A Modern Day Pilgrimage for Imbolc
The robins and the sparrows in the hedgerow and the sky called “Keep going, don’t give up!”. I walked along the cliff tops encouraged by their presence. Below on the shore the flock of sea birds waded one by one into the water. Together but doing their own thing. Onwards I went. The crow cawed, showing me a place to rest. I sat and stared out across the water, an expansive view in front of me. The daisies beside me had pushed themselves out of the cold soil and were in full bloom. Rising is possible, even from the depths of winter.
Onwards I pushed, determined to get there. The wind buffeted constantly pushing or pulling me, like it couldn’t decide which direction I should go. It got into my eyes and made me cry. I kept going until I turned the corner and there in front of me was the beach. I had it all to myself except for a lone dog walker, litter-picking as he walked. I took a moment to be grateful that other people care about the natural world.
I found a rock, sheltered from the wind and sat a while, warming myself in the sun and drinking tea from my flask. I had made it and I was okay. I reached into my pocket and took out two shells, plucked from the beach years before by my children. It was time for them to return to their natural environment. I offered them back to the sea with my intention for the coming year, to live an authentic life and follow my instincts. I stood and watched the incoming tide wash over them.
I left to begin my return journey feeling strangely relieved, lighter and convinced my intentions were ready to go out into the world, but also that I was leaving behind something; the remnants of my old life.
This was a pilgrimage I took last year at Imbolc, inspired by reading the book "Rituals for Life" by Isla Macleod and following my intention-setting blog post I wrote at the start of 2023. I found using the energy of the rising spring was the right time to think about the new year and to let go of some of the things that were no longer serving me.
