Samhain: A Time That is Not A Time

cropped-p1020148.jpgMagic lies thick in the air all around at this time of year. The scent of woodsmoke and fallen leaves tingles our noses, and we just know that a shift is happening. A big shift. Not the gentle flowing of early summer to midsummer and then to Lammas; no, this is something quite different. While the sun may still be warm, the nights have turned colder and longer, and it’s very noticeable. Each evening, the sun sets further south along the horizon, seeming to run towards that direction with abandon, leaving the lazy, hazy summer nights and bunking down quickly to escape the frosts. The moon now takes over, shining brightly for many more hours in the night sky. The focus has changed, and a new time is upon us.

I love this time of year. At Samhain, we lie between the thresholds of the year. We are in an in-between time, after the death of the God and awaiting his rebirth at the Winter Solstice. We, like the God, are between the worlds, in a place that is not a place, in a time that is not a time. Not quite winter, most definitely not still autumn, we wander in the darkness.

P1010567 (2)Why do I love this time of year? For many, it’s difficult, saying goodbye to the summer months and embracing winter. But this embracing is, indeed, what I adore. Just as I love seeing the first leaves peeping out among the spring blossom, heralding Beltane and the summer months, so too do I take great joy in the winding down of things, of welcoming the coming winter and all the wisdom that it has to bring. Sure, like many, after a few months it becomes more difficult, dealing with the long dark nights and sometimes dreary days. But it is in winter that we know what we are made of, and provides the perfect time to delve within, to find that authentic self and nurture it to bring it forth into the daylight once again.

45050223_10160974698305203_2042672860996042752_oThen there are the childhood memories, of Hallowe’en back in Canada, of that special night of all nights. It was the highlight of the year for me, even overshadowing Christmas. For on this night, every child could be what they wanted to be, and had the shadowy streets under the moonlight all to themselves, satisfying their sweet tooths and daring each other to go up to that scary old house. It was a time of magic, of fantasy, where anything was possible. And it still is.

For in this time between the worlds, anything truly is possible. We are able to become whoever it is that we wish to be. At the Samhain fires, we can release what we do not like about ourselves, and resolve to change that in time for the rebirth of the sun. We state our intentions even as we let go, and hold true to our word. We can be whoever or whatever we want, reborn in the dawn’s light after a long night of magic and mayhem.

May these coming months both challenge you and bring you great knowledge, understanding and joy. May you meet these challenges with courage and wit, strength and intuition. And may you enjoy this time that is not a time, in a place that is not a place, in a world that is not a world.

Blessings of Samhain to you all.

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Flame of Samhain

flmeShine, in the coming darkness. Let the spark of awen light the flame within your soul. Guard that flame, the truth against the world. Let it be your guide, let it be your light, to shine out into the world.

There will be challenges. There will be challenges against you, against the world. The flame of others may not shine so bright, for they have not discovered the beauty and promise that they hold. The flame within their own hearts has not been set alight, or has been dimmed by pain, by the past, by worries of the future. Seek to light the flame in others, even as you hold fast to your own inner flame. Support and nurture the spark within, to allow truth into the world.

Only you can allow others to dim your light, to weaken your flame. And they may try, especially when you shine so bright. For we live in a world where competition and dissatisfaction is rife, where if someone else is succeeding, it is perceived as personal failure in our own lives. Drop this illusion, and fan the flames within and without. If one succeeds, we all succeed. Two flames burn brighter than one, and blowing out someone else’s flame does not make yours burn brighter. When you burn bright, and others seek to dim your flame with their own pain, their own wounds, then burn all that much brighter, to guide the way in the dimly lit corridors of the mind, and the heartache of the soul. Know that in the action of dimming another’s flame, there lies a wounded heart, and often a frightened soul. Keep clear in your boundaries, but also be compassionate in your words and deeds.

Shine on. Nothing can take that away from you but your own self.

May we be the awen.

Reblog: A Full Moon of Samhain Ritual

Here’s what happened on the full moon of Samhain this year 🙂  To read the original blog post, visit my channel at SageWoman for Witches and Pagans, at PaganSquare.

The candles were lit, the incense smoking, and the bells of the church ringing in the still night air. Friday night is the practice night for the village bell-ringers, and so our ritual was accentuated by their skilful tones. The moon was riding high in a hazy sky, and haloed with an ever-widening ring that spoke of the Otherworld.

We raised our boundary, which was to the whole of the property, and called to the realms of Land, Sea and Sky. We honoured the ancestors at the full moon of Samhain, as well as the spirits of place. We invited the Fair Folk who were in tune with our intention, as they have been a part of our rituals since we began. We sang to the four quarters, and then invoked the gods. We invited all who were harmony with us this Samhain night. This was our first time in invoking the god into our full moon ritual, but it felt right. How right, we were just about to discover.

We honoured the tides of Samhain, the winter months of darkness. We then performed our magical working at the fire, and gathering our clooties: ribbons of intention that we tie to the branches of the apple tree at the bottom of the garden every month. Walking back to the terrace where the bird bath, now a sacred basin of water reflecting the moonlight, served as our vessel as we drew down the moon into the water. The church bells rang in time to our working, and stopped just as we finished. The air was utterly still.

Suddenly, a loud bark sounded from the other side of the hedge, down the track a little ways. A fallow deer stag, wandering the moonlit night. We stopped and turned to the noise, and he barked again, this time a little closer. We looked to each other and smiled, feeling blessed by his presence. Then an enormous bark, just the other side of the cedar boundary, which made us all jump. He was right up against the hedge, near the little hole that the muntjac, fallow deer and badgers made.

And he was trying to come through.

We could hear him brushing against the hedge, wanted to come through the doorway, but his antlers preventing him from doing so. The firelight made the area where the entrance lay shadowed from our sight. Our breath quickening, we looked at each other. The God was here, and he was making himself known. He paced along the back boundary, trying to come through first one hole in one corner, and then the other. He then returned to the middle of the hedge, where the boundary between the civilised and the wild lay, that doorway to the Otherworld that lay in the hedge, and pawed the ground, sniffing the night air, sniffing the scent of the three women gathered around the sacred pool. Gathered around the sacred pool, with hearts beating loudly in their breast.

“A blessing to you, God of Samhain, Lord of the Wildwood. May your journey into darkness be blessed, and we are honoured by your presence,” I whispered softly into the night, tears falling down my cheek.

We heard him still sniffing, and we felt his eyes upon us. The world stood still, and we hardly dared to breathe. Would he change his shape and come through? What would we do if that happened? A hush descended, and we no longer heard him just the other side of the hedge. With hands slightly shaking, we dipped our clooties into the water and walked down to the apple tree, right where he had been sniffing just the other side. As we walked, we sang to let him know we were approaching. “Deep into the earth I go, deep into the earth I go. Hold my hand, brother; hold my hand. Hold my hand, sister; hold my hand”. We bravely tied our ribbons to the branches, knowing that the God stood only a few feet away from us. Stepping back, we finished the chant, and bowed to the apple tree and hedge, bathed in the soft moonlight. Silence reigned. We knew he was no longer there, and we didn’t hear him leave. He simply disappeared through the veil between the worlds.

We made our offering, and gazed into the mirror at the fairy portal shrine I made under the beech tree. We saw things: bonfires on the hills of Tlachtga, owl-faced warriors, deep caverns beneath the earth, the land of the sidhe, and the Mari Lwyd. We circled the fire clockwise three times for blessings, and then ended our rite, breathless and filled with wonder.

May the Lord of the Wildwood bless you all this season, may you find nourishment in the darkness of winter.

© Joanna van der Hoeven 2017