January is behind us, and Imbolc has just passed – the enchanting ancient Celtic festival marking the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. A time often described as the first stirrings of spring. And yet, it can be tempting to feel like we’re already behind. As though January granted us a brief permission to move slowly, but now that February has arrived, it’s time to spring into action. Go, go, go.
I can’t say I’m feeling it in myself. I still feel asleep, partly tucked under the soil – drawn to the cosiness of home, my bed, my safe and happy place. I feel a deep desire to be consumed by the remainder of winter. When I go outdoors, I want to sit alone amongst the bare bones of the trees, or allow the freezing waters to envelop me. Listening to my body, it’s clear it isn’t ready for the pace of the wider world just yet. I tire quickly if I push, or lose focus if I overwork. My hands grow sore in the studio, the cold stealing their dexterity sooner than I’d like.
There’s an ongoing negotiation in my mind: conserving my energy versus the list of pieces I feel I should be making for fairs later in the spring. And yet, deep down, I know that if my work is to hold nature’s magic, it must be made at nature’s pace – not at the speed demanded by opposing forces. If that means fewer pieces, then so be it.
On Sunday, my son and I walked to the top of the garden to visit the patch of snowdrops that faithfully returns each year. And there they were – so dainty and perfect – a promise that Spring is coming. But they’re also small, pure white. Mother Nature not using up too much energy yet on the size and full spectrum of colour we will soon enjoy from her bounty.
And I thought – yes – Spring may be stirring, but it’s gentle – just a whisper – a promise of more light and energy. It’s a time of slow transition from the depths of midwinter into the light of spring. And there’s no rush to succeed, to push, to perform. I can trust that natures energy and my own is building slowly but surely.
There is plenty of time. Let’s rest some more.
Thanks for reading,
Marie.