For a long time, this sabbat didn’t resonate with me. It was hard to really feel like spring was beginning to peak its head out from under the blanket of snow. If I marked it at all, I just went through the motions. Imbolc never seemed as exciting or sacred as, say, the solstices. But then, one cold day in early February…I saw it.

For all of his wrestling with masculinity, Bruce brings me back to a core feminine experience in “Jesus Was an Only Son.” In the lyrics of this gorgeous, devastating retelling of the crucifixion of Christ, Bruce has taught me a fundamental truth about motherhood.

For years, I really only went through the motions of the ancestor reverence that is so prominent during this season. My intentions were good, but I have been lucky enough to experience few losses in my more than 40 years. The most recent dead on my Samhain altar had been my grandfather, who passed in 2004. I honored the festival, but never really felt it.