Imbolc has always been one of my favorite quiet moments on the Wheel of the Year. It’s a lesser-known sabbat, tucked right between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, and it carries a softer kind of magic. January can feel endless, so when February arrives, there’s a subtle shift—like the first deep breath after holding one for too long.
This cross-quarter day marks a turning point. Nothing is fully awake yet, but everything is preparing. It’s a time of new beginnings, gentle hope, and whispered intentions. Beneath frozen ground, seeds are already stirring, remembering what they’re meant to become. Life is organizing itself in the dark.
Imbolc invites us to do the same.
Whether you’re calling in a new direction, a creative spark, healing, love, or simply clarity, these are powerful days to speak your intentions out loud. Not in a demanding way—but in a trusting one. The unseen forces are listening. The groundwork is being laid for what wants to grow next.
There’s a feeling around Imbolc that something is opening. A sense of expansion, of remembering that we are supported and guided, even when the path ahead isn’t fully visible yet. This season asks us to loosen our grip on fear and old stories and trust that we’re moving exactly where we need to be.
Winter still has its hold, but the light is returning—slowly, steadily. The days stretch just a little longer. The earth begins to soften. There’s anticipation in the air, mixed with tenderness. It’s normal to feel both hope and heaviness here. We’re crossing a threshold, and transitions can feel tender.
If you’re feeling tired, foggy, or extra sensitive, you’re not off track—you’re seasonal. Imbolc is a beautiful time to lean into self-care and simplicity. Warm meals. Early nights. Candlelight. Small rituals that remind your nervous system it’s safe to slow down.
For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, Imbolc begins at sunset on February 1st and continues through the following day. Rooted in ancient Celtic tradition, it marks the earliest whisper of spring—the subtle promise of life beneath the snow. Traditionally, candles or lamps were lit at dusk to honor the sun’s rebirth and welcome its growing strength.
Keep it simple. Light a candle in each room. Refresh your altar. Anoint yourself with oils. Make pancakes—round and golden like the sun—and quietly make a wish as you flip them. There’s something wonderfully ordinary and magical about that.
This is also a perfect moment for gentle clearing. Sweep your space. Move out what feels heavy or stagnant. Open a window if you can. Clearing now isn’t about forcing change—it’s about making room.
Imbolc is deeply connected to Brigid, goddess of fire, hearth, healing, poetry, and wisdom. At this sabbat, she moves into her maiden aspect, reminding us of renewal, inspiration, and the sacred flame within. She tends the inner hearth—the quiet fire that keeps us warm through long winters and lights the way forward.
Let this season invite you back to that flame. Tend it gently. Feed it what feels true. Trust that even if you can’t see much happening yet, something is already coming to life.
With love, peace, and a little winter magick
