New Starts and Old Lessons

When I started my journey thirty years ago, it was the Spring that was standing at that gateway. It was the spring that first showed me the beauty of the Divine and the Feminine rolled into one beautiful flower basket.

Through no fault of their own, the first magic works I saw were all performed by elders in my family and community. Their strong faiths and belief in the work of their own hands combined every year at spring into spells that would last generations. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, extended families and an entire community thrummed to life beginning in January. I was convinced my grandfather was surely some type of grand magician. He took tiny things and used his hands to grow these big beautiful fruit trees and gardens, and he enjoyed it!

Those days will always remain the most vibrant and real examples of community effort magic I have ever seen. Any time I am working in cooperative magic, those are the pictures I hold in my head. I was fortunate enough to spend my childhood within the framework of Imbolc. There were cattle farms around us, there were gardens enough for hundreds and peaches enough for thousands. The power that grew around this little community hummed like a swarm of honey bees from January to August.

Every year without fail, all that was old was made new again. Furrowed fields sprang into rows of bright corn stalks, racing upward,and sprawling potato plants reaching out with their fingers and digging deeper at the same time. Blankets of soybeans, almost fluorescent green, and cool clover tall enough to hide in, or settle into with a book. Calves running through pastures, bawling and kicking and looking like big puppies you are almost sure you could cuddle. Chicks cheeping everywhere you go, from hardware stores to your own yard. For me, Spring was magic in action and visibly seen.

At the backbone of all this new growth, at the root of all new ideas for better harvest or greater yield, were the lessons of the five generations before. The tried and true ways of doing things. The inherited knowing. The ingrained knowledge of watching the skies, leaning into the weather, noting the native flora and fauna, and being fully aware of the interplay amongst all those things together ran in the blood of all these people. It was magnificent to watch. The old saying there is nothing new under the sun, remains mostly true in my mind. Yes, there is new growth and the beauty and the bounty it provides but it is based on very old lessons.

I have celebrated Imbolc without fail for 27 years now. Sometimes in lavish and decadent ways, full of rabbit stew and roasted root vegetables with a berry pie and fresh cream. I have spent an Imbolc with nothing more than a cup of coffee and a sunrise. I do however stop and give thanks in some way for the day. I give myself over to the blood-carried memories of knowing and watching and waiting for the right moments to start the garden. I let hands much older than mine guide my work in garden beds and greenhouse flats. I hear the voices of the past whisper how deep and how far to plant, how often to water, and how long to wait. Slowly but surely, new life erupts. The sound of old hymns ring in my ears as I walk through my garden space surrounded by new life. I am beyond thankful for those old lessons that provide me with so many new beginnings. Imbolc is when I sit with this and truly acknowledge its presence in my life. The promise of things made new and beautiful. The beginning of the season of plenty, which for me marks the blessings of Brigid.

Many of my songs have reference to the great trinity in my life, which is Brigid. I think there are a great many of us that connect to the great Goddess in different ways. For me, my offerings come in the form of music. Imbolc and Brigid are full of inspiration for me. I wrote a song titled Brigid’s Day last year for Imbolc and it still holds true now. As the last of the darkness gives way to new light , I reach out to her in that darkness to help guide my way forward.

“Mother Brigid , carry me through the last of these darkened days,
Hold me in your firmament, and teach me all your ways.
There is a fire and its growing, from an ember that you sparked.
So I will share a feast on Brigid’s Day, to warm men’s wintry hearts”

chorus of “Brigid’s Day” by Krista Chapman Green

I wish you all the greatest blessings at this season.
– Krista Chapman Green

all photos by Krista Chapman Green

For more information about Krista Chapman Green, including her collected articles here on Pagan Song, her bio, and links to Krista’s sites on the web, check out Krista’s page on Pagan Song.

For more articles about Imbolc, check out the Imbolc page within the Pagan Song Book of Shadows

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