
As Imbolc approaches, I find myself reflecting on a journey I began five years ago when Brigid first called to me. It was early 2020, and I had just entered the world of witchcraft, recently attending my first public sabbat celebration. Brigid—the goddess of healing, the forge, and bardic inspiration—immediately captured my heart. I felt her presence and her challenge to forge myself into a better person.
Walking Through the Fire
At the time, I faced a monumental task. My mother had entrusted me with all of my childhood belongings—school assignments, photographs, clothes, and countless keepsakes. Every item felt steeped in memory and meaning, yet my home was bursting at the seams. I sensed Brigid’s guidance as I painstakingly sorted through everything, deciding what to keep and what to release.

It was an emotional fire to walk through, hammering away at my attachments and impurities. I held each item, honoring its story, then let go with intention. The process was grueling, but when it was done, I felt transformed—lighter, freer, and ready to welcome new energy into my life. In gratitude, I composed Sacred Ruins, a piece for women’s ensemble, honoring Brigid and the beauty of releasing the past to create space for the future.

A New Forge
Now, I find myself facing a similar challenge. My parents are relocating, and I’ve taken on the task of helping them sort through decades of belongings. My garage is once again overflowing, this time with my parents’ treasures and my sister’s mementos. It feels like Brigid is inviting me to revisit her forge—to test the strength she helped me build years ago.
But this time, the task feels even more personal.

Amid the boxes and bins are my own children’s baby items: tiny clothes, well-loved toys, and pieces of their earliest years. Letting go of these things is profoundly bittersweet. Each item is a tangible connection to a fleeting moment in their lives—a time when they were impossibly small, and the days were long but precious.

As I sort through these memories, I feel the ache of knowing this chapter has closed. My babies are now toddlers, growing more independent with each passing day. Parting with these items feels like admitting that those tender, magical years are behind me—a truth that stings in a way only other mothers might fully understand. Yet, I also know that holding on to these things won’t bring those moments back. By releasing them, I honor their beauty without letting them weigh me down. It’s an act of trust in Brigid’s wisdom: to clear space for what’s to come.

Hope in the Flame
This Imbolc, I’m reminded of the ever-burning flame Brigid tends—the light of hope and inspiration. Just as I did in 2020, I am choosing to embrace her lessons of renewal. By letting go of what no longer serves me, I make space for new growth, creativity, and opportunities. Already, this process feels healing—not just for me, but for my parents as well. Helping them through this transition has been a gift of presence and support, one that feels deeply aligned with Brigid’s essence.
I’m also looking ahead to a significant milestone: the upcoming premiere of Sacred Ruins with my local symphony this May. It feels like a full-circle moment, a culmination of the journey Brigid set me on five years ago. By the time the piece is performed, my parents will have completed their move, and I hope to have cleared away the excess in my own life. It’s a reminder that every step of this journey—every challenge, every act of release—has been part of a larger story of transformation.

Embracing the Future
As we celebrate Imbolc, I invite you to reflect on what no longer serves you and how you might create space for new possibilities. Whether it’s physical clutter, outdated habits, or emotional burdens, Brigid’s flame offers us the courage to let go and the inspiration to begin anew.
Blessed Imbolc and New Moon in Aquarius.
May the winds of change bring you clarity, creativity, and the breath of fresh air you need to step boldly into the future.