Reborn in the Fire of Spring

It's Imbolc season - the midpoint between winter Solstice and Spring Equinox.

I’m back on one of my favorite trails after three months, which means I get to see an old friend - Grandmother Sage plant.

Last time I was here, the late Fall wasteland was a brown facade brewing unsuspected magic beneath the surface. The crystalline purity of Sage's furry white halo contrasted sharply with the dark landscape.

Sagae plant Spirit by Dana Lynn

Now, I see she’s finally let go. Her tall stalks have shriveled, wrinkled and dried up.

Yet, here is the magic of Imbolc…

I find fluffy green baby shoots sitting on her lap, softer then a lamb’s ear, sharing her roots.

Grandmother offering her last breath to the newborn.

Today I greeted them, grandmother and baby, with a mind full and a heart heavy. I made my offering - a spiral Costa Rican snail shell I’d been carrying in my hiking pouch for just the right occasion. I sit quietly for awhile, listening to the musical trickle of the nearby creek. Then I ask ol’ Grandmother Sage for support that I might ground amidst the emotional storm of my week.

Her message seems to come from inside my body - “lie down.”

So I do.

That was when I saw her - the golden face of Mother Moon,  swollen and pregnant.

And then… one crow flying high above me.

And then, a family of crows passing.

Then thousands of crows leisurely migrating - an endless march of flapping wings and lazy cawing. An occasional flirtatious youth playfully dive bombs his friend mid air, but for the most part, they just follow the silent pull of the setting sun, going who knows where on their daily journey.

The contrast of their black cloaks magnify the tropical ombre of sunset. Every bird in sync with every other bird. Their formation naturally dipping and shifting with any subtle change of current.

And here I am - lying on my back at sunset thanks to the advice of an old friend, watching the moon and remembering who I am.

Celebrating the babies sprouting from the composted bones of their generous grandmother.

Remembering…

The moon doesn’t fight her waning and shedding.

Grandmother sage doesn’t resist her yearly death. She willingly sacrifices herself to the universal cycle and in that letting go - she is born again.

The crows don’t overthink it, they just follow their inner guidance.

My body relaxes, my soft gaze surrendering to the endless parade of crows as they sink deeper into an ever darkening sky for what feels like eternity but is perhaps fifteen minutes.

Hearing the creek nearby, I song begins to organically emanate from me; a song reserved for when I’m sad or when I’m singing to a baby that’s sad.

“The river she is flowing, flowing and flowing.

The river she is flowing down to the sea.

Mother carry me, child I will always be.

Mother carry me down to the sea”

Maiden - Mother - Crone is the story of the seasons and the human life cycle

THIS is Imbolc - a precious moment of purification and cleansing.

As Spring is born, the wise and ancient crone energy gives way to the innocent maiden, fresh from the Otherworld. Grandmother reaches down into the Earth, pulling up the vibrant youth even as she returns back down into the ground from which she came. Her final rest is the compost of possibility and hope.

The rebirth is upon us.

We’ve officially become virgins again.

At imbolc the Goddess of the Earth rekindles the fire of rebirth and renewls

Anything is possible.

May you be guided to find a quiet friend in nature next time your heart is heavy. May we put down our phones, for just a bit, and allow nature to effortlessly ground us.

The medicine we receive in return is infinite and priceless.

Blessed imbolc, friend.

Who is your nature ally that you turn to when your heart is heavy? You’re welcome to share below.