January 29, 2004
Deep in Midwinter: Sitting in the Shadows
Candlemas is on its way
by Donna Henes
Under the Light, yet under,Under the Grass and the Dirt,
Under the Beetle's Cellar
Under the Clover's Root.
Further than Arm could stretch
Were it Giant long,
Further than Sunshine could
Were the Day Year long. . .
… Emily Dickinson
At Midwinter, the duskiest, coldest season is half over. Though the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, is the time when the sun reaches its nadir and begins its return journey back toward us in the Northern Hemisphere, it isn't until six weeks later at Midwinter that the gradual reappearance of the light begins to be apparent. The light at the end of the long Winter tunnel.
The days are perceptibly longer now. There is the faintest breath of a whisper of the coming of Spring in the air. There begin to be signs: the first tiny buds, like goose bumps on bare skin, begin to form on naked branches. Snow Drops appear, pushing their fragile blooms up through the still frosty soil. Hibernating animals begin a restless stir in their underground nests. They toss and turn and awaken enough to devour a midnight meal before turning over and tucking back in again for the duration. It isn't Spring yet. But there is the palpable promise. The eager anticipation of the annual resurgence of life that comes each Spring. The sense of hope renewed.
The recurrent mythic and symbolic themes of many Midwinter Festivals are prophecy and purification. The concept of prophesy is drawn from the foresight and faith that Spring, in all its verdant glory, is on its predictable way, even though the hard white Winter still surrounds us. Purification suggests our careful preparations for its coming. Clearing the way with the fiery brilliance of insight which comes from visiting the deep, dark internal winter of our souls and seeing therein our own part in the constant and continually changing cycles of life.
It is in Midwinter when the land is gripped in death that Ceres, the old Goddess of Good Grain and All Fertility (who later became Demeter in Greek mythology) descends to the underworld in pursuit of Her lost dear daughter, Persephone. Disconsolate, Ceres explores the far reaches of the territories of Hades and Her own private hell; Her journey lit by a single candle. The impassioned determination of Her search and Her ultimate discovery sheds the first glimmer of light in the indelible dark of winter. The creative spark of full consciousness. With the light from Her candle we can begin to see the spiritual direction of the new cycle.
If my torch goes out it will be dark.Dark like behind the eyes.
My trip with no way back
and this tunnel my tomb.
A tunnel like a mother's stomach.
Her identical architecture.
Her climate of signs and penumbra.
Through this labyrinth until finding it.
Claribel Alegría20th Century El Salvadorian
In Greece there is an underground sanctuary dedicated to Hades, God of the Underworld, and Persephone, his stolen bride. For millennia, pilgrims have made their way to the Nekyomanteion of Ephra, a labyrinthine arrangement of spiral-shaped rooms and passageways carved into the belly of Mother Earth. Manteion means "a place in which one hears prophesy" and nekyo or necro, refers to the dead. Petitioners descend deep into the divine womb by way of a serpentine tunnel leading to a cavernous dark chamber that sits above a crypt. There, encouraged by Cere's resolve, in the unsteady light of just one torch, they consult the oracles of the dead for inspiration, for direction. "It is better to light one candle than curse the darkness," their motto.
Midwinter was celebrated as Imbolc by the ancient Celts, and also as an early Gaelic fire festival. Both were held in honor of Bridget, a.k.a. Brigid, Bride, Brigetis, the Northern White Goddess, guardian of the home fire and hearth. Fire was the symbol of Her white-hot mystic magic. The intense heat of the flame, Her fervent faith in the return of the light to the world. Today, the day belongs to Her spiritual daughter, Saint Brigid, adored patron saint of Ireland.
The hagiographic accounts of St. Brigid are few and flimsy and quite transparent. She was allegedly Ireland's first convert to Christianity and the founder of that country's first convent in the fifth century. She continued to be honored just as the Goddess was before her and the worship practice of her devotees did not change over the centuries. A holy fire, reminiscent of those kept constantly burning by the worshippers of her earlier goddess incarnation, was maintained at Her shrine in Kildare until it was finally ordered doused by the Church in the thirteenth century. Until not so long ago, domestic fires were routinely extinguished on her day, February 1, and then rekindled and blessed in a preparatory act of purification.
