Author: Anne Marie Cribbin

I never got the fire-making badge in Girl Scouts. In fact, I got kicked out before I had the chance. So, I’ve never actually built a fire myself—never stacked logs in a careful teepee, never struck a match and watched the flame catch, never hovered over embers, coaxing them back to life. But I know, deep in my bones, that fire is about more than just burning. It’s about tending. And that’s something I do know how to do. In the Celtic calendar, fire is woven into the rhythms of the year. The great festivals—Imbolc, Bealtaine, Lughnasa, Samhain—are marked by…

The ocean chews at the shore, gnashing with a nervous tide, waves walloping, splitting sand apart in their fury. Saltwater spray soars skyward, compound droplets beating down on blue-black water, churning and frothing—rising from the depths of rage. The waves take monstrous shape, furious, like the gaping mouths of gargoyles, hungry and relentless, gnawing at the fragile edge of the world. This briny cathedral, an altar where offerings are endlessly spilled on the shore— glass and rock and slime, death and life mingled in bone, flesh, mineral, and breath. Salted wounds. Salted tears. Salted sea. It consumes all—whole and free— …

The story of colonization is written in many languages, but one of the most insidious is the language of alcohol. For centuries, the British Empire wielded alcohol as a weapon of control, suppression, and assimilation against the Irish people. Understanding this history is essential not only for recognizing the deep wounds inflicted on Ireland but also for reclaiming sobriety as an act of rebellion, resistance, and self-determination. Alcohol as a Tool of Oppression  Colonization isn’t just about land grabs and political domination; it’s about dismantling the spirit of a people. For the Irish, alcohol became a way to break resistance,…

There is a moment, subtle and nearly imperceptible, when the earth begins to shift. The deep freeze of winter loosens its grip, and something stirs beneath the surface. It is not yet spring, but it is no longer the dead of winter. This is Imbolc—the season of thaw, the hinge between what has been frozen and what will bloom. Imbolc is the ancient Celtic festival that honors this moment of transition. Celebrated around February 1st, it marks the midway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The name Imbolc is thought to derive from “i mbolg,” meaning “in…

I come from a long line of Guinness drinkers. Sundays after church, my siblings and I would Irish step dance at the local Irish bar while the grown-ups threw back pints, the rich scent of Guinness lingering in the air. I have vivid memories of picking daffodils outside The Dubliner in Washington, D.C., wearing my green dancing dress, my shawl fastened with Celtic cross pins with little emerald shamrocks. I dreamed of one day visiting Ireland, the land of my ancestors, and drinking Guinness at every pub along the way. And then I got sober. And I thought that dream…

We danced around the periphery with fairy wings Throwing glitter that caught the light Hips swaying in the shimmer The tall grass moving with us Pinkies locked and promises made to step into the center This was our time Full moon freedom on a Saturday afternoon “We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it.” Sweet chants of childhood cheering us on Eyes closed. Count to 3. Then leap. Into the caramel and marrow The center of the magic With it’s swirls and swells and tyrant twisters And sandbars and shady weeping willows too We took flight in the…

Winter whispers of stillness, deep rest, and the kind of healing that asks us to lean into mystery rather than seek easy answers. In the Celtic tradition, winter—the season marked by the festivals of Samhain and Imbolc—is understood as a threshold time, a liminal space where the ordinary gives way to the sacred. And within this sacred season lies a powerful symbol of transformation: the spiral. The spiral is not merely a design carved into ancient stones at sacred sites like Newgrange. It’s a symbol of the veil between worlds, a reminder of the cyclical nature of life, and a…

When I started feeling more comfortable in my sobriety, something inside me shifted. It wasn’t just about what was happening in my body, heart, and soul—it was about where I lived, too. My environment didn’t feel aligned with this new version of myself. It was tied to an old story I didn’t want to keep reading. I craved a home that reflected the liberation and expansion I was feeling on the inside. So, one night, I grabbed some garbage bags and went full-on Marie Kondo, sifting through drawers, closets, and forgotten corners of my home. Each item got the ultimate…

