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Since the last time I posted here almost a year ago, I had mentioned I was going through a metamorphosis. I did a lot of soul-searching and reflection on it over several weeks, and I made the move. Before I do anything else, I need to extend a great deal of gratitude to everyone who's helped and supported me, especially my husband. Everyone needs a rock to lean on, and I'm very lucky to have one. Because of so many people being there for me, I've crawled my way out of the swampy water, shed my old skin and have spread my wings. Ain't they purty? Allow me to tell you all about their iridescent facets!

It was around the same time last year when I left the agency I began my real estate career four years earlier. The one I chose was a much larger one yet still a local independent - from three people (including myself) in my old office to nearly 500! It was a frightening experience for sure, but the change paid off in more ways than one. Not only did all of the landlords I regularly worked with follow me over, which I am still touched by that, but I gained quite a few new clients throughout the year! Since then, I had also earned my broker license, which I know is something that would not have happened if I stayed where I was. And, because I have that, I now have many more opportunities available to me, such as rental property management and sales. My managing broker feels I would be a natural at property management, and for the right client, I would cheerfully offer that service!


This was one of my doodles while I was studying. I tend to remember things not only by writing them down, but also by matching stuff to pop culture references.

Money-wise, yes, I closed the books on 2016, and I earned more money with Kale Realty than I did with my past brokerage, and I earned that only with commissions. At the other place, I was also their office manager, so a good portion of what I earned was income for administrative work. Now, the only stuff like that I do is for myself, and it's a lot more fun! One of the reasons I chose these guys is because they truly allow me to be independent - so I was able to design my own business cards, door hangers, signs, banners and holiday cards (which those, I was able to design them for my friends and family and not just for clients and prospects - I mailed hundreds!). Creating a sign for my retail storefronts - that was a huge achievement for me - the first time I officially got to use my broker license over being a leasing agent.

[Putting on my Realtor hat] This vintage Logan Square corner storefront rental with commercial zoning has tin ceilings, exposed brick and a full basement! Priced right!

In 2016, I passed quite a few checkpoints and crossed off bucket list items, all thanks to that big change! One of the first things that happened was I won a set of tickets from the office to the White Sox opening game. Oh, and these weren't bleacher seats, either. We were right behind home plate, and the tickets also came with premium parking and access to the VIP area - fancy bar, restaurant with carving station and fancy bathrooms! What, you don't believe me? Well let me show you!

It was tradition for each member of the family to hang a strip of white cloth outside the window on Imbolc Eve, so that Brigid could infuse it with healing and protective powers as she walked through the village. These would later be used to cure headaches and tooth aches (tied around the forehead or from chin to crown), and as a special touch to poultices. Craft a modernized version of this folkway with the protective properties of the Yuletide evergreen's balsam. (If you need to backtrack a bit, have a look at our introduction to this year-long magical project and tips for preparation and storage. If you do not have access to a Yule evergreen, fallen branches from other trees can be used for this craft. Use your favorite resource to identify the tree from which the branch came, and what energy that particular tree will bring to this work.)

Materials

The Brideog, or “little Brigid,” comes down to us from ancient times. She was a corn doll (corn being wheat) that was fashioned into a female form and decorated with ribbons and shells. A bed of straw was prepared for her before the hearth in the home where she was assembled, and the young, unmarried women of the village would sit vigil with her on the night of January 31st. The next morning, on Imbolc, the girls would parade the brideog through the village to each home. There, the married women (or the female head of the household) would welcome the spirit of the Goddess. Create a modern-day Brideog using branches from your evergreen as a base, so adding a dash of Yuletide's hopeful energy. (Yule tree? But it's FEBRUARY! If you need to backtrack a bit, have a look at our introduction to this year-long magical project and tips for preparation and storage. If you do not have access to a Yule evergreen, fallen branches from other trees can be used for this craft. Use your favorite resource to identify the tree from which the branch came, and what energy that particular tree will bring to this work.)

Materials

Have you noticed that, sometimes, a particular theme starts to follow you around? Often it may relate to the season. At the same time, there can be synchronicities that capture the attention and deliver a really personal message.

This happens to me a lot. I also really feel the lessons of the season as I celebrate each turn of the Wheel of the Year. I know I am not alone in this.

I was driving to an Imbolc circle this weekend, through frozen drizzle. Imbolc, the Celtic fire festival, falls halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. As such, the day was perfect for celebrating it. It was very cold, and there was a stiff, icy wind out of the northeast, as the leading edge of a huge snow storm was just blowing in. The force of Winter, its power, was on full display in the roiling ocean of clouds above my head, socking us in a dense, icy fog. The mountains are obscured, the horizon is lost, and color has faded from everything. The landscape is white, the bare trees are jet black, the clouds above every shade of gray—granite, ink, mist, oyster, pewter, pearl. This is deep Winter, Winter at its starkest.

And yet—there would be a break in the wind, and the air felt soft. There was a break in the clouds and a tiny shred of pale blue sky peaked out, Springlike and bright. The gap would close, and the wind would start up again, and that brief glimpse into the coming Spring would disappear.

Imbolc is one of my favorite Sabbats. Here in Maine, it may not always seem like there is any sign of spring. But Imbolc helps us to remember that, especially the way that time flies, it will be here before we know it. Deep in the belly of mother earth, the wave of new life prepares and takes root. This time of very early germination reminds us to take some time and focus on the preparation and planning key to starting new endeavors. What do we need to spend our time on, while we are cooped up inside, so we can get a jump on the very first blessings of warmer weather? Because of this “new beginnings” aspect of the Sabbat, I see Imbolc as a very hopeful time.

     The name, Imbolc, comes from “i mbolg,” Old Gaelic for “in the belly.” What fertile seed is beginning to grow down in the belly of your deepest being? What’s shaking and quaking under the rich earth of You? This is the Holy Day for claiming the Light, the Life, the New that longs to grow from you and through you—claiming it, saying yes to it, honoring it with intention and blessing. We’ve been a thought thrumming in the hush of infinity, unnamed desire nestled in the dark swell of winter. It’s delicious riding the wave of infinite potentials, and then there comes a moment to shift out of the void, grab hold of your dream and leap with it into the Real. It’s time to Initiate. Time to place your bet on your own creative power. Time to let the Goddess of Light shine through you. Remember we are layered beings—animal, plant, crystal sleep in the secret strata of bone, blood, brain, aura. Draw on their dreams at this Imbolc Visioning Initiation time.
Miriam Dyak © Mother Tongue Ink 2015