Originally I had this post titled, “A Love Letter to Brigid // Imbolc Rituals.” It’s even been sitting in my blog drafts since Imbolc last year. And I knew, this year I was gonna nail it. I had all these glorious insta-worthy witchy plans for my Imbolc festivities. All the cake baking and bread-making this carb-loving witch could dream up. My altar dedicated to Imbolc and Brigid was going to be perfect in absolutely every way. My sister and I were going to do a ritual in the evening, and I was going to plan out our garden for the year to get some of that extra good Brigid juju for my not-so-green thumbs.

Then life happened as it is wont to do.

A business trip for the parallel career got pushed to the week of Imbolc because I had been sick the week before. Which meant I was gone for most of the week with less time to prepare. This was just a minor bump in the road to my Imbolc preparations, and I wasn’t worried. I still had it under control. I’m a chronic procrastinator, so I like to keep things real tight to deadlines anyway. Hence, my what-actually-happened-for-Imbolc-this-year post a week after the holiday.

Our kitchen sink got clogged. Not clogged with a slow drain - clogged with a no drain situation. We did our best. All the combinations of salt, baking soda, vinegar, and boiling water that our little Pinterest-loving hearts could find. To no avail. The morning of Imbolc, I was sure one more flush through with this mixture would be the charm. Turns out I was wrong, and that last experiment resulted in the sink doing it’s best to drain over the course of four days. And by drain, I mean the water just finally evaporated into the ether. At this point, we decided to call in the professionals and they’re coming today to hopefully get us up and running again. You really don’t realize how important your sink is to pretty much everything you do in the kitchen until it’s not working.

I am typically a go with the flow kind of gal. UNLESS I have really embraced and committed to the plan I’ve made in my head. Then all bets are off, and there’s a good chance of an internal meltdown. After said internal meltdown and some alone time to attitude adjust, I put my big girl pants on and figured out an alternative plan that was slightly less insta-worthy but magickal nonetheless.

Let’s get real.

Magick and witchcraft can look however the fuck you want it to look.

There is definitely something to be said for the ritual and power of a more traditional sabbat. Sometimes the universe reminds you that you just need to go with the flow. That sometimes you need to shift and pivot. And that sometimes you need to remember your most magickal powers are already waiting there within.

So shift, I did. We nixed the baking - way too many dishes involved there to make it happen without a sink. We decided to grill up a completely different meal than I had originally planned. And you know what? Grilling over an open fire is just about as Imbolc-y as you can get, so it ended up feeling a little extra magickal even though it wasn’t what I had originally planned. I even worked in a lowkey ritual for Imbolc and lit three white candles in my window to welcome and honor Brigid.

Was it the grand celebration that I had planned in my head? Nope. Was it the lowkey celebration that I needed this year? Definitely.