Editor’s Note: In early May, many of us gathered online (due to heavy rain) and some in person to celebrate the Maypole Ritual and the coming fullness of Spring. Once again, Kate Richardson offered her Eulogy for Old Winter. She graciously shares it here.
Let’s say Winter is someone you knew – born around Yule, in his prime by Imbolc, declining into dotage as the sap rose and days got longer. Now it’s time to dispose of his remains. But we shouldn’t just unceremoniously dump him out without a eulogy! Who was this past Winter to you? How did he treat you, your people, your places? I invite you to share comments in the chat. Really, who is the eulogy for? It’s not for Winter – he’s long gone and couldn’t care less. Spring is way too busy claiming life and the land to give a care. It is really just for us. And what do we need it for? It’s a moment to take stock – to honor the lessons, grieve the losses, and celebrate the pleasures that he brought us this season past.
In my neck of the woods, this Winter was not especially memorable for his strength or commitment. He arrived rather late, and spent his youth not too sure of purpose. I barely had use of my down parka, the whole season. By the end he managed to muster up a couple of good storms, but then gave up pretty early and tottered off in an impressive welter of mud. There was one last late hissy fit of a snowdump, and an encore on the mud, but the last frost in my parts is well behind us already.
Even so, he was enough to remind me of the lessons past Winters have taught: the importance of husbanding resources and energy. Guarding the warm places. Taking care of the people we love. The importance of kindness and generosity.
Winter often brings sorrows, and this one was no exception. Sometimes we have to struggle with things like the power being out for days, or not being able to get places we needed or wanted to go. There was illness and death, and often isolation. Hard things may happen in any season, but Winter’s darkness and coldness can make them harder to bear.
But he also brings pleasures that we can not deny. The transformation of the land under new snow, the way light sparkles off crystal flakes. The bracing challenge of outdoor activity, whether play or work, can be so joyful. Winter’s spare coldness makes warmth especially delicious. The times we gather with loved ones carry extra sweetness.
And the final, great pleasure that Winter offers, is the moment we consign what’s left of him to the water or fire, and clear the way for the offerings of the next season. Good bye and good riddance, for in the end, he is gone, and we all are still here!
Stone has a beautiful language. Anyone who has ever had a rock jump out at them has heard it. Pick me! Pick me! Before you know it, you have either slipped it into a pocket, or you find yourself holding it in your hand, uncertain of how long it has been there.
Deep stone sleeps but the closer to the surface it gets, the more connected it is to us and our life cycles. Some rocks just want to introduce themselves and have a conversation. Some rocks will bite and want to be left alone. And some rocks have been looking for you to take them on a quest to some unknown corner of the world they have only heard about in the whispers of the deepest bedrock (even if that’s just your front yard).
[ALWAYS respect places that ask you NOT to take their rocks.]
The Trio
Different stones I encounter have different energies to them. Each sabbat, I put together a trio of stones to focus on for the following six weeks. It’s divination to me. I reach out into the web and see where we are in the world, creating a recipe of stone allies, and then I send that energy back out into the web.
I don’t usually use the same grouping of stones every year, but a couple of times I have. I will work with the stones I choose in my night meditations until the next sabbat, sometimes individually and sometimes as a group.
Most people will be familiar with Beltane if they associate it with the tradition of May Day. There are a lot of traditions associated with it that liken to fairy magics, because in the European continent, this holiday is the start of summer. Which is largely the reason it took me so long to connect with Beltane as a pagan holiday in America.
In my neighborhood, the flowering trees are just bursting with blooms and the air is fragrant with them. All the day lily shoots are that bright vibrant green that only happens in this short growth period. It reminds me that everything that dies has a chance to start again. So I wait every year, to witness this specific season for us, lest I blink in my business and miss it.
To me, this green is a fire, a catalyst, a call to action to spring forth into the world. And that is how I relate to the energy of this Sabbat, and that is reflected in my stone choices for this year.
How do we choose to walk in the world?
And we cannot forget, when engaging in a new adventure, one must be prepared for hardships along the way. So there is some protective energy evident in each stone. Companions along the journey.
Stones for Beltane
My stones for Beltane this year are: Lodolite, Carnelian, and Bloodstone.
