Today is my Sabbath, and it's also the doorway to the dark half of the Celtic year, the opening of a new cycle. Blótmónað is the word for November in Old English; it means Sacrifice Month, but the sacrifice is joyful, as Persephone goes peacefully down to the underworld every year. Peace is the fruit of total acceptance. In November I see the circle of life in all its full roundness - as it blossomed in spring and as it dies in fall. November is colder and wetter, drawing me deeper towards winter. This is a month when I celebrate the final fruits of summer’s work, and remember to express my gratitude.
The early Gaels believed that the border between this world and the otherworld became thin at this time of year, and so spirits of the dead could visit the living.
This is the time of year to welcome home the souls of your ancestors. But I definitely feel some angst regarding my relatives who moved here to the "New World" to take it away from the Native Peoples, and who bought into the false American Dream, built on the subjugation and decimation of so many other living beings.
It has become my custom at this time of year to open my heart to healing the soul connection between me and my ancestors.
Agenda:
1. Unity Art for souls
2. Make Soul Cakes
3. Throw the runes
4. Have a soul ceremony
5. Offer ongoing support for my ancestors