How we've done Halloween/Samhain in isolation for years

Cold, frosty air swirling the first snowflakes in at the open door of the woodshed… all the neighborhood kids crowded inside… bobbing for apples with faces stinging from the cold… warming up with hot, fresh-pressed cider… pin the tail on the donkey—finally a game I could beat the older kids at, where my experience not seeing much came in handy!

Among my best childhood memories are those of Halloween.

This particular year, I was dressed as a witch, the green warty kind, with a tattered homemade black dress and a store-bought pointy hat. Pa lifted the broom with me on it and spun around under the bare 40-watt bulb of the shed. Then we piled out into the night, racing up the lonely road, a few kids pulling sleds, a third of a mile to the first place, then keep on uphill in the snow until our legs ached.

We knocked on doors and filled bags with homemade treats and several pieces of candy. Someone had changed an outdoor light to a green bulb and it shown out over the fields and made me shiver with delight. The boys tried to scare me, saying a real witch lived there and she’d take me because I was dressed right this night. Even at that age, I was more interested than really afraid.

There were other years, when we went trick-or-treating in a town. And in someways it was better because there were more houses and thus more candy. But I always remembered that year, tramping the gravel road in the first snowfall. It was special enough to last nearly forty years, bright and crisp as a jewel of memory.

And of course, I wanted these kinds of things for my kids. I wanted them to know safe types of adventure and real wonder. I wanted them to touch the spirit world in a way that fosters respect and a healthy caution. And I wanted them to know that good, old-fashioned fun that makes your cheeks numb with cold and your voice hoarse from laughing.

But it wasn’t in our wyrd, not much at least. There was one year when the kids were very small when we managed to be in the US during Halloween. My daughter was old enough to kind of understand. My son was a toddler, lost and terrified in the darkness, uncomfortable in his costume and not even that interested in the candy.

Image by Arie Farnam

Otherwise, we have spent this season in the Czech Republic. They have a day of devils and candy in early December, something that resembles a Christian remake of old folklore traditions involving mischievous land spirits and a pre-Santa figure. But they don’t really do Halloween.

There is a heavily Christianized tradition of visiting graves during All Souls. We go to my husband’s family plot and clean out the debris of branches, wilted flowers and burnt out candles. I lay offerings and pay my respects. The kids usually run around outside the walls and don’t want to be involved.

There is little of mystery or wonder to attract children to such a celebration. And American traditions of Halloween meet mostly with ridicule and disdain among the locals. Early on I enlisted neighborhood kids to have a party and they were game because, “Hey, candy is candy.”

But negative comments from adults eventually persuaded me to stop. And since then, I’ve had to find ways of making Halloween/Samhain good for my family, both in terms of the fun and the deeper spiritual connection to ancestors and the Otherworld.

Today with Covid still closing down so many countries, I hear people lamenting another lost holiday for their children. So, I thought I’d write something about how I’ve handled this over the years. It might provide some inspiration and help to those who are now suddenly pushed into a situation more like ours.

The fun part

When my kids were very small, I read about the tradition of Grandfather Deer taking children to meet ancestors in their dreams in the book Circle Round. My children grew up putting cookies and a bit of hay or corn tassel outside with the jacko-lanterns for Grandfather Deer and then racing back there at first light to enjoy a few small gifts.

Here is the video we made when my kids were very small that begins with this Samhain tradition.

The part of the tradition involving presents is based on the idea that children are closer to the ancestors, having just come from another world when they were born. And as such, I have insisted that gifts are only for very little children. My kids get enough plastic stuff anyway and the season is supposed to be more focused on gratitude and respect for ancestors.

So as they got older and braver the tradition has migrated outside. We dress up, though often not in traditional costumes—rather in whatever wild things we want to wear—and go out into the woods near our house at night. I creep out before the kids and place candles in jars at various stations along the way. Each station has a few pieces of candy and some sort of message, joke or fun activity.

The activity is moderately labor intensive for adults. I have to prepare and place the stations and then clean them up the next day. But it incorporates the fun, anticipation, dark adventure, cold weather experience, mild fright and sugar rush of old fashioned trick-or-treating. Some years we include one or two close friends who appreciate the tradition but sometimes we also do it alone.

My kids always look forward to these traditions and for them this year isn’t likely to be much different. But it is possible that a lot of other kids will be doing Halloween in a similar way, finding a secluded, dark place to commune with the night and the thrill of touching normally forbidden things.

The kids do love to run through the night hooping at each sight of a flicker of candlelight through the trees to find sweet treasures and enjoy the thrill of nighttime escapades. And this activity can be easily done with just one or two children and a willing adult accomplice. Teenagers can participate as well (either in the set up or the enjoyment of the hunt) and older kids can can experience greater challenges in natural environments. It’s a versatile activity that taps into our primal need for challenge, adventure and a relatively safe perception of touching the forbidden.

The spirit part

It has been a struggle to involve my kids in spirituality due to their special needs, but we have always carved pumpkins for Samhain, and while it may not be the ancient meaning of candles in vegetables, I envision these as a welcome to friendly ancestor spirits and simultaneously a ward against unfriendly or malicious entities.

I set up an ancestor altar where the kids can see pictures of our ancestors and their symbols. This always sparks several conversations about ancestors over the course of the season. This year will be particularly interesting on this count, since my children both did Ancestry.com DNA tests.

Being adopted from uncooperative Eastern European orphanages, their ancestors have been mostly a mystery. But now we have some actual information to go on, information that paints a picture of a long journey across multiple cultures spanning several centuries. This is what history told us about the Romani people, but now we can see it laid out in clear science and that will add more detail to our celebration.

We will likely watch videos from the various cultures our ancestors come from this year. We might make collages using old National Geographics and printouts from websites.

