When I say that I have trouble sleeping in the vicinity of awake humans, people usually assume I’m an insomniac. It’s not true: I sleep like a log as long as it’s reasonably quiet, it’s just “people sounds” that wake me up all the time.

There are exceptions, though, such as the time of the year when I simply don’t sleep no matter what. Every year around the Summer Solstice, there are a few weeks when I assume a toddler’s attitude to sleep, in that I’m way too excited and wired to even think of sleeping, unwilling to miss out on waking hours, and unable to fall asleep although I’m actually tired.

It’s not a problem, as long as it’s just a week or two in the year. In my current situation, it’s compounded by the fact that “human noise” cuts short my sleep all the time anyway, but I’m way too excited to care right now. It’s Solstice time!!

Trying to put into words how I feel at the moment is one of the rare occasions when words fail me. Allow me to try.

• Part of my pagan practice is to be aware of and constantly strengthen my connection with the natural world. Paired with my natural high sensitivity, this makes me extremely receptive to what’s going on around me. At this time of the year, when life is practically bursting from every leaf on every tree and even the grass is happily procreating (alas, I’m allergic to the pollen, but it’s not that bad as it used to be), it’s like a constant bombardment.

“High vibration go on…” (if you don’t recognise this line, you really really need to listen to Yes’s “Awaken”)

• I’ve spent decades of my life sharpening my senses and the months from around mid April to mid August are like sensory overload. All. The. Time. The air is fragrant and seductive, the warm breeze caressing, the grass soft and cuddly. The waves tickle my ankles, my feet kissing the sand. I’ve a heightened perception at this time, food tastes even better than usual, and there are so many tasty things right now, such as fresh strawberries! And don’t get me started on the luminous nights, never-fading daylight, golden evenings and bright mornings.

• It’s also the sexiest time of the year. “Come on now, try and understand the way I feel when I’m in your hands…” (<3 Patti Smith) I’m always, *always* starry-eyed around June, I just can’t help it. And blissfully happy.

• There are downsides, too. Due to the lack of sleep, my attention span is down to a few seconds, which leads to hilarious moments when I find an empty tea mug on the counter and long-since cooled water in the kettle, which I clean forgot to pour when it was boiling.

• I’m too wired to notice my tiredness most of the time, but occasionally it catches up with me and then I’m so groggy from one minute to the next that I could just lay down my head and start snoring. Unfortunately, I rarely have the luxury to do so, as it tends to happen during work or when I’m out! And then there are times when my mood just crashes and I’m suddenly convinced I’m an awful person and nobody loves me.

• I can be a taxing friend at this time, constantly going “Oooh, shiny!” and bursting with ideas, messaging and texting people at random (“let’s do this!” -“Have you seen that? Shall we check it out? Sure, midnight’s fine… sleep is overrated”). Thankfully, my wonderful friends love their hag and have long since learned to just smile and nod, haha…

I love Solstice time, can you tell? Tonight I’ll go outside to dance with the fairies and do my Eve-of-the-Solstice ritual, and tomorrow (the actual Solstice happens on the 21st this year) will be another tired but joyful holiday. I’m determined that work won’t get in the way.

Happy Solstice!

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From time to time, I feel this strong urge to question absolutely everything in my life. It’s just what I do, and it keeps me on my toes. Many of the radical changes I’ve made throughout my life – moves to different countries, change of job or business – have come from this habit. And if I decide not to change something, I then know for sure that it’s what I truly want at this time.

I’m at one of these points in my life right now, as you may have noticed over the past few entries. Or you may not, because readership and engagement with my blog have gone down to one or two comments each time and one of the things I’m wondering about is whether it might be time to close down The Hag’s Den. I’ve never been interested in holding a monologue, and maybe personal blogs are no longer the way to go. I have my Coaching page after all, and write articles for my weekly newsletter which I publish in blog form there (sign up for the email updates while you’re about it, you get the full package including regular special offers with that).

