Tag: ancestors

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the sanctity of samhain

This time of year, as the air begins to cool enough for mornings to need socks and the darkness seems to deepen so that the nights are black and still, a sense of peace starts to settle over me. As I shuffle tarot cards for folks who seek guidance and wisdom or light candles on my Beloved Dead altar, it seems fitting to ask them to visit with me.

I’ve never really been one who wants to share Samhain in a large group. It’s always felt like a solitary holy day, and I find the best way to honor it is alone. For me, Samhain is a time of reflection, a day to look at who I have been in the year since last Samhain, to not only celebrate the positive but to address the things I want to change.

Like planting a tulip bulb so spring will bring a beautiful flower, it is a time to plant the bulbs of intention for my future. I have employed a number of methods to do this in the past, but I think this year may involve actual bulbs in actual dirt.

Much of my Samhain rituals are private, intimate. I hold my time on Samhain as sacred. It is a time to commune with my gods and my ancestors. In these next ten days I draw into myself, disengage from the outside world (as much as is possible in this time of chaos) and prepare myself.

I am also holding space for a family member who will be crossing the veil very soon. May her transition be peaceful and her soul find rest.

On that somber note, Readers, I need to get headed to the day job. The commute gets tough right around the corner of hallway and living room, especially if there is a kitty pile up.

Cover Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

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the autumn of innocence

I was born in September. I don’t know if that has any bearing on my love for autumn, but I like to believe it does. In my Upstate New York childhood, autumn meant new school clothes and supplies (I still love new notebooks and pens and markers and folders and, and, and…), the smell of dry leaves and cider, and the excitement of Halloween. The highlight of October was the annual trip to Kelly’s Farm to pick out our pumpkins and get fresh brewed cider and old fashioned donuts.

While the innocence of that time has gone, and the world is a different place today than it was then, there is a certain wonder to the autumn months still. I sometimes miss the New York autumns, especially here in California where we basically get two seasons, Summer and Not-Summer. Sure we have leaves on the ground and the mornings and nights are cooler, and sometimes even cold, but the true fall colors don’t happen here, unless you travel up into the mountains.

We’re into the time of year here that means long pants and long sleeves in the morning, tank tops and shorts by noon and the air conditioner in the late afternoon. I go to bed with the fan blowing and not even the sheet pulled over me and wake up under blankets chilled.

Last night I refreshed my altar for my ancestors as sort of an invitation. The veil between worlds is thinning as we approach Samhain and I welcome them to visit.

Samhain, and Halloween for that matter, will be different this year, I imagine. For me it is usually a quiet holiday, being the my front door doesn’t face the street, but just the sheer number of newly dead this year…loved ones to be remembered and honored…changes the tenor of the day. This was true for me the Samhain after 9/11, and this is so much more, so many more dead, and many of them left this world bereft of human touch, without the ones they loved by their side.

On that somber note, I wish each of you a lovely week and the kindness and compassion that changes lives. I’m off for more coffee and to log into work. May this autumn be one of a better harvest.

Cover Photo by Dennis Buchner on Unsplash

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the veil is thin

There are two times of the year when the veil that separates this plane from the next grows thin, making communication with the dead easier, among other things.  At Samhain we often invite our dead to sup with us, preparing their favorite foods and drink and setting them out on our tables.  Our rituals tend toward the somber at Samhain.

But at Beltane, opposite Samhain on the Wheel of the Year, our rituals are filled with rejoicing, celebrating the awakening of the earth, the growth all around us, and yes, the fertility that will see us through another long winter.

It is a good time to remind us that life will find a way.  Even as the society we built cracks under the strain of this pandemic and all that accompanies it, the earth puts forth sprouts and leaves and flowers.  In the animal kingdom, babies are born, ensuring that their species will continue.  All around us are the signs that if we just hold on through this “winter” life will begin anew.

And maybe, just maybe, we can learn from Mother Earth’s example, and create something new.

We don’t usually stress communicating with the dead at Beltane, but with so many of us channeling life skills that helped our ancestors survive, maybe it’s time we did.  Reach out to great-grandma to get her secrets to a successful sourdough starter (I can not get mine to do what it’s supposed to).  Call out to your great-great grandpa for advice on planting corn or tomatoes or what have you. Invite them to supper or pour out a cup.

Then go stick your hands in some dirt, grow something. You might be surprised at the joy it can give you.

Happy Beltane, Readers, may it bring you blessings and joy.

Cover Photo by Arno Smit on Unsplash