
This year’s Imbolc feels...well, I don’t quite know what it feels like yet. It’s a stirring—a quiet, persistent call I hear but cannot fully discern. And that’s okay. Not all things need to be named right away. Instead, I will lean into it. I will show up with my heart open and my spirit listening.
Tonight, as we gather together in this turning of the Wheel, I will listen—to the whispers of the earth awakening, the murmur of life beneath the frozen soil, and the steady hum of the fire refusing to be extinguished. I will listen to the wisdom of my ancestors, those who stood before us with courage and faith, their voices carried in my breath, my bones, and this circle of light.
I will call upon the strength that resides within me and within us all. It is a strength born of joy and sorrow, of endurance and hope, of countless seasons turning and returning. It is the strength of those who came before, who held the light when the nights were longest and passed it forward, just as we now hold it for those yet to come.
Because this is what must be done. To be present as the bridge between the past and the future, between the seen and unseen, to honor the beauty and challenges of our community as we walk together toward the light of the growing season.
Brigid's fire burns in more than just the fireplace. Her fires burn in the hearts of all who ask for Her help. Her love and guidance gift us with courage and lift our spirits, as Her flame lights the way. This night, I will stand as Her priestess, as one who carries Her light with gratitude, humility, and devotion.
Together, we hold Her flame, even when the path ahead is uncertain, and we fan its warmth to guide our community through this turn of the Wheel.
Blessed be and may Brigid’s flame burn brightly in us all.
Lady Cynthia
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