Imbolc is just a few days away and as it seems to do every year at this time, the weather has turned dramatically windy and stormy. As I write this gales batter my home on the south coast of England, with gusts of 70mph forecast and the threat of ’structural damage’ being broadcast across the media. When I hear these warnings I always wonder what I should do, since it seems impossible for me to move my home and ’structures’ to less threatened parts of the country. It gives me a small insight into how folk must feel when there is an imminent flood warning issued which affects where you lie. Yes, we can remove precious objects from the immediate area, perhaps move furniture upstairs and so forth; but then after that? We have to sit and wait for the powers of nature to take their course. No amount of money can ever fully control these elemental forces, some of which we have unleashed with our incessant demands for more power… (double meaning intended).

Imbolc has always seemed the most challenging and difficult time of year to me, and our Grove rites always seem to have reflected that. From our first ever gathering on a soaking, drenching wet and windy morning in Bernwood, when everything and everybody got utterly soaked – and when I received a pre-dawn phone call from an individual who would have been coming along to join us for the first time asking if we were going to ‘postpone’ the rite because it was a bit wet – through to the present day, Imbolc has always presented unique challenges. This year seems no different, and so I often think about how the goddess Brighid is perceived by others, and how their relationship has developed.

As with many pagan deities our perceptions seem shaped not so much by personal relationship and connection, but more by the writings of others; and so a modern ‘mythology’ develops and shapes perceptions. Brighid is often seen as a kind and gentle guiding protecting goddess – and this she can be. But for me she does not offer that protection simply or easily. What makes her even more elusive is that she is so entwined with the Christian Saint of the same name, and to attempt to disentangle the two in a scholarly sense seems an impossible and fruitless task.

Some interesting writings on Brighid can be found at http://www.maryjones.us/jce/brigit.html. In particular her possible connections with the Welsh boar Twrch Trywth seems of significance – at least to me! And her ‘invention’ of keening seems to bely her gentle and controlled image:

According to Lebor Gabala Erenn, “{w}ith them were, and were heard, the three demoniac shouts after rapine in Ireland, whistling and weeping and lamentation.” This is reminicent of the tradition that Brigit was the inventor of keening:

“Bríg came and keened for her son. At first she shrieked, in the end she wept. Then for the first time weeping and shrieking were heard in Ireland. (Now she is the Bríg who invented a whistle for signalling at night.)”

–The Second Battle of Magh Turedh

                             from Jones Celtic Encyclopaedia 

For this writer she is much more than this gentle goddess of hearth and home, and I wrote these words at Imbolc a few years ago that seem to sum up how she appears for me:

You seek comfort of my arms?
You seek the nourishment of my mother’s milk?
The reassurance and protection of my guiding light?
And yet,
and yet….
I am no Christian Saint, gentle and kind,
Overflowing with love and tenderness.
I am old beyond time,
Older than you can know.
I am the challenge of springtime,
Bare branches outlined against a low grey sky.
I am the chill biting winds of spring, clawing,
Drawing rich red blood from your cheek.
I am the frozen earth beneath your feet,
Daring new shoots to challenge the cold
I am the pain of childbirth, searing through your body,
Screaming in anguish and praying for release.
I am the inspiration of poets,
The muse who dares take you beyond all you know.
I am the promise of hearth and home,
Of warmth and comfort, if it is to be found.
I am the flame that never dies,
That may turn you to ash in searing pain.
I am the forge that transforms your soul,
Tempering you into what you can be.
I am Brighid, triple inspiration;
Healing – for those who feel me.
Creativity – for those who hear me..
Transformation – for those who know me!
Do you know me?
Dare you know me?
…… Dare you?

After the storms there is, it seems, to be a brief respite, before they return on Sunday and through next week.

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