Samhain & those veils … part 2

Earlier when I was writing the previous post, I was interrupted by a very insistent being … He’s small, he’s mighty, he’s fond of green, and he morphs whenever he wants to! He is also incredibly adamant about speaking. I want you to know here and now that I take absolutely NO responsibility for whatever it is he’s about to say. Whether you believe it or not is totally up to you. So, hang onto your proverbials, here he is.

shamrock

 

“Sure and they won’t believe you. Not about the windows. We’ve been trying for ages. They like the fright and the candy. Maybe even the blood, but who wants to talk about that! And don’t go telling them who we really are. They won’t believe that either. They know nothing about the inner world, no matter what they say! They think we’re just wee gnomes sitting in the gardens. Leprechauns and fairies fluttering between the trees, hovering on the edges, smoking a bit of whatever. As if that’s all we had to do. As if that’s why we were here. They don’t remember the stories … sure and don’t they think it’s all myth, as if myth were nothing but a fable, a wee bit of fluff you talk about over some camp fire. I swear to you. They don’t even remember the Grand Cosmic Moment, and who doesn’t remember that one!  And they’re running out of time, to believe I mean.”

“Because here’s the thing – when the veils thin to the point where there’s nothing between anything anymore (and that could be anytime soon, let me tell you), then what you find on the other side of thought (the current one that is) better be a thought or two that you’re thrilled with, that you’ve been dreaming about for like forever, that you love to bits, that brings joy and colour and life to your world – because if it isn’t, if it doesn’t, well then for sure for sure, you’ll find yourself in a dark place indeed. And that’s a place we can’t go to help even if we wanted to. You’ll be on your own, in a dark place, with no light. And it won’t be the cosmic void. It’ll just be a dark place, with no light. Trust me, there’s no fun in that at all at all at all.”

“SO, with that in mind, we’ll try this one more time (because we’ve grown a tad fond of you, not that we’d readily admit it you understand) – THERE ARE WINDOWS, THEY ARE HERE, especially on this night of nights when the veils are thin and worlds can meet in the hovering of an autumn moon. Would you just drop the candied fright for a moment and turn and say hello. The windows are waiting. And so are we. And on that note, God bless you all, and I’ll see you, I hope, on the flip side of tomorrow today.”

 

 

Happy Samhain…

Welcome to the thinning of the veils…

It’s October 31st, that time where sticky candy, wobbling strange rubber faces, frail and flimsy wings, and flip-flopping swords and daggers reign supreme. There are even a few glittering red slippers and a star-tipped wand or two to be found dancing around. It is a time of ghosts, goblins, and miniature versions of the cast of the Pirates of the Caribbean sauntering down night streets just about everywhere.

In the Celtic world, it is the time of Samhain, where veils become thin, and the spirits of the past rise up to greet the spirits of the day. You won’t necessary find those pirates roaming but you might find your relatives from the 6th century popping in for a cup of mead (that’s honey wine). Treat them well. You never know what you might have done in the 6th century!  And so it is a time of the changing of worlds – autumn to winter – winter to the cold dark beyond.

One could also say it is a time when the veils between your perception of realities thin. Where the things you are so very sure are real begin to flutter and fade, and the dreams you visit only in the quiet of your mind begin to take on colour and grow. Where, for an infinitesimally small moment in the concept of time, the two dare to merge, mingle, trade places, or even become one.

It is even possible that as our world shifts and changes, moments like these turn out to be windows to the very heart and soul of a better life and a better world.

…more to come…

Prelude to … ‘I Had A Dream’

 

MANY MOONS AGO, in what feels like eons but isn’t, just like eons can feel like moments but aren’t, I had one of those poignant experiences that it sometimes seems only time in The Green can give. It was the after edges of Samhain (Halloween to those who live west of The Big Pond), I was staying at a friend’s in an area that could easily be classified as desolate on a grey rainy day, which it was. There was a brooding feel to it all, as though something could pop out of the unexpected any moment. It was Ireland after all, so this was possible.

I STARED OUT a many-paned window as raindrops splattered on glass and a welcoming fire crackled from behind. I was looking at a leafless tree that resided along the edge of the driveway with birds now gathering on it. I watched. And strangely, I waited. When it seemed they had all arrived (for what I did not know), I counted. I admit it, I was curious – partly because there were so many, and partly because they were all ravens. Ravens, as some say, are superb magic makers, shape shifters par excellence, sounders of creative births. In other words, powerful. No one worth their emerald green seaweed would mess with them.

I ADMIT THESE WERE EARLY DAYS for me in The Green, still I swore I could feel the dulse of the sea beginning to cling to my very being (let alone my heart) and so I paid honour where honour was due, and promptly counted again. Yup, twenty-two. Twenty-two ravens perched on a tree, waiting. I had a feeling they were waiting for me.

SO I DID WHAT ANY SELF-RESPECTING BEING SHOULD DO. I asked what they wanted. ‘Be raven.’  They said. ‘Come see. Come see.’ What could one do but agree. After all, there were twenty-two.

AND SO the journey began.

Digital Camera

WHAT CAME OUT OF IT many hours later was a poem – a rather long one done in verse, which I don’t normally write. It was called, I Had A Dream. It touched my heart and brought tears to the eyes. I shared it with friends and a few I did not know. Then time marched on, I left The Green, and the poem, as poems sometimes do, went into the now-labelled ‘Poetry – Ireland’ file.

AND THERE it sat, until now.

I’M NOT SURE WHY I’m meant to share this with you. Perhaps it is the changing times. Perhaps within the blowing winds, the ravens are calling – ‘Come see. Come see.’ Perhaps it will touch your heart as it did mine. Perhaps, just perhaps, if you live in The Green or feel its stories wafting through your soul wherever you may be, it will sound a chord of remembering, and in so doing, awaken a long prophesied dream.

ONE TINY ADD-ON – It is my sense that there are places in this world that carry keys; keys that when re-discovered, and then used wisely, become of enormous benefit to us all on this fragile exquisitely beautiful planet. To me, Ireland carries one of those keys.

BECAUSE IT’S VERY LONG, I will share the poem with you in the next posting.