I suppose that things have changed over the year to bring us back to Imbolc. The dog is sleeping by the woodstove, enjoying the warmth that it gives. The sun is trying to peak through the clouds to help warm the earth so that the flora and fauna of the farm can begin their annual awakening. And here I am, sitting on my couch listening to the quiet that can only occur in the country, wondering what to cook for dinner. It is a slow day full of activity. Subtle activity.
So what changed? Well, last year I had no dog. My old girl passed four years prior and I didn't have the heart to move another "best friend" into her place. But our new puppy is not a replacement; she is an addition to the family that is unique and original. She may have four legs and fur in common with my old dog, but beyond that they are as different as any two people.
I am also now living on a farm. I moved from the city to the country and am so happy that I did. The quiet solitude allows me time to think, time to grow, time to just be myself. There are pressures, but they are different here. Now I worry about when I should be looking to plant my garden and how far apart to plant the berry bushes. There is no more worry about the store across the street being robbed or if it alright to leave my car on the wrong side of the road for and extra hour. The quiet here is complete. It hits the soul and the mind all at once and engulfs your senses so that you understand that all is well and your world, my world, will is fine. It is okay to go slow, there is no need to rush. Time passes so quickly here, but it is measured in work accomplished rather than by the ticks on a clock. Here I feel whole.
And then I have changed. I no longer hold the same job, I left it behind me. I have rested, am resting, in the quiet solitude of winter in Central New York. The snow has blanketed me for a few months and will continue for a few more. But I do not sleep and leave all thought or activity behind. Far from it. I am working on who I am and who I am becoming. I am evolving, or as I once heard say, I am a human becoming because I am a work in progress that will never stop. To be a human being means that you have stopped evolving, stopped growing, stopped becoming. That is not what has happened at all. If anything I am doing more now that I ever have in the past.
And that brings me back to Imbolc. It is the promise of what lies under the surface of the snow. The promise of what has been waiting to be born again in the light and warmth of the spring. It is there, we are there, and now is the time to appreciate all of the potential we have at our finger tips to begin living and growing as the seasons begin to warm.
May you have a blessed Imbolc.