Once again, the blessed Samhain is upon us. The secular giving of treats to little ones (and not so little ones) at the door is over and the familial work of preparation and remembrance may begin. The Veil is thinning, the Circle is being cast, the candles are being lit, and the loved ones are drawing near from the Other World.
As we close in on this moment--this particular ritual so familiar and so infinitely new each Samhain--feel the magick of this night. 'Tis the final Quarter of our Lady's journey through the skies before She makes Herself New on November 6th. Things are slowing at this time...the Veil is parted, but we needn't rush our preparations. There is time, my dear Lair followers...there is ALWAYS time.
Hold fast to your kith and kin this beauteous Night of Samhain. Keep both those of this world and those of the next ever close. Feel the warm embrace of She who unites us for this loveliest of moments.
Blessed Samhain, my dears.
In the waning light of the Moon...
31 October 2010
27 October 2010
Approaching Samhain 2010
Today, in the most bizarre of manners, I was made aware of Her presence in all our existence--of Her wisdom. This is the final week prior to Samhain. From Mabon to Samhain, we of the Path (whichever branch you happen to travel on) acknowledge the coming Darkness...and prepare ourselves accordingly.
In all the preparation we make for our "New Year" celebrations/rituals, however, some folk tend to get so wrapped up that we lose sight of Her soft aura which guides our days and our darkness.
So it was this morning. Once again, I was busily preparing for my day--waken, shower and go through my rote-ritual of the morning, pause at the altar to center, rush about madly gathering tea and texts and laptop, drive "under the radar" to the first location at which I teach. At the end of that first course, however, I was "slapped in the face" by our Lady's gentle presence. An announcement came over the intercom--"Would all teachers and students please report to the foyer at this time" {Me--slight grumble at the interruption} "Our Special Olympians are about to depart for their tournament and, in the tradition of ______, we are sending them off through a ________ Victory Line." {Me--smile...and wait for the inevitable}
(*For those of you who don't know, I'm a college professor who is "loaned out" to an area high school to teach college courses for BOTH senior English credit AND collegiate English Comp I and II credit)
My students looked at me and, without a blink, said "can we go? They're the real heroes around this school."
I didn't have to say a word...they saw the approval on my face. In a rush, they were out the door--26 of the school's best and brightest--to encourage and support some of the "forgotten." Theater students, football players, cheerleaders, etc., all ran from the room and lined up along the hallways from the entrance of the building to the Special Education classroom, yelling Friday night cheers to their Special Olympian peers.
I've NEVER known 17- and 18-year olds with that much compassion. The football players at the back of my room rushed to the front of the that line and "high-fived" every single one of those Special Olympians...no one snickered, no one guffawed, no one did ANYTHING but cheer and clap and yell names out of pure support and cameraderie. I was humbled, touched, and very much felt Her presence--the simple smiles and heartfelt encouragement in that entryway meant more than any "centering" or "drawing down" or ritual in that moment.
So, as we fast approach the Thinning of the Veil and the accompanying Night, please remember that the compassion we show our dear ones who have since crossed over to the West does, indeed, return to us. What I witnessed was compassion returned.
In the softness of the waning Moonlight...
In all the preparation we make for our "New Year" celebrations/rituals, however, some folk tend to get so wrapped up that we lose sight of Her soft aura which guides our days and our darkness.
So it was this morning. Once again, I was busily preparing for my day--waken, shower and go through my rote-ritual of the morning, pause at the altar to center, rush about madly gathering tea and texts and laptop, drive "under the radar" to the first location at which I teach. At the end of that first course, however, I was "slapped in the face" by our Lady's gentle presence. An announcement came over the intercom--"Would all teachers and students please report to the foyer at this time" {Me--slight grumble at the interruption} "Our Special Olympians are about to depart for their tournament and, in the tradition of ______, we are sending them off through a ________ Victory Line." {Me--smile...and wait for the inevitable}
(*For those of you who don't know, I'm a college professor who is "loaned out" to an area high school to teach college courses for BOTH senior English credit AND collegiate English Comp I and II credit)
My students looked at me and, without a blink, said "can we go? They're the real heroes around this school."
I didn't have to say a word...they saw the approval on my face. In a rush, they were out the door--26 of the school's best and brightest--to encourage and support some of the "forgotten." Theater students, football players, cheerleaders, etc., all ran from the room and lined up along the hallways from the entrance of the building to the Special Education classroom, yelling Friday night cheers to their Special Olympian peers.
I've NEVER known 17- and 18-year olds with that much compassion. The football players at the back of my room rushed to the front of the that line and "high-fived" every single one of those Special Olympians...no one snickered, no one guffawed, no one did ANYTHING but cheer and clap and yell names out of pure support and cameraderie. I was humbled, touched, and very much felt Her presence--the simple smiles and heartfelt encouragement in that entryway meant more than any "centering" or "drawing down" or ritual in that moment.
So, as we fast approach the Thinning of the Veil and the accompanying Night, please remember that the compassion we show our dear ones who have since crossed over to the West does, indeed, return to us. What I witnessed was compassion returned.
In the softness of the waning Moonlight...
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