“February dawn frost on the path where I paced all winter.”
- Jack Kerouac
Hello, you.
It’s February. And, there is hope.
It may still be the middle of winter; but, it’s the middle of winter. Or, even late winter, you might say. And, even, some of you may dare to say, very, very early spring. I don’t know how you see this month or how you experience this month wherever you live, but, to me, February always feels like we’ve made another turn on the wheel of the year. Crossed over a boundary and are now truly on our way towards spring. Even though there may be snow and ice and bitter winds, there is a shift in the air and a change in the light. Deep in the cold, hard ground, something is stirring. There is a flutter of life, a moment of awakening, and tiny movements that easily go unnoticed. But, something inside of me feels that same wee smidge of possibility that is quietly forming deep within and preparing me for the dawn of spring.
January felt like it was 75 days this year. And it was tough. Globally, it was filled with catastrophes and chaos. Personally, it was a challenge to find a sense of balance between going back to work, where things were full speed ahead, and wanting to do nothing else all month long except stay in a deep, restful hibernation mode.
Of course, there were moments and glimmers of beauty and peace, but January felt like a long, never ending month of survival, to be honest.
But, now, February is here. And, while it has its own challenges, and often feels as long and difficult as January, in my opinion, there is a sense of hope in the air. Mostly because in my bones, I can feel that we are one month closer to spring.
The question is, how do I not wish away February and rush towards spring? And how do I slow down so that I can embrace the quiet, quickening energy that February offers?
The month of purification
Long ago, when the Roman calendar was in use, February was at the very end of the year. It was the last part of winter, which was made up of January and February who, back in the day, didn’t have names but were just a month-less period of time known as the dormant part of the year, falling at the end of the 10 months of the year.
That means that March was the beginning of the year - and I honestly feel like that makes so much sense. Because, obviously, spring arrives in March. And, if I really stop and think about it, January and February actually do feel like very tough, barren winter months that invite me to hibernate when I can, let my roots sink down into the wisdom and mystery of the earth, and - let’s not forget - focus on surviving this time of the year. So, in my opinion, they really could be called a dormant period of nothingness, after the end of the year and before a new cycle begins with the rebirth of the earth in spring.
There is not much that happens in nature January, to be honest. It’s cold, dark, and the cozy nights of winter are in full force. I find myself in full on survival mode as I try to balance the activity and responsibilities of work and the craziness that seems to unfold across the world - when all I really want to do is give into the hibernating, incubating energy of cold, frozen January.
But, in February, even though the aliveness of spring is not at all close to arriving yet, something just feels different. It is definitely still winter. And, in many places, it snows more in February than any other month. But, still, something has changed. The air, the light, the feeling of it all. I suppose that feeling that I am trying to express is a feeling of hope and progress.
February may be one of the months that makes up the dormant, nothingness part of the year, but it is still significant I believe. It carries us through the last few weeks of winter’s grip and moves us toward the energy of spring, an alchemical month that changes each of us and all of nature as we shed our winter ways and wake to new possibilities in spring.
The name February comes from the Latin word, februa, which means “to cleanse”.
It is named after Februalia, the month-long Roman festival of purification. During the festival, it was common to make offerings to the gods of the dead and spend much time in prayer and meditation. It was, literally, a month of cleansing the soul during the last dead period before a new year started.
While, I do not celebrate Februalia, or even know much about it, I do feel a deep need for cleansing and purification during February. There is a feeling of freshness and newness in February. Something deep within me feels drawn to the idea that cleansing, purification, and even atonement are the perfect activities for the last days of winter.
When February comes around each year, all I want to do is fling open my windows and doors. I need to let out all of the stagnant, stale, old air of the winter. I need to begin to release all of the deep, dark, warm, cozy nights and invite in something completely new and fresh. Something that speaks of life and hope and possibility and activity and light.
So, during the first week of February, I put away all of my winter things. And I pull out a few symbols that help me call in the awakening energy of February. I change my sheets and covers from dark to light. I fluff my sofa pillows and change their cases. I burn sage and incense all over the apartment, and I often return to a daily practice of meditation and deep breathing or yoga.
When I stop to think of February as the end of the year, the ending of winter, and the month that carries me into spring, then spending time purging and cleaning and organizing is exactly the practice that will help me make space for the rebirth and renewal of spring.
Imbolc
Sitting exactly halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, on the first day of February, we celebrate a shift in the seasons. It is not deep winter anymore; but it is also not yet spring. But, things are changing. Life is stirring. And we welcome this month with the ancient festival of Imbolc, celebrating the very earliest signs of spring.
If you live in the northern hemisphere, you may have seen some signs, even if you find the ground still covered with frost and snow. We cannot deny that with each passing day, there is a bit more light than the previous day. The sun is returning. The days are lengthening. And, beneath the surface, in the belly of the earth, so much is happening as plants, trees, and animals begin to stir. It is the time of the quickening, the preparation for the birth of all living things.
