Embracing the Light of Imbolc: History, Celebration and Health
Imbolc has always felt like a quiet, sacred turning point to me. Celebrated around February 1st or 2nd, it marks the halfway point between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox—when the days are just starting to stretch a little longer, and something stirs beneath the cold surface of the earth. The word comes from Old Irish, i mbolg, meaning “in the belly,” and that image says it all—life is growing, quietly, out of sight.
Traditionally, this festival honors Brigid, the Celtic goddess of healing, poetry, fertility, and fire. Later, in Christian times, it became Candlemas, and while the name changed, the themes of purification and returning light remained.
In the old agricultural calendar, this was the time when lambs were born, the first sprouts broke through the soil, and hope started to rise again. It was a time to prepare—not to leap into spring just yet, but to ready the heart and home for what’s coming.
I think what I love most about Imbolc is how gentle it is. In our fast-paced world, it invites us to slow down and reflect. It’s not a loud celebration—it’s a whisper. A moment to ask ourselves: What needs clearing? What needs nurturing? What am I ready to grow?
It’s a time to listen inward, to tend to our own light, and to begin planting the seeds—both literal and symbolic—that we want to see bloom in the year ahead.
Honoring the Season, Alone or Together
When I’m celebrating quietly on my own, I usually:
Light a candle. Just one flame to honor the returning sun and hold space for my intentions.
Cleanse my home. I sweep, burn herbs like rosemary or juniper, and open the windows—inviting in fresh energy.
Build a simple altar for Brigid. A candle, a bowl of water, a few seeds, maybe some white flowers. I sit with it, journal, or simply listen.
Plant something. Even just herbs on the windowsill. It connects me to growth and reminds me that the wheel is turning.
When I celebrate with others, we often:
Light candles together. Each person brings a candle and a wish. The shared glow is always moving.
Share a meal. Warming soups, fresh bread, root vegetables—simple food that feels nourishing and rooted.
Make Brigid’s crosses or charms. We bless them and take them home as symbols of protection and renewal.
A Time for Gardening Dreams and New Life
Imbolc is also the perfect time to start dreaming about the garden. I like to use this season to plan my spring planting and get my indoor seed-starting kits organized. It feels good to tuck little seeds into soil under lights, even when there’s still snow on the ground outside—it’s a quiet act of hope.
Traditionally, this was the time when lambs were born, but here at Three Leaf Farm, we usually plan our goat breeding a little later so the babies arrive after the coldest nights have passed. Still, even without new life just yet, you can feel the pulse of it starting to build beneath the surface.
Brigid: Keeper of the Flame
Brigid has always been close to my heart. She’s the flame I turn to when I need inspiration or healing. In Irish mythology, she’s a goddess of poetry, fire, fertility, and sacred wells. She watches over blacksmiths and artisans, poets and midwives, farmers and dreamers alike.
Over time, she became Saint Brigid of Kildare, but her essence didn’t change much. She’s still tied to healing, compassion, and miracles. Her feast day is February 1st—the very heart of Imbolc—and her flame still burns in honor of creativity, transformation, and the return of light.
Tending the Body and Spirit
This is a season of tending—not in a big, dramatic way, but in the small daily choices that bring us back to ourselves. Here are a few ways I reconnect to health and well-being during this time:
Nourish with seasonal foods. Hearty soups, roasted roots, warm teas, and—when they arrive—tender spring greens.
Move my body. I stretch, walk the farm, or do a little yoga. Gentle movement helps shake off winter stillness.
Clear my mind. Journaling or meditating clears the cobwebs. Gratitude lists work wonders, too.
Spend time outside. Even five minutes in the sun makes a difference. I listen for birdsong, feel the breeze, and let the land speak.
Final Thoughts
Imbolc reminds me to trust the slow magic. To know that even in the quiet, things are growing. It’s a time to clear space, rekindle the inner fire, and tend to the soul’s garden before spring bursts forth.
Whether you mark it with others or alone, I hope you find a way to honor the season. Light a candle. Whisper a wish. Stir the soup. Offer a blessing to the seeds, to your body, to the land.
The light is returning—and with it, the promise of renewal.