Tending the Flame

This weekend marks one of my favourite moments in the year. It goes by various names—Candlemas, St. Brigid’s Day, or Imbolc. The common theme is one of renewal, which is something I also feel deeply in need of at this time of year.

In the Catholic Church, Candlemas celebrates the presentation of the infant Jesus at the Temple and his Mother’s ritual purification after childbirth. The prophet Simeon prophesies over the babe that He will “be a light to the people”, and so as part of the rituals accompanying the mass on February 2, the candles used in liturgical celebration are blessed for the year.

The Feast of St. Brigid is celebrated on February 1. She is both a saint in Celtic spirituality and a goddess in the Gaelic tradition. Over time, the stories about the actual person, Brigid of Kildare, have become coloured with the mythology of the goddess to the point that the two entities are now interwoven in storytelling. This entity is the keeper of the hearth flame, the protector of women, particularly in childbirth, and the symbol of fertility and new life. In fact, the goddess Brigid is considered the one who turns the Wheel of the Year from the depths of winter toward spring.

This ties Brigid in with the Gaelic feast of Imbolc, which celebrates the coming of spring. Imbolc is one of the “cross quarter days”, the midpoint between two solstices. In some parts of the world, the first flowers of spring appear and lambing season begins.

There are so many aspects to this triple celebration that nourish me. As I live in the northern part of the northern hemisphere, St. Brigid’s Day is usually during the coldest time of year. By February 1, I’ve pretty much had enough of winter already and I’m also very aware that there are still a couple of months of cold and snow yet to come before the thaw begins.

Brigid reminds me that, even in the frozenness of February, the cycle of the year still turns toward spring. Even while I don parka, mitts, and heavy boots, there are subtle movements in earth and sky toward warmth and new life.

Brigid as keeper of the hearth also speaks deeply to me. In the ancient Celtic tradition, the only warmth in the home came from the fireplace. Each evening, the mother would gather the ashes and embers in a circle, and place a layer of peat over it. All night, the embers would rest, protected by the peat, both from burning out and from completely dying out.

This is the very kind of care I have been learning to give my soul and body. It’s important that I be attentive to the rhythm of my life. When is it necessary for me to be “in full flame”—accomplishing, tending, speaking out—and when is it time for me to allow rest, quiet and even mourning? 

The peat-layered fireplace looks dormant throughout the night. However, the one who tends it knows that in the morning, some kindling and exposure to the air will coax the embers back into full flame.

This is why one of my favourite symbols of the Brigid presence is a candle. While keeping an eternal flame alive in a fireplace is beyond my skill set, a candle reminds me of the importance of tending the flame. In order to enjoy my beeswax candles, I need to choose the appropriate vessel for them, depending on their size, location, and the amount of time I want the flame to burn. I need to be attentive to the flame, even while doing other things, to ensure it remains contained. Putting it to rest is as important as lighting it.

As I watch the flame, I’m reminded of the importance of tending my own inner light. The more fraught the world becomes around us, the more necessary it is that we each care for our inner flame with all the attention and wisdom of an ancient homemaker. 

There is no one size fits all prescription for this, no checklist, no formula to follow. Tending the inner flame requires being attentive to what is moving in my inner being, to what my heart is feeling, to what my physical energy is available for. This is not easy in our productivity-oriented world. We have to choose the inner attentiveness moment by moment, and be willing to choose the tending we need. Each act of care we give ourselves is a gift of compassion into the world at large. As we are faithful to this inner tending, we will then also feel the inner fire that motivates us into visible action, adding our voices and our efforts toward a more compassionate, more justice-oriented world.

Our individual flame has never been more important.  The world needs your light. I need your light. If your light feels like it’s flickering, please feel free to reach out to me. I would love to help you tend your flame.