Tuesday, February 6, 2018

A Call to (Magickal) Arms

Jack Frost is taken by the sweetness of Spring. This time of year, here and there he let's her shake her shining locks, the fresh scents of emerging green wafting before us, just out of reach. She makes him want to dance, and he shakes free the flurries of snow that had gathered on his shoulders while he was enchanted by her movements, her laughter, her smile. Spring is Jack's undoing, and he loves it. His laugh bellows out a crisp gust of wintry air, and she is gone again.

Imbolg sneaks up on me every year, much like the hide and seek Spring begs of sweet Jack. I have my own memories and private thoughts attached to the celebration of purity and newness, yet constantly watch it pass. Perhaps my mind and body are simply mirroring the sentiments of the holiday: safely tucked inside, awaiting rebirth. Here in Massachusetts, February has been the coldest, snowiest month of the year for the past four years, at least. Though it is merely beginning, we are experiencing a small break from this new norm; there are only a few, small piles of snow leftover from the last fall of fluffy white stuff. Well, at least along the lower South Shore, anyway. The spring breezes and sunrises have enticed and enchanted us along with Jack. I can't help thinking that Mother Earth is restless in her hibernation, this year.

Regardless of my physical indifference to Imbolg, my recent endeavors to settle back into a regular practice and appreciation of the magick that surrounds us have been a little fruitful. Since Lammas of last year, I have been into cross-stitch, and have made one from each holiday since (aside from Imbolg...which I have yet to begin...) Working on my little decorations have helped bring me into the moment, and think on the seasons, their bounties, the life for which I am utterly grateful, and how I may continue to work on myself. For, truly, the voices that called me to this Path spoke to the pieces of me that wanted changing.

And coming home always makes my heart glow with a warmth akin to Spring's promised sunlight on Jack's chilly visage.

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