Secret work

On Imbolc, learning and learning to fail

“I always think the secret of change is that there are huge gestations and fermentations going on in us that we are not even aware of. And then, sometimes, when we come to a threshold, crossing over, which we need to become different, we’ll be able to be different, because secret work has been done in us, of which we’ve had no inkling.”

- John O’Donohue

Last night I was up nearly the whole night with my poorly son. With his hot little body pressed to mine, he flung his limbs about and breathed like a lawn mower in my ear, pushing the possibility of sleep further away as the hours ticked by.

I felt wide awake anyway. Some nights when my children are ill are a vigil, not anxious necessarily but a quiet missive that I receive without question: stay awake. When I haven’t had time to write, sometimes thoughts overspill and these nights are sleepless too, watching for ideas to emerge from shimmering, dream-like shapes so they can be captured and transformed into a comprehensible story.

We’ve just passed Imbolc, the Celtic festival marking the first stirrings of spring. This is a liminal stitch in the fabric, neither winter or spring proper, the green just beginning to push up from dark, fertile places.

Copyright Danielle Barlow

A few years back, I started to become interested in seasonality and directing the flame of my Welsh and Irish heritage towards better illuminating the teachings of the Celtic wheel of the year. In many moments I’ve felt a strong desire to emulate the cycles around me - to winter or wait or spring into action. But then there’s the reality of my existence, with my own set of responsibilities and limitations, the duties and competing devotions that each one of us hold.