A Vow to Brigid
Most people would post their reflections on Imbolc and the Goddess Brigid prior to its passing. But, I am all about sharing what it is I am learning as it happens. Brigid has been a constant presence around me for the last few years. A constant presence that I constantly ignore. Soft goddesses scare the shit out of me… or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Give me Kali. I will crawl on my knees in broken glass and offer her my belly. I will stare her straight in the eye as she cuts through my bullshit. I will drink from her chalice. I will dance with Lilith until I realize she is the one dancing me. I will descend into the darkness with Persephone, sift through the muck with Hekate. I will let the Dark Goddess devour me from the inside out and back again. I am comfortable in this space. With tears streaming down my face. Throat raw from screaming, cursing, and calling out my own name.
I call out my own name, and Brigid answers. Hair like fire. She waits like slow burn, like eternal flame at the entrance to the cave in my soul where I go to do my own work. She beckons me out with song. Tries to show me that healing doesn’t always have to be a battle, sometimes it can be like the gentle lap of warm ocean waves. It can be like chicken soup. Like swaying to Hallelujah on repeat.
I read that “a vow to Brigid is a vow to your own healing.” Can I admit that sometimes I like to be in my cave? Sometimes I like to dig and dance and descend deeper and deeper and deeper. There is medicine in the dark… and Brigid whispers, “There is medicine in your light too.”
Yesterday I spoke to a dear being in my life about connection. “I am mine before I am anyone else’s.” This was our sacred mantra; our holy hymn. In the depths I am able to honor this relationship with myself. Brigid is asking me to step out and honor this in the light. “See your potential.”
Brigid only needs a yes. She’s already in me. She’s already warmed the hearth of my heart and has made herself at home. She speaks the language of my dreams and deep longings. She has planted the seeds and tended the soil of my soul. “Bloom,” she coos. “A vow to me is a vow to yourself. I see your potential. Now grow.”
A vow to Brigid is a vow to myself. A surrender to a fullness of being, in darkness and in light.
Dearest Brigid, yes.