Winter hasn’t always been my favorite season. But in the last few years, I have developed a deep respect for this season and the lessons it brings. It’s the quiet invitation to slow down, listen, pull inward, and tend to the spaces we’ve neglected—both within ourselves and around us. There’s a stillness to winter that whispers a reminder: life doesn’t have to look busy to be meaningful. Beneath the surface of all that seems frozen, unseen work is happening. The soil is resting and preparing itself. Trees are conserving energy, pulling nutrients deep into their roots. And if we’re paying…

The Winter Solstice whispers a truth the world too often drowns out: we are meant to rest. It is the longest night, the stillest of moments when the earth exhales and urges us to do the same. Within the Celtic calendar, this day marks the return of light, but the light comes slowly, tenderly, without rush. In the depths of dormancy, we are invited into an ancient rhythm that is out of sync with modernity’s demands. Recovery, too, asks us to reclaim this rhythm—to unlearn the striving, the pushing, the endless pursuit of doing, and instead embrace the radical act…

We were caught in the rapture of it all, our youth, a wild unwritten thing – holding hands and running up the street, laughter spilling out of us like a river, dancing in an old warehouse, lights dim, with our friends and promises flying like sparks in the air. we swore, didn’t we, that even if the world stopped, we’d keep spinning? You were the thoughtful one, always remembering the little things— the way the sky blushed at dusk, the name of every song we danced to, the exact shade of my favorite flower. I was the dreamer, with…

We are in the thick of Samhain (Sow-in) now, the season of thinning veils, long shadows, and quiet whispers from the past. This sacred time in the Celtic calendar stretches from the end of October to the Winter Solstice. It’s a season that calls us inward, not only into the warmth of our homes but into the deeper chambers of our own being, where memory and knowing reside. Samhain reminds us to slow down, to linger in stillness, and to listen—not only to the echo of our own heartbeat but to the faint rhythm of those who came before us. …

The Celtic New Year on November 1st marks a powerful time of descent, ushering in the energy of darkness and quiet, a countercultural call to pause and gather strength before any new beginning. While modern New Year celebrations come with resolutions, goals, and challenges, the Celtic tradition invites us to release, reflect, and nurture the fertile ground of the unseen. In sobriety and recovery, this descent holds deep resonance. Here, we aren’t urged to become anything new; we’re invited to honor what has brought us to this moment, even the broken places, the experiences we’re letting go of, and the…

As October rolls along with its cooler air and longer nights, we often hear in Celtic tradition that “the veil is thin.” It’s said that during this time, the boundary between the seen and unseen worlds softens, allowing us to connect more deeply with our inner selves, our ancestors, and the spiritual realm. For those on a recovery journey, this thinning of the veil can carry a lot of meaning. Sobriety, too, reveals truths that once felt distant or hidden. In many ways, the path of recovery mirrors this seasonal shift, inviting us into a space where the familiar fades…

The Autumn Equinox is a sacred pause, a moment in time when light and dark hang in perfect balance. It’s as if the earth takes a breath, exhaling summer’s intensity and inhaling autumn’s crisp, cool promise. For those of us walking the path of sobriety and recovery, this time of year offers rich metaphors for our healing journeys. It is a season that invites reflection on the balance between light and dark and within ourselves, our choices, and our relationships. Just as the Earth finds equilibrium, we are called to notice how we can do the same. Balance is a…

Sobriety is often described as a journey—a path we walk day by day, step by step. It’s a journey that’s deeply personal, often challenging, and profoundly transformative. For many of us, this path is not just about abstaining from alcohol; it’s about finding a new way of living, a deeper connection to ourselves, and a more authentic relationship with the world around us. This journey of sobriety can be likened to a pilgrimage, a concept central to Celtic spirituality. In Celtic tradition, pilgrimage is more than just a physical journey to a sacred site; it’s a spiritual quest, an intentional…