For almost a decade now, the February full moon has been our “Stay at Home” moon. Before the pandemic, it was a call for us to slow down and savor the seasonal gifts of the home and hearth. During the pandemic, it was a reminder that our home and hearth remains our sacred haven from the world outside. And now, in these post-pandemic-endemic-times, we must adjust to our changed world.
Traditional Imbolc rites, particularly the Celtic Fire Festival, harkens back to the gifts of milk and green shoots. It was the time after the deep pang of winter leanness when food once more began to increase in plenty. It was the “just in time” foodstuffs and allowed us to strengthen ourselves for the hard work of the planting season just around the bend.
But this wasn’t everyone’s experience, particularly after the industrial revolution when most of humanity moved away from our agrarian forebears.
The winter of 1944-45 is known in Dutch history as The Hunger Winter. A German blockade halted food supplies from reaching the Netherlands, and the people began to starve. The Netherlands were a well-developed and wealthy nation at this time in history, making this a rare instance of famine.
After allied forces liberated the southern parts of the Netherlands, Sir Bernard Law Montgomery planned a two-part mission called “Operation Marker Garden” to assist the Allies. The operation called for an airborne assault (‘Market’) to take control of key bridges in the Arnhem region and a ground attack (‘Garden’) to occupy the seized bridges. It failed. Germany blocked both water and land routes to the Netherlands in retaliation.
The blockade disrupted the supply not only of food, but also of another highly important resource: coal. Those in the rural areas fared mildly better than those in urban areas, only because of their ability to forage from the land. Rationing became less and less calorically dense, dropping to only 580 calories per day by February of 1945. Even the black market was empty of food. Families began sending their children to eh countryside to provide them with better access to nourishment. People burned furniture and interior walls for heat, sometimes dismantling entire houses and bunking up with neighbors to share the wood.
The Dutch government issues pamphlets including recipes for tulip bulbs. You see, the bulb growers were unable to plant their stores in the fall, so there was an abundance of bulbs untouched in warehouses. The Office of Food Supply published a guide, including grating the bulbs into flour to make bread.
It is estimated that 22,000 people died that winter, most from starvation. Many of those who survived were not left unscathed, however, particularly effecting children. Pregnant women who survived the famine gave birth to children with a high prevalence of schizophrenia, schizotypal personality, and other neurological defects. Additional epigenetic changes in women caused an intergenerational inheritance of low birth weights, diabetes, obesity, and cardiovascular disease. There are many folks in the Netherlands today to overcome the effects of the near starvation of their ancestors.
One bright spot in all of this horror was the discovery of the precipitating agents of celiac disease. Against all odds, pediatricians were baffled by the way these previously unhealthy youths were suddenly gaining weight and beginning to thrive. When Sweden broke the blockade and brought flour to the Dutch, these children had an immediate negative reaction to the bread they were given.
So, what lessons does this tale hold for us?
First, no matter how careful our planning, we cannot guarantee safe passage through storms outside of our control.
Second, being in a right relationship with our neighbors and greater communities may be our only access to lifelines along the journey.
And third, even in the darkest of times, our humanity has a way of providing a light.
During this time of snow and cold, we are called to gratitude for the abundance we find all around us. Most of us don’t plant gardens or keep livestock with the intention of providing for ourselves over the winter. We plan to provide for ourselves by visiting the grocery store. We use the holidays as a time of overindulgence in the name of celebration. Perhaps this is a carryover from our ancestors eating the well over the Winter Holidays. As stored food began to reach its end of life, it was either cooked and consumed or wasted….plus one Capitalism. We overspend, overeat, and over-indulge, but to what end? To what effect? By the February full moon, we are paying the price for our behavior over the last few months.
From now until the Vernal Equinox, our quest is to make our way back to balance: rest in our abundance, seek not excess, and stay out of the trance of scarcity. We have enough to make it through. We are enough, just as we are. These realizations are the greatest gifts we can receive in the cold and dark of winter. May our deepest hunger be for connecting with one another.
