The Cold Moon & the Fire We Must Tend
As the Full Moon rises, we walk the Via Transformativa feeling the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebrating.
Invocation
O Flame that cannot be quenched,
O Light that shines in the longest night,
We come to you beneath this Cold Moon,
Gathered not in fear, but in fierce devotion.
Brigid of the Hearth,
Foster-mother of Christ,
You who keened for a broken world
And still sing songs of healing and fire,
Come walk with us now.
Teach us to tend what must be tended.
Kindle within us the courage to act.
Let your forge fire shape our tools of peace,
And your hearth fire warm the places in us gone cold.
Awen, holy breath of inspiration,
Flow freely in this moment.
Fill our minds with vision,
Our hearts with compassion,
And our hands with holy resolve.
We are not waiting for heroes.
We are remembering who we are.
We are the people of the flame.
Let this light be a beginning.
Let this Cold Moon rise upon a people unafraid to burn bright.
Amen. So be it. So may it blaze.
The Sacred Moment
Today, the Cold Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.
This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.
Theme: The Fire That Cannot Be Quenched
Here in the United States, the first snows have fallen and the temperatures have dropped. That’s one of the reasons this time of year’s full moon is called the Cold Moon. The cold has arrived, and with it the knowledge that winter is fully bearing down on us.
It’s unusual for us to talk about Brigid in these cold winter months. She’s usually associated with spring. But it’s here in the cold that the need for her fire, her understanding of how to tend to the animals, the craft, and her ability to heal is most needed. It’s in her inspiration that we access the Awen, the Imbas, the power to do what we need to do and to imagine the things that need to be done.
And so as we celebrate this full moon, we call on her grace as the foster mother of Christ to give us access to the Awen, so that it might fill our minds and enliven us to do all the work of transformation and change, and to always remember to celebrate in the midst of it. That celebration is necessary for these dark times.
Brigid understands our suffering. She lost all of her children to the great wars that harmed her people. It is said that she was the first to keen on the island of Ireland. She understands the need for wisdom, for strength, for home and hearth. She understands that everyone needs to be taken care of. It is even said that her holy animals cry out in times of injustice.
In times of deep prayer lately, I feel like I can hear the bellow of the ox, the cry of the rams, and the war cry of the boars. In times like these, we are reminded to be at the hearth: to stand strong and prepare the implements that will be necessary not only to stave off the darkness, but to keep our people strong together, healthy, and inspired through all that faces us.
Those who are arrayed against us have learned that if they just keep pushing; flooding the zone, as they say, they can overwhelm us and cause us to miss what they are actually doing. It is more incumbent upon us now, more than ever, to have that attention:
To read the warnings in the clouds.
To listen to the messages from the brooks and the rivers.
To see what is meant to be unseen in these perilous times.
Brigid’s fire is a forging fire. It is meant to make implements of peace and implements of war. But it is also the hearth fire that warms the house and prepares the food. It is the flame around which we gather that inspires us to act for one another as much as for ourselves. It is the fire that burns in each of our hearts that tells us that this injustice cannot be allowed to stand.
The fire of Brigid is the light that we spoke of earlier. It is the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.
When the Irish converted to Christianity, they referred to Brigid as the Mary of the Gaels. They called her the foster mother of Christ. A foster mother is one who takes care of, lends her credence to, and gives absolute devotion to her foster children. Fosterage was a big part of the tradition at the time. Many children had a closer relationship with their foster parents than with their birth parents.
As the foster mother of Christ, she takes in this power, this Spirit, this One who holds the cosmos together, who sustains it, and gives us hope and life. Through her work at the hearth, at the forge, in healing and in song, in keening and in laughter, she reminds us that this fire, this light, is the one that holds us together.
There will be many attempts to divide us and to break us apart. But so long as we gather around this warm communal flame, we will stand tall and we will stand strong. In the end, we will be victorious.
Creation Spirituality reminds us that we are each artists, mystics, and prophets. All of these are actions born out of compassion, justice, and celebration. These are the core values of Brigid, and these are all acts that are inspired by and empowered by the Awen.
Now, more than ever, we need to be artists: able to imagine and create visions of a world of peace, hope, and equality. Of a land where equity rules and the unjust are brought low. Where the wealth gap is removed, and the people not only can afford to live, but have the basic right to live.
We remember the words of Jesus that tell us who are the righteous and who are the unrighteous. That we are here to:
feed the hungry,
give water to the thirsty,
tend to the sick,
give shelter to the poor,
serve the widows and orphans,
visit those who are imprisoned,
and accept the refugee in our land.
Those who do this, do so to Christ. Those who refuse, deny him and cast him out. And he will say to them, “I never knew you.”
This is the calling placed on us.
As Brigid’s animals cry in the day and in the night at the great injustices in our country: ICE raids tearing apart families, genocide supported, and abusers freed, we need to remember who we are.
We are artists who can dream. We are mystics who can enter into that divine flow and know that the cosmos itself strives for interconnectedness and growth. That evolution only happens through cooperative work to keep each other alive. That competition is an illusion placed over the world to blind us to the truth.
As prophets, we speak the word and shine the light of truth on injustice, pain, and suffering. We don’t just point it out; we point the way to a better life and a better future.
As believers, we are the ones who stand in the gap practicing the two great commandments: to love our God with all our heart, mind, and spirit, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.