In Rome, the Midwinter day belonged to Juno Februata, virgin mother of Mars. Februare, in Latin, means "to expiate, to purify." Here, too, fires were lit, and candles were blessed and burned in Her honor. Women also continued to carry candles in street processions at this same time of year in memory of Ceres candle-lit search below ground. Determined to stem this irritating and irrepressible goddess worship, Pope Sergius claimed this pagan holiday for the church. Renamed, Candlemas, February 2, was to be celebrated as the feast of the purification of the Virgin Mary forty days after She had given birth. The observance, however, remained the same &emdash; the blessing and burning of candles for Our Lady of Light.
Two indigenous New World celebrations echo this practice. In Aztec Mexico, all fires were extinguished at the winter mid-point. There followed five dark days during which there was a period of inactivity and sorrowing. Then the Aztec New Year was ushered in with the ritual re-lighting of the fires, feasting and feasting. The Iroquois peoples observe a six-day Midwinter New Year ceremony during which members of the False Face Society visit every home in the community. They put out the fire in each stove, stir up the ashes and then blow them onto the inhabitants as a curative rite. These purification ceremonies of renewed fire suggest a clearing of humanity's earthly orientation in order to be open to the growing divine light.
. . . Now again the smoke arisesAnd the people speak through it to you,
Oh you who dwell in the sky!
Now we implore you that it may so occur
again when the earth warms,
See that your desires may be fulfilled and that your descendants may again see your creations. . .
From the New Year's Ceremony
Seneca Nation of the Iroquois League
Midwinter is when the sun first reappears in Siberia finally after the months-long polar winter. At this most eagerly awaited, wondrous time, the Nganasan people celebrate the Clean Tent Ceremony, the premiere rite of their ritual calendar. A special "clean tent" is erected in the village and here the shaman sits for three to nine days while the children dance and play outside the tent. Encased in dark isolation, surrounded by the insular sound of her beating heart pulsing in prayer, s/he seeks the guiding light of the spirit and invokes the protection of the god/desses for all the people and the whole of nature for the year to come.
Li Ch'un, which means, Spring Begins, is celebrated in the more temperate climate of China during the first week of February as determined by a lunar calendar. At this time, the new almanacs for the year are issued. The people are then informed of the agricultural prospects predicted for the coming year through the means of effigies that are drawn through the streets. These spring oxen are dressed according to the weather forecasts listed in the almanac. If the head is yellow, they know that great heat is foretold for the coming summer; green tells of a lot of sickness in the spring; red denotes drought; black shows rain; and white means high winds and storms to come.
On this half-way marker of the winter, it is customary in many places to foretell future weather conditions. In Greece, people maintain that whatever the weather on Candlemas day, it will continue the same for the forty days to follow. The Latin ditty predicts:
"Si sol splendescat Maria purificante, Major erit glacies post festum quam fuit ante."
The Scottish say:"If Candlemas day be dry and fair,
The half o' winter's to come and mair.
If Candlemas day be wet and foul.
The half o' winter's gane at Yule."
And also:
"If Candlemas is bright and clearThere will be two winters in the year."
The Welsh tell:
If Candlemas Day is fair and clearThere'll be two winters in one year."
In Warwickshire, they advise:
"If Candlemas Day be wind and rainWinter is gone and won't come again."
And in Cumbria, they warn:
"If Candlemas Day be sunny and warm,Ye may mend your old mittens
And look for a storm."
The Winter Cross-Quarter Day is also a time of weather prediction in Germany, where farmers claim they "would rather see wife upon a bier, than that Candlemas Day be sunny and clear." Midwinter is designated Badger Day in recognition of the underground movement toward life which is manifest in this season. When the first wave of German farmers emigrated to this country, they brought Badger Day with them. But faced with a local lack of badgers, the Pennsylvania settlers were forced to substitute the American ground hog in its stead. And Ground Hog's Day has ever since, continued to pique our popular fancy.