The questioning is still a work in progress, but here’s what I’ve got so far:

• Sleep. I’ve done so much healing over the past 1 1/2 years. Part of it was starting to move again and heal physically. I have stalled in this, though, ever since I moved here last September, and I’m beginning to realise I’m not just slacking, it’s the constant lack of sleep – and lack of quality sleep, as I simply don’t sleep as deeply with white noise in my ears – that’s getting to me. I’m always, always tired. Even when I do get enough for once, it’s more like a temporary respite, because one or two nights in a row just doesn’t cut it. I noticed that a few weeks ago when my neighbours were gone, I had a week of blissful sleep and suddenly bounced off the walls with energy!
• Passion. I need to do the things which light me up. This was at the heart of my entire re-awakening thing and I need to keep it up. It’s directly related to the sleep issue, because I’m not up for anything if I’m just bleary-eyed and exhausted. And there’s absolutely nothing which is more important – there’s a reason why I’m focusing my Coaching on this, and my constant challenge is to make people understand to what extent it revolutionises life to centre it around passion.
• My soul work. This is basically the purpose for which I was put on this planet, and it’s to support beautiful souls in making positive change. This is why Wild Spirits Coaching is so important; it’s what I currently see as the best vehicle.
• Living situation. I might stay in Ireland and I hope I’ll be able to because I honestly love it here. However, I will move if I have to, in order to get the life I want and need, with peace and quiet, as well as a social life. It can’t be all that impossible!

I’ll let you know when things get a little clearer! I’m just going to let all these insights “stew” for a while and see what comes up.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying the “luminous weeks”. I know I go on about this every year but gods, I love this time so much! I mean, I sleep less than ever, but who cares when there’s still some light when I go to sleep (I sleep at 22.30 these days because my neighbours wake me at around 6 in the morning; by nature, I’m much more of a night owl), and light again when I wake up. The budgies love it too.

I have this sweet, almost painful happiness in me and an indefinable longing for je-ne-sais-quois. So much love, and the sensuality of mild air on my skin and in my hair, the lusciousness of nature, flowers everywhere and heavy, juicy green foliage.

I went to Massbrook last week and it had rained, but it was still around 20 degrees warm, so the air was heavy and humid – a nightmare for some people but I felt like taking off all my clothes and hugging trees! This forest is like a home to me, it’s the exact opposite of my house, where I sleep lightly and wake up at every little sound. In Massbrook, I can fall alseep in seconds lying down on the soft moss of the forest floor, feeling completely safe and protected among the gentle watch of the tall trees.

Ah, June…

 

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I’m very tired today, after talking to one of my oldest friends Shane half the night, who had stopped by on his way to a course he’s taking in Galway. It was great, the kind of rambling conversation easily drifting from one topic to another, that you can only have with people you know so well that you’re completely comfortable and relaxed around them.

Last Saturday, I spent a lovely evening at the house of Jack and Ziva and their two little hobbits, once again missing out on sleep because we chatted all evening and I had to drive home afterwards. Occasionally, I hear from Inga who’s working her hulderish backside off and intermittently manages to type a quick message and hug to me. And then there’s the email from Andreas in Germany who turned 50 last week and wrote how much he likes my birthday present.

Life is only ever as good as the people in it, don’t let anybody tell you any different. And by these standards, my life is pretty danged spectacular!

I need to say this, and remind myself that it’s the case, because there are some other things which continue to rankle, and demand a solution in the not-too-distant future. I did mention I’ve started to work on my Coaching business in earnest now? It’s what I’m here on this planet to do, and this work is so sorely needed… And yet I find myself stalling, once again, as I did so many times before. I’m not giving in to it this time, don’t worry, I’m serious about doing this, but the fact is that I’m committed to pursing my passions and joy and I refuse to give in to stress ever again in my life. That’s fairly difficult to uphold, though, when I work a full-time job and a business at the same time.

No matter how I slice it, something always falls through the cracks. It’s either the job or the business, or the sleep, or my passions, regular exercise, nourishing my body, or any combination of the above.

