Halloween is here and I wasn't going to write about it!
Much like my old friend Lou, a wonderful labradog (labrador and unidentified other breed to you) who used to howl all through Halloween, I am not a great fan of Halloween.
I don't like dressing up in costumes.
I worry about children roaming the streets and being unsafe.
And I deeply dislike the commercial aspect of the day.
But this year, I decided to explore the spirituality behind this festival.
In Irish, Samhain (pro. Sow-en) means summer's end.
Samhain marked the bringing in of all the fruits of summer and the creation of the winter store.
It also marked the time when the long days of light ended and the dark came in.
The old people believed that the veil between this world and the next became thin.
Samhain was a time when intuition was sharp and dreams and premonitions were more common.
Samhain was also a time to honour the dead, those we love who are significant in our lives.
You are welcome to join me, either silently or in the comments box below, as I honour some of the significant people in my life.
I remember my small granny and all the love she gave me which is woven in every fibre of my being.
I remember Declan, my friend, who protected me from a bully and made me laugh.
I remember my brother Michael who was forbidden a Christian burial.
I remember my daughter Hannah, who brought so much love into my life.
I remember my friends George and Kernochan who walked beside me for more than twenty years.
I remember the young man I was privileged to hold as he was dying from AIDS.
I see your faces.
I hear your voices.
My life is made rich by you.
An afternoon among the women poem
Growing up in a white world
When people say genealogy is boring
Anger and Truth
Where do you come from?
The House on an Irish Hillside book review
Mammies for Mariage Equality
Aw go on, say YES
Homeless in Ireland
When wide sky opens poem
I love my work
Celtic New Year
This small house
Rhythm & Rest poem
The Hidden Self
The Lonely Road
Kerry Pride 2013
Letting the Light in after Loss
Letting go is hard
Pick up the phone
Her name was not Magdalene
Do what you love doing!
My small granny
Praise the child and boil the dishcloths
My invisible brother Michael
I don't want to be Irish anymore
Alone on Valentine's Day
I love my country but I am not blind
Truth no. 2
How we tell the Truth
From Clare to here
Mother's Day is bittersweet
I will not be part of that
No Blacks No Dogs No Irish
Thank you for the days
Baby Marion Howe
My Irish Identity
When my Mam was dying
Violence against women
Take back your power
Draw the line
My small granny and other stories