Occasionally, we have managed to get together with one Pagan family that lives a few hours from us, usually not on the actual day of Samhain but at some point during the season. One of our favorite traditions to do together is to make natural candles by pouring hot beeswax into walnut shells with a tiny bit of cotton wick sticking out. Then at night we take these to a nearby pond, light them for our ancestors and float them out on the water. It is a magical sight and while it is more spiritual than sugar-coated, the kids go along with it reasonably well. This year, we may have to do this activity with just our family.

I do miss being able to have an adult Samhain ritual with like-minded people after the kids go to bed. The few years I’ve been able to do it were wonderful. But this year, I’ll almost certainly be doing it solitary. Other than paying respects to all the various ancestors of our family, of the place we live and of my craft, I always do a house cleansing with herb smoke and renew wards with sea salt and rosemary sprigs on the window sills.

I doubt any of this is going to make you like the time of Covid. But both fun and spiritual fulfillment are possible to find even during quarantine or social distancing.

Blessings to you and your ancestors in this season of going within. Let us hope to emerge fully free after the darkness is past.

A circle of ancestors: Truths from deep in the well

Dark comes fast amid the trees, turning the colors of drying blood, red to brown. It's that time of the year, when thoughts turn to the past and to ancestors.

I put up an ancestor altar for Samhain / the Day of All Souls. There is one significant new addition to my beloved dead this year, a sweet voice I can still hear in my memory. But also over the past year, I have learned a few tidbits about how at least one of my ancestors was involved in a KKK group in Oregon. And some of the best photographs I have are from a more recent ancestor who was known to be both sexist and racist, along with having some better qualities. 

What does honoring the ancestors mean? Does it mean that you can take credit and say thank you if you don't know anything negative about your ancestors? Does it mean you ignore the ancestors you feel ashamed of and celebrate only those who did good things, like my great aunt who saved many lives as a humanitarian worker in the Philippines?

The past few weeks have been particularly hard on my family with a lot of community pressure and internal struggle for balance. There are times when I rethink the old belief that the universe gives us only as much hardship as our spirits can bear. It seems like the universe has been cutting it awfully close these days.

And sometimes I wonder. Maybe my philosophy is wrong. Maybe this is just bad karma from my prejudiced ancestors. 

Should I honor my ancestors?

I think of the well at our old family homestead. Once when I was fifteen, I was lowered into it to help with repairs because my slim body was a better fit for the narrow well than my father's broad-shouldered frame.

My father told me not to look up because sand and dirt could fall into my eyes as he lowered me on a rope 60 feet into the earth. I obediently kept my eyes down. With the headlamp I was wearing I got a good look at the rows upon rows of hand lain rough field stone that was used to reinforce the walls of the well. 

To this day that is one of the most respect-inspiring sights I've ever seen. I knew the rocky, clay soil of our remote Eastern Oregon ridge intimately. I had helped grow food in it since early childhood. I'd built forts and hideouts in its rugged outcrops. I had also dug for camas root in the meadows with precious little success, bruising both hands and tools on the many rough gray rocks in the clay. With my significant vision impairment, I had learned to move carefully among the jagged boulders on the windswept top of the ridge. This was not a land that lent itself to digging. 

And yet someone dug a 60 foot shaft by hand in the age before machinery and lined it with neat rows of perfectly fitted field stones. These were not the ancestors of my blood but they were in every fundamental way the ancestors of my our hearth. 

The winter my mother was pregnant with me, my family shared a tiny cabin with another family. Four adults and three small children in what was once a one-room schoolhouse. In November, they were out one night when the cabin burned to the ground, due to a faulty wood stove. My father moved my pregnant mother and two-year-old brother a quarter mile up the hollow to the moderately flat spot where this well stood. 

At the time there was nothing else there. Just the well, left by nameless settlers amid the snow and mud. My father parked an old, broken-down truck next to the well and spent the winter building a new cabin around it. I was born in the loft of that cabin, built over the roof of the old truck the next April.

This is my history and the significance of that well to me. Without a well, the dry Eastern Oregon ridges are unlivable. I knew people who had to haul water, and even as a small child, I remember having a deep gratitude for that well.

And yet...

My parents may have purchased that land fair and square, but there were--as it turned out--other traces of human habitation on it. My brother found Native American artifacts in an embankment in one of the camas meadows. And there is a circle of ancient mounds on the ridge that is too regular to be natural. 

The settlers who built the well or those who came before them--someone--stole this land, and while the road there still isn't paved, they made it possible for us to live there. 

This is what I think of every Samhain. My awe and respect for the lives endured by the ancestors of our land, hearth and family, as well as great sorrow and pain for the wrongs that can be remembered if one is willing to look. 

While I was down at the bottom of that well at the age of fifteen, I laid some insulation cloth as my father instructed. Then just before giving the proscribed tug on the rope to signal, so that I would be pulled up, I cautiously turned my head and looked up. 

I have rarely felt such raw terror in my life. At first I thought something was wrong with my vision, not out of the question given my eye condition. The top of the well was gone or else it was night and the full moon had risen. But I couldn't possibly have been down there that long, I thought frantically.

Then the truth crashed in on my consciousness. That distant round moon of light WAS the opening of the well. I had not thought about how far down 60 feet is or how closed in and vulnerable a soft human body would be that far under the earth in a shaft so narrow that I had to turn around carefully. Now that I saw the distant opening, the realization was terrifying. 

I felt my throat constrict and I fought a wave of panic that threatened to send me into senseless screaming and thrashing. My father had told me to be still and not make any loud noises. He was afraid I might dislodge stones in the well and be injured. Getting out of that well calmly was probably the first truly brave thing I ever did. 

