It’s an ancient feeling. This slight pull from deep within my soul. It’s a completion. A reckoning. A feeling of reaping everything that was sewn throughout the year. It isn’t a conscious feeling, it is just one that I feel as though I have been tapped into my whole life. Quite possibly because this is the time of year where my day of birth falls as well.

I think on my ancestors and all the preparations that were to be made for the incoming cold season. The busy-ness, much like the creatures of the ground, foraging and scurrying about, hurriedly seeking more food to put in their stores. Even the birds of the air take to flight in more zig zagged and hurried flight patterns, there is a quiet rush that sweeps across the landscape, even being in this concrete jungle I live in.

This was the time of year to make certain your fields were harvested and sorted. That you had enough food for your livestock. A time where you were sure to make sure your dry stores would stay dry and that the root cellar was filled full. All the meat was to be salt cured, the garlic and onions braided and hung. And everything that needed to be sundried, was.

Samhain eve was a time to gather, to eat and drink and be of good cheer. Toasting glasses, swearing off sickness and spending time with loved ones because after all, some wouldn’t make it through the long winter. It was a time to pause as the seasons changed over into the darkness, and give thanks for the bountiful harvest of the ripe season within the year.

I still like to tell my son my own version ‘An Cailleach,’ she is a Gaelic mythical entity. Or so they say. She is an elder woman whose power resides over weather and winter time.

It goes something like this…
As the winds change and begin to blow in the incoming winter season, it awakens An Cailleach from her slumber. Rising once more to the task, she grabs her great cloak and her staff, she stands at the shorelines, striking the water with her staff causing it to become more tumultuous. Removing her cloak from over her shoulders, she spreads it out across the land, causing all of the foliage to fall deep into a slumber for the winter ahead. She whispers lullaby’s into the ears of the creatures of the forest, so that they too will make warm beds for themselves for winter. She stands watch over the season, kicking up the wind here and there as she see’s fit. On the days when her mood is kind, she raises her staff to the sky, causing the sun to break from the clouds— giving temporary leave to the arctic misery that has fallen upon the land. Her reign comes to an end at Imbolc when Goddess Brigid brings forth her torch to keep the hearth alight and relieve An Cailleach from her post.

It’s a story as old as time and this was an impromptu version of my own spin on it. I hope you enjoyed it.

May this night find you well and prepared for the cold months ahead. I will write more on the inward journey we all make, whether we realize we are making it or not. Be blessed. Oíche Shamhna shona duit! –A Happy Samhain to you all!