I can't sleep. Like it or not, this time of year leaves me so unsettled. I grit my teeth and keep on. After last year, I know what this is and how to deal. For that, I'm thankful.
This week, we've had an unusual spike in warm weather; this has come in the midst of one of the harshest winters I can recall, at least temperature-wise. The appearance of 60s on the TV screen stirred something dormant in me, and I could have burst out of my skin once I got out of the house. (I did shed my coat in about 20 seconds.)
The warmth still hasn't melted all of the ice and snow, however. In fact, outside of Newman remains a stretch of ice several feet long and a good inch thick.
Still, as I soaked up the sun today with my first iced latte of the year, I couldn't help but note that shift in winter that means there's light at the end of the tunnel.
It always brings me back to the Wheel of the Year, even though my days of observing it are well behind me now. I've always found incredible peace and comfort in its rhythm and celebrations of the changing seasons. Now, it doesn't surprise me that I take that same comfort in the liturgical calendar. In both faiths, the cycle keeps me grounded and moving forward.
I'm still hyper-aware on the Pagan sabbats that share the day with Church feasts. Of course, the Presentation was celebrated a few weeks ago; I immediately thought of Imbolc and its rituals, of Brighid and her priestesses keeping the sacred fire alive. The two holy days are both on Feb. 2.
We were exactly halfway through the winter that day. Outside, the snow that has clung stubbornly to the ground since Christmas was melting into muddy piles of slush. Soon, I told myself. Not too much longer, and we'll be out of hibernation.
Ostara will come, then a month later spring's first full moon, and Easter just after it.
The whole world -- body and soul, physical and spiritual -- will come alive again.
It never ceases to amaze me. :)
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