And don’t get me started on my living situation and the little sleep it brings with it. By the way: I’m not looking for advice here. This is my process and while I am happy to listen to people’s thoughts, they have to be people who know me and my situation really well. I’m just writing this to let you know what’s going on, and of course good vibes are always appreciated.

The thing is that I’m less and less willing to compromise endlessly. I’m not asking for all that much: Living on my own in a detached place (it’s fine if it’s small) with internet. And a chance to build up this business without having to work 24/7. I’d love to do this in Ireland, but I’m really not sure if it’s possible – this country is fucked up in terms of rents, the availability (or lack thereof) of mortgages, and living costs.

It’s a work in progress and I don’t have to solve the riddle right now, but I’ll have to do it soon-ish. In fact, I’ve set myself a deadline of about three years. By 2020, I want to make it happen. Watch this space.

For now, I intend to enjoy the stillness of the New Moon and get some rest before I venture out again to see people. I’ve got some passions-work to do and a lot of business work as well, to get the message out there, to make sure the people who are awake and conscious and no longer willing to settle (like me), will find me and my website.

One day, I’ll figure out how to keep it all together. I’m working on it!

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People have been grumbling at me for not updating my blog more often. In fact, I’ve been grumbling at myself, too, because I actually really love chatting to all those beautiful souls who are too far away to see regularly. And my posts often get conversations going, I get a comment, or a message or email, and suddenly I’m reminded of how lucky I am to know such genuinely lovely folks.

Therefore: I’m sorry. Insert grovelling here!

Oh, and if you’re one of those who always wait for a prompt from me on Facebook: Did ya know you can subscribe to this blog? All you need to do is fill in the form here, and I’ll send you a little email whenever I post. Nobody else is ever going to see your data, obviously. Hagish word of honour.

So what, inquires my captive audience, does the hag do these days when she’s not updating her blog? Why, I’m glad you asked!

You know that freelance Coaching stuff I do? The business I’ve been going on about growing for years? I made several half-hearted attempts, even serious attempts, but then never quite followed through. The handful of clients I had on the side, was wonderful and just about right for me. As you know, I only just got away from some rather miserable years in autumn 2015, and I have sworn off “busy” ever since.

In fact, my healing mostly occurred because of this refusal to be busy or stressed anymore. I took my time, did everything in my stride, and took lots and lots of time for myself. It was beautiful, and necessary. And now I believe I’m actually ready to follow through and grow the business into something a little more substantial. For the last four weeks, I’ve been working on it and I have no intention of stopping any time soon. So far I’ve managed not to get stressed, although it stings a bit having to say “no” to friends because I have very limited, and scheduled, time off these days, usually on Saturdays.

It’s working, though! I don’t feel busy, although I have a lot to do (and get a lot done!). I’ve even managed to keep stress at bay through some fairly tedious tasks of the technical variety, like website SEO (don’t ask!). I’ve interviewed some of my patient and thoroughly amazing friends to get out of my own head and see my potential clients’ needs and questions. The result is a prettier, much clearer website with a new free offer that you can totally sign up for (yay!): A 3-part money training series which kicks ass.

I avoid the stress by consciously taking time off whenever I start feeling that frenzy which accompanies “not being able to stop”. I love Coaching, it’s my calling, but I can’t do just that in my life and nothing else. So I drag myself away. And this weekend, I took Saturday off work and won’t do any work tomorrow either because I am, actually, in New Ross where I’ll participate in the Wexford Archers’ 3D shoot!

Today was a glorious sunny spring day and I took some pictures on the drive down, quite literally, through the front and side windows whilst driving. I’d almost forgotten how beautiful Co Tipperary is:

New Ross is completely gorgeous, too. I think I must have won the B&B lottery, because this house is on a hill overlooking the river valley which is jaw-droppingly beautiful:

I took a walk into town and nearly forgot looking for food when I saw the “Dunbrody”, a reproduction of a typical emigrant ship. It’s beautiful but very small and made of wood (cue “shiver me timbers” joke), and to think that people actually sailed all the way across the Atlantic to America in these, is incredible. The pic is above, under the blog post title.

