Please note the sarcasm.
Imbolc happened over the weekend. I saw people on various social sites wishing each other the best and showing pictures of their celebrations, no matter how small. While I am no longer some semblance of Wiccan I remember the holy days and have a few friends who still practice in some form.
Despite all that I saw none of my local pagans wishing each other a happy Imbolc.
Then again it might have had something to do with the fact we had blizzard conditions that day.
When I started on my pagan path, nearly 18 years ago (I was one of those girls who got interested thanks to The Craft[only one to stick with it]), all I had were dated books and random websites with MySpace like glittery banners. I would sneak some reading time at the local library and eventually worked up the courage in asking to buy one. My mother said no and her long lost catholic childhood reared it’s ugly head. I printed up information on Wicca to calm her worries and it seemed to help. For the most part my family was accepting (I had gotten in trouble a year earlier for having one of the books and passing ‘evil’ notes with a fellow girl). I got my books in time.
One of the big things I wanted to do was celebrate the holidays within the Wiccan belief. I wrote down the names and the dates, learned what they were about. I was so excited but always confused. The dates made no sense. A good example is Imbolc. How could I celebrate the coming of spring when the air is frigid, the world still sleeping, and everything dusted in snow?
It wasn’t until many years later, honestly a few years ago, that I found people who were of the thought and opinion to shift things around so it fits your locale. The idea seemed so foreign, full of hearsay, and too damn good. I went with it, slowly fixing things to suit the northern lifestyle. This was also around the time where my beliefs were shifting once more. I was being pulled towards heathenry/asatru/what ever it is I try to call it. Past experiences were finally making sense. No more confusion and worry. Three years later it hasn’t changed.
My holidays now rotate how the world outside my door is happening. Spring hasn’t occurred. There is no specific day for the changing of the seasons now. I see sprouts and buds, spring is coming. The world is hot and in full bloom, summer is there. The cicadas are singing, fall is about to happen. And, for me, it is never truely winter until snow is falling, though the frigid temperatures do help.
If I could go back to the new pagan me, I would tell her to go with what seems right, but keep reading. Explore Wicca until you are done. Your gods have been waiting but know you will find them when the time is right.