I wanted to take a moment to write down my meditation to Brigid from the Wiccan Full Moon ritual that my friend Mama Gaea lead this year for the February Snow Moon.
The meditation had three parts:
I saw myself as a child and Brigid as a mother. She was showing me how to play, and dance and sing. I could feel Brigid as the creative poet and bard. I heard her say to embrace my artistic side and that she believed in me. We laughed until we cried and tumbled in the grass. White and Brown Hare's kept running in and out of the playtime while we danced and sang songs.
Outside the meditation, I cried.
My own step mother and I have a hard relationship in that I never felt supported in the arts. It was always a "waste of time" and something I felt endlessly guilty about. My stepmother was always emotionally distant and Brigid seemed so warm and full of love.
Then I saw myself as a teenager and she was teaching me things. She was teaching me how to bandage up a wounded hare. She was teaching me how to cook and then teaching me how to garden. These all came in a series of flashes.
And again, I cried
Brigid is a healer and a teacher. My childhood was not spent "learning" from a maternal figure but instead by feeling left out as they did everything on their own. Knowledge was almost kept "secret" in my childhood and here I saw Brigid smiling eagerly to pass on the wisdom that she had to watch me grow and learn.
Then I saw myself broken and sobbing. Heartbroken and scared. I saw Brigid turn to anger and she taught me how to forge. She taught me to use weapons of combat but above all how to be strong. She told me that pain means you are living, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't learn to fight. She showed me how to value myself and find my own strength. We learned to spar like warriors and fought hand and hand as equals, learning from each other, and building knowledge of the hard parts of life.
And then I cried hardest of all.
Growing up, there were no open arms when I was heartbroken. There were "I told you sos" and "well thats life, get use to it". I had nearly given up on life (and attempted to twice) because I felt lost and completely alone. There was no mother to check up on me. There was no fight inside me that could be pulled out by careful hands. There was no intensity that would cause me to straighten my shoulders and soldier on. There was only me, standing broken, alone.
Brigid came to me in three parts of my life in which I needed her most. Three parts of my life in which I needed a mother most. Three fragile parts of me that I don't often reflect on because they are painful to go back too.
This meditation left me feeling deeply like she has always been there making sure I would eventually find the path that I am on now. This is not a new thing with my relationship to Brigid. She often comes as a maternal figure to me, although she never ages. She is my eternal mother, best friend and sister. She is always my equal but she is also always willing to share her wisdom and fire warm embrace. She can be very soft and nurturing, or hard and inspiring but there isn't a meditation or interaction that passes that I don't gain something from her.