That well was our lifeline and also an artifact of one of the worst genocides in human history. I was the great granddaughter of immigrants and settlers. I then left that land and went far across the ocean to another country, where I am a first generation immigrant and now a new citizen. I married a man who can trace the names of his ancestors back 600 years on the same little farm in the swampy land of South Bohemia. And our children are adopted from decimated families who were among a handful of Romani (Gypsies) who survived both slavery and the Holocaust in central Europe. 

Samhain is far from simple around here. 

In the end, I cannot make justice or peace for history. I can only set out the photographs, the names and the symbols of those people who came before, those who gave us life, sustenance, hope and a chance to make our own mark. 

The land of my childhood sustained me and gave me a body with health and resilience for which I am often grateful.  As a child I learned to call the quarters in the Native American way and I studied the Teutonic runes. Blood says I have no claim to the former and history has tainted the latter. There is truth in that. 

There is also truth in gratitude, in respect and in remembering. I will not claim stolen heritage. And yet, I cannot shake the feeling of kindness and peace that comes from the earth at the old homestead. I feel sorrow for the people forced to leave that land, but I do not sense that they hate me. I feel a circle of presence at Samhain, all the ancestors of my childhood--of family, of land and of hearth--and all the ancestors of my present, those of my husband, so well documented, and those of my children, unknown except for the painful history that we know rolled over them in one way or another. 

No, I do not feel an idealized warmth from all the ancestors, a circle of support and blessing. I do feel intense currents of sorrow, pain, shame and anger, interspersed with love and hope. But they are all there. They are not absent.

They are all in the circle at this time of year, no matter what baggage they may carry. And I feel called to honor them, not just on this one day but also by living in a way that gives honor for the gifts they each gave me. When the burdens seem too great, I want to always remember this. I humbly accept this life. I acknowledge what came before.

The flash of autumn and why we need the cold

That time of year has come when the sun goes down at 2:30 in the afternoon. And I mean behind the ridge, not just behind the trees. It will be that way for more than three months. 

Bohemia, despite its romantic implications, can be a dure and colorless place for a good part of the year. Early fall is often dreary, sodden and greenish brown. Late fall is dreary, sodden and brownish gray--all except for those few days when the color changes and the world is yellow, orange and red. 

Despite the decorations at the preschool, this autumn color show is more like an autumn flash. If you blink, you really may well miss it. 

There are two days of brilliant, flax-yellow sun that slants sidewise across the land piercing your eyes and casting long dangling shadows. The nights are cold, thanks to the clear sky. The colors flash on and then--in what seems like moments--off again.

No more bright color until late April. Hope you enjoyed it.

I stretch out this time by pressing a few of the less trampled leaves between books until they dry. Then I tape them to my windows to remind myself and the world outside of that brief autumn flash. The colors of the dried leaves are not the same anyway though. They are deep golden brown and beet purple, not the colors of the flash. 

Still as much as I love the brief autumn flash and wish it lasted longer and as much as I grieve a bit for the light half of the year, I am also ready for the cold and dark.

If our current danger-fraught climate change teaches us nothing else, it should teach us the value of respite and the natural need for both cold and for inactivity. Sure, there are places on the planet where the natural environment has evolved not to need frost. But the planet as a whole hasn't and in our northern climates, the plants, animals and even the human economy needs this time in order to provide sustenance and abundance at other times. 

I need it. I can't imagine continuing the agricultural and outwardly active summer all year round. While I will be sick of it by March, at the moment I welcome the fact that we will soon be inside most of the time, mending, reading, thinking, writing and recuperating. 

And so, hail the autumn flash. I am ready.

The women's wheel of the world

Celebrating of the rhythms of the earth through the goddesses of many cultures

Today many of us wish to connect to the cycles of nature. In our houses, jobs and schools, it can be difficult to feel a purpose in life. We lose touch, lose connection, and find ourselves drowning in everyday apathy or anxiety. 

There is an antidote in marking the rhythms of nature and feeling closer to the earth and the seasons of the sun. 

It isn’t just a nostalgic hippie concept. It’s a spiritual practice and a way to explore the huge questions in life in a way that doesn’t contradict science. For those of us who think too much, there is often a tension between the need for a spiritual sense of meaning and our logical insistence that what you see is what you get. 

The turning of the earth and the moon, the tilt of the earth and the seasons brought by sunlight—these are things science has well in hand. We know the sun will rise, just as we know bad days have only twenty-four hours. We know winter will come, just as we know that each of us has to get old someday. 

The rhythms of nature are simple and scientific. And at the same time they are profound and at the root of the greatest philosophical and spiritual traditions of humanity. The cycle of life is much larger than the circle of a year, but the whole is too vast—and frankly too harsh—to explain to children or even to contemplate directly as an adult. But we don't take in the circle of a year all at once. We come to it bit by bit. And we don’t have to contemplate it with the mind only. We use all of our senses, our body, heart and soul to perceive natural rhythms and the Wheel of the Year gives us the understanding we cannot gain through force of will.

The sacred sun days

Creative Commons image by Lostintheredwoods of flickr.com

As the earth tilts toward and away from the sun, we experience seasons. At the point when our part of the earth is tilted furthest toward the sun, we have the Summer Solstice--the time of greatest light. And when our part is tilted away we have the Winter Solstice. After each solstice we start to lean the other way. From light to darkness. And from darkness to light.

In the ancient tradition of the Celtic-Germanic-Slavic land I live on these solstices can be called Litha (for the Summer Solstice) and Yule (for the Winter Solstice). These are the best modern terms we have, originating from ancient European languages. Other cultures may have other terms for the solstices and the other sacred days of the wheel. My goal is to include the whole world and other terms are welcome.