The first stone I picked, Lodolite, is also known as Garden Quartz. It has all the focus and power of a quartz. The inclusions in the crystal keep it grounded and earthy and it’s related to prosperity and abundance. It is also a good gardener’s talisman and, who are we all if not gardeners of our own souls? We are weeding out what no longer serves us from our psyches and making room for new growth and new life.
You are the key to your own change, lodolite reminds us.
My second choice is an orange stone that also happens to be a chalcedony quartz, Carnelian. It’s associated with the lower three chakras, with energy unbound, uncurling from the earth as tiny seedlings. It is that spark of fire within us, the dry match just about to be struck. It is a stone of both courage and protection, long-used for carved amulets. This chalcedony buzzes with latent energy, made of both earth and fire.
Ready to strike, carnelian hums.
I work with two different kinds of Bloodstone. The more common version on the market has red flecks of Heliotrope in a green matrix. There is another, South African version that is more grey and translucent with red heliotrope inclusions. This is an earth stone and a protector. Warriors have used it for talismans in many cultures and I often use it as a curative, as a healing tonic, and as a shield.
Nourish the soil you stand on, bloodstone says.
Together these stones become a small burst of new energy, ready for activation. What growth are you bringing into the world with you this spring? It’s time for show and tell.
For Advanced Work
There is one stone I have always associated with Beltane, and that is Garnet. There are many kinds of colors of garnets: Almandine (red, purple-red), Spessartite (yellow, orange-brown), Pyrope (deep red), Grossular (white, yellow-green, brown-red, black), and Andradite (colorless, brown, black). It is a root chakra gem and has long been valued. Many creeks in the New England areas are littered with garnets.
It’s a high energy stone that adds potency to your magical workings. It helps move the kundalini energy through your body for full activation. Garnet does a lot of the heavy lifting for you. Because of that, if you suffer from anger issues or high blood pressure, this stone may be too strong on its own for you to use as a tool.
[Notes from Sarah Lyn: I never purchase rocks from people who do not know where they are sourced from. It’s important to know where your rocks come from so you can make informed decisions about where to put your money. For those of us buying tumbled stones at rock shows, we’re picking up the chips of what has already been cut from the earth, we are not part of the demand that influences the mining world. But know where your stones come from.]
This is the third blog post in a series on the topic of Heathen Holidays.
In February we began to really see and feel the lengthening of days as we moved away from Yule. Now, the seasons are indisputably changing – in warmer places, flowers are coming up, and even in the cold mountains of Vermont where the snow lingers, it’s finally melting faster than it falls and the air has the smell of spring. In Heathenry, we feel the subsiding of the Wild Hunt that rules the winter, and nights become less dangerous, making space for the beings of the land to flourish once more.
Today, our calendar marks four seasons, but the Venerable Bede tells us that “originally, [the English] divided the year as a whole into two seasons, summer and winter, assigning the six months in which the days are longer than the nights to summer, and the other six to winter.” These months were tracked according to the moon in a lunisolar calendar, information confirmed by Icelandic and other Germanic sources to be a pan-Heathen method of reckoning time. With the coming of the April moon, we transition at last into the summer season, and the “light half of the year.”
As ever, different branches of the Germanic people celebrated this time in different ways. In Scandinavia, they performed a Sigrblot – a victory offering – while in Old English custom, this tide was called Eostre and perhaps centered around a deity by the same name. While academics and pagans debate the historicity of Eostre and her worship, it is indisputable that today, many modern Heathens have found potency in venerating her as one of our gods.
Who is Eostre?
It is not incidental that the Old English name Eostre looks so similar to our word Easter. Most European languages derive their name for this Christian observance from the Hebrew word Pesach – but English, Dutch, and German all retain this same Germanic root, giving rise to Easter, ooster, and Ostern. Clearly this celebration was of particular importance in West Germanic Heathenry! Linguists have proposed that the Old High German equivalent word would have been *Ostara, a familiar word today as it was used in the modern Pagan Wheel of the Year to denote their spring celebration (though they also moved it a month earlier to align with the equinox).
The word Eostre is related to the word east, and derives from a Proto Indo-European root meaning “dawn.” Rob Schreiwer has collected a Pennsylvania Dutch story Oschdre (Where Color Comes From; Origin of the Distelfink), where the figure Oschdra, equivalent to Old English Eostre, is responsible for manifesting the colors of the dawn sky as she walks between her sisters Day and Night.
