Some call it augury; I call it listening to the land, and its dreamings. This morning, after a light early snowfall, I set out to see what the Imbolc land had to say to me.
Two ravens, Otherworldly messengers, fly east into spring and the rising sun.
There is always the path in the labyrinth of the bog; there is always the sow-mother’s mountain. Two deer in the distance turn, run along tracks only they know. Will you try to follow? Will you follow their dream-tracks?
Choose your companions carefully; take only those who understand joy.
It’s time to leave your shadow behind.
Today, choose the path that leads into the sun.
Follow it to the dreaming heart of the mountain.
Take joy in the new buds of spring, but cherish the old growth.
There are always more paths than you can take; choose carefully.
Never look back, for the storm may be just behind you.
Old Crane Woman always waits by the water. Pay your respects, then cross. Step over the threshold. Step over the edge. Drink your fill.
Follow the path to the high shining mountain, but always remember what lies buried in the bog.
Far out to sea, magical islands beckon. Will you make the Otherworld journey? Will you cross to the Isle of Women?
Don’t be afraid of the darkening sky. Home is just around the corner. Home waits for you in a gentle hollow, behind a stand of tall guardian trees.
Home is the river. Home is the country of Riverwitch.