Each year on February 2, the attention of the nation is directed to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, where Ground Hog's Day is big business. Weather forecasters and news reporters converge to stake out the burrows of these furry hibernating creatures. Like gazing into Bridgid's holy well, or the tunnel leading to the oracle crypt, or Cere's explorations of the cave, in order to ascertain the true prognosis of the coming of Spring. Though decidedly silly, Ground Hog's Day is a direct and thriving descendant of age-old Midwinter divinatory practices. Will Phil, the ground hog, see his shadow? Will spring come on time? Tune in tonight for the eyewitness report.
OK. Now pay attention. This is how it works: if the ground hog sees her shadow, it means that there are still six more weeks of winter. If she doesn't see her shadow, it means that spring is only six weeks away. Tricky, eh? There are always six more weeks of Winter. Spring is always six weeks away. That is why we mark the day in the first place. To remind us that Winter is half over. To remind us to access our situation. According to the Old Farmer's Almanac, by Ground Hog's Day you should still have half of your food store and half of your fuel if you are going to make it through the remainder of Winter.
With the first sensing of the coming of Spring at Midwinter, we find ourselves antsy, anxious to emerge from our inward focus already. We strain toward the annual vernal miracle of rebirth and resurrection. Yearn for the light. But it isn't yet time for Spring, and Spring always starts on time. But first we have to finish Winter.
At Midwinter, we still have six more weeks before we will emerge from the dark. It can't always be light, you know. If we always run in pursuit of the light, we miss half of each day, half of each year. Half of our feelings. Half of our lives. And, besides, there are some things that you can only learn in the dark. As Simone Weil wrote in Gravity and Grace, "It is misery, not pleasure, which contains the secret of the divine wisdom."
We are like frightened little children who need a night light. We forget that the light is always there &emdash; somewhere &emdash; anyway. We just can't see it when it's dark. It's like the dark side of the moon which we perceive only as absence of light, failing to recognize the dark richness of its own ambiance, its own energy. It's own invaluable lessons. The dark offers us a chance for enlightenment, but our eyes fail us in the shadows. And so we panic, preferring anything to the pitch, the petrifying recesses, of the truth of our own souls.
This terror is the turning point. This is the time for determination. It is at this critical moment, that we can consciously choose to dwell in the dark for a while longer &emdash; for as long as it takes &emdash; despite our fear. We can decide to take it on and take it in. To deal with it. To go where it takes us. To explore the blind byways of our pain, inching along, feeling our way with our tongues if we have to. To plumb our emotional depths and mine that precious secret ore of our own heartfelt experience. To feel our heart, actually break, explode apart, like a geode, revealing the glittering crystals growing inside. To engage passionately in all that life has to offer.
So let us sit in the dark for six more weeks. Now that our eyes are accustomed to the dark, we can begin to see the outlines of the wisdom, the strength, the courage, the incipient power that resides in us all. Our potential is like a seed, sleeping in the Winter soil. Our task is to nurse these germinating seeds with our best intentions and care so that they will be viable come Spring.
What we seed is what we get.
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Donna Henes, Urban Shaman, is a contemporary ceremonialist specializing in multi-cultural ritual celebration of the cycles of the seasons and the seasons of our lives.
Mama Donna, as she is affectionately known, has offered lectures, workshops, circles, and celebrations worldwide for 30 years. She is the director of Mama Donna's Tea Garden & Healing Haven, a ceremonial center, ritual consultancy and spirit shop in Exotic Brooklyn, New York.
For further information, a list of services and publications, a calendar of upcoming events and a complimentary issue of Always in Season: Living in Sync with the Cycles. contact:
MAMA DONNA'S TEA GARDEN AND HEALING HAVEN
PO Box 380403
Exotic Brooklyn, NY 11238-0403
Phone/Fax 718-857-2247
Email: CityShaman@aol.com
www.DonnaHenes.net