We had another small earthquake here in Morris County, New Jersey — the second this month.  First a 3.0 earthquake on Imbolc, centered within a mile of my home.  Then a 2.4 earthquake on Valentine’s Day a few miles away.  Of course, these are no great shakes as far as earthquakes around the globe go, but they are unusual here.  I’ve lived in New Jersey all my life and never experienced one before.

According to the USGS, this latest quake occurred at 22:22:22 UTC.   There they are again – those numbers with repeating digits.  They speak a language to those who will listen.  Granted, the actual words are muffled by the veil.  All I can make out is a murmur.  Nevertheless, they say pay attention. 

Indeed, the timing of both earthquakes is suggestive.  Imbolc comes from the old Irish i mbolg  meaning ‘in the belly.’  Now overrun by groundhogs, the day still represents the hopeful quickening of spring within the womb of winter.   

Obviously Valentine’s Day is associated with the heart, but long before the holiday was named for a Christian saint (any one of three), it was the ancient Roman purification/fertility festival Lupercalia.  After sacrificing a goat and a dog, being smeared with blood and then wiped clean with milk, two young men ran around Rome playfully lashing people along the way with strips of hide from the sacrificed goat.  Women came forward and lined up hoping to be struck, for the light lashing was supposed to impart fertility and an easy delivery.

And I think that’s what we should hope for now – an easy delivery.  The old order is crumbling and a new world needs to be born.  Will we come forward and be constructive midwives to this birth, or will we cling to structures that are on a downward spiral?  We can still choose now, but at some point down the road, there may be no choice.