Sunday, Feb. 3 — two days after my birthday — was my first Imbolc celebration, the time of “fire in the belly.” That day we named the 100-year-old eastern-facing Saucer Magnolia tree growing right outside my bedroom window Celeste Raven Auk. She is now my guardian. And I have Eric Francis and Planet Waves to thank for this.
Yes, this probably sounds crazy. But look at where I came from. On Imbolc days past, as a child I always thought it strange that the day after my birthday — Candlemas Day — we had to go to church to get our throats blessed with two white crossed candles.
The Candlemas tradition stemmed from Imbolc in that it honored a form of fire, but now included the commemoration of a martyr: St. Blaise, an early sixth-century Armenian bishop who rescued a boy choking on a fish bone. Blaise’s martyrdom, cruel and sadistic as most deaths of saints were depicted, earned him his sainthood. Thus it exemplified the many facets of my childhood, full of guilt, death and terror on the page and in real life.
Flash forward fifty years. 2012 was a Totentanz, a “Dance of Death,” for me and the people around me. When asked this year what I wanted for my birthday, I knew I didn’t want dinner at a fancy restaurant lavished with presents, or a day-long brunch throwing down mimosas with the girls. Both would have been nice, but we’ve been there so often. This year, I wanted renewal.