Imbolc literally means, in the belly, referring to the baby lambs growing in the bellies of ewes at this time of year. That is the image that I carry with me at Imbolc. The unseen processes that are the first stages of new life. So, just because it still looks bare and dead outside, deep in the soil, life is returning. This is the time of slow, quiet, magical stretching and growing that is the beginning of the year to come.
And, on any given day, whenever I grow weary of the cold, rainy, snowy weather, all I have to do is follow the daylight and feel the sun, observing its rising and setting, marking that that spring is already on its way.
Just like nature begins her waking process, I feel that February calls me to the same task. To slowly let my roots sink a little deeper, ensuring a stable foundation throughout the rest of the year. To begin to stretch and move and awaken to the possibilities that lie ahead. To dream and plan and plant the seeds of how I want to grow. This is the time for thinking new things, for coming back to life, for calling in all things with wild hope.
At Imbolc, nature provides us with the promise of a new chapter. And the wheel turns and the cycle of seasons moves on.
The week ahead: earthworms
Amazingly, the oracle card I pulled for both the month of February, and then, the one I pulled on the new moon last Wednesday for the week ahead was the earthworm card.
If there is anything waking and stirring right now, then it is the earthworm, buried deep within the ground. Wiggling, moving beneath the surface. Hidden from sight, but engaging in important, essential work that prepares the soil for the growth of spring.
It’s a clarifying, clearing out process of breaking down and purifying the dirt. Underground, earthworms are burrowing and tunneling, making space and aerating the soil so that the roots of plants can grow and deepen.
This is the perfect message for me as I mark the festival Imbolc and step into February. It is a reminder that even the tiniest movements are important. A reminder that, even though it is unseen, there is so much happening deep down in the earth. We are well on our way towards spring now.
But, I don’t want to move too fast. There’s no rush. Like the tiny, small, hidden movements of the earthworms, this is a week for quiet, soft, simple movements of my own. Small stirrings that help to wake me up and simply linger in a dreamlike state, making space for whatever wants to grow from within me come spring.
This is the time for me to remember my own practices that purify, clarify, and cleanse both my soul and my home. To simply move gently into February, one moment at a time. Meditating and breathing. Heading outside for walks in the lengthening daylight. Noting the changes in the light and the air. Feeling the sun warming my skin, awakening my soul with its golden rays of magic. Embracing the cold wind and the silent snow if, and when, a storm moves in. Noticing the reemergence of tiny green shoots, the softening of the earth, and the music of morning birdsong.
Predawn magic
The deepest, darkest part of winter is now behind us. Each day inches us forward. There is subtle, silent movement. A stirring. An awakening. Like turning over, noticing the time, and falling back asleep during the pre-dawn hours of the day. Like releasing old, stale energy that is no longer needed. Or waking slowly from a long winter’s nap. Or stretching stiff muscles and bones that have been stuck in the same position for a while.
Now that I’m 50, I find that I wake up in the middle of the night quite often. It’s usually between 3 and 4 sometime. My first thought is irritation. But, then my second thought, if I stay with it, is one of gratitude. Of course, some nights my mind won’t turn off and I need to rely on some steady deep breathing in order to lull myself back to sleep. But, more often I find these early morning, pre-dawn hours cozy and mysterious. There is a sense of experiencing another space of consciousness. I’m groggy. Half awake, yet fully aware. Floating in some kind of dreamlike state. And I don’t feel anything or anyone with me, but I also don’t feel alone. The dark is comforting. The silence is soft and mystical. Spirits, I believe, draw near. And inspiration and creativity flow.
I always drift back into a deep slumber for a while before my alarm rings and I begin my day just before 6am. And while, it would be nice to sleep through the night, I think I just might miss my secret middle of the night moments of solitude, dreams, and mysticism.
February’s energy is like the predawn hours between 3am and 6am. It is the dark, cozy, mysterious, liminal, dreamy space that moves us slowly from the deepest part of those long, winter nights into slow dawning of a new day.
I must admit, that I feel such a sense of relief and hope now that the first week of February is here. And, with it, a whole new vibe. One of hope and progress. One of dreamy, sleepy, slow, cozy waking. One that that carries us through a month that, while it is not easy, will guide us as we begin to release winter and welcome spring.
And, even in the midst of all of the hope and progress of February, I, personally, have a lot of grief that I also associate with this month. There are many difficult memories and deep losses sprinkled all throughout this month that was once just considered a wintry, dormant non-month of nothingness. But, because of its history, and even in the midst of deep personal pain, February can also be a very powerful month for moving through whatever grief and sadness we have by remaining grounded and rooted; and by trusting the deep, quiet stirrings happening right now. No matter how dark or cold or hopeless things may feel in February, there is magic just beneath our feet and in the tiny wiggles of the earthworms.
Wishing you a quiet, dreamy week of slow movement, quiet stirrings, and tiny signs of what is to come.
liz. xoxo.
February playlist
The earth is awakening from winter’s deep sleep, but it is not yet spring. Still, underground, there are stirrings. And light is slowly returning. Feel the gentle, sleepy predawn energy and the very first soft hint of the hope of spring.
Sacred Days + Folk Festivals this week
01 February - Imbolc
02 February - Candlemas/Groundhog’s Day
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