In the Reclaiming tradition, our ritual planning cells will plan and celebrate Brigid at the start of February. We step up to Her holy well and sacred flame to offer a pledge, a promise, a sometimes quiet or loud commitment to her.
To ourselves. Often, to our community.
And there is a moment for me when I don’t know what to say. My brain wants so badly to say something so perfect that it will make my heart light up with joy and reverence, while holding a vow that will challenge as much as it inspires.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Looking Back to Last Brigid
When I turn my head, my mind to the last year, I see the way the waters flowed. I see the way that the pledge I made came into being. I’ve learned to write down my pledges as they seem so clear and strong in the ritual space…but they wander away in the days that follow.
I looked at the piece of paper and remembered stepping up to the well, covered in flowers. It’s the fire pit every other day in my backyard, gifted by a beloved. It’s rusted in places, but when it comes to the ritual, it becomes the deep well of memory. It becomes a deep well of beauty. It becomes the place where fingers dip in for a watery blessing before sweeping the blue flame that arises from a small cauldron.It is always big enough. It hears all the pledges.
This water has held me. It nourished the moments when I couldn’t find the words. And then, did.
Thank you Brigid of poetry and inspiration.
The flowers graced me with their growing and grace.
Thank you Brigid of healing.
The fire shaped me.
Thank you Brigid of the forge.
And in that moment, it doesn’t matter if the words are right. If they feel like they’re enough. If they say all the things I want to promise at the well.
I said the words that needed to be said.
Looking Ahead to the Next Brigid
In the day of the ritual, I will give myself some space. Some quiet, some rest. I will take a moment in the strange warmth of the sun, the kindness of a breezy day that feels like a whisper of the spring. I will talk with Her. I will open my heart and talk about the pledge I’ve held. Sometimes with grace. Sometimes, not. And yet, it held.
I do not ask Her what to do. Instead, I think of what I have to offer. I think of where I might inspire. Where I might heal. Where I might shape.
I ask for a blessing in the work that lies ahead.
This world asks, even begs for pledges that are given willingly and truthfully. This time asks what I have to promise.
I will find the right words. I may say them aloud — or not.
I may reveal something that I hadn’t expected.
I offer the spell that I am. In that moment. In the moments to come.
And I never lose my way to the well.