Imbolc Isn’t Spring Yet, and That’s the Point
If you feel stuck, try tending instead of forcing.
I start feeling it every winter when I leave for work in the dark and get home in the dark. After a while, it’s like the day never fully arrives. It just sort of happens somewhere without me.
A few weeks of that and my mood starts to sag. Nothing dramatic. Just this low-level heaviness that makes everything feel repetitive and closed in, like I’m living the same gray Tuesday on a loop.
And it’s not only the lack of light. It’s the cold and rain that keep me indoors more than I want. Even my clothes start to annoy me. All the layers, the jacket, the extra socks, the constant bundling up. It makes me feel oddly trapped, involuntarily confined.
That’s why I like Imbolc. It’s an early-February seasonal turning, the point where the light starts to come back, even though it’s still very much winter. It doesn’t pretend spring is here. It just reminds me the shift has begun.
And traditionally, Imbolc is about renewing and tending to fire. Hearth fire, candlelight, the small warmth you keep alive in the middle of winter. It’s the season’s reminder that renewal often starts as a simple flame you return to again and again.
It’s a steady flame that says, keep going, the season is changing.
One lesson the Lumer Council keeps bringing me back to is this. You don’t have to force your way into a new season.
You come back to the present. You take the next step. You do the small thing that leads to the next small thing. In time, they add up to much bigger progress.
That’s the fire of renewal to me. It’s not a blaze that fixes your life overnight. It’s an ember or flame you keep choosing to feed to keep the whole fire going.
If you feel stuck right now, you might be in that in-between stretch, where the light is starting to come back, but the warmth hasn’t caught up yet.
Winter can make it seem like nothing is moving, so my brain tries to compensate. I start pushing. I try to force motivation. I try to force clarity. I try to force myself into “better.”
It usually backfires. The more I force it, the tighter I get. Then I’m not renewing anything, I’m just wrestling the season. And if I keep doing that, my flame doesn’t get brighter, it just burns out.
Imbolc gives me a better frame of mind. I don’t need to shove my way into spring. I just need to tend to what’s already here.
🌱 SimpleShift: One Small Act of Tending
For me, tending to my well-being often looks like cleaning and organizing. I don’t do a big overhaul, just something each day. Because I’m indoors more, I can feel the heaviness build when my space gets cluttered.
But your version of tending might look totally different. It might be a short walk, a hot shower, making one meal at home, texting a friend back, putting your phone in another room for ten minutes, or finally doing the one annoying little task you keep stepping over. Different flame, same idea.
Either way, I don’t tell myself, “Fix everything.” I ask, “What’s one reset I can do today?”
One day it’s the desk. Another day it’s the sink. Another day it’s the spot by the door where everything gets dropped. None of it is dramatic, but the benefits add up. After a week, the room feels different. After a few weeks, I feel different.
Before you do your one small thing, light a candle if you want. Or, if you have a fireplace, build a small fire and let it be your reminder that warmth starts one flame at a time.
Then ask one question: What would make tomorrow feel a little lighter? Do that thing today.
If you’d like to take this theme a step further, I created a paid-subscriber resource for the Lumer Circle Premium Resource Library:
Imbolc Ritual Pack: Three Practices for the Return of Light.
It includes a simple threshold blessing, a one-sentence Ember Oath to anchor what you’re tending, and a 12-minute reset for the days you feel heavy or stuck.
Join the Conversation
What’s one ember you’re tending right now?
Keep it small. A habit. A boundary. A creative thread. A conversation you’re finally ready to have. One sentence is enough.
Tend to what’s real, and the rest will follow when it’s ready.
In Love and Light,
Merdhin
I hear you about the darkness and winter. January is my least favorite month. I do have hope however. As I communte through the country and pass by literally miles of almond trees, I have hope. I see small buds on the trees. Soon the almond blossoms will start. The bee boxes are being set out for the bees to being pollinating when the flowers bloom. This is the herald of spring coming and life coming back after so many gray days with lack of sun. I will feel very happy when I see the almond blooms. Life is returning from a gloomy winter.