Imbolg, February 2, honors the Goddess who slowly turns the Wheel of the Year back to Spring.
Much of our Imbolg lore has its roots in the ancient Celtic Ireland were it was not a Sabbat
but a special day to honor the Great Mother Goddess Brigid. Among her many interests were
fertility, creative inspiration, metalsmithing, medicine, protectress, healer and a guardian of children.
One of the traditons associated with Imbolg is the making of grain dollies woven into human
or symbolic form. These dollies are kept thoughout the year in a cradle known as a bride's
bed, from the name of Goddess Brigid which is spelled Brid (pronounced breed) in Gaelic.
The figure is usually dressed in white at this Sabbat, or in something else related to
marriage, with her garb updated as the Wheel of the Year carries her on into cronehood.
Imbolg is also the Sabbat where magickal wells (cauldron images) are visited and coins
thrown in them in Brigid's name to grant wishes. To practice this custom go to any well
or body of deep water when you can be alone and throw in three coins while stating and
concentrating on your wish for the coming year. Before you leave ask the guardian spirits
of the well to look after the energies you have left behind and to bless them until they manifest
In Ireland straws were often woven into an equilateral cross known today as Saint Bridget's
cross, but is actually a sun wheel sacred to the God Lugh. Brigid's cross or the sun wheel
is also represented by a perfect intersection or crossroad. Crossroads figure prominently
in this Sabbat. This is a night when the spirits of the dead are said to walk among the
living. A protective ritual to practice is to go out on the eve before this Sabbat to
bury negativity at a crossroad so it can't escape.
Imbolg is a festival of lights. Candles are lit in profusion and even worn in crowns
on women's heads intended to be a representation of the virgin aspect of the Goddess.
Since spring is not far away at Imbolg, the lights act as a sympathetical magickal draw
for the sun and it's warmth, a call for the return of the God Lugh.
Earth asleep in winter's bed,
on thy limbs this light be shed,
on thy face as still as stone
and silent, dreaming of the Sun:
He shall come to claim His own,
Thow shalt waken to Him soon
yet today with candle beams
we ourselves may warm Thy dreams.
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