Here in New England the trees are putting on a riotous display of color, the air is crisp and the light is all gorgeous golden-slanty. Pumpkins are showing up on porches. Dinners are becoming progressively heavier. There are nights when I’ve almost given in and turned on the heat in the house.
This is the season that makes the whole year of disappointing weather worthwhile in New England: Apple cider, sweaters, leather boots crunching in the fallen leaves, the sweet-tang of decay on the wind and the landscape colored so intensely it’s actually hard to drive around without pulling over and gaping in awe. This is the stuff, Witches. right here and now.
Drink it in.
We are fast approaching Samhain–The End of the year followed by six weeks of living in the liminal space between endings and beginnings, death and birth, decay and renewal. As we Witches gear up for the myriad Samhain celebrations, it’s easy to forget that this time of year is actually meant for slowing down, gathering in and quietening ourselves. Costumes and parties are wonderful! Big rituals with dramatic displays can be powerful. At the same time, it would do us good to take some cues from nature.
Stand still. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sink down. Connect. Let go.
Pour a cup of tea to share with the Ancestors. Take it out by the fire and chat. They’re already slipping in and around the Veils. They are ready and willing to spend time with us no matter the time of year.
This time ’round the Wheel, I’ll be talking with my Uncle who moved further and further south as he aged. New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia and finally, Florida. It was hard to recognize him as my Dad’s brother. He was so lively, open and happy. Dad, on the other hand, had taken on the dour attitude of New England. My earliest memories of them together put them at the age I am now. When I look in the mirror I see the worry lines and disappointment I saw on my father’s face. I think it’s not too late to be more like my Uncle. If I’m going to have wrinkles, I want laugh lines. It’s not too late.
He was brash, inappropriate (by today’s standards), loud and called attention to himself. He jokingly referred to himself as a “Dirty Old Man.” He wasn’t really, but he loved the idea of himself in that character. He left people laughing wherever he went. This Samhain Season, I’m calling him close. I guess there’ll be Bryer’s Ice Cream and raunchy songs. Maybe I’ll even flirt outrageously with folks “way too young” for me when I head South where it’s still what I know think of as “summer.” I’ll walk with him along the coastline there as I do with my parents here on the New England Coast. I’m going ask him how he stayed so happy and fiesty. And, I’m going to follow his lead.
Blessed Be You Samhain Season, Witches.