It is February

Gentle Imbolc blessings. And a poem: This narrow passage

February so often fools me. Imbolc, new beginnings. Longer days. (Some of them mighty warm!) I feel the subtle quickening, my seeds restless and stirring…

But then I remember that I tend to incline towards being a pulled-down-to-earth and hide-in-the-cave kind of winter girl until at least after Lunar New Year (Feb 17th this year🌙). Too much going out or even just doing can be disorienting when I’m in my winter cocoon.

Imbolc does mean 'in the belly,' after all¹ – we are still gestating in the womb of Earth Mother’s winter. So I will hide in my burrow as much as I can, futzing around and letting my mind untangle, unwind …listening …dreaming the dark…

I wrote the poem below in a more spacious year, when I didn’t feel the tug of civilization pulling on my hem, saying, “Hey, what are you doing? Aren’t you starting offering gatherings again this month?” (Yes, I am.² With a little bit of reluctance, I’m peeking my head out of my burrow – but perhaps we shall start small, and simply practice together – these are, after all, meant to be spaces of deep listening :-)

But ahhhh, with the year ahead pulling me into its current, I still long for bits of this: Rest your thinking brain / Let loose its reins…

I had a dream reminder recently to make more “aimless art” – to really allow the mind to unravel into the wild, formless spaces. The goo in the chrysalis. Poetry can be one of those. So can be doodling, painting, singing, dancing, making earth art…

I’ll soon share more of why I think practices like those – especially when done aimlessly (ie, with no thought of outcome, and for no other reason than personal experience) – can be so important not just for the psyche, but for humanity. But for now, I simply wanted to briefly say hello, and wish you time: to daydream, to let your mind drift out among winter’s sparkly stars, to allow yourself to become unmade just enough to be humbled open by the wonder of it all…

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This narrow passage

(Spoken-word version below👇🏼)

Remember to be gentle
Patient
It is February
You still live in the mystery
Winter’s deep
Let life surprise you…
when it’s ready

Rest your thinking brain
Let loose its reins
For wandering into
earth’s crevices
Amidst tendrils
of barely spring new

It is stark
Barren
Let yourself be cast
into the dark
The quiet cave
where your song
is the only company needed

We’re all just making it through
this narrow passage
Tend small things –
birds, houseplants, soul –
with tender care³

@arianasaraha

⫷ Ariana Saraha ⫸ on Instagram: "In some time zone it’s still F…

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p.s. I’ve made a few small bits of “aimless art” since that dream prompted me, and each one has surprised me. (I’m sure the middle one looks very thought-out, but it was actually just an in-the-moment response, a way to process some grief I was feeling.)

Inky gladiolus || Sharpie t-shirt design || Earth offerings

Today’s art (below) was perhaps a little less aimless – an actual attempt to love the land and learn something new. A friend taught me while we sat in the sunshine. A Brigid’s cross, traditionally made on Imbolc in my ancestral lands. I could have learned years ago on YouTube, but I wanted to learn from another human being as we have done for millennia... Made here of willow – a little bonier and more rustic than the usual – because in Colorado, all our grasses & rushes are too dry and brittle this time of year.

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1. I’ve just learned this meaning – oh friends, there is so much for we cultural orphans to learn. My own ‘rewilding’ and reconnecting journey has largely been one of rekindling direct, reciprocal relationship with the land – including her animals and plants – but our ancestral traditions hold so many teachings and grace.

2. Land Listening Circle this Saturday, Feb 7th in Boulder. And the The Moving Soul starts again next Thursday, Feb 12th

3. Originally published at rewildingwonder.com/poetry/this-narrow-passage. Written in the New Mexico desert, February 2023