I heard this whisper and I wondered,
I heard this laugh and then I knew.
The time is getting near my friends,
The time that I hold dear my friends,
The veil is getting thin my friends,
And strange things will pass through.
~The Veil is Getting Thinner
I suppose I would be a piss poor Pagan blogger indeed if I didn’t post a blog on Samhain. I was going to skip it, as this is a new blog and doesn’t really have readership yet, and I have to get my kids ready for trick or treat, and I have to pass out candy. But since this is a new year, I would like to start a new tradition for myself of marking where I am, so to speak, spiritually, emotionally, mentally; taking stock of my life, chucking what doesn’t serve me and keeping what does. Although astrologically, Samhain doesn’t occur until November 8 this year, I just generally treat this entire week as a holiday, similar to how we approach the Yule season.
I've always loved Samhain, even when I was a kid and still called it Halloween. Even then I felt the presence of other beings through the thinning veil, and always a wildness arose in me, a restlessness, an urgency. Like the legendary werewolf, I wanted to runrunrunrunrunrunrun in the moonlit night toward my own destruction. I wanted to howl and scream and rut and BE. With the first cool October nights I felt the stirrings. Traditionally, October has often been a time of crisis for me. As I got older, October marked a time of severe depression, and later, alcohol abuse, culminating in weekends in jail, wrecked cars and relationships, grave physical injuries, embarrassment, shame, and sometimes just plain old fashioned melancholy. That’s why I’m so grateful for the changes in my life now, and why I feel a need to acknowledge them.
I still feel the wildness, but now with the help of medication for my S.A.D., I’m able to channel it into creative endeavors instead of self destructive behaviors. I still want to run, and so I listen to my body’s need for physical activity and increase my exercise. I spend more time alone instead of forcing myself to be social. This is a time of drawing in, of death and repose. When I ignore my body and soul response to the turning of the Wheel, I am setting myself up for disaster. For me, really living my spirituality by heeding and nurturing my connection to the rhythms of nature is an essential component of my well-being. This has been a rough and long lesson for me to learn; spiritual growth doesn’t happen overnight, and some of us are more hard headed than others.
Tonight, after everyone is in bed, I’ll sit my altar and open myself to Spirit. I will review the past year, mulling over the lessons, the successes and the failures. I will assess my spiritual harvest trusting I’ll be sustained through the long winter, and I will plant the seeds for the coming year. I’ll feel the familiar animal surge in my veins and I’ll runrunrunrunrunrunrun in the moonlit night, toward my own creation.