October musings

I almost didn't write this post. The ideas contained in it are a part of that very deepest part of myself - the ones I don't usually share because I'm afraid people will run away screaming (or, at the very least, brand me a heretic.)

Every October, I become a little bit pagan.

Come again? I thought you were a Christian. Well, I am. I think it has something to do with my heritage and the fact that I've always felt somewhat displaced in my time. Many people who've met me have referred to me as an "old soul". I've read all kinds of stuff about genetic memory and such. Whatever the reason, I think it's that this time of year - October, fall, Halloween - speaks to that part of my heritage which I rarely think about on a conscious level.

My dad was Welsh, born in Wales and emigrated to America when he was 4 years old. I'm 1/4 Scottish on my mom's side. Both the Welsh and the Scots are Celtic peoples. And the Celts had a different, more mystical and magical way of looking at the world. Even the ones who were Christians.

American Christians may celebrate or pointedly ignore the celebration of Halloween. Regardless of which they choose, they are not really celebrating or ignoring the real festival. The real festival was All Hallow's Eve - originally a festival of remembrance for the dead, the end of the old year and the harvest, and the beginning of the new year and winter. It was part of the festival of Samhain (pronounces Sow' en) - one of the 4 great festivals of the Celtic year. the Celts believed that Samhain, and All Hallow's Eve in particular, were a time when the veil between the living and the dead, the "real" world and the world of the spirits - was thin.

I suppose it could all be in my imagination, but you know what? I believe there may be some truth to it. That there is something truly significant about this time of year - that it should be a time of reverence and remembrance. Perhaps it's no coincidence that fall is also the culmination of the Jewish year - the Feast of Tabernacles, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (Jewish New Year and Day of Atonement). Maybe it's just me, but I've always felt like fall was the start of the new year, not January.

Anyway, I've been feeling the pull of this season even more since my dad died 3 years ago. A very deep part of me *wants* there to be a time when we all remember our loved ones who have gone on before us. Yes, I know the church has All Saints Day, but even there they lean more towards remembering the "official" saints. Of course, it doesn't help that my dad's birthday was in October, and my mom's still is. But it feels like more than just missing him because we would have celebrated his birthday. A very deep part of me (that refuses to be squelched or ignored any longer) feels like it would be perfectly appropriate to build a big bonfire and dance around it under the stars, thanking God for a good year, saying prayers for the year ahead, remembering my loved ones and praying for protection from evil spirits.

Call me crazy, but every October since my dad passed away, I feel his presence near in a way that doesn't happen at any other time. I feel a need to mark the time of All Hallow's Eve, not just with dressing up my kids for trick-or-treating, but to mark it as a day of remembrance for my loved ones gone on before. And at this time of year only, I feel that gossamer thread that connects me to the many generations before me - I feel it, like a living breathing entity. And I wonder about their lives. Were they noblemen or peasants, farmers or tradesmen, rich or poor, pagan or Christian, Druid or priest?

And I dig out all my Celtic music to listen to at this time of year. I like it at any time, but in October when I listen to it I feel that connection with my ancestors. Though they had no iPods, no electric instruments, no synthesizers - but only whatever instruments could be made by hand (mostly stringed instruments and drums) they would have marked this time of the year with songs and dances. I turn the music up, and the drumbeat echoes through my heart, it pounds in my blood, and my feet take up the steps as though guided by an ancient knowledge.

I dance for joy in thanks to God, I dance to remember those who have gone before.

I want to dance under the stars.