WHAT WILL WE CREATE AS THE NEW YEAR BIRTHS? MARRYING GAIA, GRACE AND CULTURE AT IMBOLC

What is being asked to be born from the chaos in the world today?

There is a deep magic that is sparked when a woman, held in a circle of women, commits to giving birth.  As she looks ahead to her souls greatest dream she is undoubtedly confronted with the first step of this new life, which is of course, death. What does she have to give death to in order to birth the world she really dreams of? The initiation of letting go, of surrender, is the only way through the painful birth canal.  The old ways will not serve her emergent self, the She who she is becoming in order to live and build her dream.  As women gather together in sacred circle at Imbolc, the mid-point between winter solstice and spring equinox, it is not a drunken baby shower vibe, but a deep ritual around the death that gives life, an equal commitment to honor the teachings of both the crone and the maiden.  After a deep circle on lunar Imbolc (2020), I am shattered open in awe of the great birthers of this new age…our courage, our devotion, our vision and our commitment. When we truly commit to know ourselves as women, we circle with other women who are also compelled to Truth and Love and understanding of our interconnection. Grace pours in, as love and devotion pour out for each other and the Great Mother. And there, we take our seats as authors and birthers of the new culture, of the golden dawn.

As the Earth births her new year, I birth mine. What is my role as a conscious agent of cultural shift, as a writer creatrix of the Golden Dawn, as She writes herself? Poet, for starters.

Imbolc

The moon blood comes to flow

And deep in my bones I know

It’s time to birth

Brida calls me out of my cave

I’m met with a bird song unlike any I’ve heard

All of the sounds from all of the birds

A noisey chorus or intense meeting mid-flight

A sign that spring is indeed alchemizing the light 

Followed by little white blooms, miners lettuce, mushrooms

Tree Seeds sprouting and grounding their tails

May we follow her lead and know the magic is real

The smell of the earth clinging to the lettuce is a perfect union of death and new life

The crone meets the maiden and life bursts forth

All is possible and connected, in unison

Crystal grids planted for my sisters

May the death complete for the life to rebirth

one by one she chooses to Become Her

the one the world needs

the one living as the future we seed

Truth, Love and Creative power

unique mix of wind water earth and star fire

today we birth our greatest desires

celebrating the Earths rebirth

women aligned, at the center, we are She