In my Pagany spiritual path, this time of year is for letting go. Samhain happens around Halloween time and celebrates the death of the year, meaning the agricultural year. When I grew up in Kentucky in the 60s, we could see the plant beds burning to purify them for crops in the coming year.
It’s a similar thing. Going into the new year, we should be purified, clean and clear from the hindrances that hold us back. To do that, we must ask ourselves what is holding us back from being what we want to be or achieving what we want to do? Is is a mindset or way of thinking? Is it old programming that got stuck in our heads when we were younger? A toxic relationship? An addiction?
At Summer Solstice, we began the gradual descent into darkness and by the time Samhain comes, we are well into the process. It’s appropriate, because this can be dark work. There’s a reason we call it “shadow” work. It is a challenge to be frankly honest with ourselves and to make choices armed with that information, even if the choice is to acknolwedge the circumstances and make no changes.
Either way, accountabilty is a heavy burden to carry.
It is no accent that many see this as a time of death, not only of the harvest time, not only of the old ways of being, but the literal deaths that come to our physical bodies. We tend to see an increase in the deaths of pets and loved ones at this time.
Many historians and purists get sniffy when we say things like “the veil is thin” between the world, barking that THERE IS NO VEIL and THE WORLDS ARE ALWAYS TOGETHER. Yes, I get that, but wow, it surely does feel closer this time of year.
Because of the association this time of year has with death and endings, we also honor our beloved departed and our spirit guides at Samhain. Eric and I have an Altar to the Dead each year where we set out photos and other memorabilia to let our honored dead know that we remember, we love, we miss them.
Change is hard for me; always has been. Even good change is hard for me to assimilate into my life. I thrive on consistency and routine and I am only now starting to get that in my life after decades of upheaval.
Living in poverty, having six kids spread across two decades, living as a military wife for 23 years, marrying a thrill-seeking, easily bored and mercurial husband the second time around, consistency of any kind was something of a joke. Now that I have it, I have trouble trusting it and keep waiting for the punch line, as if this illusion of calm routine is a set-up.
The fire of 2021 happened exactly two months after my last child moved out on his own, leaving me and Eric as empty nesters. What better symbolism could there possibly be other than the entirety of my previous life literally burning away in a night? I woke up in my home of two decades one day and woke up homeless the next. Now, more than two years later, I still grapple for any reminder of what was there before, for some reminder of familiarity and “home.”
I love my new life and I am profoundly grateful for where I landed, despite my best efforts to avoid change at all costs. Many of my kids are diagnosed with or are symptomatic of neurodivergencies, a word we did not have when I was growing up. Who isn’t somewhere on “the spectrum” anymore?
As I age, I see how many of my quirks and personal idiosyncrasies are right at home in the DSM-5 (are we on 5 now?). Because I thought it was just me, I never considered that I might need treatment of some kind or advice on how to manage the way that I am. I just knuckled through.
I know I have some old programming that I have to release this year. I have unrealistic expectations that I have to let go. So I will burn those in the fire this year.
I look forward to the descent into winter. I am not a fan of snow and fortunately do not get much of it here. I like the stillness. I like the shift to indoor activities. I like soups and sweaters and nights spent around the fire. I will be equally as grateful when winter lets go of us and spring comes around again.
What are you releasing this year? Write it on a bay leaf and toss it into the fire. Leave it at the foot of the cross. Give it up to the Goddess. You do you, Boo, but lighten your load and love yourself into wellness.