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Samhain Blessings

Samhain Blessings

Last updated on: November 6, 2017 at 11:47 am by Amy Beltaine

Samhain Blessings 2017-11-06T11:47:18+00:00 Amy Beltaine

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“Samhain Blessing”

“colorwarp2-060207” by Ruth Temple

finally, the wheel turns and brings us to the darkness
and as we pause to remember the beloved dead
and honor the darkness,

let each of us know that to praise the ancestors,
known and unknown,
is to know that we have never been alone.

that we have not cried, loved, birthed or died alone,
they have been with us.

and each time we move forward,
we carry great sorrow for our losses,
sorrow that is a measure of their love,
into the known and the unknown future.

the gundestrup cauldron, photo by mararie (cc) 2011.

and so on this day, the past and the future

come together.

woven by the strands of love

and devotion.
weaving a never-ending web
that holds and supports us.

tonight, as the darkness waits for us to reach out
and touch this interconnected web,
may each of us be blessed by our journey into the cauldron of transformation,
the place of all possibilities.
the womb and the heart of Gaia….

blessings of all we hold holy,
and of the sacred darkness upon us all.

by bhakti andrea (adapted)

Falling Leaves

Wisconsin wildcat mountain, farmhouse and hills

My best friend died when she was 39. We knew it was coming. I made the trip from New York to Oregon several times after her diagnosis. The call came, “She may not last the week.” I flew again. Sitting on the plane, staring down at the colorful hillsides covered with autumn leaves, I thought about mortality. Each leaf, falling from the tree was dying, and yet it nourishes the tree it fell from. Contemplating the leaves gave me some comfort, but it didn’t fill the hole in my heart.

A few years later, my niece’s grandfather died suddenly. Without the preparation that aging or illness usually gives us, our family fumbled to cope. How could we help my niece understand death when we ourselves were at a loss? my sister and I (who share similar beliefs) struggled to find a way to communicate to a child, ideas formulated as adults. Suddenly my “back to the earth” imagery seemed cold and intellectual. We were unprepared to let go of Sierra’s grandpa. The idea that he could smile down on us from above was very appealing.

How do you explain that at one moment Grandpa was fly fishing on the Rogue River on a sunny beautiful day and in the next few moments his body lay motionless, near where the river flows into the sea. Each life is a wave on the sea. The wave has form, purpose, identity, but while it is powerful and deep, it is rushing toward shore. At the shore the wave breaks, the life ends, and what we once knew as a wave becomes, once again, part of the ocean. I’ve always related to a “fertilizer” aspect of death, but as we gathered as a family, I turned my attention to the effect our lost loved one had on the world. Each wave has brought sand and treasures from the sea, onto the shore. Every life changes the world. Every person makes a difference by being who they are, by singing their own song. Their memory, their works, the people who loved them: That is the afterlife. That is the way that a person can live on.

Personally I very much like the idea of becoming one with my divinity, for that is how I view the earth, the planet is both sacred and divine. The broccoli I had for dinner is a part of me, I have recycled dinosaur cells in me, more than that, I have stardust in me. Who knows what I will become! [wait for it… Reduce, Reuse, Recycle!] Knowing that we become flower food can be comforting, but it doesn’t make it easy.

How do we live with death and loss? Ironically, What we need is love. The very love that makes loss painful is also the way forward. Without love, there is no loss. We feel this when we lose a family member or friend, but even when strangers die: public figures, faceless thousands in a tragic event, or war, the love of our fellow human beings shocks us as we are reminded of our own mortality.

George Elliot wrote

Photo: Michael J. Bennett (Own work)

they …

join the choir invisible

Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence: live
In pulses stirr’d to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge man’s search
To vaster issues.

Photo courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons, Photo User HORIZON

So to live is heaven:
To make undying music in the world…

My mom died when she was 72, while the trees were just starting to leaf out, leaning into rebirth. As I look over the photos and writings from the months she was on hospice, I am reminded of my despair and loss. I am also reminded of the community doing ritual together, and the gifts of awe and wonder she gave within the process of her death. Gazing at the photos and mementos on my special shelf remind me of her many gifts. The song she sang with her life and her death continues to enrich my life. Each ancestor’s life, AND their death, created not just memories, but joy and sadness, love and wonder. Like the leaves giving life to the forest, each ancestor has given new life.

Leaf Walk

Take a walk today. Notice a leaf or two along the way, and reflect on an ancestor or loved one who has joined the “choir invisible.” Perhaps this leaf is one to bring back to your altar at home.

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Free and Responsible Truth and Meaning

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November 15, 2017 The Deer In The Window

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