While few snippets of lore around Eostre remain, she is clearly far more than a simple seasonal figure appearing only at springtime. Instead, she brings the dawn of each day, and the spring is hers because it is the dawning of the year itself. Folklore also suggests a connection with running and welling waters and their magical healing properties.
One folk symbol that has become beloved on Chase Hill at this holiday is that of the Osterfuchs – the Easter fox – who seems to be an older being appearing at this season, eventually displaced by the later and better known Easter bunny.
Celebrating Spring
With the ending of winter, there are many rituals needed to close out the dark half of the year and look toward our summer work. Now that the Wild Hunt’s ride is over, it is safe to call on the spirits of the land once more. After the April full moon, we again put out any statues or garden plaques (such as a Green Man, Wood Wife, or other symbol of the animating forces of nature) knowing that they are safe from being harried by the Hunt. If you saved a symbolic token of your harvest such as a Harvest Queen, she should be buried in the ground at this time to return that fertility to the earth for the coming season. And, of course, we give offerings to the land as well – mead, bread, and eggs to feed the earth with our gifts and our gratitude, in the hopes of a bountiful summer.
German folklore tells us that Easter dawn is an especially potent time for healing rituals. Drawing on these old customs, specially appointed Eostre Attendants wake early before our ritual on Chase Hill, dress all in white, and draw water from the well in silence as day breaks. This water is poured over the hands of everyone at our ritual to help wash away whatever wounds we carry from the long dark of winter. If you have a local spring, well, or stream, you can easily draw your own healing water, so long as you set an early alarm! Wear white to honor Eostre, and don’t speak aloud until you have your water. Make sure to check the potability of your water source before deciding to consume it – but even non-potable water can be used for ritual washing.
Eostre is a time of hope and beauty, with flowers, light, and longer days. But spring was still a harsh time for pre-modern people. This is the so called “hungry gap” between the ending of winter and the first harvests of summer. Local New England lore tells us that the serviceberry tree is so named because when it blooms the ground has thawed enough to bury the bodies of those who died over the winter. Eostre’s arrival in springtime is not one of unfettered joy, but instead a time when we need to catch each other in our ragged post-winter daze and find softness, healing, and a place for the griefs we have endured in the last six months. Only by finding community and gentleness in spring can we recover enough to stand up for the work that summer will demand of us.
Stone has a beautiful language. Anyone who has ever had a rock jump out at them has heard it. Pick me! Pick me! Before you know it, you have either slipped it into a pocket, or you find yourself holding it in your hand, uncertain of how long it has been there.
Deep stone sleeps but the closer to the surface it gets, the more connected it is to us and our life cycles. Some rocks just want to introduce themselves and have a conversation. Some rocks will bite and want to be left alone. And some rocks have been looking for you to take them on a quest to some unknown corner of the world they have only heard about in the whispers of the deepest bedrock (even if that’s just your front yard).
[ALWAYS respect places that ask you NOT to take their rocks.]
The Trio
Different stones I encounter have different energies to them. Each sabbat, I put together a trio of stones to focus on for the following six weeks. It’s divination to me. I reach out into the web and see where we are in the world, creating a recipe of stone allies, and then I send that energy back out into the web.
I don’t usually use the same grouping of stones every year, but a couple of times I have. I will work with the stones I choose in my night meditations until the next sabbat, sometimes individually and sometimes as a group.
Spring Equinox is one of my favorite sabbats. Even before I understood that I was pagan, I would thrill as the early flower buds littered the yards with splashes of color. And there was always that first day when you noticed the first bud on a tree; and then the next day, it seemed, every tree would be bursting with them.
It’s time to start thinking about the Work we have done through the winter. It’s time to take those new pathways and take action to set them in motion.
We must all become the young shoots pushing up out of the rich soil.
So many of my beloveds are undergoing transformations and growth cycles right now. Some of them have even bravely chosen a new path.
The stones I chose for Spring Equinox this year have heavy growing properties: Moss Green Agate, Snakeskin Agate, and Amazonite.
Why the two agates? I always joke that if you don’t know what one of your stones is, it’s safe to guess that it’s either an agate or a jasper. Yes, they are that common, but they are also the extreme work horses of the metaphysical stone world. And agate, over jasper, reminds me of glass, which brings to mind the idea of lightning striking sand to create it. What a great representation for growth and change. Agate, the mineral, is a form of chalcedony, a form of quartz.
