Samhain has felt different this time around. Arriving just a few months after my father crossed the Threshold. For several years I have practised honouring grief in all its forms at this time of year. So I was surprised how hard it has been to carve out the stillness. I am being schooled in discovering small ways to grieve in this busy dance of life. A wave of emotion might take me off guard and fill my eyes with tears: some music, a phrase, an item of clothing, the way someone walks, many small physical curiousities take me on an inward journey to meet my father's presence.
I was lucky enough to have a dedicated time to grieve his passing in the week before he died. I was immersed amongst huge ancestor chestnut trees. I was held by a community of friends holding space for individual Vision Quests. The witnessing of my journey in sharing circles, the songs, the reverence of life all allowed the words and tears to flow. Together we dropped into a place of deep gratitude towards all our parents, who gave us life.
We live in an age of entitlement where we focus on all that has been taken from us instead of what we have been freely given. There is much I did not receive as a child, that others might expect me to have had. And yet, within a community space where the preciousness of life is the focus, those 'lacks' fall into the background. They may need some careful attention too and will heal more easily with the wider support of a community who understands what is fundamentally important.
Sometimes arranging funerals can be distracting from personal grieving. Us four siblings may differ in our opinions about what we received as children and how to grieve. However the time organising it allowed me and my brothers to be close to each other and to him in a way that we may not have found otherwise. I was guided by the privilege of witnessing a Crossing of the Threshold and experiencing the tangible love around that moment. So out of this love, not out of the lack, we wove a container in which to honour and remember him. We each found a role to play and that united us in our common aim: to celebrate my fathers life and grieve his passing in such a way that we, our mother, our wider family and their friends could participate.
More recently, with my children, we spend three nights in our beautiful woodland: cooking on the fire, lighting candles and bonfires, telling stories and sharing woodland work with friends. We recreated out hearth just outside the roundhouse.
We attended a simple Samhain ceremony. Everyone spoke aloud the names of loved ones who have died while we stood in the shadow of a castle ruin with tiny candles and the presence of our ancestors. I wept and held the precious gaze of my son who bears my father's name. Others cried too. We honoured each name in darkness and silence. It was simple and very powerful.
Beforehand we carved pumpkins with the boys as a gesture to what they have heard their friends talk about for Hallowe'en. With that done, they settled into the mood of the ceremony surprisingly easily. It met them. It reminded me to stand firm in what I endeavour to uphold as our family values. It reminded me that these traditions will serve as anchors for my boys whether they choose to continue with them in later life or not. In the same way that having my father's funeral in the church where I was christened, where I went to the Christmas Carol service with him as a child held me. I used to walk through that churchyard when my boys were tiny, seeking it out as a place of solace when visiting the busy, sometimes unsettling world of my parents home. It was balm to my soul. The avenue of ancient yews there spoke to me as one they recognised.
Maybe next year I will feel the need to step into more of the ghost stories and scary fun the children are also seeking, but for this year, I was so happy to find another way we could honour the grandfathers together. Walking up to a castle in the dark with just a small light in a glass jar brought us close enough to that excitement this year. Both my boys' grandfathers died this summer and we are still regrouping in our little family of four. As I re-learn to connect with my own grandparents, and find the new, subtler relationship with my father, I teach my boys that the dead can continue to inspire and love us. If we invite them to, they can join us in our rich inner world. I would like this to be their base they can return too, instead of meaningless images of white flimsy ghosts.
Throughout life, we are perpetually moving between the threshold of our inner and outer worlds. At this time of year we can revel in this. We are constantly navigating the borderlands, the boundary between the two worlds. Sometimes consciously, sometimes less so. It is part of my life's work to support myself and others to navigate this.
Perhaps because of this calling I have chosen to live in the Borderlands between England and Wales. I am intrigued by what has happened on this boundary over the centuries, curious about what enchantment is born where two worlds meet. This has been a life theme, that maybe I will explore further with you another time.
For now, I welcome those of you who feel called to join us in the wonderful Nemetona Woods (remember, she is the Celtic Goddess of Sacred Haven's, we are creating a sanctuary of stillness). I hear many people lamenting the change in season, the cold, the challenge to our busy selves to settle into more rest time. Our hand built roundhouse is cosy and warm. And I look forward to more darkness as more time to listen, to reflect. As winter approaches I begin to contemplate and relish the idea of the 'summer of the soul': a time to nourish our inner world.
I look forward to welcoming you to the woodland for a Life Story Exploration. We have 3 sessions to explore our precious life stories. We work in a small group but you can share as much or as little as your inner world as you like. The woodland has been warmed by our recent community days of bonfires and golden falling leaves. She awaits you. We await each other. In the coming together magic happens.
Nobody is trying to fix anyone. Despite what the world might tell us, we do not need to become anyone other that who we are. I will be your guide to cross the thresholds into your fascinating biography, your inner home. In a safe space where we can find a moment to pause, breathe deeply and listen attentively.