Tag: beloved dead

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what is remembered…

Back in the before times, when we could gather in mass to appreciate things we love, I went to a Stargate convention in Vancouver, BC and got to meet a number of wonderful folks involved in the show and make some amazing memories.

One of the highlights of that weekend was my photo op with the “System Lords”.

System Lords in hats

We had a lot of fun getting this pic, from choosing hats and goofing around. They were all wonderful and I thoroughly enjoyed meeting them.

Stargate is one of those shows that has seen me through a lot of changes, has brought new friends into my life, and it is a world I revisit in a rewatch every few years. Seeing these people interact at the convention, I got the sense that they are all good friends who like to hang out together and love one another.

It was through Suanne Braun’s twitter account this week that I learned that Cliff Simon, the striking fella on the far right, who played Baal, died in a kiteboarding accident. It had the same kind of punch as learning that Kevin Smith (Ares in Xena) had died unexpectedly. Neither of them were someone I spent a lot of time thinking about, but they were also a part of a show that was important to me.

Fortunately for those of us who remain on this mortal coil, we have their body of work to keep their memory warm. And what is remembered, lives on.

Peace to the family and friends that Mr. Simon leaves behind.

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in numbers too big to ignore

As we barrel on toward the holiday season, the coronavirus is barreling through our country with no sign of stopping. Each day this week we have seen new records for the number of new cases. Yesterday alone we had over a hundred and eighty thousand new cases, and we sit at a total of two hundred forty nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight deaths in the US as of the time I am writing this.

Two deaths away from a quarter of a million deaths.

That number is unfathomable.

That is the population of Boise, Idaho. Or Winston-Salem, North Carolina. That is more than the population of Rochester, New York. More than twice the population of Vacaville, California.

And still we have people saying that this thing is a hoax, or it’s no worse than the regular seasonal flu. Still we have people demanding that we open restaurants and bars, that we send our kids back to school.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, we’ll still see people gathering. With Christmas and other winter holidays a little more than a month away, we see people shopping, handling things others have handled, and more gathering.

I get that we’re all tired of the restrictions. I get that we’re bored and we miss hugs. We miss our people. I get that we need to be working and we need to kick our economy into something that resembles functional.

But what good is any of it if our people aren’t there when this is over?

Please take care, Readers! Wash your hands, wear your mask, stay home. Save a life.

Cover Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash

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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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season of the witch

It is that time of year again, as the veil thins and the spirits of the dead move through the land and the world remembers that witches exist.  Sure, we’re around all the time, but mostly people forget until Samhain approaches, and then suddenly we’re meant to perform our witchness for them.

Okay, so witchness isn’t a word, I get that, but still it’s not that they want to understand who we are, what we do and all that…they want us to be a “witch,” to live up to their expectations of what a witch actually is.

I identify as a witch.  I have for quite some time.  My daily life is pretty mundane:  I work, I write, I travel (having just gotten home from Denver and a conference for women/nonbinary in SFF).  On occasion, I commune with the spirit world, light a few candles on my altars.

Come Samhain, I dress up in costume and participate in the secular traditions of Halloween, as much as allowed by my living situation and workplace allowances (tomorrow I’ll be dressed as a Jedi for work)…then I come home and I light a few candles, set out some food to entice the beloved ancestors to stop by my house, and I read or watch movies until it’s time for bed. I may even open a bottle of wine or whiskey, pour out a little for the ancestors and such.

If there is time, I offer up tarot readings, because it’s a good time of year for it.

But, I’m a witch all year, not just at Samhain.  And I do these things (minus the dressing up, though I do that sometimes just for fun) all the time.  I’m not performing my witchness for anyone, I’m just being a witch.

All that said, Samhain is a time to look back, and look forward.  It is a time of reflection on what has been and a time of planting seeds for what is to come.   The old year ends, the wheel turns.  Summer fades and Autumn settles us in to prepare for Winter.  It is a sacred night when the harvest is done and the feast prepared.

And it is a night when kids of all ages dress up as their favorite super hero, princess or space man, skipping from house to house in echo of the past, and we, witch or not, praise them for their clever disguises and offer them candy and other treats as recompense for their tacit agreement to leave off the curses they might otherwise feel compelled to whisper into the night.

So, blessings to you, in this season of the witch.  May your final harvest be plentiful and feed you well through the winter season.  May your fallow fields lie unspoiled and resting until the time comes to plant.  May you dream the dreams of your people and may you commune with your beloved dead in peace.

 

 

Photo by Paige Cody on Unsplash

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samhain and the dead

As I am writing this, I am looking at tomorrow’s holiday with a new perspective of sorts.  I’ve always loved Halloween, from my earliest memory.  It was a fun holiday, a chance to become something besides your self, and of course, there was all the candy!

As a new Pagan many years ago it took on new meaning.  I celebrated Samhain as I imagine a lot of new Pagans do.  I did a little research, I borrowed traditions from paths that seemed to get it right, and I threw myself into celebrating this holiday of the dead.

But what I didn’t really have, or understand, was any real connections to my “beloved dead” or my “ancestors”…I never really had a strong sense of family connections beyond my immediate family and they’re immediate family (mother, father, siblings…aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents).  I had never known my mother’s father and at the time I chose my Pagan path, the only people in my life who had died were my father’s mother and a childhood friend.

Still, I had a strong draw toward honoring the dead.  My love of old cemeteries also goes back to my childhood and my interest in the spirit world was part of what drew me to Paganism to begin with.

Over the last few years, my religious path has changed some…nothing drastic, but if your faith doesn’t grow with you as you grow then your faith can die.  I found myself digging into my family tree, into the history of me as it were, and discovered a feeling of connection with several ancestors that I had never known.

Two years ago, I attended a class in bone reading as divination.  It had a strong emphasis on calling on the beloved dead to assist.  It was after that class that I set up a small altar with pictures of those ancestors, and in the two years since I have added images of those who have passed more recently, not necessarily family of my blood, but family of my heart.

This Samhain, after I go to work in my Raven costume, I will spend an evening in quiet contemplation and while I can’t really have a bonfire like I’d like, I will light as many candles as I deem safe and invite those beloved dead to visit.  I may even throw some bones and see if they speak to me.

Whether you celebrate Halloween, Samhain or Dia de los Muertos, may your day be filled with blessings and sweet things.