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The waves are rough on the coral beach today. They crash joyfully against the rocks after yesterday’s full moon. Children run, jump, and burst with laughter. The sky is a fantastic blue.
Today I am the Sun. I dance on the coralline algae, swaying, billowing, rising. I am filled with light. Next to me is a Brigid doll, woven from straw, with a ribbon for a necklace.
Liza is also the Sun today. She dips her feet into the foaming Atlantic. She shimmers blue. The waves murmur the rhythm of our dance. A chorus of seagulls squawks for an encore. The coralline algae insted of sand on the beach crunch like castanets underfoot.
Following Irish tradition, we burn last year’s crosses made from rush and wait for their ashes to be carried away by the sea. Later we hang colorful ribbons on the branches, making wishes.
A gentle mist rises from the ocean. Worries fade into invisibility. We breathe in a fresh beginning. Washed by turquoise. The Paper Sun and the Brigid Doll or in Irish Brideóg return with us, calling for spring, which, according to Celtic tradition, begins with Imbolc.
P.S. Imbolc – the Celtic festival of purification and Saint Brigid’s Day intertwine beautifully. Ireland celebrates it on February 1st.