On the way back, I couldn’t put the camera away, until it was almost too dark to take pictures. Here’s a last one, of a beautiful flowering hedge:

And now to bed! Where I am already, in fact, sitting and typing this on my laptop. I just hope the other guests will be quiet enough for this hypersensitive hag to sleep tonight. Keep your fingers crossed for good weather at tomorrow’s shoot!

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It is a truth universally acknowledged… -all right, maybe not, but everybody who knows me, knows that I’m in love with my bow. I adore the sheer sensuality of feeling the living wood in my hands. The other week I got to “meet” the piece of ash which might become my new longbow in time, and I fell in love with that, too. Almost makes me feel like I’m cheating on my current bow, haha! Maybe I’m polyamorous when it comes to bows?

I went to practise at our club’s range in Massbrook Woods today and while I got in a few really good hits, I still lack consistency. I’m working on that! Last year was about being a beginner and getting into the swing of things, this year will be about improving and gaining new experiences, and that includes new field archery courses. I’ve resolved to take part in at least two 3D shoots at other Irish clubs this year, and I’ve also been planning something outrageously adventurous and frankly, rather ridiculous, which I’ve been hinting at on Facebook but never really revealed, and that’s…

…

…

… I’ll travel to Canada for a few days in July and among other things, I’ll take part in a 3D shoot there, too!

There are several reasons why this is such monumental news, the most important of which is that ever since my mum’s stroke and then death in 2009/2010, I haven’t been on a proper holiday, other than visiting lovely friends in Athens for a long weekend in 2012 and a weekend in London – literally one night – last year. So this will be the first purely for shits ‘n’ giggles holiday in eight years, and I’m almost painfully excited in anticipation.

Of course, this means that I’ll have to practise and expand. On Sunday I started exploring other ranges by finally shooting with Sandy and Ali and some others around their house in Clare (this is where the title pic was taken).

Today in Massbrook was the first time in months that the sunshine on my large hagish nose actually felt warm, or at least mild. Spring is definitely on its way! If you’d like to see more of Massbrook, I took two short videos this winter – here’s the first one:

 

And the second:

 

I’m happy to report that my shoulder didn’t hurt at all today! This is particularly brilliant because I did the entire course, all 25 pegs with 1-3 targets each. I’ve been very careful to remember basics such as warming up and stretching before and after shooting. This is part of a newly discovered approach which might make a little sense of my recent forearm tendonitis.

I never wrote about it a lot; suffice it to say that it’s been awful. I’d wanted to do HEMA for years and then finally started in April last year, which made me beyond happy. There are few things which feel better than swinging a sword (two, in fact: traditional archery and dancing), and to have that taken away again, and through my own fault for messing it up… it was very hard for me to deal with. At the same time, I always felt there had to be some lesson in there. In part it is definitely an “Upper Limit” problem (if you don’t know what that is, read Gay Hendricks’s The Big Leap. It’s in my top three non-fictional books of all time).

More recently, I realised that a contributing factor was me overdoing it – a classic case of “too much, too soon” – after the years of inertia and bad health gone before. I’m naturally the most impatient person in the world, but now I’m learning to  v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y  build up my muscles, and stop immediately when it starts hurting again. My plan is to eventually start with the beginner basics again and look mostly at technique, really learn correct technique, and listen to my body every step of the way. So what if it takes me five years to get halfway decent at swordfighting? I’m not in this to win tournaments, I’m in it for the sheer wild bliss of it.

There’s a rather unhealthy approach to physical fitness in our world. One could sum it up as: “Pain is good! Keep pushing!” It’s kinda the ideal, and looked at with admiration, to ruin one’s body and health in the process. Just look at pro athletes, and that goes from ballerinas who completely fuck up their feet, to footballers whose knees go out of service at the age of 40. The weekend before last, I got to talk to the brilliant Keith Farrell, who was teaching a longsword master class at an event organised by my club. Keith is still in his 20s but told me he trains with a view to still being able to do these things decades from now. I had a bit of an aha-moment there when I realised that this is exactly what I want to do!

