This time of year in the northern hemisphere is a time of passing. The light is growing shorter each day, the trees are shedding their leaves in preparation for their slumber, the seasonal insects are in their last push before dying, the squirrels are busy collecting food stores, the birds are embarking on their journeys to other places in the summerlands elsewhere.
In the traditions of following "the wheel" of the year that marks our passing through time based on the movements of the nature of Earth, this is the end of the cycle. In just a few weeks we will celebrate Samhain (pronounced "sow-en") in my pagan community, which is the end of the old and the beginning of the new. Astronomically, it is the halfway point between the fall equinox and the winter solstice.
Each of the 8 wheel turnings of the cycle correlate with the movements of the sun, and the new year begins with going within oneself, into the dark to meditate and contemplate on what should come again with the return of the light after the winter solstice. We embrace the death, that we may prepare for the rebirth. We honor the time in the womb, in a space of darkness and comfort and transformation.
This time is also referred to as the thinning of the veils. In an understanding of the "death" of nature, humans in many cultures have long equated this time with our closest walk with the spirit world. It is a time to remember our ancestors, to honor their lives before us, to reflect on the wisdom they imparted upon us through their own journeys, that we may apply those gifts of experience to our time in the darkness of the womb while we visualize what we desire when the light returns.
Even reflecting back on my own past year at this time, imparts wisdom. A year ago I was awaiting my second shoulder surgery. I spent 4 months with one arm completely immobilized, a strong lesson from the grandmothers before me that the healers need healing, too. A gift of rest, of stillness, of focusing on myself to rejuvenate from the challenges of the year before and an opportunity to apply introspection and careful work on my whole self in many ways before a year full of even more intense challenges. A reminder to accept help, to move to the next level of my life's purposes and responsibilities in family and community ~ one where I embrace delegation and better communication at creating opportunities for others to do their work.
This year, once again, I feel the thinning of the veils. The grandmothers I felt last year, were a collective of Mother Gaia, of many who have walked this earth before me and carried the human race through generations. It was an honor to be wrapped in that greater spirit, to be nurtured and nursed in heart and soul, to prepare me for the tasks that were ahead at that time.
This year, the spiral has moved inward a bit. I felt it early, it seemed, just after equinox, rather than in October. It's kind of ironic really, because the weather here in Appalachia hasn't shifted yet. Days are still warm, nights are barely cool ~ but nature is still shifting, the leaves are still falling, the birds are still bidding their farewells.
The spirits I feel around me, are very specific this year. They are people I have known as grandparents, mentors, elders, teachers. Some are ones I have not thought of in a long time. Others are ones I can often feel around the edges, warmly, fondly, cheering me on in my quest to hold sacred space and honor their best selves through my words and deeds, by carrying the torch of ages past through the present and into the future.
I am still observing, open to the messages of spirit. As I make my way down my own life's path, there are times when I can feel the air heavy with a message from the spirit, like the quickening just before birth. I feel that now. I don't know what I am being prepared for, but I am confident when the moment is right, that wisdom will come. I am acutely aware that moment approaches.
I am honored.
I am listening.