In my spellwork, Moss Green Agate always represents the Earth, the planet we were formed from and live upon; it’s an exceptional gardener’s talisman. It is semi-translucent, with inclusions of blue and green. Each one is different from the next. It helps me to use it as a foundation piece for any type of growth work—an anchor of who I am and where I am.
Remember where you come from, moss green agate says.
A particular stone that is important to transformation work to me, is Snakeskin Agate. It’s usually similar in orange color to carnelian, but the surface is broken up, giving the appearance of scales. I have heard that it can come in browns and whites, too, but I have yet to come across any in those shades. This stone is about movement and change. Its energy is like the kundalini energy rising up through your chakras, readying and preparing you to take action. It also has an undercurrent of joy and wonder at life that helps boost the positivity of the spell.
What doesn’t change, stagnates, it buzzes.
I often use the other two stones for Equinox work, but this third stone is important to this year. So many of my loved ones are struggling. Amazonite is the perfect addition to this trio. I have it in multiple shades of blue/green with white banding and markings. It is a creative talisman, and a good stone to add to work on change and transformation. It’s a creative stone that is also protective. Think of it like a shield you hold out in front of you. It adds a touch of grace to the mix, too.
Know what you want, it says.
Together this trio creates a well of energy you can tap into and access. We’ve been working on healing through the winter. Now it’s time to take what we’ve done and step back out into the world, with slightly different eyes. What growth are you bringing into the world with you this spring?
For Advanced Work
As Equinox is a sabbat of balance, one of the stones I use to work with balance is the Shiva Lingham. This egg-shaped rock is a sacred stone in India. Its shape is the phallic shape of Shiva, but it is formed by the waters of a river where seven currents merge. This stone is seen as a balanced piece. There is a village at this river that has spent generations hand-polishing the rocks they pull from the river for delivery to temples across the country.
My personal note—beware the shiva lingham that someone drilled a hole through to make into a pendant.
[Notes from Sarah Lyn: I never purchase rocks from people who do not know where they are sourced from. It’s important to know where your rocks come from so you can make informed decisions about where to put your money. For those of us buying tumbled stones at rock shows, we’re picking up the chips of what has already been cut from the earth, we are not part of the demand that influences the mining world. But know where your stones come from.]
The abundance of life and webs of nourishment in the land where I live are fascinating and ever changing. Whether we are tending a hardy houseplant or doing our best to grow much of the food we eat, we are forming relationships with plants, critters, and fungi, and it is a wonderful way to deepen our relationships with the Sacred Earth.
The first thing to do is to become acquainted —and comfortable— with failure.
The ability to fail successfully is incredibly empowering. If you’re just getting started with a garden, you will make mistakes. The way you dance with those mistakes may determine how deep your relationship with your garden will be. I have grown so much from my gardening fails.
“Listen” as much as you “do.”
Spend time just observing in the garden. Sit in it, make it a beautiful comfortable place with flowers and plants you love, and have a comfortable chair. I have a section of the garden that my toddlers were allowed to dig in and it became a place we all wanted to be. I would notice what plants were doing well (those sunflowers really love that sunny spot!) and what plants didn’t seem too happy (is it too hot for those peas?). Before you even decide on a spot to plant things, spend time outside, observing how the light and water move through the day and seasons, and where the snow melts first. I also enjoy planting phenology, or watching for signs for when to plant things. Blooming crocus means it’s time to plant spinach. Daffodils are blooming when it’s time to plant beets.
Honor your boundaries and needs.
Some of us have a lot of time and energy, and a large garden with orchards and a flock of chickens makes sense. Others feel stressed out just by the thought of maintaining all of that. You are part of the relationship you’re building with the land. Listen to your needs and desires as you make decisions.
Enjoy your first date.
Speaking of desire, plant things that will bring you joy. I love eating tomatoes, I love fresh flowers on the table, and I am amused by fast growing plants, so the first year we lived at our home in the Hilltowns I planted tomatoes, flowers, and peas, and I mulched my plants because I don’t enjoy weeding. Listen to yourself, and get your hands dirty.