Some might argue that my tendonitis has to do with my age, but I call BS. I’m fairly certain that I would have run into the same problems if I were 27 instead of 47, if I’d overdone it after being unhealthy and out of shape for years. A friend of mine, Jack, has had problems with his knees for over a year now, from a slight mistake in his footwork, and he’s nearly 15 years younger than I am. It’s lazy to blame it on age, when really it’s the fundamental, underlying approach that’s wrong.

And there, right there, is my lesson from the injury. Upper Limit – which is basically sabotaging oneself from an erroneous belief that life can’t get “too good” – and an unhealthy approach to getting back into shape. Wow. Maybe I should be grateful that I got the injury heads-up early on, when I’m still able to correct my approach and become more aware. Because I, too, intend to dance, shoot, and do swordfighting for many years to come.

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People love stories like the one about my “coming back to life”. After being withdrawn and in a state of at least mild depression for over 5 years, I downsized my life and moved back West. I began to heal, wrote a novel-length story, and finally started to feel the full range of my emotions again. It was an uphill path, with lots of ugliness bubbling up, but also joy and ecstasy and love, so much love. Bathing in sensuality. Physical activity, kinetic energy – sheer bliss.

What’s not so sexy is the fact that life is rarely as straightforward and clean-cut. I wasn’t always in a state of depression over those years (after all I did my Coaching diploma during that time and those weekends of learning and practising were a blessing, full of insight and gentle touch of human souls). And when I came out of it all and started to grow stronger physically and get into shape again, as well as stabilising emotionally, it wasn’t all smooth sailing from there on in, either.

It began with my broken rib in August and got worse when I managed to get tendonitis in my forearms in mid September. I haven’t been able to hold, let alone swing, a sword or other weapon since – nothing heavier than a teacup, in fact. And it’s been eating away at me. I hardly worked out anymore and rarely danced. I didn’t keep in touch with newfound friends or those old friends I’d just re-connected with again. I ate crap that doesn’t do my body good, out of sheer frustration. And I noticed what was happening and tried to pull myself out, but only occasionally was I successful for a day or two.

The breakthrough came on Friday. You see, I’d known all this time that having pain in my forearms wasn’t really a reason not to dance. I also knew that my problems are in no way the end of the world. However, it’s not helpful if you already feel crap about yourself, to also feel like you are really bad at dealing with it. On Friday, I finally realised what the missing piece was: I’ve been feeling like I constantly had a slight cold for a while. I wake up every morning with a stuffy nose, I am exhausted all the time and could sleep nine hours a night (but rarely get more than seven, being in a semi-detached house with neighbours again). I feel bad and just, well, off, and have done since – wait for it – the last week of September. Co-incidence? I think not.

I can’t prove a connection, but I think it’s reasonable to assume that having a constant inflammation in my body – tendonitis – could have something to do with feeling feverish and groggy all the time. I concluded that it might be time to stop beating myself up about it and allow myself the rest I need to heal. I also resolved to finally do something about the tendonitis in a consistent fashion, so today I went to Galway and got a re-usable cold pack (frozen peas or ice cubes are nice, but not if you need an ice pack three times a day), an omega 3 supplement, and a bandage for the time when I’ll slowly start handling a sword again.

More importantly, I started crying and finally truly feeling my helpless desperation about being inactive, with its horrible similarity to the bad years. It hurts, but even that feels wonderful because I’m feeeeeeeeling! Almost instantly, all the bad food cravings and self-loathing fell away and the joy came through once again. I spent the rest of Friday dancing, and yesterday evening I went out despite not getting much sleep again, and ended up having a great time at a fundraiser dance for Haiti. I danced in my socks which felt amazing. All evening, I felt like a sponge soaking up all the wonderful human connection to real people, people who are alive and present. I had deep, funny, meaningful conversations with several people I know and others I’d just met, and hugs aplenty. When I drove home a good hour and a half after I’d meant to, all my senses were tingling, and the feeling hasn’t left me.

