The equinoxes and solstices are astrological occasions that fall midway between the traditional Irish seasonal or agricultural festivals. The spring equinox, celebrated on the day that the Sun moves into the sign of Aries, falls on the 20th of March this year and finds us halfway through the season of Imbolc. The essence of Beltaine beckons and the promise of summertime grows ever stronger as trees begin to bud, the wild herbs bravely push to the surface of the Earth and the birds sing noisily as they build their nests, anticipating new life.

With my pilgrimages and schools in Ireland, I feel so blessed to bring people to a place of our ancestral roots and spiritual heritage. It is a gift to guide them, to share this resonant landscape, the holy wells and sacred sites, to gather every morning in circle to drink tea and set intention through ritual. Throughout my years of journeying and living here I have discovered that pilgrimage is as much a way of life as it is a place and time out of time.

The wheel of the year ever turns and winter inevitability moves into spring: Imbolc beckons.

On the linear, modern calendar, Brighid’s (her name is also spelled Brigit, Brigid, Bhride) festival day, Imbolc, is celebrated beginning at dusk on January 31 and throughout February 1. Her Christian feast day, often called Candlemas, is on February 2. Our ancestors used lunar alignment prior to the patriarchy and the solar-based Gregorian calendar that we now widely follow. Lunar Imbolc falls on the Aquarius new moon and cross-quarter Imbolc (which is the date 1/2 way between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox) is 4 February. Moving into the season of Imbolc is a portal of time, not a fixed date.

The deep dark grows and the sun acquiesces his power to the mystery and possibility of the long nights of the season of Samhain. The primal elements of Air, Fire, Water and Earth join the dance of the ancient rhythms. And so may we.

In Ireland and the other Celtic lands, the winds rage without while candlelight illuminates the dark nights within. Our ancestors have gathered around the hearth fire to while away the long nights with stories and whiskey and bottomless pots of strong tea. The feminine aspects of Water and Earth are venerated as the moon claims the night with her watery luminescence exulted. The Earth spirals inward with the wisdom to rest and to be, holding seeds of light within her womb.

We have traversed through the threshold of Samhain and will continue to deepen into the growing dark until Winter Solstice. The deepening dark invites us to rest and nest, to dream into the womb of the earth, just like the roots of our beloved trees. Yew, a tree sacred to the Irish and one of the trees of the ancient Ogham tree alphabet, shares the wisdom of this time, on the turning of the Wheel. As the deepening dark reminds us to surrender and to pause, yew dances with this wisdom and reminds us that we will be transformed as a result.

The fire festival of Samhain is celebrated beginning at dusk on 31 October and ends the following day, at dusk on 1 November. This festival welcomes the winter season on the ancient Irish calendar, which is also called Samhain (pronounced “sow-in”). This is also the Celtic New Year.

The Autumn Equinox falls on September 22 this year and is determined by the day that the sun moves into Libra, as it is an astrological occurrence. The equinoxes were celebrated by our pre-Celtic ancestors and later integrated into Celtic practices. These Neolithic people built stone structures like dolmens, stone circles and tumuli (sacred mounds/ cairns). Many of these mystical stone creations are in alignment with the equinoxes or solstices.

On the Wheel of the Year Lughnasa, the season of autumn falls in the direction of the west which also holds the energies of the element of Water. Water is a feminine element, flowing with abundant potential, mirrored by the harvests of the grains and the fruiting of the trees. Water holds us and invites us to flow into the next season, surrendering the heat and intensity of summertime with cooler days and luminous sunsets, gently spiraling us inward.

To our Native European ancestors and specifically in Ireland, Lughnasa marks a time of community-gathering, competitions, and trading. Lughnasa includes the months of August, September and October, and begins at a time of abundant gifts from the Earth, as blossom has transformed to harvest.

Dúchas is an Irish word that means to belong. Words from indigenous languages, such as Irish, hold entire stories within them and I love to discover these stories and to experience the pulses of remembering that occur when I spiral into them.

I have had a life-long love affair with oak. I grew up on a farm in Ohio that was abundant with the towering white oaks of the Midwest. There was an oak right by our backdoor that stretched one of its branches right beside the balcony off my room. I breathed and dreamed with oak every day for the bulk for my childhood, until I went away to college.

July is a between-time called idir ait in Irish. It is a time between places, a time between our seasonal and astrological (equinoxes and solstices) celebrations, as we do not celebrate any this month. For many of us July can be a time between relishing the abundance of summer and wilting in the excess heat. It is an in-between time of abundant light yet slowly waning towards the darkening days.

Indigenous cultures know that being in right relationship to the land and Nature, to the Earth and all of her children, is essential. In fact, it's not only essential, it is also the only way of being: there is no separate from. This how the indigenous ones lived and continue to live.

Working at our altar is work. It is soul work and magic work and ancient work. And it is work. To keep our altars energetically aligned we need to engage with them daily, at least. These are not just pretty vignettes to admire. An altar is not a shrine that you don’t interact with or a stagnant place of reverence. Altars are sacred places of engagement: of clearing, burning, writing, breathing, dancing, singing, asking, praying, listening.

Dandelion. Lamb’s quarter. Mallow. Yarrow. Wild lettuce. Spruce tips. Shepherd’s purse. Wild mustard. Lilac. Hawthorn. Speaking the names of the wild green herbs, flowers and trees I saw yesterday on a rainy walk in my neighborhood in urban Denver.

On the Wheel of the Year, Beltaine falls in the South, the home of the element of fire and the full moon. The energies that fire stirs within us include passion, courage and transformation. It is a time of fecundity and blossoming, of heightened sensual and sexual energies, of creativity and fertility.

An essay on the erotic connection between dandelion and the sun.

With my pilgrimages and schools in Ireland, I feel so blessed to bring people to a place of our ancestral roots and spiritual heritage. It is a gift to guide them, to share this resonant landscape, the holy wells and sacred sites, to gather every morning in circle to drink tea and set intention through ritual.

In these times of resistance and revolution may we remember to come back to the resilience and restorative healing that nature provides. May we remember we are nature, remember our wild nature, and remember that optimal and sustainable nourishment comes from this relationship.

It has been a long winter and your home has held you well. Now, as the days warm, you are inclined to open the windows wider and invite in the freshness of renewal. Now is the time to clear away and make room for what will grow in your own life this season.