Between these special days of the sun, there are the days when the light and dark are in perfect balance—the equinoxes. In the fall we call the equinox Mabon. In the spring we call the day of balance Ostara. 

If you make a cross and put the solstices opposite one another at the ends of one line and the equinoxes on the other axis, you have an ancient symbol of the sun. And if you make an X inside the cross, you then have a star with eight points or a wheel, the base of a mandala pattern. The four new points are for the days halfway between the equinoxes and solstices. Beltane on the first of May in the northern hemisphere (November in the south), Lammas at the cusp of August in the north (February in the south), Samhain on the first of November in the north (May in the south), and Imbolc in the earliest days of February in the north (August in the south). And that is what is called the Wheel of the Year.

It is a way of celebrating the rhythm of life and it starts as a recognition that there is darkness, release, relief, creation, expression, harvest, destruction, transformation—in natural and perpetual turning. When you mark the seasons of the year as sacred, your body, mind and soul reclaim their own rhythms. It doesn’t mean that you don’t suffer from life. But it connects you to the good in each season.

The Sacred Women from Around the World

There are many ways to celebrate the Wheel of the Year. We often cook special foods and exchange gifts. There are fun traditions for the whole family to enjoy and quiet observances for those who seek spiritual sustenance. One way to mark the sun days is to connect to the diverse spiritual teachings of our world through the myths of sacred women—the Goddess—and the many names for goddess in different tongues.

Marking the holy days with goddesses can be part of an active and vibrant family celebration or it can be a simple and quiet moment of meditation for an individual. The goddesses chosen for a sacred day should reflect the spirit of the season in their stories. Here I will suggest three goddesses for each of the solar holidays. As in many parts of the world, you can see goddesses as maidens, mothers and crones. There is a Maiden Goddess, a goddess full of independence and youth; a Mother Goddess, a nurturer and life-giver; and a Crone Goddess, a wise woman of healing and transformation--for each station of the sun.

Imbolc

My year begins in mid-winter because of importance of the alternating rhythm of the growing season and the time of greater contemplation and inner work. I also wish to start the year with the goddess I am closest with—Brigid. Our family Imbolc celebration usually includes a small, child-friendly ritual, sweet dumplings made with milk curd, seed cakes, many lit candles and candle making, candle-shaped cookies, Tarot and i-Ching readings, putting wishes for the year into a jar, hanging new Brigid’s crosses and waking up the Brigid doll sleeping in a basket by the fire on the morning of Imbolc. It may also include a trip to a spring or old well if we can manage it.

Creative Commons image by  the Borghese Collection

Brigid is the maiden of Imbolc and though she is also mother and wise woman in other aspects (Weber 2015),  I can add mother and crone goddesses to this day as well. 

Saulė is the Latvian “dear little white sun,” (Motz 1997) and a good mother goddess for the cold day of Imbolc. She also shares the care of orphans with Brigid, who is often called “foster mother” either of Christ when she is portrayed as a Christian saint or of the one offering prayers in Pagan prayer. (Daimler 2016) Because my husband and I are adoptive parents, this has particular meaning in our family. We could easily incorporate an offering of endearments to Saulė. And given that we don’t do Valentine’s Day here and my children often wonder what their American cousins are talking about, we could include making heart shaped endearments for one another, as words of endearment are special to Saulė. (Motz 1997)

Elli is my crone of Imbolc. She is the goddess of old age and wisdom and yet I find the story of her beating Thor in a wrestling match (Auset 2009) to be wonderfully light-hearted. She reminds me of an old granny sitting by the Imbolc fire and laughing over her exploits and the folly of head-strong young people who think they will never be old. A symbol of her might be a shawl spread over the rocking chair by the fire and a story read from the children’s book of Grandmother Tales that portray old women as smart and capable. 

I can envision these three—Brigid, Saulė and Elli—discussing the needs of family and kin, planning fo the year ahead and tempering one another with their complimentary energies of fire, compassion and wisdom.

Ostara

Our Ostara tradition is usually fairly simple. We color eggs, decorate and make egg and bunny shaped cookies. Then the children hunt for eggs on the morning of the equinox. In local tradition, we decorate a leafless tree in the front yard with colored eggs and ribbons. We may read rabbit stories or other stories relating to Ostara. We’ll usually have a special lunch or dinner consisting of lots of eggs, such as quiche.

The name of the day Ostara comes from a maiden goddess. Ostara or Ostre is the the Saxon goddess of youth, fertility and beauty, who is accompanied by a hare. (Sass 2003) Her symbols are eggs and the hare which are already well incorporated into our traditions, although it is good to remember her with words at this time and consciously honor her through these symbols.

Anna Perenna is my Mother Goddess for Ostara. She is the enduring year, the goddess of the promise of a new cycle. (Monagham 2014)  We honor her at Ostara to give thanks for the promised return of spring, which is in our part of the world very heartfelt for everyone, and also to remember that the year will turn again, inexorably and always. We can make our quiche or other dishes this day round in honor of her. And because she is considered a trickster as well, we can plan April Fools pranks. 

The crone of Ostara is the Cailleach, the Celtic lady of chaos, harsh winds and primordial forces. (Greenfield 2014) We often have snow on Ostara, a last blast of winter coating our Ostara tree in white. The threat of weather disasters for our tiny seedlings is far from over and still keep them indoors at this season. The Cailleach is fearsome and a reminder that chaos can come despite Anna Perenna’s turning of the wheel. But she also lends us inner strength, a vitality and perseverance that is often lacking in the modern, overly convenienced world. She is also the Celtic equivalent of the crone of the cold season that our local legend bids a raucous farewell at Beltane, so it is fitting to have her in mind beforehand. We can honor the Cailleach by making a wind chime of feathers and metal objects that will bring her voice to the wind.

