Original Publication: Issue #18 – Pagan Chronicle – Lastfrost 2026

Kim Gardner – Sparks, NV – A recognized and respected voice, Kim Gardner has been a practitioner of the Craft for over 30 years. Her journey has led her to become a High Priestess in the Gardnerian tradition and the Minoan Sisterhood. As a guiding light for theirs, she has led her own coven for over thirteen years. Kim’s commitment to the wider community as further demonstrated by her decade-long involvement with Pagan Pride, culminating in her current role on the Board of Directors for National Pagan Pride as the West Coast Regional Coordinator. For further info or to connect with Kim go to: https://substack.com/@warriorshearth

You know that unique coldness that settles in around the turn of the year? It’s not just the biting chill outside. It’s a deep, internal freeze where your energy feels suspended and motivation seems impossibly buried. You’ve been navigating a “deep winter” in your mental health, a phase where healing feels stalled, recovery seems overwhelming, and your capacity is running on empty. You know it well, don’t you?

We stand at a curious point in the yearly cycle. The winter solstice has passed, and the days are steadily getting longer, yet we’re still firmly held by the lingering frost. This is the moment of Imbolc, the ancient Celtic cross quarter festival celebrated around February 1st. Imbolc isn’t spring yet, but it’s the official turning point. It’s the time when the return of the light, the promise of renewal, becomes unmistakable. The darkness hasn’t won; it’s just waiting for its exit.

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The transition marked by Imbolc offers us an important lesson. Deep healing requires us to seek out and tend the small, fragile sparks of hope and motivation. It teaches us to trust that our inner vitality will return, even if right now, all we have the capacity to do is protect the seed.

The Promise of the Ground (Rootwork)

Look at the ground during Imbolc. It’s cold, often bare, maybe covered in snow. Yet, beneath the frost line, nature is  busy getting ready in the quiet. This is the time of rootwork, where seeds soak up moisture, strengthening their base, and planning their glorious emergence.

The seed is the perfect symbol of this quiet resilience. It holds the entire blueprint for a massive tree or a vibrant bloom, yet right now, it’s tiny, protected, and mostly invisible. Our biggest mental and emotional shifts often happen when we’re quiet, not when we’re rushing. When your energy is limited, your only job is to protect the essential promise of future life: your potential. This means that acts of survival, like resting, sleeping, or managing anxiety, are your most valuable rootwork.

Brigid’s Flame: The Light of Anticipation

Imbolc is closely associated with Brigid, the goddess of the forge, poetry, and healing, and the themes of fire and light. But this light isn’t the full, overwhelming heat of the summer sun; it’s a single, protected candle flame; small, fragile, yet persistent against the cold draft.

If the seed represents your inner promise of renewal, this flame represents your hope.

Mental health recovery doesn’t require guaranteed happiness; it requires the gentle,persistent choice to protect a tiny, flickering belief that things will eventually improve. This hope is the warmth that keeps the seed viable through the longest nights.

Soon, the first delicate flowers like snowdrops and crocuses will push through the frozen earth. They aren’t huge, but their emergence is proof that life is winning over stagnation. They are the first green shoots. When you feel frozen, what’s the first tiny sign of life returning?

Acknowledge and celebrate these micro-triumphs, because they are the tangible proof that your inner spring is almost here.

Practical Tending: The Seed of Micro-Intention

The Imbolc pace is slow and gentle. It respects the limited energy of the transitioning earth. So, our practical steps should be small, non-aggressive, and intentional.

We often derail recovery by setting huge, unsustainable goals. This is like forcing a summer bloom in February, it leads straight to burnout. The Imbolc solution? Focus on micro-intentions.

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Instead of aiming to “start exercising,” try “stand up and stretch for 30 seconds.” Instead of “overhauling my diet,” try “drinking one full glass of water today.” The goal of the micro-intention isn’t the grand result; it’s the act of planting the seed itself, a declaration of forward movement so small it absolutely cannot fail. When you have low capacity, you must dedicate your energy to protecting only the most essential seeds. You’re strategically prioritizing survival.

The Ritual of Illumination

If Brigid’s fire is the spark of hope, we must  tend it daily. We do this by deliberately seeking and magnifying sources of internal warmth.

1.      Anticipatory Joy: Dedicate a short, protected time each day (five minutes is plenty) to vividly imagine one small, good thing coming this spring- the feeling of sun on your arms, the sound of birdsong, the taste of fresh produce. This feeds the seed with necessary warmth.

2.      Clearing the Way: Use the purification energy of Imbolc to clear one tiny, frozen mental block (e.g., an overdue email, an unnecessary item you keep tripping over) by completing or removing it. This clears space in your mind for eventual growth.

The greatest lesson of Imbolc is this: Nature’s calendar proves that winter is cyclical, not permanent. The light returns every single year, regardless of what we’re going through.

When motivation is low, switch from the frantic, stressful mindset of “I need to fix this right now” to the gentle reframing of “I need to witness this cycle.” Allow nature to confirm for you that change is constant, reliable, and always coming. Your own inner spring is simply waiting for its perfect moment to arrive.

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A Simple Ritual: Tending Your Seed

If you’re feeling low on energy, don’t worry, this isn’t a “big” ritual. It’s designed for where you are right now. We’re simply  doing a little mental spring cleaning and then protecting your intentions.

What You’ll Need:

·         A notebook or piece of paper and a pen.

·         A single white candle (to represent that returning light).

·         A small bowl of fresh water or salt (for grounding).

Step 1: Clear the Winter Debris Before we plant, we must weed. On one half of your paper, write down 3–5 things that are draining you right now.

·         Say something like: “I see this debris, but I’m not carrying it into spring. I’m letting this go.”

·         Tear that half of the paper off and shred it. Throw it in the trash or burn it. It’s gone.

Step 2: Identify Your Seeds On the clean piece of paper, write down your Micro-Intentions. Remember, keep them small.

·         Write 1–3 “Seeds of Hope.” (e.g., “I will take 5 minutes of quiet time,” “I will be kind to myself when I’m tired.”)

·         Hold the paper and tell yourself: “These are the seeds I have the energy to protect. That’s enough.”

Step 3: Light the Spark Light your candle. Stare at that little flame for a minute. Imagine it’s the first warm sun of spring hitting the frozen ground.

·         Visualize: Close your eyes and imagine that one good thing you’re looking forward to. Let that good feeling warm you up from the inside. That warmth is exactly what your seeds need to grow.

Step 4: Protect and Tuck Away Touch the water or salt, then make a little mark (like a circle or a heart) on your paper over your intentions. This is just a physical way of saying, “This is grounded. This is safe.”

Fold the paper up and tuck it somewhere safe- under your pillow, in a drawer, or in your journal.

The Promise– You don’t need to check on this every day. Just trust that they are safe and that the rootwork is happening, even if you can’t see it yet. Blow out the candle and give yourself credit for showing up.

Conclusion: Embracing the Transition

Hope, at this midpoint of winter, isn’t a sudden, confident summer bloom; it’s the quiet, fierce resilience of the seed that knows spring is coming. If the deep winter has left you with limited capacity, know that your only task is to hold that tiny, crucial promise safe.

Embrace the gentle, intentional space of Imbolc. Tend your single flame, protect your rootwork, and trust the inevitability of the cycle. You’ve already done the hard part, surviving the deepest night. Now rest assured that the first green shoot will emerge.

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