Samhain Reflections

Orange is the color of transformation, seen in the sunset sky as well as in leaves of changing trees at this time of the year. Samhain marks Autumn’s fullest reflections before Winter sets in. Nature draws into itself, slowly curling inward as if to sleep. Shades of copper and orange draw attention to the West, the lowering Sun, and the magnetic, alluring twilight. A finely woven spell of falling leaves and brilliant dusk tugs at the heart with inevitable sadness, as another year and another season vanish with the turning of the Wheel.

The focus of Samhain is Life giving way to Death. The bright hues of Summer  fade to the pale glint of Autun. All the radiant energy that abounded in grass, trees, flowers and fruit now dissipates, whirled around by the chilly winds, down into the Earth to be hidden from sight. Round and around, the drying seeds and curling leaves spin, swept into untidy circles that grow smaller and smaller until they disappear completely, absorbed into the brown ground. Some animals and insects also coil inward for hibernation deep within the snug bed of Earth.

Even in humans, there is an urge to go deep within now, whether it is a desire to explore the inner self or simply the need to snuggle securely into the nest for Winter. This is the Dwelling-Within Time, heralded by changes in weather that warns all of Nature’s children to take cover in whatever places are most safe and warm, to fall into a restful sleep. Turning inward, shedding Summer skins for Winter coats, we move together to explore what lies deep within, all the way down to the bare bones of essence. The forests seem barren and the fields empty of any visible life. A stillness settles over the land as life is withdrawn to the shadow-lands of dreams and visions.

The Snake is universally recognized as a symbol of death and rebirth. Not only does it coil into a circle which symbolizes the never-ending cycling of the Wheel, but it periodically sheds its sin, emerging from its ghost-like shell like a new creature.  Serpent are also well-known representatives of wisdom, embodying the magickal axiom “to keep silent”, as one must be very near to a snake to hear its whispered message. Despite their tough skin, they are extremely sensitive creatures. They are widely considered to be messengers between the visible and invisible worlds. At Samhain, these messengers are worthy tokens of the season. Borderlines and points of transformation are places of tremendous power. Any creature able to pass between phases with the liquid grace of the snake is truly gifted.

Exploring what lies beneath the worn-out Summer skins may require journeys across the borderlands of consciousness, deep into the spirit world. It can feel like a plunge into a deep, quiet pool, silently shattering familiar surface reflections to reach through and touch whatever is at the core. Look beyond mirrored images and see beyond, daring to peer into the shadows. Under the skin, below the waters, on the other side of the glass, through the sunset haze life parallels the infinite wonders of the universe with astounding balance and symmetry.  The precious knowledge brought back from these journeys is the essence of what some call psychic experiences.

At Samhain, it is easier to pass between this world and the Otherworld, as the gates between earth and sky swing open. The last fruits, flowers, nuts and vegetables of the garden must be taken in by Samhain or they will be claimed by the Others. The Dread Lord walks the windswept fields his chilly breath raising prickles on our skin, as unseen hands strip the last bounty from branches and stems. In the darkening days, Earth pulsates and hums with the songs of hearts drawn underground until the slow throb of power gradually fades into silence.

Emptiness creeps into the landscape, hollowing everything with Death’s presence. Liberated from bodily forms, spirits roam the lengthening nights. Yet, in the true paradoxical sense of borderlines, there comes a feeling of heaviness and acute awareness of the physical weight that binds and weighs and pulls down into Earth. Just as dives who probe deepest waters must readjust to normal gravity when they emerge, so must those who fly so freely on the wings of spirit feel their fully material bulk upon return.

At Autumn Equinox, the dual forces of Nature faced each other across the heavens, in perfect balance reigning together over the Earth. Now, at Samhain, the hourglass turns over and the sands shift through from Life to the realms of Death. The secrets of Life and Death are surrounded by every kind of taboo and superstition stemming from fear of the unknown. It may range from vague anxiety to deeply rooted dread at Samhain when we see the powers of transformation vividly etched into the landscape all around us. As days shorten and darkness lingers, the inward spiral spins in the wind and the rain.

Curling inward and downward into the hardening ground, the dry leaves, burrowing animals, weary insects and blown seeds seek their audience with Death. The emptiness created by absence of animation is balanced by the deep strength of life force held suspended on the other side of the shadows, for those with eyes to see it. It is like a huge sigh drawn in but not yet released. Bravely but humbly, Summer’s children seek out the Lord of Death, called from his realms of silent Earth to lend his powers of healing and change as an aid to crossing the bridge between worlds.

Like Autumn’s breath, awareness of Death brings a cold sadness to the heart, as all beloved enjoyments must eventually pass away. Mourning the departure of a cherished companion or lamenting the leaving of another season weighs heavily, pulling down with the burdens of remembrances or regrets. When Death and Life confronted each other at Equinox, the sunset of the season, each flowed out to the other in compassion and mercy, their merging place forming a point of infinite peace. As the Dread Lord opens the door through which we all must pass, the weight of sorrow rolls away. Feet that shuffled slowly around the inverted spiral, clumsy and rooted in clay’s numbness, are unbound, free to dance across the threshold as lightly as stardust. Leaving the hollow skin behind, the dweller lingers only briefly, like the colors of sunset, before the sigh of Dearth wafts it through the twilight into the silent darkness.

Crossing the deep, quiet waters, reflections of al kinds appear on the calm water’s surface, images of eternally balanced borderlines. Looking back at the dying orange and copper sunset, the colors could be either dawn or dusk. The curling fingers of clouds that clutch at distant hills could be gnarled with age or freshly unfurling. The empty eyes that stare back from the watery mirror appear to be shrouded with sleep but are actually gifted with remarkable clarity. Behind the vacant eyes, a sense of fullness and completion rejoices as awareness of past, present and future merge. With every lifetime remembered and treasured, the inner peace grows and the opposite shore approaches. The pale shell of snakeskin lies ghostlike and forgotten on the threshold of Death’s door. His servants, the winds, carry it off with a hissing whisper.

Haloed by Autumn bonfires, the Dread Lord looms gigantic, silhouetted black against orange blazes. His presence is sensed before seen, and nostrils quiver at the scent of his musky mists. Trailing remnants of the past like a white train of empty snakeskins, the final glide into darkness comes at last. His beacon arms reach out to gently embrace all the colors, shades and spectrums which bow before him He wraps every sparkling strand and tattered rag of life around and around, like a wonderfully woven winding sheet, cocooning spirits securely in the threads of Life and Death. Wrapped in this tapestry of dreams, a deep sleep falls softly. Only a bare essence of inner light remains, reduced to a distantly flickering candle on a faraway altar on Samhain.

What is remembered never dies.