Oíche Shamhna

The date that this article was queued to publish was October 31st, and as I write this addendum I have a rather accusatory 12/10/2015 hanging out in the far right corner of my computer screen.

A lot has happened in the time between these dates. I had a seizure, went to the emergency room, quit that medication altogether (another possible seizure being more of a downer than being ill because of ending one medication), became ill because I ended that medication, and was unable to get to my psychiatrist because I was ill.

And then I discovered that my Samhain post never actually went up, which messed up my pattern of articles. Seven and ten. Technically, five and five and seven. I like odd numbers. They have internal balance. But I didn't want to talk about odd numbers here.

Anyway, here is Samhain's post, set to the date before its original date because for some reason, Wix won't recognize this article as an October article if it's set to October 31st. Weird, but, okay. I can work with that. 30th is better than nothing. Ready, set, go.

Samhain always feels welcome, magical. I've lost track of how many last harvests I've celebrated, how many altars I've set: the motions are now a natural extension of the ritual. This year was special, though: this was my husband's and my first Halloween as husband and wife. This was on purpose: Jack and I chose October to get married with the intention of beginning the new year together.

I love Halloween. I love the horror movie marathons, the haunted houses, the ghosts in the trees, the fallen leaves strewn about and left to rustle in the wind, the costumes, the pumpkins and apples, the weather that settles on the fine edge of warm and cool. I love the history of the holiday, from the folklore about old Pagan practices to the way Halloween has been celebrated in many places and many ways over the centuries, and I love the way that history informs the reconstructionist holiday of my modern Pagan community.

I love Oíche Shamhna, known also as Samhain, for its gentle and bittersweet memories of the dead. I love the altar of candles and pictures. Remembering the past prepares us for the future, and October is a time of the past. Nostalgic spooky movies, childhood memories of dress-up and family trick-or-treating, the celebration of the end of the old year, and the honoring of the dead: check, check, check, and check. I sat down with an old favorite of both my mother's and mine, the animated movie for Ray Bradbury's The Halloween Tree, narrated by the author himself, several time this past October. I cannot accurately describe how I felt about it, just that it was compelling, in its way.

Jack and I went out to go see Blind Guardian in concert this year, which was meaningful because Blind Guardian has been one of my favorite bands for the past decade or so of my life, and their music has gotten me through quite a lot. Each of their songs are imbued, for me, with memories of my past. The song I listened to when my high school crush asked me out. The song I listened to while working through a sense of loss after the death of my smallest guinea pig. The song I listened to in order to calm myself down from a rage after someone threatened to pull a knife on me in the park by my house. Being at the concert was like being handed snapshots of my life.

I'm using "love" colloquially here. Emotions are weird, and I don't have the time to sift around for the right word for what I want to say, but "love" gets the point across, I think. I'm pretty sure. Have a sense of rightness about, of puzzle pieces coming together for a long-sought union. Something like that, but fainter. But that's a totally different article.

Right now, set out bread and milk for the dead. Keep the hands of your kinsmen. Go with the old gods.

Happy Halloween.

#Halloween #Samhain #OícheShamhna