So, I’m back. Again. Apologies if it gets boring to read about it; I assure you, there’s nothing boring about repeatedly living it! And I thought, after experiencing how the state of being cut off can sneak up on me, that I’d put together a list of things I need to watch out for.

• Music. I’d all but stopped listening to “high-emotion music” in the past two months, music like early Marillion (probably the most raw, ravishingly emotional music I know).
• Emotion. If I don’t cry, or laugh until my sides hurt, for a week, it’s a warning sign. I really need to remember this one, as it’s probably the most immediately recognisable red flag.
• Sensuality. When I stop savouring vibrant whole foods, sighing with pleasure at the softness of my silly hideous Tesco slippers, or cuddle into my bed practically moaning with delight, there’s something amiss. Yes, I really do these things, all the time, at least when all’s well with me. It’s my “normal”. As is desire and sexuality, dance and movement. A prolonged absence of any of these things, means trouble

There will always be fluctuations, of course, times when I’m more intensely joyful and in love with life and with people, and that’s why it can be hard to recognise symptoms of deeper problems. Hence the list. It’s something I can refer back to in times of need.

For now, I’m deeply grateful that the veil has lifted once again. Life is so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. There are so many things I want to do and create and make happen. I floated through Galway today, getting instant radiant smiles from every last shop assistant and person I met, because I was just oozing with love. I don’t usually like big crowds, but today I purposely immersed myself, which works when I am not in any rush and not staying too long – a couple hours usually do it for me, at least on a pre-Christmas weekend day in the city!

I got the supplies to treat my tendonitis with, I bought a present for a friend who reached out to me over those difficult two months, and I bought myself a beautiful, soft black velvet tunic, just because. Then I drove home crying and laughing and singing along to “Clutching at Straws”.

Overflowing joy? Check. Explosive dancing? Check. Happy, silly, cuddly hag? Check, check, check. All’s well.

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On to what I meant to tell you about. As some of you know, I’ve had a hard time with my budgies this past year and a half. After five years of bliss, with no bird ever sick for even a day, several of them died due to things I had no influence over – tumors, an incurable sickness one of them carried into the flock (it was dormant for years and broke out when he was under stress from losing his mate), old age. I was left with only two birds, one of whom was a young budgie who, as a chick, had had a horrible disease which left him unable to fly. Budgies who survive this disease are left infertile and generally weakened. Laeas’s sister Miko died at six months old, from a horrible tumor on her back.

I never told anyone – I honestly couldn’t deal with explaining it – but about a month ago, Laeas also developed a tumor, on his right wing. I recognised it immediately, and when it started growing, I knew what I had to do. I didn’t want to wait until it caused him pain, and since I don’t believe in surgery on budgies – it’s very risky on such a small organism, just consider that a budgie has about one spoonful of blood in his entire body – I got an appointment at the vet’s on Wednesday morning, who gently put him to sleep. I held him as he fell unconscious.

When he was gone, we had a look at him and found a second tumor under his other wing. The vet just looked at me and said: “You made the right decision.” It’s good to know but I still miss my Laeas so much, and what’s worse is that Tracey was left all alone, she who had known a flock all her life.

I couldn’t face going through it all again, so I asked around for anyone with an aviary or at least two other budgies, who could take my Tracey-girlie. But there is nobody. It convinced me more than ever that a sanctuary for pet birds is truly necessary in this country! I’ll keep looking for a new home for her, but I couldn’t leave her alone all this time, and so today, I went out and got a young male budgie. If I find them a new place, they’ll both go together. This is him in the picture above (and below). Meet Tino!

Isn’t he a cutie? Tracey seems to think so, although he’s a little too in-your-face for her in his youthful enthusiasm, and she has been biting him, but not in a bad way. They are in their separate cages for now (I got a smaller cage for him that I’ll be able to use as a “hospital cage” and for transport in the future) but the doors are open and they’ve been flying through the room together. I think Tino is very good for Tracey, who never flew to the bookshelves or the wardrobe when Laeas was there, because he couldn’t follow her. Now she has an incentive to explore, and to move around more.

