365 Days of Fun and Chillaxation As I Raise My Son and Grow My Good News Website – Blog#16
Tonight I did something that both scared the bejeebees out of me and thrilled my socks off. Tonight, I accepted an invitation to ‘Samhain Rituals, Potluck & Goddess Party’ with a group of friends, here in Golden Bay. The Facebook invitation said:
“This a magical time, when the veil between the seen world of matter and unseen world of Spirit becomes thin and enables us to go beyond the limitations of our rational mind gaining wisdom from within. Samhain is both the end and the beginning of the Celtic New Year. It is a time for meditation, rather than action, welcoming inner stillness, nourishing our Spirit and also to honour our ancestors and embrace our roots.”
So I thought I’d go along and lend my womanly presence to the affair.
At this point I’ve got to tell you that during my youth – I enjoyed BMXing, skateboarding, bush-bashing, fighting, and wearing a swiss army knife twenty-four seven. I even slept with my skateboard (which was tenderly named ‘SuperSkate’). And I had, on occasion, cried at my mother when she tried to make me wear the colour pink.
Although I girlied up a little through my teens, the whole tom-boy thing remained latent within and surfaced fiercely tonight when I was expected to craft a wreath of fronds and flowers. You wouldn’t have thought it would have been a big deal for me. I’d finally embraced make-up (including caramel flavoured lip-gloss). I’d become a tender, loving mother. But a big deal it was. I told them I was frightened. They smiled and carried on with their craft activities.
I sat at the table, in the midst of the busy women, hands a blur with wreath-making, and each time I picked up a branch a feeling of utter helplessness came over me and I gazed at it, lost. It was as if I was calling on a third arm to sprout from my chest. It just felt strange. Eventually I asked my my artist friend Amira for help and she responded to my SOS with the strength and surety of a fully staffed navy ship. She had my wreath happening with the casual flip of the wrist. It formed a perfect oval. And before I knew it, I was happily entwining all manner of red berried, flowers and foliage into my headpiece. Like a pro. I wore it curiously. Checking myself out in reflective surfaces and then, eventually, I forgot I was wearing it all.
We blessed our food and ate. We all paid our respects to the loved ones in our lives who had passed-away. And then it was time for the main ceremony to begin. My nerves resurfaced, and I found myself attempting to engage people in conversations about my website. But no, an expectant circle had formed around the fire. Twenty two women, with two (patient) children, waiting to welcome in the quiet season of winter. Angela explained to us that this season is the natural time to reflect upon what’s been, and contemplate and enjoy stillness. She handed each of us a rose-hip berry and asked us to take a moment to meditate upon a symbol for the healing days of winter.
We sat silent in the dark, each of us closing our eyes and waiting to see what came. I waited for something, expecting to see my guitar (I’d been inspired by the night’s singing to reclaim my music), and I was surprised by the image that flashed through my mind almost immediately. It was my office. It was the place where I write. This winter is my time for reflection, healing and writing. That was my healing mode. I kept checking back in – just in case something a little more symbolic and spiritual wanted to appear. Nothing but the view out my office window. From my desk. I smiled.
I left soon after, having to return home to my wee boy. And here I sit. Beginning a season of healing. Happy Samhain. As a Swiss man once said to me: blessings on your winter.
Today’s rating: 9/10
365 Days of Fun and Chillaxation (as I raise my gorgeous son and grow my good news website to a subscription base of 100,000 people). The Low Down on this Blog.
Check out yesterday’s blog.