Posts tagged ‘pagan’

Thirteen Things about Thorne’s World

1.) Hallowe’en is traditionally known as the Witch’s New Year. As such, it’s the witchy time to throw out the old and ring in the new.

2.) I celebrate it between October 31st and Nov. 2.

3.) Hallowe’en corresponds with a number of traditional holidays which include (but are not limited to) Samhain (pronounced Sau-in), the Celtic or Old Irish Harvest Festival; All Soul’s day, a Christian Holiday in which to celebrate the Faithful Departed; and Dia De Los Muertos, in Mexico, also to remember and pray for your dead.

4.) Time to renew and decorate my Dia De Los Muertos Altar. Mine is up all year, but this time of year it gets a good cleaning, blessing and decoration, so I can:

5.) Make a physical representation of the time to especially honor and remember my ancestors and beloved dead. This is the time of year when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. It’s the time of year when it’s easiest to communicate with spirits; when even those who don’t regularly see “ghosts” are much more likely to do so.

6.) It is time for housecleaning of all sorts. Time to toss collected junk and get the house ready for holiday celebrations.

7.) Like the Roman Calendar New Year Holiday with it’s “resolutions”, Hallowe’en is also time for emotional housecleaning. Time for Thorne to let go of outdated ideas, bad or self-destructive habits and behaviors, and old patterns of thought that no longer serve a purpose. Time to make way for new ways of dealing with things, new healthier behaviors and attitudes.

8.) Decorate the house. Even though we live out in the middle of BFE, High Desert, and we don’t get trick-or-treaters out here 5 miles down a dirt road, some habits die hard. I have an humongous collection of Hallowe’en decorations. Everything from 6 foot across string and wire spider webs, to faux gravestones, to animated cackling witches and hanging skeletons. I even have a string of green lighted skelli’s. Part of the decorations which include beautiful fall leaves and colored corn and gourds, which went up at Mabon, ( Autumnal Equinox), will stay through Hallowe’en as we move into the Harvest Celebration of Thanksgiving.

9.) Shop for and cook a few of my dead’s favorite foods for the Ritual.

10.) Tomorrow night, I’ll perform my Ancestor Ritual, the first of several that I do throughout the year, but the most important to me. It’s based on an African Ritual. 13 white tapers, a crystal glass of water with a pinch of sea salt in it, and an offering plate upon which I will place the favored foods of my personal dead, as well as a few ethnic dishes in honor of my ancestors.

10.) Spend some time in meditation on the gifts of my ancestors and my dead.

11.) Do a little scrying. Open myself to messages from beyond, so to speak. My dead as well as random wandering spirits will come through to communicate with me during this activity. I do this in a few different ways, as the mood strikes me. Sometimes I do crystal gazing with (yes, it’s true) my crystal ball, sometimes I use a black mirror, and sometimes I light an alcohol fire in my cauldron and fire gaze.

12.) My one and only full tarot reading for myself. I do tarot, but through the year I don’t turn to the cards often. In the first place it’s waaay too difficult for me to be objective when I read myself, in the second, I’ve known too many folks who rely on readings too much, so I tend to think of it as a cop-out of real life and don’t believe in checking my every decision with divination. If I need a little guidance throughout the year my most common practice is to pull one card while asking “what do I need to deal with the current situation”.
It’s different on Hallowe’en, though. I tend to be more able to be objective when I’m doing this recap and move forward reading. It gives me some insight on what’s moving out of my life along with a glimpse of the possibilities that are moving in.

13.) At 12:01 November 1 I will be starting the 2nd annual (for me… 10th annual actually) insanity known as 2008 NaNoWriMo. I shall be writing a 50,000 word Novel which has the working title of The Coming.

