Samhain

When I was a teenager, I very unoriginally got into Neo-paganism. I think I thought I was being original. Growing up in small town Canada in the 90’s we didn’t have the omnipresent eyes and mouthpieces of the internet. Trends weren’t as sharp and fast so I wasn’t aware of Neo-paganism as a “trend” but it obviously was. They made The Craft for god’s sake. I would go to the local head and new age shop: a winning combo. I bought books about druids and witches and devoured the pages. I styled myself as a type of female druid or white witch. I was already dressing in 60's & 70's clothes from the Goodwill, channeling the neo-hippy revival of the 90s. This fit right in. I bought a pair of chalices at an antique store and tried reciting spells in badly sounded out Welsh from a book I bought about Merlin.

Mom didn’t really understand this new phase I was going through. Although to her credit, she didn’t freak out and think I was a satan worshipper either. She and my dad had raised me in the Anglican Church. I went to Sunday school, I was confirmed in the church at 13. I wouldn’t say my family was super religious - we weren’t bigots and we didn’t have to pray every night. But we said grace at Sunday dinner and went to church regularly. After my confirmation at 15 I stopped going to church entirely (except for holidays). This coincided with me taking up smoking weed and forming opinions. For me this new found religious practice in paganism allowed me to express my environmentalism in a spiritual way. Or something like that. One of the key teachings of the modern witch is "And it harm none, do what ye will". Mom thought this was too selfish and significantly lacked any emphasis on charity and helping others. At the time I didn’t have the language or articulation of thought to argue the many wrong doings of Christian charity. I just ignored her.

Over time my adherence to this spiritual practice waned, just like the other things (smoking weed and wearing 70’s Goodwill clothes). I eventually took my chalices to a charity shop and I lost my Celtic knotwork necklace somewhere. I still keep a healthy curiosity about new age-y stuff though. I’ve done cacao ceremonies, gong baths, been on a yoga retreat with an “urban shaman”, dabbled in kundalini yoga. Ultimately I can't reconcile the icky feelings of cultural appropriation and white washing that some of these practices participate in so I've stopped going. I still read my horoscopes and kind of "dig" astrology. I’d probably see a reiki healer again for some things. Gong baths are great.

One of the things that has stuck with me a bit though from my pagan past is the acknowledgement of the seasonal festivals. For some reason they make sense to me. Acknowledging the seasonal changes our planet makes seems one of the least things I can do in terms of respecting our celestial home. The solstices and equinoxes plus what's called the cross quarter festivals which include May day and Halloween. In practice, this acknowledgement is sometimes just me going "oh it's May day" but even that reminds me of the past and takes me out of myself for a moment.

This past Halloween was different though and I felt moved to do more than just say "oh it's Halloween". In traditional Celtic practices Halloween is considered the start of the new year. It is a time of huge transition as the earth goes into hibernation. The days get darker, the crops are harvested, and it is said to be the time when the veils between this world and the world of spirits is at its thinnest. Trying to confuse the wandering spirits is where the tradition of dressing up comes from and warding off spirits is what carving pumpkins or turnips is for. It is the time when we honour our ancestors and the dead.

This year I made an offering and dedication to Mom. In our home office where I have an art table, there is a shelf where I keep paint brushes, assorted trinkets, and found objects like dried flowers, crystals, and little things of beauty and meaning. It’s probably the closest thing I have to a new age altar. This year on this altar shelf I put out a framed photo of Mom and in a little metal dish laid out offerings to her spirit. Apples symbolising life and immortality, lavender, one of mom’s favourite flowers, a piece of First Nations pottery we found together at the cottage at the top of the hill, and a maple syrup lollipop that she gave us when she came to London for our wedding. When dusk came I lit a cedar candle - cedar is meant to allay grief.

That night when I went to bed, I half hoped I would have some type of communication with Mom, even if it was just an appearance in my dreams. But my ability to have and remember dreams is sparse these days due to our son's continued night wakings. I woke up dreamless and feeling disappointed. But hopeful that this time Mom understood and felt my love through the little Samhain offerings when the veils between the worlds are thinnest.