Today marks the occasion of Candlemas, and also is a day that many celebrate Imbolc (though technically Imbolc occurred yesterday, as did the feast day of St. Brigid).

Photo by ndrwfdgg

I admit, this year I have (once again) fallen down on my observances. The best intentions — to make bread to set out, to have a corn dolly to dress, to make candles — have not been squeezed into my exhaustingly busy schedule.

This year, because I’m exploring Christianity more deeply, and how festivals and feast days there fit with the turning year, I am thinking more about Candlemas.

In the church, Candlemas marks three things: 1) the purification of Mary after childbirth, 2) the presentation of Jesus at the temple as part of the redemption of the first-born, and 3) the prophecy of Holy Simeon.

The end of Christmastide

Photo by Editor B

So what is Candlemas? First off, if it’s the very tail-end of the Christmas season. The absolute, no-seriously we’re done end. If you haven’t taken down your Christmas decorations, this is the absolute last day to do so. It’s also traditional to burn Christmas greenery this day — provided, of course, that your greens are real and not (like mine) the kind that get packed back up in their box, and it’s not a no-burn day where you are.

Weather Lore

Photo by slgckgc

It’s also a day for weather lore. In addition to the most-familiar Groundhogs day (Punxutawney Phil has apparently already predicted six more weeks of winter for us this year), there’s other weather lore associated:

If Candlemass day be dry and fair,
The half o’ winter to come and mair
If Candlemass day be wet and foul.
The half o’ winter gane at Yule.

It’s dawning dry and fair where I am, so it looks like we’re in for a bit more winter. Fair enough, we could use the rain.

Feast of Candlemas

Photo by ultrakml

Want to feast on Candlemas? Crepes are a traditional food, which makes a lot of sense. This time of year, spring has not yet come and spring fruits and veggies have yet to appear, but the stores of winter are growing thin. Foods that can be made with things that store well over the winter are key; making a feast out of what is left lurking in the dark corners of the pantry.

Blessing and procession of candles

Candlemas is also a time when the candles for the year would be blessed and processed. Why candles? As best I can tell, it ties back to Simeon’s words of prophecy as Jesus is presented at the Temple:

Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”
(Luke 2:29-32)

This, for me, is where it all ties together. Candlemas is a feast that still comes in a time of darkness. The days are lightening, things are getting better — but we don’t see it yet. The changes are imperceptible, working deep in our hearts and souls.

Photo by Beige Alert

We light candles in the dark to hold it off, and to remind ourselves of the light sure to return. We make feasts of the the scraps we are left with, sweeping around for the stores of winter and pulling together something nourishing and delicious.

Simeon refers to Christ as a light of revelation. It must have been hard to see that in a small baby who had yet to become who he was. But Simeon did. I think it’s hard to see now, too. Look around at a world with so much suffering and conflict, where faith has become a battleground and used to hurt as much as to heal.

But even in the darkness there is change and germination, working it’s way deep inside, preparing to grow. Even when we can’t see the potential yet.

As part of my service in Come As You Are Coven this year, I decided to work on our public service track. In all my religious paths giving back and doing good in the world is of a very high importance to me, but like so many rushed people it has a tendency to be one of those things that is easy to let fall by the wayside.

My first challenge here was finding something to do. I had a lot of ideas for things I’d like to work on — volunteering with hospice was one or prison literacy programs or programs that feed the hungry. I looked into becoming a medic with the Berkeley free clinic.

But I quickly ran into a problem and that was this — it’s very difficult to balance volunteering with a demanding job. I looked at an awful lot of volunteer programs that had requirements I just could not meet. They want people to be there from 3-5. Or arrive exactly at 5. Others could work (the medic program being my favorite of those) but the training just wasn’t realistic for me right now.

So I was stumped. It frustrated me on a few levels; one because I think it’s problematic that volunteer programs that need help aren’t necessarily keeping up with the realities of modern working life (long hours, long commutes, less options for flexibility in this economy) and second because I really do want to be able to do these things.

Finally, though, in a conversation with the Lady Yeshe Rabbit it dawned on both of us that, hey, there are a lot of charities that look for knitting donations and what do you know, I’m a knitter.

Yes. I probably should have come up with that one sooner.

I’ll be perfectly honest here and say that it’s not my ideal form of service. I want to be able to do things that put me more directly in touch with people, not so safely ensconced in my world. But with the realities of a demanding job and a more erratic schedule due to it being an election year, it’s a much more sustainable and realistic option.

As I move forward in this, I hope to share my projects and talk a bit about the different organizations. I’m hoping to knit for a mix of more established organizations as well as smaller efforts; I’ve joined a group on Ravelry and have seem calls for things for smaller, grass-roots efforts as well as organizations. So here’s to putting my love of yarn to good use!

The other night, the power went out in my neighborhood.

This doesn’t seem like a big deal, and in a lot of ways, it isn’t. I have a lot of candles, so I was able to light them and have enough light to read and knit. My laptop battery was charged too, so I was able to get so me things done (though nothing that required Internet, which most of my to-do list does.)

