Greetings darling Lair visitors! 'Tis been an age and yet feels a breath since I last visited with you. I eschewed my traditional Samhain post this turning for the mood was "off".
But, now, my darlings, the Spirit of our blessed season of mists and shadows has embraced the lands of the Lair. Yesterday brought the softened light of an overcast sky and the cooling winds of a shift of focus. Today, a chill rain is soaking the dormant ground. The world is quiet...preparing for its hibernation...preparing for the Darkness.
My dearest ones, we need--as always--embrace the Darkness and mists. They open our inward eye to the promise and the beauty of our world even in the absence of our Maiden. These are the times of introspection...of self-discovery...of quiet contemplation. These are the times of welcoming hearth fires, of simmering kettles and cauldrons, of fresh-from-the-oven breads and cakes, of familial warmth. It's the coming home--regardless of what "home" means to you and yours. This is our preparatory moment.
As the Wheel turns ever-onward, be mindful of the thin Veil surrounding us and allow yourself to be open to the Wisdom beyond...the wisdom just 'round that next shadow or wrapped in that bit of brume. Listen to them...can't you hear the whisper of the ages in each chill breeze and leaf-fall?
While composing today's reflection, I ran across this excerpt from "Samhain" by Annie Finch. I find it reaffirms that which has just been stated. I hope you enjoy it...
Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil
that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor.
I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings
arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
