Finding Joy in Winter's Last Breath
Physical Setting & Preparation
Find a space where you can see the sky, whether through a window or outdoors if the weather permits. Arrange before you a small flame (candle), a sprout or seed, and a cup of water. Sit comfortably with your back straight and your shoulders relaxed. Place your hands palms up on your knees, forming receptive bowls. Close your eyes briefly and take seven slow, deep breaths—one for each day that has passed in this month and one for today, the eighth day. As you breathe, feel your body becoming lighter, more buoyant, as though joy were a current lifting you gently upward.
"In the hollow places of loss, plant seeds of remembrance. With time, new growth emerges—not to replace what was, but to honor what remains eternal." —Wendy
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
Air an ochdamh latha den Mhàrt,
Tha mi a' cur fàilte air aoibhneas an latha.
Eadar am fuachd a tha falbh,
Agus blàths a tha tighinn,
Tha mi a' faireachdainn gluasad na beatha.
On this eighth day of March,
I welcome the joy of this day.
Between the cold that is leaving,
And the warmth that is coming,
I feel the movement of life.
Sense the energy of early March—the eighth day—a time when winter still claims dominion yet surrenders a little more each day to spring's advance. The light lengthens noticeably now, and though the earth may still wear patches of frost or snow, beneath its surface life quickens with anticipation. Open your eyes and observe the quality of light around you. Notice how it differs from the light of deep winter—perhaps brighter, perhaps holding hints of gold amid the silver. Visualize your joy as a small flame within your chest, flickering with the same quality of light you observe.
Body of the Working | Corp
Tha aoibhneas mar gheug ùr,
A' briseadh tro rùsg cruaidh a' gheamhraidh.
Tha a bhùrn ag èirigh bhon talamh,
Mar a dh'èireas an t-anam bhon chorp.
Joy is like a new branch,
Breaking through winter's hard bark.
Its sap rises from the earth,
As the soul rises from the body.
Gaze at the flame before you. Fire is the element of transformation and spirit. Like joy, it dances and moves, never static, always becoming. Bring your hands toward the flame, not touching it but feeling its warmth. This is the touch of the Mother Earth's inner fire, the source of all life and joy on this planet.
Now, shift your attention to your body. Where do you feel joy most readily? Perhaps in the center of your chest, in your belly, or as a lightness in your face. Wherever you locate this sensation, place one hand there and imagine the Mother's fire flowing through your palm, nurturing that joyful energy. With each breath, the sensation grows stronger, more vibrant, spreading through your body like sap rising in a tree awakening to spring.
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
A Mhàthair na talmhainn, fosgail mo chridhe,
Don aoibhneas a tha mu chuairt orm.
Teagaisg dhomh a bhith a' faicinn do làmh,
Anns gach duilleag agus anns gach clach.
Mother of the earth, open my heart,
To the joy that surrounds me.
Teach me to see your hand,
In every leaf and in every stone.
Take the sprout or seed in your hands and hold it gently. Close your eyes and imagine yourself standing in a clearing at the edge of a forest. The ground beneath your feet is beginning to thaw, and patches of green emerge through the winter-brown earth. The air carries the scent of damp soil and the faintest hint of growing things.
In this sacred space, feel the presence of the Mother of the Earth. She moves through the trees, her footsteps leaving tiny wildflowers in their wake. Her laughter is the sound of melting streams and awakening birds. She approaches you, her eyes bright with the joy of creation.
She takes your hands in hers, and when she releases them, you find they are filled with golden light—the essence of joy itself. This light flows into your body, filling every cell. It dissolves any lingering heaviness from winter's introspection. It reminds you that joy is not just an emotion but a state of alignment with life's natural exuberance.
The Mother places her hand on your heart, and you feel it expanding, becoming spacious enough to hold both winter's wisdom and spring's delight. Remain in this connection for several moments, breathing deeply and allowing joy to circulate freely through your being.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
How might I nurture the seeds of joy in my daily life, even as the seasons continue to transition? What gifts has winter offered that make spring's joy all the more meaningful? In what ways can I become a vessel for the earth's joy, sharing it with others who may still be held in winter's grip?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Tha mi a' toirt taing dhut, a Mhàthair na talmhainn,
Airson aoibhneas a' bheatha.
Mar a dh'fhàsas an latha nas fhaide,
Mar sin meudaichidh an solas nam chridhe.
Tha mi a' giùlan do ghàire leam.
I give thanks to you, Mother of the earth,
For the joy of life.
As the day grows longer,
So will the light in my heart increase.
I carry your laughter with me.
Gently return the seed or sprout to its place. Take a sip of water, allowing it to remind you that joy flows like water through all of life. Finally, blow gently on the flame, not to extinguish it but to remind yourself that your breath—your life force—and joy are intimately connected.
Rise slowly, carrying the earth's joyful energy within you. Know that just as the eighth of March balances between seasons, you too can find joy in transition, in the spaces between what has been and what is becoming.
Beautiful, and welcome this morning. Thank you.
Love it. Thank you!