Commitment and perennials
Perennials are fantastic; herbs, asparagus, berries, and walking onions are some of my favorite friends in the garden, but they take time to establish. Take time to listen to where the plants want to be, think about where you can realistically commit to tending them regularly, and make the decision together. You can always replant, but it will take a couple years for them to sleep, creep, and then leap again.
Plants have friends and frenemies too
We all have different needs and wants, and some needs conflict. If you observe and remain open to your plants, they will often let you know if things are (or aren’t) working for them. I had a close call with planting some trees one year; the town offered a group rate on purchasing black walnut trees, and I liked the idea of nut trees on the land where I live. After I placed an order, I had a strange dream and a gut feeling that I should google walnut trees, and in fact, tomatoes won’t grow near walnut trees (walnuts create juglone which is toxic to tomatoes). My friend was two trees richer, and my tomatoes were glorious that year.
Begin to think in circles and webs.
So often, we think of input and output, and cause and effect, as if things have a beginning and an ending. Healthy relationships, like the ones we’re building with the land, are often more complicated. Listen and open to the Earth, nourish your relationships with it, and let it guide you as you plant, feed your soil with organic matter, encourage mycelial webs to stretch out their fingers to tickle roots, and dance with water flow in your garden. Notice what grows well and look up what it is telling you; different plants grow well in different conditions. If you notice that chickweed is abundant, perhaps your soil is compact, and you might want to grow some daikon radish to loosen the earth a bit. Have tea with the bees and plant flowers, bringing cycles of fertility to your garden and beyond. Feed the worms and microbes with compost, and then let them be; digging disrupts the fascinating and fertile communities that live beneath the surface.
As we in the Northern Hemisphere turn again towards the bright half of the year, I’m looking forward to the sleeping land waking up and stretching new green to the sky. I’m looking forward to warm sweaters and looking for the first snowdrops poking their heads through the snow. I’m looking forward to seeing how huge my heat-loving pepper plant will grow in the microclimate I have near the bricks and asphalt, and I’m looking forward to my children’s faces smeared with dirt and raspberries, with spinach in their teeth. Our relationship with the Sacred Earth is a blessedly messy one, and I wish you all the luck with your plant relationships this year.
One of the things that drew me to Paganism early on was its emphasis on sovereignty: our path through this spiritual form is a self-governed one. We are our own priests, liturgists, omen-readers, and teachers. The edges of our Path gradually form themselves out of the different approaches and techniques we try. Over time most of us find a pattern: a set of practices that link up to a natural rhythm that works for us. The only problem? Where once there were three paths through the woods, there are now thousands that intersect and double back on themselves in an ever-growing array of potential routes to follow. We have reached the point where beginning the Pagan path, or simply choosing where to go next, can be an overwhelming prospect.
The good news is that everyone has their own individual True North: a spiritual and energetic alignment that is unique and leads to the best paths for each of us. We can think of this True North as supporting our autonomy – our ability to choose what is right for us. However, in an over-culture that prioritizes conformity and obedience, the voice of our True North can become muted. This deep voice is the voice of spirit rather than logic, and too often we lose that voice when we’re weighing options through the lens of logical, linear thinking.
One helpful tool for getting a clearer message from our True North, and the practices that will support it the most, is understanding our core self. We can see that self in the choices we’ve already made, the relationships we’ve cultivated, and the activities we’ve loved. I’ll use my own life as an example: I’m a creative: a writer, a musician, a poet, and an artist. I’m a helper human: I am drawn to situations where I can lend a hand. I’m an adventurer: I like to try new things and visit new places. The path of Paganism offers me many ways to address this core: devotional litanies and poetry, spell and ritual creation, shrine building, healing techniques for body and spirit, community work, festivals and conferences, and pilgrimages to sacred sites. Notice what’s not on the list as well: the more math- and science-based paths within Paganism. My core is fluid: word based, art based, intentional-connection-with-others based. Areas of focus within Paganism that fall into those categories are the most nourishing for my own spiritual growth. My True North nudges me toward those paths, even if the logical part of my brain wants me to get better at Astrology or Sacred Geometry. Although Astrology and Sacred Geometry are both awesome, I also know they’re not a good fit for my core self.
