Koçagan or the awakening of what slept beneath the earth
When the last Cemre falls, the world begins again.
The last Cemre has entered the earth.
Yer Ana, Mother Earth, received this kiss of fire deep within her. And beneath our feet, in the silence of the still-cold humus, the seeds that have slept since Paynagan are beginning to stir. The birdsong grows more joyful at sunrise. Koçagan, the spring, is ready to settle in.
İmre: the awakening
İmre, the spirit of snowmelt and greening, rises from the earth in the form of a light. Fragile. Trembling.
The ancient Turkic peoples said he makes the snow weep and frees the rivers from their crystal chains in a soft crack. It is also to him we owe the first drops that fall from rooftops and ring out like forgotten notes of music.
Yaşıl Han: the transformation
And when his work is done, İmre descends again, humble, silent, into the depths of the earth.
Nature can then dress herself in green. An almost fluorescent green after the grey of winter. It is Yaşıl Han, the Green Khan, the Lord of Verdure, who repaints the world. He is the one who gives life back to the plants. The sap that rises. The grass that pierces the cracked earth. The leaf that unfurls. The smell of wet earth after the first warm rain, that scent which may be the oldest perfume in the world.
Under his impulse, the İye emerge from the copper palace of Erlik Han, carrying the wisdom of the depths. The Yer iyesi, spirits of the earth, reclaim their place in the fields and meadows. The Su iyesi find their freed rivers again. The Ağaç iyesi slip into the budding trees. The whole earth trembles with their return.
It is a silent ascent. Invisible. But if you listen with the heart, you hear a vibration. A hum of life reclaiming the world.
In spring, the elders would offer Yaşıl Han a saçı, an offering. They poured milk, cheese and fresh bread into the rivers and lakes. A gesture of gratitude. Of recognition. The Green Khan asks that we nourish life as much as it nourishes us. That the cycle turns, generous, in both directions.
Umay Ana: the blessing
And as the earth greens beneath the steps of Yaşıl Han, as the İye dance once more in the fields and forests, a moonlight settles over the world. Accompanied by two sacred birch trees, the kayın ağacı, the trees of life whose very name, kayın, means “woman” in Old Turkic.
Umay Ana.
Her long silver hair falls to the ground like threads of living water. She wears a white robe and a crown of three crescent-shaped horns upon her head. The Mother with silver hair. And she smiles.
She is the spirit of fertility, the protector of women, of births, of children. Of life itself in its most tender gesture. Her energy is in every bud that bursts open like a small fist unclenching. In the newborn lambs stumbling on fragile legs, searching for warm milk. In the return of the storks, Cemre havaya, leylek yuvaya, the ember falls into the air, the stork returns to its nest.
It is said that babies who smile in their sleep are speaking with her. That when those children grow and leave the home, kuş yuvadan uçtu, the bird has left the nest, for in the branches of Umay Ana’s Tree of Life, cradles and birds’ nests are one and the same. The silver thread of her hair is the cord that binds sky to earth. The rope of the world’s cradle.
And there it is, spring as the ancients saw it. Complete. In three movements like a sacred breath: İmre who awakens from the depths. Yaşıl Han who makes green sing across the whole earth. Umay Ana who blesses from the heights. The earth, the world, the sky. United. Vibrant. Alive.
The universal echo
Spring speaks a universal language. Where Nevruz lights its fires and sprouts the wheat, Ostara, in the Celtic tradition, celebrates the same balance between day and night, the same promise of renewal. The two traditions answer each other like echoes from different mountains but carried by the same wind — the same Yel Ata, perhaps, who travelled from the steppes of Asia to the hills of Europe, changing names but keeping the same message: life triumphs. Always.
From Koçagan to Hıdırellez
And the season of Koçagan is only beginning. The energy continues to rise. The days stretch out like cats in the sun. The earth exhales scents of sage and wildflowers. Yaşıl Han dances in every blade of grass. The İye watch over every field, every spring, every tree. Umay Ana’s smile grows ever wider. And the breath of Yel Ata fills with pollen and promises.
Koçagan settles into the warming earth, into the green of the grass, into the fragrance of blossoming flowers, into the flight of the storks. Awaiting the day when Hızır and İlyas meet upon the earth.
🌿The day of Hıdırellez.