Beltane

Our Beltane celebration has been in my husband’s home village for many years now. The village has a huge bonfire and a fifty-food maypole. This tends to overshadow anything I try to do. However, I always get together some sort of flower-shaped sweets and May baskets for us to give to neighbors and cousins during the festivities. We sometimes go out to greet the beautiful Beltane morning and place offerings at the base of the maypole. Otherwise it is a community event involving cooking whatever will feed the most people.

Creative Commons image by PROLisby of Flickr.com

Ilankaka is the Nkondo maiden goddess for our Beltane. She is both creative and loving, but she also reminds us of the struggles of relationships, because she is captured by a man against her will and suffers great sorrow. (Monagham 1997) Beltane is a time of celebrating relationships and also making them better. The Maiden gives us the will to stand strong in ourselves as well and Ilankaka’s story is pertinent.

Panchamama is a delightful Incan mother goddess, honored in an unbroken line by tribes in the Andes and is still going strong today. She is an earth mother, a garden goddess and a “special companion” for women. (Leeming and Page 1994) May is they primary gardening month in our climate, when everything is planted and weeds grow desperately to beat the short growing season. It is a month when my life is very domestic and I love the idea of honoring Panchamama at this time.

The crone for Beltane might be Changing Woman. Her name in the Navajo language is Asdzan Nadleehe and she carries our ability to change within our lifetime, to be transformed and renewed at every age. (Loar (2008) There is a strong sense that Beltane is a time of when transformation is more possible, closer to the surface and a time to embrace the lessons of Changing Woman.

One of the ways I would recognize these goddesses is to put small offerings symbolic of their traditions in the earth at the base of the Maypole. We could leave a bright stone of polished marble (symbolic of Ilankaka’s brigtht radiance), some colored wooden beads like those often used in the Andes (as a symbol of Panchamama) and either a feather or a piece of snake skin (as symbols of Changing Woman). I would ask for the blessings of these goddesses on Beltane morning—the strength and independence to be a strong and healthy partner with the energy of the maiden Ilankaka still vibrant in my married life, the deep earth connection of Panchamama (and her help with my garden), and the ability to transform beautifully as does Changing Woman. 

Litha

The Summer Solstice is the solar holiday we have the least tradition for in our family. We often do little more than have a nice meal and try yet again to explain to the children about solstices from a scientific perspective. I try to have a bonfire but it isn’t always possible, sometimes due to lots of rain. This year for the first time, we will go to a local Pagan event that is appropriate for children. I am still searching for traditions for this time. If I could choose it would be playing music and drumming around a fire or some other activity involving expression and creativity.

Amaterasu is my Maiden Goddess for this time. She is often honored  in June in Japan. (Monagham, P. (2014) To me her seeming narcissism is a reminder of the necessity of putting ourselves out into the world, particularly women and especially when we are young. Today’s world is not kind to those who remain too passive. For better or for worse, we need goals and pride in our identity if we are to find a material life and work which brings us joy and fulfillment. Placing a small mirror on a flat stone or sundial to reflect a bit of the sun back into the sky, may be integrated into a ritual for Amaterasu.

Beiwe, the Arctic sun goddess, is the mother for this time. While the sun may seem too hot in many climates it is worth remembering that the northern climates need her warmth and life-giving energy. We are far enough north that even in the temporary heat, we have reason to see the sun as a nurturing mother. She can be honored by making “sun circles” out of leafing branches, (Monagham, P. (2014) and these could be placed around Amaterasu’s mirror.

Al-Lat is the ancient Middle Eastern sun goddess to provide a crone for this height of the sun’s power. She may be integrated into the ritual with a black stone or an eye drawn onto the mirror. 

Lammas

Lammas usually involves a camping trip or bonfire with friends, many of whom don’t share goddess spirituality, so my ritual celebration of the day is often quite simple. I like to make bread in interesting shapes and an outdoor altar if possible. I have a special tablecloth that everyone signs as a symbol of community and the feast.

White Buffalo Woman is my Maiden goddess for this time. She is both warrior and generous benefactor. She supports the community and brings the deeper meaning to community festivities that I long for. Her lessons involve respect for ecology and the earth, honoring warriors and defenders of the clan, as well as the desire to give back whatever it is that fills us with abundance. (Greenfield 2014) A perfect symbol of White Buffalo Woman is a picture or figure of a white cow, calf or horse.

Creative Commons image by Rosa y Dani of Flickr. com

 Saraswati is the Mother Goddess for this time, sharing her knowledge as a teacher. The earth is abundant at this time, but the wisdom to use the gifts of plenty wisely is crucial. Saraswati is not only a mother of abundance but also a mother of wise counsel, teaching and learning. A good symbol to bring her blessings to the day is a book.

Macha is the crone for this time of community and sharing. While White Buffalo Woman brings gentle gifts and fierce courage to the community and Saraswati brings the knowledge needed to nurture community, Macha embodies the energy of the activist for environmental and social justice, which is another important aspect of this day. Her energy be brought with a banner or sign with messages of the justice needed at the time. 

These symbols—a white animal, a book and a sign or banner—can be used to decorate the home or gathering of friends. This is a way to bring the healthy and beneficial energy of community together. 

Mabon

At Mabon we gather our family and sometimes close friends for a meal of thanksgiving. We visit or send gifts to older people. We also give gifts to or do kind things for animals. In my family the primary focus of Mabon is giving thanks and recognizing those who have given to us—for example our elders through all the struggles they have been through to bring us to this time and the animals that provide us with food, clothing, comfort, friendship and a healthy ecosystem to live in. 

