I find it intriguing that various cultural calendars choose to mark not just the obvious things – full moons and new moons, equinox and solstice – but also the positions halfway between. In the Tibetan ritual calendar, the half-moon days are equally as important as full moon or new moon and are marked as Guru Rinpoche Day and Dakini Day, with appropriate ceremonies.
In traditional Ireland, the primary named celebrations of the annual round – Samain, Imbolg, Beltaine, and Lughnasa – fell halfway between the solstice and equinox days.
February 2nd is recognized in our country as Groundhog Day, but it has deep connections to Irish Imbolg, “a pastoral festival celebrating the coming into milk of the ewes”. There may also have been some weather divination associated with Imbolg, a possible origin of our Groundhog Day.
I muse over all of this as a reminder that time – as well as the way in which we measure it – is all relative. The protagonist of my next novel – Shadow of the Hare, which will be published later this year – had similar thoughts after she moved out of the city and into a remote rural community:
“As the weeks extended into months, I kind of stopped keeping track of time. It’s all relative anyway, gauging our distance from some event in the past or some planned, imagined future, organizing our activities within the diurnal/nocturnal cycle, across the flow of seasons. (…)
“When I first arrived, I still felt the need to know what time it was, positioning my little digital clock on my table like some deity in a shrine. As summer heated up, I noticed that people would begin to say ‘good afternoon’ well before my clock declared midday. Similarly, on an overcast day, they might continue to offer ‘good morning’ long past noon. I soon relegated my clock to a dresser drawer; I had no further need of its guidance.”
Happy Groundhog Day, everyone! Happy Imbolg! It will all come ‘round again.
I’ve always seen the cross-quarter days as a sort of cosmic “call and response” — a celebration, first, of the physical relationship between the earth and the sun; followed by a celebration of the reaction of the earth to the changing conditions. Or, perhaps, like the peaks and troughs of a sine wave pattern — equal, opposite, and intimately part of the same action.
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