Knowing our core self and its alignment helps navigate another gap many of us encounter at some point along the path: the space between academic learning about the deities/pantheon/cultures we are drawn to, then pulling together a personal practice that works for us individually. The first part is vital, especially as all of us strive to step away from the cultural appropriation that was common in the early years of our movement. Learning about the history, mythology, and culture of deities and pantheons we feel attracted to should always be step one. It’s the second step where we need to include our core alignment in order to create a nourishing, sustainable spiritual practice.
Again using my own alignment as an example, the way I approach a new spirit or deity I wish to connect with is to learn where in that being’s comfort zone my own alignment fits. During a Deity Internship (a way of practicing devotion and connecting with a deity outside my regular spiritual “circles”) with the Kemetic goddess Serqet, I first learned everything I could about how Serqet was honored, what her stories were, and what her culture was like. I performed a divination to make sure she welcomed a connection with me (remember, the Gods and spirits have opinions — always get consent). I acquired incense that was reminiscent of the kind used by Serqet’s people and created a shrine for her using colors and items that would be familiar. Then, I brought in my own core nature: I created a litany of praise to Serqet that could be sung or spoken, and offered it to her when I burned her incense. I spent time journeying to visit with and speak to her. I brought my connection to her into my wanderings in nature so she had the option of seeing a very different landscape than her own. I combined what works for Serqet and what works for me into one practice. Serqet responded through signs and symbols in the mundane world and dreams and visions in my spiritual practices. Although my internship with Serqet is over, we still communicate regularly, and I value my time in service to her.
Spiritual practices are meant to grow. It’s important to remember that without the break in veneration due to the rise of other religions, our understanding of —and our relationship with— the gods and spirits of the ancient world would have continued to evolve just as we do. Using history as a starting point is good – it gives us context and prevents cultural appropriation – but history should be the base of a practice that extends upward and outward. People in 870 C.E. and 1290 B.C.E. experienced an entirely different world than we do now. We can only make guesses as to how they felt and what their cultural norms were through fragments of evidence. The gap between academic research and building a personal practice is a careful, conscious effort to place the history and mythology into our own world, our own lives.
The Pagan autonomy and sovereignty of path is both blessing and challenge: it calls us to know ourselves deeply so that we can choose wisely as we navigate our way in the world. It teaches us to learn first, but to adapt those learnings to our own individual nature. It is the ultimate DIY spirituality, but it is built on a solid triad of self, history, and practice.
So, what is your core? Fluid, smoky, fiery, earthy, edgy? When you connect to it, where does your True North tell you to go? Hit me up in the comments. You never know when your own ideas are exactly what illuminates the path for another.
This is the second blog post in a series on the topic of Heathen Holidays.
Chase Hill Æcerbot ritual
In February, we really begin to notice the lengthening daylight hours. Posting the seconds and minutes on Facebook no longer matters, because we can actually see it each day – and we, along with the plants and animals around us, begin to think about the coming of spring.
In Old English, the word for this time of year was lencten, which was then applied to the Christian observance now called Lent. But its etymological origin is in the “lengthening” of the day, and simply meant spring. Different traditions within Heathenry celebrate this time differently – but whether it is marked as Disting, Charming of the Plough, or Æcerbot, observing the shifting light is a sign of hope for those who live in cold, northerly climes.
On Chase Hill, we perform our Æcerbot ritual at this time of year. Named for an Old English charm to encourage field fertility, it is a time for us to honor all the beings that feed us – plant and animal – and wish them growth in the coming season. Despite the heavy snow and coldest temperatures of the year, this observance heralds the beginning of the growing season. In only a matter of weeks, the tree sap will begin to flow and the first harvest of New England will begin – maple syrup.
Reflecting on Food
Honoring the spirits of the land is core to the practice of Heathenry. In our modern culture, we are divorced from our food sources and it is easy to forget that we owe our lives not just abstractly to the land we live on, but literally to those beings that die so that we may eat.
In preparation for the Æcerbot, many of us spend a week thanking (out loud!) the animals and plants that make up our food each time we sit down to eat. That might be as simple as turkey, tomato, lettuce, and wheat before taking a bite of a sandwich – or you may find yourself researching the actual source of the preservatives or flavorings in your favorite bag of chips. No matter what, taking time to recognize all the things that make up our diet – a breadth of variation heretofore unimaginable in all of human history – brings awareness to how connected we are to the earth and so many other species.