Since God is in doing and being; since God is found in acts of love and beauty and justice, in wisdom, perseverance, endurance, strength, and mercy, it is in doing these things that we love God. And in loving God, we love our neighbors.
As James says in his epistle: “By my works, I will show you my faith (James 2:18).”
This is the life we are called to: to accept that glorious flow of Awen, that inspiration that flows through us and through the power, inspiration, and aid of Brigid to tend that hearth fire and forge fire so that we will endure and make it to the end.
Because only when we stand together, only when we work together, only when we band together, can we get to the other side.
No leader has ever saved us. No leader has ever brought us out of slavery, bondage, or war. Only the people can do this: the people who stand up, who resist, and who have not forgotten how to dance.
When the chill buries itself deep into our bones, it can be hard to remember that we can be warm again. When the ice grows on the windows and hangs like teeth from the roof, threatening to devour us, it can feel like we’ve been conquered by it.
But we must remember that flame within us, that unquenchable flame, that light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it. That light is hope.
Hope is not something believed in; it’s something that is worked for. Faith, it’s said, is the essence of things unseen, the substance of things hoped for. Hope is getting up daily and working for it.
Just sitting and believing doesn’t accomplish anything. Again, as James says: “Faith without works is dead (James 2:26).”
It is up to us to stoke that fire every day: through prayer, through protest, through resistance, even through a post on social media. Do what is within your power, within your sphere. Vote. Speak up. Be mindful. Fire can warm or burn. We are not here to burn. We are here to heat up, to thaw, to give life to these cold times.
If we can awaken one heart, if we can thaw the frost in just one soul, we have saved a world. That is not nothing.
Each thawed heart is another soul liberated from the cold, steely grip of despair. That is the work we are called to: to build communities of hope and action, filled with light and fire, inspired by the Awen, ever available in every moment.
The call of this Cold Moon is to remember who we are.
We are the people of the flame.
Our hearts burn with it. The Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary beat within our chest. Those flames keep us warm. That water and light sustain us. That very blood flows through our veins.
In every generation, the darkness tries to overcome the light. And so Jesus reminds us: do not hide your light under a bushel. Be like a gleaming city on a hill.
That’s not about our nation or our cities, it’s about each and every one of us.
We are each cities on our own hill, shining as examples of what the world could look like if it were filled with hope and compassion, wisdom and justice, spaciousness and acceptance.
We are the light of this world. The Cosmic Christ shines through us.
All we have to do is remember that.
Be it.
And do it.
Practice: A Fire to Tend
1. Light the Hearth or Candle
Prepare your space. Turn down the lights. Wrap yourself in something warm. If you have a hearth, tend it. If not, light a single candle, one that burns slow and steady.
As the flame rises, speak this prayer aloud or in your heart:
Flame of compassion,
Fire of the hearth,
You who burn in the heart of the Sacred,
I kindle this light in memory of the hungry, the thirsty,
The sick, the caged, the unhoused, the forsaken.
May this flame be food, water, shelter, healing, and kinship
To all who are in need.Let my hands be yours.
Let my heart be yours.
Let my fire be love that acts,
Not love that waits.
Sit with the candle a moment. Let the heat settle into your bones. Let Brigid’s fire speak.
2. Act on the Awen
The Awen flows not to soothe alone, but to stir.
Listen now, not to the clamor of the world, but to the quiet insistence rising in your belly.
What fire needs tending?
What action is within reach today?
What voice must be raised?
What silence needs breaking?
Choose one small thing and do it.
Send the donation.
Make the call.
Write the post.
Speak the truth.
Sign the name.
Hold the hand.
Feed the soul.
Break the ice.
It does not have to be everything. It must be something.
This is how we stoke the flame. This is how we thaw the frost.
3. Dance the Flame
When your action is done, yes, even if it was small, pause.
Breathe. Laugh. Move.
Play a song that makes your spirit sway. Eat something warm and sweet. Tell someone what you did. Celebrate not your strength, but the light that moved through you.
Joy is resistance.
Celebration is defiance.
Hope is a sacred revolt against despair.
Tonight, under this Cold Moon, you are not alone. You are a hearthkeeper, a bearer of the light.
May you burn.
May you bless.
May you build.
Together, we remember:
We are the people of the flame.
Closing Blessing
Brigid of the Hearth and Forge,
Keeper of the warm light in the long dark,
As this Cold Moon shines above us,
We offer back to you the fire you have stirred within.
Strengthen our resolve to love boldly.
Guard our courage when the world grows heavy.
Guide our hands toward justice
And our hearts toward compassion that never grows thin.
Awen, holy breath that moves through all creation,
Continue to flow where we walk.
Inspire our choices,
Refresh our imagination,
And remind us that the smallest act done with love
tilts the whole world toward hope.
Sacred One, you know the cold that settles in our bones,
Yet you kindle a flame that never dies.
Keep that fire bright in us.
Keep that fire gentle in us.
Keep that fire shared among us
So no one must walk through these nights alone.
As we rise from this time of prayer,
Let us rise as hearthkeepers and healers,
Bearers of light,
Creators of change,
People who remember how to warm the world.
May the peace of the Holy One surround us.
May the fire of Brigid sustain us.
May the Awen sing through every breath we take.
So be it.
So may it shine.