February 3rd is significant as it represents the celestial midpoint between winter solstice and spring equinox, a time recognized by the Celts as “Brigid time” or Imbolc, an important cross-quarter day within the Celtic Medicine wheel.
Brigid stands out as the most celebrated Irish-Scottish deity, easily identifiable and deeply connected to the arrival of spring. Though the British Isles may witness early signs of spring in February, the same cannot be said for North America, particularly areas like Minnesota, where true spring typically doesn’t arrive until late April. This discrepancy has led to confusion, particularly when observing the many online celebrations of Brigid during early February, which I have worked to reconcile.
Often depicted as the goddess of spring, healing, poetry, and metalworking, Brigid encompasses a rich tapestry of qualities: fire, water, celestial influences, new life, inspiration, and also resilience, compassion, and shrewdness. These diverse attributes mirror Brigid’s Mother-Goddess essence.
Her association with the warmer months and the influx of light has led to a plethora of imagery on the internet illustrating Brigid as a youthful and alluring figure. While this can be comforting, it’s crucial to avoid viewing her through a naive lens since she’s far from simplistic.
A fascinating anecdote involves a Celtic warrior king named Brennus, who conquered Rome 2,400 years ago. As he walked through the city, he was bemused by the Roman gods depicted in human form, expressing how limiting it was to confine deities to human categories. The labeling of gods according to human attributes is a Western tendency that diminishes their true, vast nature. In contrast, Celtic deities resist such classifications, which is one reason I appreciate them so deeply.
Engaging with Brigid also means connecting with the element of fire. In its gentler manifestations, such as during dawn or early spring, this fiery energy is nurturing, expansive, and welcoming. Brigid’s presence ignites creativity and inspiration, encapsulated in the Gaelic term “Imbas,” or “fire in the head,” resonating with artists and poets who regard her as their protector and guide. One evocative image is the soft glow of dawn hitting a droplet of dew poised on a leaf above the River Boyne, considered sacred in Ireland. In this softer aspect, she also embodies the hearth, the heart of ancient homes, where warmth and nourishment radiate.
On a more intense scale, Brigid’s fiery nature melts the harsh remnants of winter, coaxing forth the dormant life beneath the frost. She acts as a healer by dissipating coldness in all its forms—be it in the earth, our bodies, or our minds. Offering clarity, she penetrates through our own narratives of struggle and hardship to reveal the potential for revitalization. Symbolically linked with the first spring blooms, she may be invoked to dissolve anything that holds us back.
As the goddess of the forge, Brigid stands for transformation, infusing her intense heat to reshape metal into useful objects. The process demands significant warmth, as resistance can be formidable. Thus, Brigid participates in pivotal life changes, gently igniting our transformation and, when necessary, amplifying her influence to ensure progress. During times of robust change, we can appeal to Brigid for support in overcoming any hesitance to evolve.
At this time of year, particularly in early February, Brigid can be envisioned as a solar spirit—embodying the illuminating force associated with spiritual wisdom, healing, prophecy, and justice. One of her ancient titles, Breo-saighead, or “fiery arrow,” symbolizes divine justice. In her guise as Brigantia, she personifies grand visions entwined with heroism.
The light of early February, especially in colder regions, signifies Brigid’s role as a transformative force. This is the soft light of introspection—the kind that initiates thoughts of forgiveness or challenges old biases, representing the initial flicker of insight that can shift one’s perception.
In the deep frost of February, I prefer to honor Brigid’s celestial aspect. Later in the month and into March, I engage in healing ceremonies that invoke her energy for revitalization, whether for individuals, landscapes, or even communities, breathing new life into outdated notions and restricting beliefs.
As spring equinox approaches, I celebrate the legendary conflict between Brigid and the winter hag, known as the Cailleach. The narrative, captured in the Scottish tale “The Coming of Angus and Bride,” exemplifies the age-old battle between winter and spring. I highlight Brigid’s essence in mid-April, when the first flowers emerge, and recognize her dynamic force during times when new ideas manifest or change seems challenging.
Working with Brigid know no bounds besides our imagination and capacity for growth. Like the sacred east direction on the medicine wheel or the dawn of each day, Brigid remains a constant ally, present and willing to assist throughout the seasons.
