The Veil Is Thin
This month, we celebrate a decade of rural living!
10 years on this small parcel of land.
Over the past weekend, we slaughtered meat chickens with friends, finished stacking the last of our wood, planned the digging up of the dahlias and puzzled over where to plant the garlic.
In short, we are busy putting things to sleep.
As did my ancestors at this very time of the year.
Samhain is the beginning of the slumber season.
Animals are slaughtered, fires are lit to ward off evil spirits (and parasites!) and the last of the harvests are set in straw, to keep for the next few months.
Settling in for the winter in agrarian societies must have felt terrifying. I can easily understand why rituals would be performed to call about a shroud of protection.
We all know that not everything survives a deep wintering.
So as the trees complete their magic trick of losing their leaves and becoming mirrors of their roots, the plants too are falling asleep. Our task, as stewards, to tuck them in as best we can. To thank the soil and help her regenerate. We will make up duvet covers of leaves, pillows of straw and sheets of manure and hope that turndown service will work its magic on her.
The list is long.
We will do some of it.
We will also neglect some it.
We will see, in the Spring, what will have survived.
This is the way of the Wheel of the Year.
We bought this house in November of 2014.
The fields had been freshly cut, and the land was washed with the dun color of corn stalks.
The crows and the blue jays crawed in the mist of the morning freeze.
The mountain naked, except for the few rust colored oak leaves, still rattling in the wind, reflected her long shape in the sinews of the river.
I called her the Sleeping Mother.
It all felt like a dream.
And now, 10 years later, we are slowly settling into the rhythm that surrounds us.
And soon, in a few weeks, the garter snake that lives near our bee hives will settle in its nest.
And she will fall asleep.
The tools will be put away, the frozen soil will be washed off the work boots. And the dahlia tubers will be stored in the cellar.
Our hands will no longer be wet cold and sore, but rather dry (cracked even?) and warmed by the fire.
And then Dreamtime will come.
But for now, we are still in the transition. We are in that limbo state as the weather fluctuates and the birds are still journeying.
As the plants and the animals get called back to the other world at Samhain/Halloween, the veil is thus lifted and if we can get quiet enough, we too, can hear the call from the other side.
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This month we turn to CROW as the liminal teacher, the one who lives in both worlds.
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We turn to TULSI/ HOLY BASIL as a spiritual anchor, a cord to keep us uplifted..
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We embody the Scorpion, the Cailleagh and Hecate as we see our own darkness revealed.
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We learn about a version of the myth of Artemis + Orion,
In the meantime, I invite you to lay down your work tools, and be inspired by the nakedness of the trees.
What messages does the other side hold for you?
What dreams or hopes do you need to survive the death that is upon us?
I share some Seasonal Reflections, something to journal about as we enter into the Darkness!
You can keep reading the rest of the Wheel of the Year Issue :
