The energy seems to have shifted this morning as the overcast clouds obscure the late October sunrise in my corner of the world. I can feel and smell the promise of rain as the autumn chill nips at my skin and the dampness sinks into my bones. The golden yellows and fiery reds of the turning leaves are even more striking this year as the last great gasps of the lush green clings to life for as long as it can. But the distinct sweet smell of decay mixing with the clean scent of pine tells me, that the tides of life to death are quickly changing and there is nothing we can do about it. The time has come for the change of seasons and the final harvest is almost here.
Each season has its own energy and beauty. From the vulnerable new beginnings of spring, we burst into life and our power through summer. Autumn helps us to draw in our life-force while we reflect on what is working for us and what is not. And as we prepare for the coming winter, we open ourselves up once again to experience our vulnerability. As October fades into November, we can feel the slipping away of what we see and understand in order to enter the realm of the liminal. Shedding our skins and questioning our patterns, we walk the changing tide of light to dark, life to death. We are exposed in ways that are uncomfortable for us as we willingly open our heart to those darker, shadowy aspects of ourselves. It is in those spaces where we will be able to retrace our steps and seek out what we are longing for. It is our duty as protectors of our heart to release what does not serve us and care for our very personal and very tender wounds. For the last harvest is quickly approaching and it is our duty to prepare.
The grey sky above filters all sunlight, creating an otherworldly glow that breathes and moves within the autumn colors. It slows me down. It asks me to pause and reflect as I explore this energy and its play of light on my human senses. What am I releasing this autumn? What am I shedding? What vulnerabilities am I opening myself up to? What do I want to cut from my life that keeps me bound to a dream, expectation, or belief that has died long ago?
As my breath slows, there is something that approaches. It watches along the edges of life. It awaits in the trees and hedges. It observes within the shadows, searching for its prey. It is there, in the silvery fog that creeps across the silent landscape. Specters appear and disappear to only reform again, shifting in the shades of grey light and fog. However, this living mist has another agenda entirely. It has come to life to collect the discarded, the abandoned, and the used husks we shed, along with the other trappings humans may find themselves in. I implore you, remember that we are entering the liminal, the in between time of full life and death where we wait for rebirth searching for understanding and truth within all possibilities. Samhain is upon us. The time when the veil between the worlds grows thin. The time of growing darkness. The time of the growing cold. This is when the Great God dies, leaving us to prepare for his upcoming birth at Yule. We too, experience this cycle. We shed our skins, the pieces of us that are no longer thriving and the ghosts of our dreams that died long, long ago. However, we must not follow the silvery fog into the outside, unknown depths as it collects the discarded for the Under World. We must not forget that we are here, in this time and place to remember and seek out the light, our light. For it is our light that has no beginning and no end and we must remember to carry it forward into the long, dark night. We too, are the hunters and the hunted. We are the specters in the mist and what is sought. Seek within you what no longer serves you. Prepare to listen, explore, and walk within the silence of the time before rebirth. For the time of the final harvest is upon us and reflection, listening to our heart, and exploring our soul is how we prepare for the inner balance we seek through the rebirth of light at Yule.
Be well today and take care of your tender parts as we move through the changing tides of light to dark.
Renee Bedard ~ The Whispering Crow
The Whispering Crow 