Come Bride, Come With Your Sacred Cow and Your Smith's Hammer, Come Across the Frozen Potomac
Some winters this doesn't happen at all, but, for almost a week, the beautiful Potomac River has been frozen, well, at least covered by a sheet of river ice. It's so amazing to me to drive past, and then over, it every day, as I do, and to see it covered in choppy ice, from the Teddy Roosevelt Island all the way to the Kennedy Center.
Water, in my cosmology, is about flow, change, cleansing, shifting, floating, drift. Seeing the most important body of water in my natural world frozen, I'm reminded what happens to Water when Fire is absent. Everything stops. It's gorgeous, and it reflects the Available Light beautifully, but there's neither solid ground nor cleansing flow. There's ice.
Imbolc's coming. Imbolc's about both the returning fire and sacred wells. Of course, it's about poetry. For me, this year, it's also about a focus on fire, will, intention, clinging to poetry. What's this Imbolc about for you? What is it that is frozen in your life? Towards which thaws are you yearning?
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."