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Last night began the sacred observance of my New Year. The usual celebration within the solemnity of the occasion was missing, but the altar was laid in love and honor. Bishop’s remembrances are centered on the Samhain altar surrounded by the beauty and warmth of our beloved dead; mementos, photos and the ashes of our family, friends and ancestors gone before us to attend him. The altar is circled still by 13 glass pillar candles in white, green, red and blue, burning brightly. The candles, representing warmth and light, passion and spirit, will burn continuously for 7 days, or until they burn out, whichever is longest. There is salt, representative of nourishment and earth, and clear water for thirsty spirits and representative of our love and deeply flowing emotions that shall be replenished daily while the candles burn. Incense smolders sweetly calling the spirits of air and intellect, thought and action.

The Gods intervened in my usual choice of candles. The Virgin of Guadalupe’s blessings were required, as were St. Jude’s. I thought it odd, but have learned through the years that the Gods will have their way with me, whether I resist or acquiesce, so Saint Candles were the order of the evening. Today I took a moment to research the saints who had made their presence manifest and discovered that Guadalupe’s Day is December 12, my daughter’s birthday, and that Jude is the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes, and the special protector of children with catastrophic illness. Those two are welcome on my altar, indeed.

At 12:01, my ritual begun and in place for the night, I sat at my laptop to embark upon my journey of 50,000 words. I began to write and before I’d written a hundred words, at 12:04, the power went out leaving only the bright glow of the altar candles. Among my beloved dead there are at least a few who fashion themselves great jokesters, my late husband among them. I could almost hear Bishop laughing as his Grampa Jerry bounced him whispering, “Look at Grama, scribbling in the dark. Isn’t she funny?” Thank the Gods that their humor was exhausted by 2:30. When the power finally came back on, this ol’ Grama’s eyes were blurry but wide open thanks to the full pot of coffee I’d been slurping all night.

By 7 am I had a mere 1500 words. Finally, at 8, I exceeded my quota of 1667 words for the day and finished up at a whopping 1750. Exhausted beyond belief but as Jittery as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I decided on a hot bath. Good one, Thornie. I awakened shivering in cold water and completely refreshed after my hour and a half nap.

Woot! Back to work! Muahahahaha. I finished up tonight at 2,733 words, over a thousand above the first day’s necessary average. Some of it is pretty damned dark, which isn’t really surprising considering the place my heart is in and of course, the time of year. I can only hope that this Darkness of and in which I write will indeed be “Pierced by Sudden Shards of Overwhelming Brightness”

A tiny peek for my blog family and faithful readers:

I was born, I lived, I died. That’s the whole story, really. Just like so many others. Just like everyone, anywhere, ever. Quite to the point, don’t you think? I mean, what else is there, really?

What else there is, is everything. Those flashes of light and aeons of darkness that fill the spaces between birth and death, between death and whatever is to be next.

They’re pressing on me now; I can feel their need. The weight of them leaning, pushing. Urging me to tell- to tell their truths, their stories… their lives. To be their rememberer.

I have something to tell, but I think it’s mine.

I’ve been here for awhile., I think. (“I think, therefor I am”? Am I?) This place seems to exist outside of time somehow, so I’m not really sure that “awhile” has any meaning. It makes it difficult. I’m not sure exactly what or where or even when here is.

It’s relatively peaceful, (but relative to what?) although that’s just a sense I have. It might just be me that’s peaceful; my peace, my stillness. It’s not like there’s a lovely view or soothing music playing or anything.

It’s almost a void. No- that’s not right. This place is crowded. It’s like some sort of clearing house for souls/spirits… whatever we are.

A luminous darkness in which I’m only one of many deeper shadows at rest or motion. A space of sorts; a space between.

Is that what I’m doing here? Hiding? Waiting? Will you find me here?

Circles and spirals of thought swirl me through labyrinthine pathways of memory. While I wander there, the energies around me shift and flow. Movement. Coming and going? Some seem to burst into existence and then disappear in the space between thoughts. Where do they go? Are they so sure, these spirits? So knowing? Have they shaped their destinations so thoroughly, so decisively that they move through here to whatever is next for them without pause; without rest?

Am I waiting? Or deciding. There was so much pain and sorrow. Confusion, loss. The brief sparks of joy burned out so quickly. Bright flashes between seemingly endless drudgery and bottomless sorrow.

But oh those moments of light.