Tabiti is a maiden goddess of hearth, family loyalty, harmony in the home and the protection of animals. (Auset 2009) She is also associated with the chieftains of family and clan and with oath giving. MacLeod 1960). Coals from the hearth make a good symbol for her and reiterating the oaths of family bonds and other commitments is a good way to honor her. New oaths may be given at Mabon feasts as well.

White Shell Woman is the Mother Goddess for Mabon. She watches over the crops and gardens that most directly sustain the family. She is a goddess of thanksgiving and the promise of light. (Hunt 2001) Both shells and corn are symbols of White Shell Woman. The best way to honor her is to give thanks for the many blessings we have, both material and immaterial. Even if we may still feel the lack of something, there is much to be thankful for, and gratitude brings many rewards.

Asase Yaa is the crone for this time. A Ghanian old woman of the land, she reminds us of the hard work needed to get nourishment from the earth. We must honor the work of those who labor hard so that we might eat as well as the sacrifices of previous generations. (Auset 2009) A symbol for Asase Yaa might well be a shovel or other tool of toil. To honor elders and those who have worked hard is to honor her.

One way to bring these energies together might be to allow each person in the gathering to say what they have to be thankful for in their lives. Each may throw corn or corn meal onto the fire as they finish speaking. Then each person could speak briefly of someone who they wish to honor, an elder or someone who has worked hard, and use a metal shovel to scoop out a bit of the embers of the fire. When the embers cool to ash, each person may state their oaths of family and community commitment, wet their hand with a little water and press it into the ash and then print their hand against a stone or wood surface prepared for this. These hand prints will then remain as reminders of the commitments made.

Samhain

With all the activities of Halloween going on, it can be difficult to get the family to focus for a moment on the spiritual side of Samhain. When my children were toddlers, they put out offerings for “Grandfather deer” and received small presents in the morning. We gave them candy and tried not to scold them for their many misdeeds on the basis of the concept that small children are “close to the ancestors.” Now as they grow older it is their turn to learn to give back and to honor ancestors as well.

My Maiden Goddess for Samhain is the Norse sun goddess Sunna. She is connected to spiritual magic and the symbol of a sun cross. (Woodfield 2014) This would be an excellent time to make bind-runes to put on talismans (a bag, shirt, doorway plaque or jewelry) for whatever magical energies you want to attract. Both bind runes and rune divination would be a way to connect with Sunna. 

Creative Commons image by Lisby of Flickr.com

Oya is the mother of nine children and my Mother Goddess for Samhain. She is a bit dark compared to most mother goddesses. Her connection to hurricanes, the transformative number nine and strong emotions of rage or fear may be frightening to some but I quickly connected with this goddess. While it is not comfortable to face these emotions, allowing them to be expressed can bring healing. I don’t necessarily want to go through hard times again, but I know that Oya can also play a part in healing from traumatic experiences, ecological devastation and social injustice. (Caputi 2004) A wild wind on a dark Samhain night is the time for Oya. Dressing up in ways that express dark and powerful emotion may be perfect way to honor her.

Baba Yaga is my Samhain crone. The contemporary stories that include her are scary enough to satisfy even secular concepts of Halloween. She is death, destruction and power, but she also grants wishes and punishes the unjust, the lazy and the apathetic bystander who tolerates injustice. (Greenfield (2014) To honor her we may make sacrifices in our lifestyle that help to redress imbalance or injustice or make commitments (Samhain resolutions of a sort) to work actively for justice and earth protection. 

Yule

Yule is already a very busy holiday for us. We have several cultures and an extended family to deal with. There are presents, big meals and various traditions happening every which way. Add to that the fact that we’ve been on a different continent away from home for two years but now we’ll be home, trying to reconstruct our home traditions. It is easy for the spiritual aspect to be overshadowed and almost impossible to hold any sort of small family ritual. The one thing we do always have is a Yule tree with decorations and usually a small scene of figures under it. This is one place where we can bring in the Goddess. 

I try to hold a brief dawn greeting of the sun with my husband and children on the morning of the Solstice. We usually also pull off a candlelight dinner the evening before with expressions of what we are thankful for and Solstice Tarot readings for the adults. 

It is into this part of the Yule celebration that I would like to bring some celebration of the Goddess. Usha, the Indian goddess of dawn, is my Maiden Goddess for Yule. Her twin sister is Night and they share the nursing of a child. They walk the same path, each in her own particular way. (Agrawala 1984).Her symbols might be a figure of an infant that is both dark and light or an infant wrapped in silk cloth with Indian designs. 

Ekhi, the Basque sun goddess (Sykes 2002) and motherly protector of humanity, is my Mother Goddess for Yule. She assures her children of hope and the eternal return of morning. She is a mother but is also born from the “reddish seas.” She reminds us of the need to stay a while in darkness in order to regenerate creative energy. She can be symbolized by a mother figure dressed in red or carrying a torch.

 Hekate is the Crone Goddess for Yule. She is a goddess of time, fate, solitude and witches, a mistress of the dead and “Keeper of the Keys to the Cosmos.” (Moss 2015) She can be symbolized by the figure of an old woman with a lantern or a key. 

Figures for these goddesses can be made out of clay or other materials and placed under the Yule tree. We can honor Ekhi at the candlelight feast on the eve of the Winter Solstice with poems of hope and thanksgiving for the promise of hope in difficult times. We can honor Hekate during the late night ritual of Solstice Tarot readings, lighting a candle in a small lantern. We can honor Usha at dawn when the sun returns.