But then it came time for me to sleep and the power was still out. So blew out the candles, and found myself in true darkness. Even when it’s dark here, it’s not really dark. The glowing numbers on my alarm clock illuminate my room, accompanied by the soft flicker of the Wi-Fi router. I have blinds and curtains but even then the security lights from the building next door bleed through.

This was true darkness. Heavy, thick. I could see nothing, only wait in stillness and mystery. No distractions, nothing but me and my mind and this space.

Once a year, CAYA Coven goes on a retreat. We go somewhere that has no cell phone access, and the first year I think everyone (including me) thought I’d go twitchy about two hours in. But I didn’t. I love my phone yes, but I also enjoyed the slowing down. The meals with friends, the conversations, lying on the Earth and feeling the solid ground beneath me, darkness at night and the stars shining bright.

I want to make room for more opportunities for that. I don’t, as a rule, camp. (At least not the kind that involves tents.) But I want to find a way to make space to have that stillness. Perhaps alone, perhaps with friends. I want to find a place with no schedules or deadlines, to be present and feel the world around me.

To find a place where there is darkness and sink into the deep mystery. To face my fears of what lurks in shadow and seek revelation. To feel the darkness and the light, and in the place between become whole.

Don’t worry. This blog isn’t going anywhere, I’m just adding to the mix.

As you may have noticed while reading this blog, my spiritual path has been taking some new twists and turns lately. One of the things that has come up is my goal to read the Bible all the way through sometime.

It’s something I’ve meant to do for some time, for reasons both religious and literary, but I’ve always fallen behind somewhere. I start and then get distracted, or I try to do too much at once and burn myself out.

This year, I decided to make it part of my spiritual practice; a daily reading. Turns out, there are people out there who have (very helpfully) already figured out exactly what you need to read per day to finish in a year! I was talking about this with a friend of mine and she thought it would be interesting to do it along with me.

Then, because we are coming at this from very different perspectives, we decided to start a blog. It’s going to (hopefully) be rather content-heavy and I realize that the content might not be everyone’s cup of tea. That said, if you’re interested in seeing what we talk about, I invite you to check out Oaken Grove. We’re officially starting on the 1st of the year, so it’s all administrative stuff for now, but if you are curious I do hope you’ll check it out.

Last night marked the Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year.

This time of darkness draws us inward. The cold and the dark force us indoors, make us feel sleepy and long to cozy up under blankets. We want, in this time when the wind howls at the door like a wolf, to draw our loved ones close and fill our homes with lights. Candles glow and tree lights sparkle.  We gather together for feasts and laughter to brighten up the dreary days.

It’s easy to feel in out of touch with the world in these modern times. Our bodies don’t adjust to the changing light; we force a constant grinding schedule on ourselves with artificial light and schedules marked by clocks.

But it calls to us anyway. Tells us to slow down. To enjoy and appreciate what we have, to  hold it close and cherish it.

I spent the Solstice night at home, curled up beneath blankets, candles glowing. I pulled out my yarn with renewed enthusiasm for my crafting. This time of year, especially, I long to show my affection in tangible form.

Today, the light begins to return. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the days begin to lengthen. The sun warms us more, growing stronger each day. But for now, it’s dark. Peaceful, quiet, and dark — and with the returning light, the returning hope for abundance and warmth.

In the meantime, I wish to all my friends and readers a blessed Solstice, for we are climbing out of the dark. May the light return and may you celebrate and hold your loved ones close this time of year as we light candles to chase away the dark.

Blessed Solstice!

This Sunday of Advent is love.

This is a hard one for me to embrace, in terms of Advent.

On the one level, it’s somehow the easiest. This candle represents God’s love for us; so much that he gave his only son to the world. The love that Jesus taught and lived, the love for each other and humanity.

But it all comes crashing headlong into our cultural understanding of love. There’s an idea that you can tell the role something plays in a culture by how many words there are for it — in our language we really just have love and I can’t help but wonder if we wouldn’t be better off if we, like other languages, had a few more options.

We tend to look at love in a very limited way. When we say love what mean, usually, is romantic love. The love of a partner/spouse/significant other.  When we don’t have that — especially this time of year — it tends to feel like one doesn’t have love in their life.

I know I’m guilty of this. I’m guilty of it a lot; I will confess here that it’s probably my biggest hurdle. Because for all I have built a fairly successful independent life, I still desperately want to find someone and fall in love. I’m a (not so secret) romantic at heart and I have spent a lot of time wondering why this has never worked out in my life.

It’s easy to get sucked into that spiral and forget about love in other forms. That there is the love of one’s family, be it chosen family or blood family. The love of friends.  Even beyond that, learning to feel love, of all forms. From the abstract love of humanity, to the concrete forms it takes.  I’m taking this candle as a reminder to open my heart and allow myself to be vulnerable, to feel love in any form. It feels risky, it feels dangerous but maybe that’s the point.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.
–Love, Actually