It is a rainy, dreary day and the whole family is stuck at home due to the coronavirus pandemic. The kids’ schools are closed for a month, and I’ll be teaching my courses online once we “return” from an extended spring break at the end of the month. And into this bleakness comes Ostara, the Vernal Equinox.
After going over my house with both Lysol and palo santo smoke, things are settling into a new normal. But this pandemic has made abundantly clear that in the end, we are not in control. After an extended period of feeling, at least for people who grew up the way I did and in the United States, like we have significant control over our own lives, our own health, we are getting just a taste of how our ancestors felt. Watching the seasons change, birth and death, abundance and famine, and trying to make sense of it. Trying to create a sense that they had some influence on the chaos through rituals and rites.
So I have gathered some crocuses and snowdrops from my lawn and am reading about Ostara, Eostre, and new beginnings. I’ll be baking some bread this afternoon to share with my family. And I will try to be hopeful.