Bibliography

Agrawala, P.K. (1984). Goddesses in Ancient India. New Dehli, India: Abhinav Publications
Auset, B. (2009). The Goddess Guide: Exploring the Attributes and Correspondences of the Divine Feminine. Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Publications.
Caputi, J. (2004). Goddesses and Monsters. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press.
Chaudhuri, S. K. (2003). Hindu Gods and Goddesses in Japan. New Delhi, India: Vedams.
Daimler, M. (2016). Pagan Portals - Brigid. Winchester, UK: Moon Books.
Greenfield, T. Ed (2014) Naming the Goddess: Washington, DC. Moon Books
Hunt, L. (2001). An Illustrated Meditation Guide: Celestial Goddesses. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications.
Leeming, D. and Page, J. (1994). Goddess: Myths of the Female Divine. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.)
Loar, J. (2008). Goddesses for Every Day. Navato, CA: New World Library
MacLeod, S. P. (1960). The Devine Feminine in Ancient Europe. Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Company, Inc. Publishers
Monagham, P. (1997) The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines: Woodbury, MN. Llewellyn Publications
Monagham, P. (2014). Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines. Novato, CA: New World Library
Moss, V. (2015). Pagan Portals Hekate: A Devotional. Hants, UK: Moon Books
Motz, L. (1997). The Faces of the Goddess. New York, NY: Oxford University Press
Sass, R. (2003) The Old Saxon Language and Heathenry. Robert Sass)
Shaw, M (2006). Buddhist Goddesses of India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Slocum, S. K. Ed. (1992). Popular Arthurian Traditions. Bowling Green, OH: Bowling Green State University Popular Press.
Sykes, E. (2002). Who’s Who in Non-Classical. New York, NY: Routledge.
Warch, M. L. 2014). White Buffalo Woman. In T. Greenfield (Ed.), Naming the Goddess (pp. 328 - 330
 Weber, C. (2015). Brigid: History, Mystery and Magick of the Celtic Goddess. San Francisco, CA: Weiser Books
Woodfield, S. (2014) Drawing Down the Sun: Rekindle the Magick of the Solar Goddesses. Woodbury, MN. Llewellyn Publications

The Dead are Never Gone - Samhain meditations

I spent most of November of 1992 sitting in a basement in Hessen, Germany listening to a young Czech migrant worker play folk songs on a guitar and tell stories of the dead. 

I was sixteen at the time and wide-eyed at the horizons that had just burst open before me. Up until a few months before, I had been a girl living in a remote part of the Blue Mountains of Eastern Oregon. I couldn't spell Czechoslovakia and I had never heard the world Pagan, even though my family was Pagan. Now I heard about the deep Celtic roots of Bohemia and of the centuries of conquest and struggle that successive totalitarian regimes had brought. I soaked up tales of grandfather healers, tough-as-nails grandmothers and one who took his own life. 

In that month of November, I grew more than I have in most years of my life. I learned that the dead are never gone, that we breathe because of the struggles of our ancestors, that the stones of a place tell their own story, that my roots stretch back to many traditions and that the whispers of spirit can come through music even in another language.  

I had never heard of Birago Diop at the time. He was a great Senegalese poet, story-teller and veterinarian, a man of the African renaissance, whose words would inform my spirituality later and haunt the world. But though I had yet to hear of him, Birago Diop died that month at the age of 83, becoming an honored ancestor of his people.  

Today when I look back at those who have passed into the realm of ancestors and prepare for the time of long, dark nights and contemplation, Diop's poem "Breaths" is my primary meditation. They are words true to the beliefs of Pagans all over the world in one form or another, no matter our continent. Surely, they link us back to the common past of humanity, to the ancestors that link us all.

What honor do we give our ancestors if we make war or draw lines between cultures, traditions and races? What honor do we give our ancestors if we fritter away the gift of our lives with consumerism and lifestyles that make the earth unlivable for the next generation?  

I make the offering of candles inside vegetables beside my door and freshly brewed tea. Bless the ancestors of this land and hearth. May you be nourished and healed of your wounds that we may be free in our day. 

One thing I love about Diop's poem is that it can be adapted. The cadence of it is easily shaped to whatever signals the presence of ancestors for you. As long as you don't try to publish it as your own original work, you can use the poem "Breaths" to make a personal meditation.

Here's mine with all honor to Diop:

The dead are never gone.

They are there in the evening shadow.

The dead are not under the earth.

They are there in the falling rain.

They are there in the line of a child's smile.

They are there in the black soil of the garden.

They are in the fire on the hearth.

They are in cold night wind.

The dead are never, never gone.

Samhain at our house with songs and Grandfather Deer cookies

Samhain wasn't always my favorite holiday. It isn't easy to embrace death as part of the natural cycle. I don’t subscribe to any particular literal interpretation about what happens after we die but I do know that the spirits, energies or something of our ancestors is left and does play a role in our lives. I don’t feel like this is a scary thing. I get more comfort from it than anything else and this is what I would like to teach my children – the connection to and recognition of ancestors that gives comfort and strength. So, this is what Samhain is to us. 

I have two children ages 3 and 5 as well as a husband who wavers between being Pagan and atheist, depending on his mood. I enjoy the magic of childhood, so I embrace myths like Santa Claus. In fact, my children were so entranced by the story of Grandfather Deer visiting on Samhain in the book Circle Round that Grandfather Deer has taken to visiting us and delivering small gifts to children on the night of Samhain. Especially as they get older these will tend to be gifts with some spiritual connection or connection to ancestors.

Here are some ideas for what a family with small children can do to celebrate this Pagan holiday. This is what we do. We aren't Wiccan or anything specific. We are eclectic Pagans and I adapt a lot of things from the book Circle Round. 

Crafts and Cooking

We made a jack-o-lantern that we will leave outside and lit on Samhain to guide the spirits on the night when the veil between worlds is thin.

We went on a walk and collected pine cones and colorful leaves, and I made a fall wreath with the materials and a circle of willow switches left over from making dream catchers. A glue gun is truly a wonderful tool!