During our community’s Æcerbot ritual, one of the offerings we give is to all the beings we eat. We pass a pitcher around the circle, naming beings that give us food and pouring water for each.
Offering of Cakes
This is also the time that Heathens shared cakes with their gods. The Venerable Bede tells us that February was called Solmonath (Cake month) in Old English because of the offerings given at this time of year. Recorded in Swedish and Norwegian folklore is the practice of gathering around the hearth, each member of the family taking a bite of cake in turn, and the remainder going into the fire. The Æcerbot charm, too, involves baking a special cake and laying it in the first furrow ploughed.
You can give your own offerings of cakes to the earth as she awakens from her sleep. There are many recipes already associated with this time of year – for many years I made fastnachts (Pennsylvania Dutch doughnuts) for Æcerbot from a family recipe. In Heathen practice, we always share our offerings with the gods and spirits – be sure to give a portion to the land, and a portion to each person in your house or at your ritual.
Blessing the Tools of Work
Blessing the plough for the coming year’s work is another important undertaking at this time of year, as shown in the Æcerbot charm and the surviving English folk customs on Plough Monday. But since most of us will not be taking a plough to the north forty when the ground thaws, how do we honor the tools that will sustain us through the summer?
If your work is at the computer, perhaps it is time to bless it. Or if you crochet or knit, those needles or hooks are tools you will be working with throughout the year. Pens, pencils, planners, or bullet journals can also be blessed. Nothing is too mundane – in fact, the idea of blessing these common objects is to ensure that the things you use every day are honored as sacred.
In Heathen ritual, we often pour our offerings into a bowl, allowing us to sprinkle the offerings on the space and the attendees as a blessing before returning it all to the earth. Be sure to sprinkle the tools of your trade before you pour out your offerings (ensuring any electronics are covered by something water-proof first!).
Or if you choose to focus your observance on the hearth instead, you can bless your tools with flame, another traditional Heathen blessing practice. Light your hearth – a simple candle on top of the stove will do – and pass your tools over the flame (carefully, so as not to burn or melt anything, including yourself!) before extinguishing it.
However you choose to welcome the returning light at this time of year, make sure to find time to give gratitude to all the plants and animals that have kept you alive over the last year and send your blessings out to the land that the coming year be one of plenty.
Stone has a beautiful language. Anyone who has ever had a rock jump out at them has heard it. Pick me! Pick me! Before you know it, you have either slipped it into a pocket, or you find yourself holding it in your hand, uncertain of how long it has been there.
Deep stone sleeps but the closer to the surface it gets, the more connected it is to us and our life cycles. Some rocks just want to introduce themselves and have a conversation. Some rocks will bite and want to be left alone. And some rocks have been looking for you to take them on a quest to some unknown corner of the world they have only heard about in the whispers of the deepest bedrock (even if that’s just your front yard).
[ALWAYS respect places that ask you NOT to take their rocks.]
The Trio
Different stones I encounter have different energies to them. Each sabbat, I put together a trio of stones to focus on for the following six weeks. It’s divination to me. I reach out into the web and see where we are in the world, creating a recipe of stone allies, and then I send that energy back out into the web.
I don’t usually use the same grouping of stones every year, but a couple of times I have. I will work with these ones in my night meditations until the next sabbat, sometimes individually and sometimes as a group.
When I was a young pagan, Imbolg was hard for me to connect with. What the lore I had access to described did not fit seasonally with our calendar. It was the Celtic mythology of Brighid, the triple goddess of smithing, bardic creativity, and healing that helped me connect. Imbolg is our deep midwinter, when those of us in the northern states are concerned with the effects of snow and ice and we create nests in our homes to stave off the coldest and most frigid nights.
May we all have shelter and food and warmth.
Imbolg for me, is a sabbat of healing, of beginning endeavors, and finishing commitment to projects. This year, the need for healing has been greater for my beloveds, as well as for our larger community circle. I can only imagine that need also ripples out.
The stones I chose for Imbolg this year have heavy magical properties: Fluorite, Amethyst, and Lithium Quartz.
One of the most powerful healing stones I have ever worked with is Fluorite, typically found with bands of colors, most commonly purple and green. I have collected fluorite from all over the world over the years. I also have it in green, blue and green, and yellow and green. They often form in cubic shapes.
