From dark to light. Blessed Imbolc.

Yesterday evening, leaving my midwife’s house after my 4:00 appointment, I exclaimed, “I think this is the first time I’m leaving when it’s still light out!”.

And this morning, while rising to get Cora ready for Montessori school I was similarly taken aback that we weren’t going through our morning routine in the dark.


The dark.

It feels like there’s a lot of darkness around lately.  I live a relatively insulated life surrounded by people who value peace, equality, and justice, but the difference between my bubble and what actually exists in the world is hard to accept.

And yet, all things in nature, our world, and our human psychology move in cycles from dark to light, dark to light.


Just as the winter seems like it can’t get any longer, the light begins to return. I hear birds calling where yesterday there were none.  The tracks of awakening creatures scurrying out of their burrows catch my eye when I walk to the compost pile.

And when my inner landscape looks dark, like I can’t face the realities of this world, the realities of how hard it is for me to parent my 3 year old the way that I imagine, then light returns to my heart, too.  I see her smile and tell me I am the best mother.  I feel new life squirming and growing within me. I see people rallying together for the world I believe in.


The world that is coming. The world that awaits when old, outmoded structures of being and doing and seeing from a place of fear are finally put to rest. From dark to light.


The light is returning once again. We are halfway to spring.

Blessed Imbolc.


(The photo of Brigid on my altar is by Joanna Powell Colbert)

Read last year’s Imbolc post here.

Gather has some awesome examples of Imbolc fare.


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