There is a moment in the turning of the year when, though winter still holds the land, a hush of expectancy stirs beneath the earth. The first snowdrops bow their pale heads. Lambs begin to appear in the fields. The quality of light subtly shifts — a promise whispered on the cold air. This is Imbolc.
Traditionally honoured at the beginning of February, Imbolc marks the ancient festival of the first stirrings of spring. It is a time of quiet, of tending to the embers of our inner fire, and listening for the voice of what wishes to emerge.
A Time of Subtle Quickening
At Imbolc, nature teaches us about patience and promise. Though much remains hidden, life is quickening beneath the soil. Roots stretch quietly. Buds prepare to unfurl. The earth, though still resting, begins to turn toward light.
Within us too, there are tender stirrings. The spark of a new idea. The gentle call to begin again. The sense of something about to be born. Imbolc invites us to honour these quiet beginnings without rushing them.
A Simple Practice:
Take a walk at dusk or dawn. Notice the subtle changes — the birdsong returning, the faint perfume of damp earth. Pause at a tree or patch of ground. Close your eyes. Breathe. Ask yourself: what in me is beginning to wake? Then simply listen.
The Light Within
Imbolc was often celebrated with candlelight — small flames kindled in honour of the returning sun and the inner light that guides us through the darker months. It’s a beautiful time to reflect on what inner wisdom has been quietly growing in winter’s stillness.
As we light our own metaphorical candles, we make gentle space for hope, creativity, and vitality to slowly return.
Wishing you quiet joy in these tender days of emerging light.
