Samhain Rituals part 2
Building upon the past to forge new traditions
This is part two, please read part 1 here.
Samhain has always been an important day for my family. It was a day that we spent in merriment and delight. An evening we spent in joyful reverence. A night of dreams brimming with monsters, mysteries, or memories of loved ones. Year after year, my parents passed down traditions through word and deed. My family's traditions were a mixture of present day Canadian rituals, rituals passed down to them, and rites they found in their travels. My parents held the belief that we should select the best aspects from the religions around us, and use them to create a personal guide-stone for our lives. Over my life I have gathered more details about Samhain from other practitioners, other mythological lineages, or books.
Books are knowledgeable and reliable friends. Each home that I lived in with my parents had a dedicated wall or room which contained our library. Myths, fairy tales, and holy books rested alongside fiction, encyclopedias, and children's tales. One of these books was Sabbats by Edain McCoy. It is a collection of various of pagan rituals, sorted by the pagan wheel of the year (Samhain, Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Bealtaine, Litha, Lughnasadh, and Mabon). The book explores rituals from old Irish, Roman, German, Mexican, Slavic, and other traditions. It's a lovely little book that reminds us that despite the physical distance between our ancestors, they had very similar thoughts about the solar calendar.
Sabbats taught that...
Samhain is the last of three harvest festivals.
“Samhraidhreadh,” literally “summer end” in Irish Gaelic, may be one of the root words for Samhain.
The imagery of a witch and her cauldron is descended from the image of an old crone goddess standing over her cauldron.
Discusses jack-o-lanterns, candles, divination, and merrymaking.
Remarks on old customs from Rome, El Dia de Muerte, and other cultural celebrations that hold parallel themes with Samhain.
Has crafts and recipes.
I discovered and others taught...
Samhain's “true” date is closer to November 7, because the pagan holidays operate on a solar calendar.
Witches dancing around a fire is a great way to have a party.
Critters love pumpkin scones.
A friend shared some of central Mexico's traditions, her love of candles and marigolds.
I saw my dead Great Grandfather’s photo and knew me was related to me. Photos of people who you have never met, such as in an Ofrenda, are good touchstones for stories about those people.
Marigolds still thrive after cold snaps, and come in a delightful variety of autumn shades.
Bees love marigolds and other late season small bloomed plants, although an early cold snap with drizzling rain will chase them into hibernation.
During my years away at college all of my rituals were disrupted. I was away from home, in an apartment that I was borrowing, with no outdoor space that was exclusively mine. That meant no fires, no friends visiting outside, and no quiet hours meditating under a trusted tree. It was difficult to connect with my teachings when my roots were pulled out from under me. Studying textile design occupied my time, and my thoughts were focused on completing assignments. Moving away to study was my own choice, so I also chose to adapt and overcome these hurdles.
There were several things that I experimented with. I started with a thematic mindset. I kept autumn colours, weather, scents, and food in my thoughts. I baked. Carrot cake muffins, pumpkin spice scones, and devil's food cake were a few of the baked goods that I made to immerse myself in the season. My classmates were thankful for the treats, and one year we had a potluck.
I wore thematic colours, embracing reds and blacks and plum purples and spice oranges. No wintry colour palettes or joyful summer colours were allowed. This easily lead into wearing costumes. I dressed as a dullahan, a fire elemental, and a witch's cat for the witches' dance.
I experimented with setting out an extra plate at the table, but it's difficult to share stories when you are the only person who remembers the dead. I took time to walk outside of campus, where the venerable oaks cast their leaves and acorns across the wilting grasses. The noble maple's leaves donned autumn dress, impersonating fire elementals as the wind took them to the air. They danced the tango across the street, tousling hair and hem. It was awe inspiring, humbling, and playful.
Then I participated in local traditions. Every year my college held a witches' dance, where the teachers dress up and dance around a fire lit inside of a metal raku bin. The music spread over the courtyard from the third balcony. The bass pounded into the earth alongside shouts and the flutter of black capes. Students and I were welcome to join their dance. Other events included the costume contest and socializing, but I wasn't interested in a movie night. I accompanied friends who went to dance clubs on the days near Halloween. It was fun, but not my jam.
Lastly, I set out an offering. In the dead of night I sneaked out into the yard with a bone china saucer. The pale porcelain dish glowed faintly in the moonlight, lustre glinting mischievously as I sought a proper place to leave it. The saucer was adorned with a pumpkin scone, some nuts, and dried craisins. Another saucer of milk was tucked under a bush, dark green foliage protesting the upcoming winter, and left overnight.
Over the next few years I will develop my own rituals. They should be based on my values, and what I miss from my past. What I value most is the time that I spent with my family. It pervades and encompasses most of Samhain and Halloween. Carving pumpkins with family, trick or treating with them, spending time together with friends and being completely present in the reverie.
I'm not sure if I want to partake in pumpkin carving. It is important to my memories and my idea of what Halloween was, but I don't feel the insistent urge to get my hands on a pumpkin. To cut, carve, rip, and tear. Carving pumpkins was never about the pumpkin, and so it can wait until I have children to share it with.
Before Samhain I will bake, and make treats for myself and my loved ones. The house will be decorated by cobwebs and draped in autumnal finery. A photo album will sit on an alter, welcoming people to open and view photos of my family. On Samhain I want to make a meal, preferably with my loved ones assisting or nearby. I will fill the house with the delicious scent of squash, earthy spices, and apple cider. I will eat and drink with my loved ones under candle light as I tell tales about our ancestors, teaching of our history and where we came from. If we leave an extra space at the table for them, then I hope that an ancestor will visit.
At night, I want to dress up with intent, and become an avatar of something else for a brief while. To act and play the part as children visit and act out their own stories while they trick-or-treat. When I have my own children I will take them out, touring the neighbourhood as they flit about in their own costumes. Perhaps they will ask me to sew costumes for them.
That evening candles, marigolds, and cats will guard my threshold. Their flickering flames and reflected light decorating the house with glimmering orbs and crescents. They await our return or the appearance of visitors. The cats will determine who is welcome and who is warded away. As the night quiets, I will lay out an offering in the back corner of my territory, and include baked goods that are safe for the local critters to eat. A glossy red orb is held aside, and waits for me to select which tree it will be buried under. Will the apple grow up under the cherry blossom, and become sister trees? Small and large questions would be mused upon during the walk home. Upon my return I can enjoy apple cider. The sweet and spiced juice will warm my soul as I enjoy the last hours of a brisk autumn evening.
Those are rituals that I want to practice at Samhain. What will you practice?