We made gingerbread cookies in the shapes of jack-o-lanterns, boys and girls, deer and elk and crescent moons. Then, we painted them with a bread-of-the-dead-type icing made with orange juice and powdered sugar. The deer and elk cookies were inspired by a children’s bedtime story in the book Circle Round, which tells how “Grandfather Deer” (a representation of the old horned god of ancient European Pagans) comes to lead one on a dream journey on Samhain to the Land of Youth, where children can play in the everlasting sun with gentle and supportive ancestor spirits for that one night.)

We painted color-diffusing leaf shapes in fall colors to hang on the wall.

Songs

First we sang Ring Around the Pumpkin for a few days as part of our regular morning singing and circle games.

Ring around the pumpkin
Pocket full of nuts
Leaves! Leaves!
They all fall down!

I thought it sounded silly when I read about it but the kids loved it and loved inserting “Hop around the pumpkin” or “Stomp” or “Tiptoe” or “Dance”. We did it first on the day we got our carving pumpkin and we put it in the middle still uncut. This may have helped to get the kids excited and after that they insisted that I make a pumpkin picture to put in the middle of the circle, because our jack-o-lantern had to stay outside for safety’s sake.

Then, Shaye kept asking me again and again why there is snow and why the leaves are falling off the trees and why we have Samhain. I explained all of these things in one way or another, more or less scientifically, until I finally made up this little ditty to the tune of “Are You Sleeping” in order to give a quick answer. And she loved it and has stopped bugging me, which I did not really expect.

Samhain is coming. (2x)
The Earth must rest. (2x)
The ancestors are calling. (2x)
We give thanks. (2x)

Children laughing (2x)
Red leaves falling (2x)
It’s time for trick-or-treating (2x)
On Samhain night. (2x)

Salt and apples (2x)
I leave tonight (2x)
For the grandfather deer (2x)
Who keeps me safe. (2x)

As popular as these songs were with the preschool set, neither really did it for me. Especially when the topic is spirits and ancestors, I hunger for something a bit more… well, spiritual. So, walking back through the woods with Marik, after dropping Shaye off at preschool I made up this song to the tune of “Michael Rows the Boat Ashore”. It works well if you draw out the first syllable of the element mentioned in the even lines.

Listen to the ancestors’ call,
Hush in the wind.
Listen to the ancestors call,
Song in the water.

Listen to the ancestors call,
Dark of the earth.
Listen to the ancestors’ call,
Dance of the flame.

Fun and Ritual

This year Samhain will be a bit hectic for us because we are crossing the Atlantic to be with my family in Oregon and will likely have extreme jetlag. But we will still hope to dress up and go out for a little trick-or-treating. I am not thrilled with it, given my older child's extreme sensitivities to food coloring and other things in mainstream candy but it is nice to have a purpose for dressing up, which is simply too fun for children to forgo.

I’m not overly fond of the gruesome or horrific aspects of Halloween. I think these were made up to make Pagan beliefs seem evil and frightening. Instead, I focus on dressing up that is simply fun or perhaps dressing up in the garb of people in history, our ancestors.

The flying several thousand miles and dressing up does tend to put a crimp in my plans for more spiritual rituals involving children, because the kids will be completely exhausted. So, we'll keep it very simple, I’ll help the kids make a “mute supper” of apples, salt and a few of our cookies to put out by the jack-o-lantern, which we’ll light.  In the morning the children will find their Samhain gifts where they left the food. I have decided to spread out gift giving, so that the children will get only one gift at Yule but they will get one at other times of the year as well, though they may not be large or expensive. This is primarily in hopes of reducing stress for everyone concerned but I also like to spread around the sense of magic.

The idea of giving gifts to children on Samhain comes from the assumption that children are closer to the spirits, because they were born only recently. Thus, giving gifts or sweets to small children is a way of giving gifts to the ancestors as well. 

Either in the evening or in the morning, depending on when the children are able to participate, we have a short, fun activity to mark the renewal of the year. We open up the back door to say goodbye to the old year and then run to the front door to welcome the new year with noise makers and a song. We might also sing a more generic song such as:

Round and round the earth is turning.
Always turning round to morning
And from morning round to night.

I hope to hold a more involved Samhain ritual for adults when the children are asleep, including purifying thehouse and specifically our i-Ching and Tarot materials, runes and elements symbols. At home in the Czech Republic, the wall behind our family alter is covered with picture-symbols for the various groups and cultures of ancestors represented in our household. So, there are Celtic, Slavic, Norse, Romani and Hindu symbols as well as symbols specifically remembering the women who struggled through conflict and pain to give us life and remembering those who held Pagan beliefs but had to hide them for a variety of reasons. These are all on little circles that are on a black velvety background around a triple moon symbol.

The ritual usually includes carrying the light from our family alter to an earth alter in the stone circle behind our house. We burn slips of paper with qualities and problems that we would like to leave behind, and we will leave an offering of food, water, fire and sage. We end with asking our ancestors for protection of our home. In the morning we light our special alter candles again and call in particular blessings or qualities we wish for the next year or make Samhain resolutions.  We renew energy protections on our house by smudging and sprinkling salt at entrances and windows.

Raising Little Pagans

Here is our first video showing the hands-on approach to Pagan seasonal festivals with children. This video covers Samhain through Ostrara and gives specific ideas of what a family with preschool-age children can accomplish. We are eclectic and follow no particular rigid tradition.

Happy watching. This video is appropriate for all ages.

Please note that my fiction is not aimed at children. The Soul and the Seed is a contemporary fantasy thriller with Pagan leanings. I recommend it for ages sixteen and up due to intense content, including some realistic violence. I hope Pagan readers will enjoy these books but I urge parents to be cautious about recommending them to children.