And here we are, on Brigid’s Day. Or, one of the Brigid’s Days.
In a world dictated by calendars, it’s traditional to celebrate Brigid on February 1st. Occasionally, modern time rhymes with ancient time - today is also the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.
We can only imagine how the ancestors who gave us “Imbolc” (a term that echoes with the meaning “in the belly” and “ewe’s milk”) would have celebrated this day, but we can imagine we catch glimpses of them as we dream with Brigid and look deep into the flames.
My heart is in Ireland today, as it so often is. And it will be with our most recent KnotWork Myth &Storytelling guest
and all the rest at the Brigid in Balbriggan celebration on February 3.And, my heart, is here at my own home, 3000 miles away from there.
A couple of years ago, Laura Murphy, whose Is Mise Bríd has made Brigid come alive for so many, honored me when she called me an Anchor for Brigid on Turtle Island.
The part of me that grew up by the ocean loves the nautical feel of that phrase, as well as the parts of me that resonate deeply with my own romanticized vision of the anchorite tradition, rose up to meet those words.
More potently, I feel like Laura named exactly what I am trying to do: catch hold of the fringe of Brigid’s great mantle, and, with my feet firmly planted here on the other side of the Atlantic, hold tight and weave in a few of my own strands.
Much of my work over the last few years has been in testing the question of just how to be in right relationship with ancestral and cultural traditions that I did not receive directly as a child. Consciously asking to be welcomed in - through books and degrees, through visits and deep friendships - that’s powerful, but it’s always a bit different than being born of a place.
And, in large part, that difference is born of my own sense of “hereness.”
All of us diasporic children, those of us here on Turtle Island, or Australia, or any other lands that are storied by another people (by peoples who were driven away or exterminated by colonists we also call our ancestors)… our story is marked by the tug between hereness and thereness.
Our bodies are informed by the land beneath our feet and the stories that we cannot hear, even as our minds reach out to the mythologies and spiritualities of the ancestral place.
asked me to send along a brief teaching about Brigid to the folks gathering at The Meadow Brooklyn because I was not able to join them in person today. I’m grateful to offer a bit about the tradition of the brat Bhríd and about what it means to honor Irish traditions in this part of our world.I wish you all the blessings of Brigid this day. La fhéile Bríde sona duit.
Wherever you are, She is here.
Let those words be true and trust them to change you in the subtlest and mightiest of ways.
In the bleakest times, we must gather & continue to create
If you’re seeking community and intend to birth new creative work in 2025 (in spite of it all, because of it all), I invite you to consider one of the writing groups I’m offering this year.
The Authors’ Knot Program, February - November 2025
An intimate 10-month online writing program for thought leaders, memoirists, and heart-led visionaries working on a book or another “big project.”
This is ideal for you if you want more accountability and more specific feedback on your work. We're really going to focus on making progress on the thing you've been longing to write.
Learn more & apply now.The Writers’ Knot Community, January - June 2025
This is the long-running global community where the mythic imagination meets creative expression.
No push to publish. No critiques. No discussions of fancy prizes. In this group, our focus is on writing practice and creative camaraderie.
Register now
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