Smoke Signals

Thoughts about the Omen Days and other snow-bound reflections

The hearth on Brigid’s Day and the painting above it

The Omen Days revisited

You may remember that on the twelve days following Christmas, I was on the lookout for omens that would predict the twelve months of the year. On December 27, the Omen for February came in bursts. It was cold that day and I noticed, reflected in a painting over the wood stove, the steam that was rising from the heater vent. Then I noticed the steam itself outside the living room window. It wasn’t continuous, rather it appeared more as smoke signals sent from an invisible fire. These puffs were echoed by the steam from the teakettle as the water came to a boil. I stepped outside briefly but heard only the quiet sky and the silent trees which on another day might have been omens themselves. That December day it was the steam signals that caught my eye and said “yes, I am what you seek.”

Today we’ve arrived. It’s February. There’s a full Snow Moon, and we along with most of the Midwest and South are locked in the grip of some very cold weather. It’s colder in Oxford, Mississippi, in Gambier and Bowling Green, Ohio, than it is in Maine where even here, nights are a keep-the-taps-open-so-the-pipes-won’t-freeze kind of cold. I look for confirmation of the Omen. Is this it? Will the cold we had on December 27 persist throughout the month? Or will something stranger arrive suddenly in a puff of smoke and a flash of insight, the way that January’s omen, the black cat, reappeared?

Fire and Water

February 1 marks the beginning of Spring in the Celtic calendar. We are held in tension between the hearth fires of winter and the melting of snow that makes creeks run fast, buds swell and sap rise. As an Aries double Scorpio I feel steam pressure building in my body. An astrologer once pointed out to me that Aries and Scorpio are “not an easy combination.” Seventeen inches of snow that won’t be melting any time soon do not help.

I stay inside where I have the warmth of the wood stove and the painting that sits above it. The image is under glass that always reflects the world inside and outside my house. Other worlds are caught and held by the images in the work itself. Consider this:

Detail of an untitled painting by Patrick Donley, acrylic on paper

You’re looking the top half of the painting. Left to right: Thoth, the Egyptian god in his baboon aspect, perches in a tree. A possum wraps her tail around a pole. A Hindu devi balances a spinning steel girder on her headdress. The Middle East, the American South, and the vast subcontinent of India are all represented here in the playing field for smoke signals from the universe. You can make your own stories, your own connections to the past, your own predictions about the future.

You should also meet the artist, Patrick Donley, because Patrick is the founder of the Mary Street Midden Project devoted to the archaeological discoveries of Phyllis the Groundhog whose day is tomorrow, February 2. And so we spiral around the pole backward through the centuries from the early 1990’s in Louisville to prehistorical times in the British Isles, and forward in space from Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, PA to the present where Brigid still keeps the flame and protects the hearth.

And I, a questioner, a learner, a postulant who seeks to be part of no religion, stand on the shore of Penobscot Bay looking eastward.

Two of Wands, RWS deck

Footnotes:

Patrick and I knew each other when I lived in Louisville and were co-directors of Zephyr Gallery. When I moved to Maine, we traded work which is how I acquired his painting. Read Patrick’s story here.

There are many sites dedicated to Brigid and the mythology. legends, historical facts surrounding her. Here are some ideas about where to find her and what to do in 21st century Ireland. I love that Dublin on this day looks like part of a Holi celebration.

The Moon God Thoth is more familiar as an ibis headed deity. Find out more about his baboon manifestation here.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these reflections about art and the mysteries of interconnectedness. What strikes a chord? Do you ever have the feeling something will happen and then it does?

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