the October journal
This post is coming to you a little late due to Hurricane Helene. Appalachia is in need of your help, and there are many ways to pitch in. Donations can be made to Beloved Asheville and Pansy Collective as they are on the ground actively delivering resources to those in need. You can also volunteer your time through opportunities posted here daily.
Here in the south, October seems to be that month when you can finally say, “yes, fall is here”. The cool evenings turn cold, the air is brisk, colorful pumpkins line the street corners, and everything seems to slow down, if only for just a bit.
This is the true pumpkin season: pies, cookies, breads, pastas, muffins, soups, fondue… endless opportunities, really.
This is also the month where the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is the thinnest, as multiple cultures gather to honor their ancestors and embrace the coming darkness of winter.
It’s also a season of harvest, a celebration of the bounties of the garden and of putting by for the barren winter season. With our modern conveniences, it’s easy to forget that we once relied on our harvests to make do through the winter months. Bringing our attention back to the harvest allows us to be mindful of our own consumption during the bleaker months and gives us reason to celebrate with friends and loved ones. I don’t know about you, but I love a good reason to celebrate.
Samhain, When Summer Goes to Rest
Samhain (SAH-wen) is a cross-quarter holiday to mark the halfway point between Mabon (the autumn equinox) and Yule (the winter solstice). We feel that shift between early-Autumn and late-Autumn during this time because the summer has gone to rest. Gone are the long days of warmth and sun. The days are getting shorter, colder, and invite us to rest and reflect.
The Silent Dinner
When we encounter loss, our culture seems to be such that we’re expected to forget and move on. Many times, we don’t make space for our grief because we simply don’t know how. When your world has stopped moving, it becomes so much more obvious that others’ continue to spin and think yours is spinning too. Even the most seasoned of us forget about the grieving. Life is busy. Time moves fast.
I invite you to prepare a gathering of close family and friends this month for a silent dinner to honor those that have passed. It doesn’t matter if they passed this year or thirty years ago. The empty seat at the table holds space for the grief you hold in your heart. Commune over the summer’s bounty and share stories of the ones you’re remembering. Light a candle in their memory. Ask everyone to bring their loved one’s favorite dish. Have a moment of meditation or silence for the ones you have lost. No matter how lavish or simple you make it, the important thing to remember is, bring your grief to the table and share it with the ones that love you. Being vulnerable in this sacred space can be healing.
The Ancestor Altar
When I’m visiting Boulder, I love to stop by RitualCraft in Denver. Besides being a lovely local shop full of beautiful plants, candles, books, and self-care items, they have an ancestor altar in the middle of the store. It’s a meaningful display of photographs and mementos of the beloved who have crossed the veil, and I am always touched by the new photographs that have been added since my last visit.
Lately, it’s also been popular to adorn a table at weddings with photographs of those that have passed. These practices keep the memory of our loved ones alive and allows us to share with others about them and why they were important to us.
Moving Grief with Water
When we are grieving, water is an element that we can rely on to help us move grief energy through our body to ready it for release. I once had a therapist tell me that a warm bath is a reminder of being held in the womb. Consider preparing a warm bath with your favorite essential oils, herbs, bath salts, or bath oil, and prepare an herbal tea to sip on. Light a candle or burn incense. Bring into your ritual anything that feels sacred to you in the moment, that feels like it should be there. Use your intuition for guidance.
When ready, immerse yourself fully in the water, allowing it to embrace and hold you. We are sometimes so rarely held by others, and water is always there to support you. Feel the simultaneous stillness and flow of the water around you. What emotions are coming up? Allow them to wash over you. How can you allow the waters to carry them for you in this moment?
There is no right or wrong when it comes to our personal rituals. During a season of grief, it is natural to feel more intensely. Along with our personal grief, we also have the grief of the collective that we all carry with us. Allow yourself to feel, and allow the water to hold.
What griefs are you experiencing this season? What rituals are you finding helpful as you navigate these waters?
References: The New Pagan, The Witch’s Herbal Apothecary by Marysia Miernowska
