The darkness of midwinter falls during our New Year celebrations and all the anticipation around resolutions and plans. But also the apprehension - What will this year hold? How will things unfold? The blessing that Imbolc holds for me is trust. Can I trust in a future I can’t yet see? Can I walk through this dark season trusting that the sun will return and the stirring seeds will grow? Even when things seem to be falling apart, can I trust in the future that we are building together? Can I plant seeds that will slowly bring peace and wholeness to bear? The Moon calls me to trust my intuition, grieve and heal those parts that resurface each year, and walk slowly through the dark while those tiny golden seeds waken and stir beneath my feet.

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Since I didn’t write about any books specifically today, I’ll recommend a few here. Each of these is perfect for when you’re in a dark season or when trust is hard to find:
Learning to Walk in the Dark by: Barbara Brown Taylor
No Cure for Being Human by: Kate Bowler
When Things Fall Apart by: Pema Chodron

1. I focus mainly on the Northern Hemisphere, and particularly customs from German and French regions because of my known ancestry - but I also have a soft spot for Ireland, Wales, and the British coastlands. The stories and folktales from these regions just send magical chills through my heart. Oh, also nordic & arctic stories!