Looks like I’m going to have to get my act together and find a place to buy, and start my sanctuary. I’m going to have to get help to do this, because I want to stay mobile and be able to travel without worrying, and I’m going to need funds as well. But all in good time. This dream has been long in the making, and it’ll be another few years yet before it becomes reality.

What’s important now is that Tracey has company again, and both her and my heart will heal. We still miss our unquenchable, cheerful, mad hatter Laeas, but now that we can fall in love with Tino, things will be easier.

More pictures – and videos! – to follow!

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… Halloween.

Before you start throwing things: I think it’s completely fine to enjoy Halloween, and all the dressing up and decorating and whatnot. I’m not one of those people who think something should be banned just because I don’t like it! I know a lot of people, including many pagan friends, who love this time of the year, and I love seeing my friends happy so I’m not going to complain.

What I am going to say is that the way old customs are watered down beyond recognition these days, doesn’t sit well with me. I feel the same discomfort around the way “goddess” seems to have become a general term for femininity and the names of ancient goddesses are thrown around carelessly by just about any unicorn-dust and fairy-wands wielding New Age enthusiast. I like the fact it empowers women, and people in general. I don’t like how most of them are clueless as to what powerful entities they are dealing with, and that magic isn’t just a word or a fun idea.

There is so much more to this. And to get back to the subject of Halloween, it’s essentially the christianised version of the old Samhain, one of the two times of the year when the veil between the worlds is particularly thin (the other being the eve of Bealtaine). We’re talking about a time when having your child stolen by the fairies and replaced by a soulless changeling was a very real fear. People put scary disguises on their kids to fool the fairies.

The transparency of the veil was also used to contact and commune with the dead. It’s a great night to honour our ancestors and to tell our beloved dead what we never got to tell them while they were still alive. It is this association with death which has been adopted by Christianity in the shape of All Hallows (31st October) and All Souls (1st of November). My Catholic mum used to take us to visit the graves of departed family members on the 1st of November, and one of my earliest childhood memories is the sight of a graveyard with “wind lights” (as they are called in German) on every grave, candles in red plastic cups to keep the wind from extinguishing them.

It was a cosy, quiet time, full of contemplation and mystery. Maybe that’s one reason why I dislike the loud, in-yer-face dressing up and partying on Halloween. Don’t get me wrong, I have on occasion participated and enjoyed myself too. Two years ago I dressed up as a pirate for my then workplace and I had fun, but I remember the tons of decorations we pulled down weeks later, most of which were too damaged or worn out to be saved and reused. My costume has been in a box ever since. There is so much unnecessary waste produced and sold in the commercialisation of this holiday, it makes me no less uncomfortable than the overload of plastic Christmas decorations in the shops a few weeks later.

But enough with the grumpy hag now. I have stocked up on conventional chocolate for the trick-or-treaters tomorrow evening, and after that quietens down, I’ll have my Samhain ritual. I’ll be feasting on mead and apple pie, as this is one of two occasions in the year when I eat sugar. Come to think of it, a lot of things happen on Samhain and Bealtaine respectively for me, as they are also the two times of the year when I thoroughly clean my house (I try to keep it reasonably clean at all times, but on these two occasions I do the corners I never usually touch, like the insides of kitchen cupboards and the blinds on the windows).

And I’ll prepare for the “dark weeks”, the time between now and the Winter Solstice when the light returns. That’s probably the main reason why I feel a little gloomy: I look ahead to the cold season and the discomfort I always feel then, and just wish I could fast-forward to spring. Ah well, all things in balance, right? At least I’ll celebrate and make the most of it.

To top it all off, I’ll go up to Massbrook on my day off Tuesday for some archery, complete with lunch at my favourite cafe in Ballinrobe along the way. And whatever you may get up to, I wish you a blessed Samhain!

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