To me, this crystal is always cool to my touch. When I do healing work, I have a couple of large pieces that I hold while I meditate. This stone amplifies your body’s natural energies and helps you equalize. It is also a good stone to use when doing remote healing for other people. I tend to have specific specimens that I build relationships with. This crystal enjoys connection and will enhance the energy of other stones.
Open to me, fluorite says. Healing flows like water.
Last month I talked about citrine, but for this season I picked its more familiar cousin, purple Amethyst, a form of quartz. Almost anyone who uses crystals knows this stone. It is a staple power stone in my toolbox and one I associate with the third eye chakra. It is one of the first stones I ever purchased. This stone is potent on its own, but when you add any stone to it in spellwork, it amplifies the duration and energy of the work. Amethyst and fluorite together are one of my favorite power couples.
We are powerful magic, it hums steadily.
AmethystLithium Quartz
To round out this trio, I picked Lithium Quartz. It has the great focusing properties of quartz, with the addition of lavender inclusions of natural lithium. There’s something intimate about this crystal. It is helpful for mental health endurance, for promoting a state of calmness while maintaining energy levels. Who doesn’t need that?
May all be well, it says.
Together this trio creates a powerful healing energy, strong enough for remote work. At Yule, we created a light in the darkness. At Imbolg we harness that light into a healing wand as we move through the coldest of our winter days.
For Advanced Work
If you want to go deeper into this season? I recommend using Blue Lace Agate. I usually describe agates as the workhorse stone of the rock and mineral world. It comes in a variety of colors and patterns. Blue Lace Agate is pale blue with white banding. Really good pieces have been difficult to find, so I tend to snatch them up if I find them. This is a stone I recommend to other people who need more gentleness in their hearts. It is an advanced soother, and relieves stress from both: the user and the person they are sending healing energy to. It’s a great support system for healing work.
[Notes from Sarah Lyn: I never purchase rocks from people who do not know where they are sourced from. It’s important to know where your rocks come from so you can make informed decisions about where to put your money. For those of us buying tumbled stones at rock shows, we’re picking up the chips of what has already been cut from the earth, we are not part of the demand that influences the mining world. But know where your stones come from.]
tiny white flowers cover the windshield a long wait for spring
the snowblower finally starts blue sky
the western glow before moonrise field of white
Deeper still
foggy night a twisting step to test for ice
snow drifting off the hemlocks frozen pond
winter moon shining white curve instead of stairs
after the blizzard between barred owl hoots silence
Emerging
walking the dog to where the snowplow stopped late winter sun
expanse of white loading firewood from the bottom row
forsythia — vase of branches and buds forcing spring
—
Credits: Six of these poems have been previously published in Frogpond 2009 Sp/Su; HPSWM 2012, 2018; New England Letters 91, 117; Nor’Easter 19; Stone Walls II v1.
Now that the Yule season is over, a lot of my friends have a hard time as they wait for spring. The days are getting longer, but we still have a stretch to get to Spring Equinox.
Here are some things my family and I like to do this time of year, in case they help you. Feel free to add your own ideas in the comment section below.
I set up hot chocolate or tea to be ready when I come back in from some bundled fresh air, yes even when I’m tired.
We light candles, even if overhead lights are on. It’s surprising how they can change the mood in a room.
I always have three or four books going. You don’t need to hold yourself to false moral reading standards. I usually have a comedy, fantasy, and a couple nonfiction books going on in the winter.
Stillness. We use winter to encourage myself to slow down, monotask, and to say “no” to lots of things. This is one of the ways we try to tap into the natural cycles that are so easy to forget with modern technology.
Darkness. I love it and I’m unafraid of it. I shower in the dark all the time and turn on as few lights as I can, both out of silly, childlike “can I manage to put my earrings away, find my pajamas, and get to bed without being able to see anything?” and because the dark allows other pieces of me to surface and flex.
Extra sleep. My Nan talked about how our Nordic ancestors told stories of how people would sleep more in the long dark and less in the endless day, so I often indulge in nine hours a night. I have a lush relationship with Dreams, and when I sleep as much as my body wants, it nurtures that relationship, and it is deeply nourishing to me. This is where the power of “no” comes in handy, because if I said yes to everything, I would not have the time to get this much sleep.
These are just a few ideas that carry us through the dark, cold days of Winter. What are some of your favorite activities, whether playful or self-care-ful?
