Waning Winter, Imbolc, Candlemas
a liminal edge
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The trees of the LORD are full of sap; You made the moon to mark the seasons,
and the sun knows when to set. ~ Psalm 104
Psalm 104 is a beautiful glimpse into how the ancients viewed the natural world, the signs of the seasons, and celestial movements. If you’ve never read it, take a look. It’s a lovely poem of enchantment, connection, and wonder, full of astute observations of nature.
It can inspire us in 2025 to turn our gaze, curiosity, and notice to what’s moving, changing, growing, and dying around us at any given moment in the year.
As you can see in the photo above, it’s maple sugaring time in New England once again. This snapshot tells a story about this portion of the season. There’s still some snow on the ground (and likely more to come.) Last year’s leaves are composting on the ground, a testament to the efficient and inevitable process of renewal in nature. The cedar trees remain fragrant and green throughout winter, hinting that some things are evergreen, always alive and thriving even in the dark and cold of winter when everything around them appears dead. The hidden sap is still there and surges back from the underworld at precisely the right time. The story is a perennial one of life, death, and rebirth. We find that sequence woven through belief systems far and wide throughout history, from the earliest humans to the present. It’s worth considering, meditating upon, and exploring. All indications tell us that it is a fundamental truth.
Late winter is an Ace of Wands time of year and perhaps a Last Judgement time too. The Ace of Wands is the potential for rising sap, new life held in reserve but about to surge forth, life force waiting in the wings, ready to rise. It’s all there as pure potential but hasn’t yet manifested in the physical world. Some people balk at the Judgement card, chafing at its Biblical reference. I don’t mind it. Firstly, because a reminder that our thoughts, words, and deeds in this life have consequences, cosmic consequences, for us and those we interact with in this life isn’t a bad thing. It is a deterrent, preventing us from devolving into cruelty, malice, bitterness, and ego-driven pettiness. It’s a nudge toward divine grace and an incentive to let integrity and love lead in our lives. It’s also a reminder of what can be if we allow it, like the Ace of Wands. The life-giving goodness is there if we let it flow into and through us. The earth demonstrates this for us every time the seasons turn from winter to spring. Imagine if the earth refused the resurgent energy of spring one year. At the very least, we’d have the always winter but never Christmas scenario of Narnia before Aslan’s return, and at worst, we‘d be trapped in a never-ending Devil card, chained in a wintry underworld of our own horrific lower impulses. The Judgement card represents the moments just after the cycle ends. The cycle must always turn again and be a never-ending one where we descend into winter, confront our shadow, arise from our “grave,” evaluate what we’ve experienced, and learn before entering into a new cycle, rising in the light to grow and blossom once more. This is the pattern of growth in the inner life; it closely follows the pattern of the seasons on Earth.
The liminal moment we’re in
As I write, we are sitting under a new moon in Aquarius, the constellation which corresponds to the Star in the tarot. That caught my notice because, in the traditional Raider Waite Smith deck, you see a large bird perching in a tree in the background. In the quote above about the trees being full of sap, that line is immediately followed by The Cedars of Lebanon…Where the birds make their nests. In my photo, maple trees are tapped for sap, and cedar trees are to the left. I can say with certainty that birds love building nests in cedar trees.
This is just an intuitive series of connecting the dots, but this kind of thinking can yield some potent insights, especially at liminal times.
A new moon is a liminal time as we sit in the darkness on the threshold of light. In some ways, it's a smaller version of the winter solstice, when we sit in the deepest darkness of the year, waiting for the light, the sun, to reemerge. Today, we welcome the first sliver of the moon, a light in the darkness. Like the embryo in the egg, the moon will grow until it is fully formed, and then it will break forth and spread its light through the night sky.
This revisiting of the winter solstice theme of light shining in the darkness is seen again in the celebration of Candlemas, the final festival of light during winter.
Candlemas is when all the candles used for sacred ceremonies, church services, and rituals throughout the coming year are blessed. As a holy day, it is celebrated on the same day as Imbolc, Brigid’s Return, St. Brigit’s Day, and it’s also the day before Groundhog Day. Whenever there is a confluence of special days from varying times, you know that moment in the year is essential and has consistently been recognized as important.
The first two days of February are a liminal time. Winter is giving way to the new season. Things are changing. The hours of daylight are growing. The sap is rising—temperatures, though variable, are incrementally rising. Buds are beginning to redden and swell. Crocus, snowdrops, winter aconite, and other very early flowers are pushing through the earth. This morning, I heard a little bit of birdsong. Certainly not the dawn chorus coming in a few months, but a few melodies and strains of lovely songs remind me that we’re in a liminal time, suspended between winter and spring.
This liminal edge is an opportunity. It offers an invitation to pay attention. Look for small shifts in nature and find traditions, folkways, and celebrations that help you mark where we are in the ever-changing cycle of the seasons.
In the past, I would have encouraged you to apply this to your inner life, to discover ways in your personal and spiritual life where you are in a liminal space or how a metaphorical winter is beginning to melt away. I still think that’s vital work and a beneficial framework for personal growth and development. Lately, however, I’ve become aware of the importance of being in sync with and acutely observant of what is happening in nature. Using the seasonal wheel as a system to give language and structure to inner work is fine, but something deeply profound happens in our inner world when we are engaged with what’s going on in nature all around us. Engagement with the natural world is a kind of inner work all its own.
We often hear about earthing, or grounding, letting the soles of our bare feet touch the earth, touching the earth with our hands, or using copper to ground our body to the earth's electromagnetic field. Those are all terrific practices, but complete sensory and cognitive awareness of the natural rhythms and happenings of the changing seasons in all their subtle and slow-moving transformation is the heart of connection to our home, the earth.
It occurred to me that referencing our inner world with nature-based metaphors works best if you have an intimate knowledge of the natural world. If you pay close attention to the phases of the moon, the stages of a plant's growth, the pattern of the summer winds, and the like, you are more likely to benefit from using those things to express your inner world.
I’m encouraging you not to put the cart in front of the horse, in other words. Make your priority communing with nature as it is at any given moment. Spend time outside, silent and still. Allow the energies of nature to pour into your awareness. Be curious and observant. Learn all you can about what lives and grows around you. Watch closely, and nature will reveal her secrets to you. Once you start doing that and have gained some experience and knowledge, you‘ll likely begin to progress to the next level: encountering nature through dimensions usually hidden from our physical perceptions. This is when enchantment takes hold. Nature spirits abound and exist in a world that overlaps ours but is hidden from our usual sight.
These leaps in understanding and encountering unseen worlds happen with greater ease at liminal times. Living in this way of careful noticing and receptive listening to nature assures that you will operate from a place of grounded energy, aware of patterns, cycles, and connections to the earth, your ancestors, and spiritual realities. Those things together help guarantee a robust inner life full of vitality and meaning.
If you’d like to dive into this liminal time of year further, check out these Hedge Mystic articles…
What’s your experience of nature right now? Do you sense this as a liminal time? How does deep connection to nature enhance your spiritual life and experiences?
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Very interesting and informative article. Thank you. I read the following book not too long ago (well three-quarters before a friend borrowed it- I was reading two other books at the time- still waiting to get it back)- The White Goddess by Robert Graves. You might like it. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_White_Goddess
This is so moving, Jan. We've warmed up from the polar vortex and the snow is melting. I went out yesterday and found the first shoots on my hellebores and the first green tips of the crocus I planted last fall. I've been enjoying regular visits from the local white tailed deer, including a gracious young buck who has been spending time inside my fence, browsing on my winter creeper.