Kindle the fire in my deep well, lady,
being the light in the midst of the dark,
healing the old wounds, the deep ones, the scarred ones,
believing in life in the middle of winter.

Kindle the fire in my deep well, lady,
to burn like a star on the surface of water.
Let my emotions give fuel to my will,
transform in the light of your brilliant blue flame.

I’m turning my attention away from the social stuff back to my own practice, to pause over this weekend and reach inside, reach up to the moon and out to the cold earth. It’s really, truly cold here for the first time this winter, and there’s just enough snow to make things a little interesting.

Next weekend is Imbolc, and even in the midst of the cold and the dark, I can tell the light is beginning to return, that the cold won’t last forever. So I honor all those things at once – the snow and the moon, the light and the dark, and I use this time to gather my will to take the next steps, to work to make change in the world.

These are some of the words I’m using to do that and to honor Brigid. May you find your own inspiration to do so as well.

9 thoughts on “Kindle the fire in my deep well

  1. I’m trying to find a prayer to Athena as patron of spinning and weaving, or crafts in general, and simply can’t find one that suits. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyplace else I could look, would you?

    I tried to write one, but am not being terribly successful. I want to write it out line by line on strips of paper and put it in a devotional weaving. So far, the ancient prayers are all about her as warrior or protector of the city (presumably the weavers’ prayers didn’t survive because they were women’s prayers), and the modern ones are similar, or are very general, or only reference weaving as a metaphor.

    1. No, I don’t know one like that, and I’m a bit stymied as to how to start writing one, too. If it’s meant to be broken up into strips, would a series of adorations work?
      Athena the weaver, we adore you.
      Athena whose hands drive the shuttle, we adore you.
      Athena who tightens the warp and the weft, we adore you.
      Athena who blends the colors, we adore you.

      1. I ended up sort of throwing together a terribly simple one, mostly out of lines I might mutter as I work. It’s not terribly pretty, but I think it will fit.

        Pallas Athena
        Athena Ergane
        Weaver, Goddess who stands alone, independent
        Steady and support my spindle
        Let my warp not tangle
        Guide my shuttle and my needle
        Grant me both inspiration and skill

        (Ergane is “of the work,” Athene’s guise as patron of craft.)

        Looks like I’m having friends over for Imbolc. Some food, some ritual, some silliness. It’ll be good for all three of us. It’s been a tough winter.

        1. I like it! I hope you all have a wonderful time.

          Would “ergane” be related to the origin of the physics unit the “erg”?

        2. It does appear to be, yes. Erg is from ergon, which means “work”, and “ergane” clearly relates to that. Well spotted!

          I’m enthusiastic about this piece. It’s very much turning into one that shows how far I’ve come in these crafts, and how far I have to go, and sacrificing of my work to her. I’m looking forward to writing it up.

          BTW, I don’t know if you’ve seen my weaving-and-paganism blog, but I referenced you in the latest entry.

  2. poem in process for Brigid’s Day:

    Brigid’s Way

    Outpouring care feeds our mythic spring.
    Sparkling flame of peace abides within,
    melts forbidding.
    Not fools,
    no pleas for altruist beliefs.
    We give because it feeds us.
    We have no fear of cunning deceivers.
    Who could take unfair advantage,
    steal our goods?
    If energies are not replenished, the giving stops;
    but to take advantage of a useful contribution
    is no drain. It is the focal point of our outpouring.
    Need reaches to heal through magical interchange.
    Why ought Compassion be measured out
    in play at “who deserves”?
    Fed by the blessing
    of sacred vessels aching to be filled,
    we who have found this gift of fortune,
    this well neverending revealed,
    dip in with grace, good will,
    self-rejoicing wisdom.
    This is not belief or even knowing.
    This is breath of awe in motion.

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