March is often a wet and blustery month. In primary school we learned that March comes, “In like a lion, and out like a lamb.”
Though that school was a very strict kind of Christianity, the deep truth that teacher (much beloved by me still) remains: March to the ancient Celts was known as a temperamental month. In fact, those born in March were known to be ones of swings in mood (and their mirror companions born in October are the same).
But with all the drenching wetness of March came a realization that all bodies of water, no matter how big or small, are of a sacred nature.
Water is life, Beloved. The ancient Celts knew this, and often named their waters after the godesses and gods they found gave life. There are still tons of rivers on those ancient islands named after Brigid (the feminine yang to Patrick’s yin) and others.
The amniotic fluid of birth, the well of life, the river of eternal life in scriptures: water was known by those ancestors, and still known today, as the thing that sustains.
This is why the atrocities in Jackson, Mississippi, and still in Flint, Michigan (and yes, Engineers, I realize you say their water meets standards, but the hell they had to go through to get there is still HELL…and it’s not yet all cleaned up), and Palestine, Ohio is just terrible.
Water is life.
It’s why we don’t baptize in whiskey or Coke.
The ancients knew this, and March is the season to embrace the truth.
The world needs to catch up to the ancient wisdom.