Samhain is a perfect time to look back on the year and see what we might want to change about ourselves for the coming new year. It is a time to lay to rest any unresolved negative energy or ugly behaviors. It is a time to release and replace these behaviors.
This is a simple ritual that I have been practicing for years, one that a dear friend/sister shared with me during one of our celebrations.
For this ritual you will simply need a piece of parchment paper or a blank card and dragon's blood ink or a pen. You will need to clear your space and meditate or focus on the things you want to release from this past year as well as what you would like to replace them with.
What I mean is, it is not meant to be a new year's "resolution" such as "I promise to lose 15 pounds" as much as it is meant to be bettering who you are "I want to be healthier for my mind and body. I will work on identifying why I choose unhealthy food and work on making better choices." Ask Rita's for the will power to succeed in releasing bad habits and replacing them with good ones.
It is a very informal ritual, meaning you are writing to you from you seeking the strength of yourself and a higher power to succeed.
At the end of your letter, save room to write what you are thankful for this past year, this embodies your "harvesting" ritual for Samhain. Thank the powers that be for their role in your life and then seal your letter. You may fold it up and seal it with wax or simply put it in an envelope and seal it shut. Run it through the smoke of your cauldron fire, bon fire, or incense and then place it on your altar.
You may keep it there to charge all year or may place it into your ritual journal until next Samhain at which time you will read your letter and gain insight on how far you have come. Once you are finished you will burn it in your Samhain fire and begin a new one.
I am a believer.I have seen them and by “them” I mean ghosts or spirits.
By definition a ghost has been defined as the disembodied spirit or soul of a deceased person or an apparition of a person. They are often described as transparent and usually haunt locations or people that they were associated with in life or at time of death.
People also report feeling a chill in the air when a ghost is about or strange noises and happenings. So here are a few chilling stories of mine, some I believe are passed loved ones, a couple I am not sure how to explain other than I just “know.” There are many small happenings, but these are the best and the biggest, if you will, of what I have experienced.
People think this was “Poppy”
Living in Chicago on Fremont with my roommate Dave. It was about 4am and I finally decided to go to sleep. I turned the lights off and layed down on my tummy to sleep. At 4:13am I got a chill and thought I would pull up my blankets only when I opened my eyes I was already covered and in an instant was “paralyzed.”
Sitting on my bed next to me was a man. He had one leg on the bed, the other on the floor and was sitting sideways, not actually looking at me. He had dark hair, was wearing dark pants, a white t-shirt and old 50’s styled rimmed glasses. I could see him, but I could see right through him to the clock and watched it for four minutes in terror. I was so scared and remembered thinking “if I could scream, Dave would come in and this would stop…” but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move or scream. Finally at 4:17 I was able to gasp which and move. I jumped up and turned the lights on trembling. He wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting, almost watching over me. When I look back on it now I wish I wouldn’t have reacted in fright. But I was taken by surprise.
When I described the person to my mom she swore it sounded like her father. I don’t know, and I actually asked that spirit to come back, but he didn’t…I think he returned to me once in a less “startling” way.
I think this was a hello from “Poppy” This is a little different and you may think I am insane as this story is about a spirit talking to me in the “flesh.” What I mean is it was an actual person, a spirit carrier I like to call them – I do think that sometimes they visit you in this strange way, you know “borrowing a vehicle,” just to let you know they are there, kind of watching over you if you will.
Sitting at Santa Monica Beach at sunset on the cement boardwalk bench waiting for my friend Jodee’s friend Rachel to return to us and I got approached by this man. Actually not so much approached as he just was all of the sudden kind of sitting next to me.
He was a friendly looking man, maybe in his mid 40’s with an accent…possibly Brittish? He caught my eye and said to me “Do you live around here?” and I said “No.” Then he said “Do you live here?” and I said “Yes.” He then said “It’s quite beautiful here.” I said nothing, sort of smiled (yes, being a city girl I can be not that friendly to strangers).
He then said “Have you seen this Sunset before?” and I said “This particular Sunset?” He said “Yes.” Of course I said “No, I have never seen THIS sunset before!” He said “I think I have in a dream.” I said “You’ve seen this exact sunset before in a dream?” he said “Yes.”
Then he leaned over and handed me a piece of paper that had a Crayola rubbing on it. You know like when you take a leaf, put a paper over it and rub crayon so the leaf becomes transparent on the paper. Yes. He handed me this paper, small and torn on the edges and said “I made this for you.” Feeling weird, I took it and said “Thank you.” (there it is)
He then walked away straight down to the ocean where he “disappeared” into that sunset. I remember Jodee and I watching him go…it was strange.
The other weird thing was that when I turned the paper over it had a Xerox copy of a matchbook from a bar in Hollywood. I carried this piece of paper with me for a long time, and put it in my ritual journal. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away as I just felt it was someone saying hello. Very strange.
I can't explain why I think it was my grandfather other than it was a "feeling."
Gramma Hilda, was this you? Another story of a spirit carrier.
I was walking around my neighborhood, it was a beautiful day, collecting earth things....sticks, pine cones, these little things that have five pointed stars in them and I don't know what they are...anyway, you see I was just wondering about enjoying the day.I walked up to this mission that has a public garden in front of it.
People can rent a space and just grow their own fruit and veggies and come and tend to them whenever they please. As I was walking out of the mission a little old woman came out of the garden a few steps behind me. She had a paper grocery bag she was carrying and a small plastic bag.
I continued on my random walk only to notice after a block or two that she was following me, about 10 or 15 feet behind. I wondered if I imagined it so I purposely started walking in directions that made no sense at all.
She was.
Every time I turned to check she was there. It was weird. This went on for about 25 minutes and I finally decided to head home.When I got down to Hollywood Blvd I had to pause for the light to change before crossing, this is where she caught up with me.
She looked at me and smiled. She reached into her bag and handed me a head of broccoli. She said "this is for you." Strangely I took it and said "thank you." She reached into her bag again and pulled out one piece of lettuce and said "this is for you too." Again I took it and said "thank you." She reached in one more time and pulled out a sprig of parsley and said "this is for you." The light changed, I took it and said thank you and crossed the street. As we got to the other side she turned to me and smiled and said "good luck to you."
And within one block I couldn't see where she went. It was such a strange encounter, yet a warm encounter that I froze the broccoli and ate it on Beltane the following year...not sure why. I also ate the lettuce and parsley, and dried a sprig of the parsley - I had to (above).
Again just a feeling it was my gramma.
Dark Spirits, Troubled Spirits
My husband, boyfriend at the time. Lived in this gorgeous old building on Whitley Avenue in Hollywood. Many of "stars" shared a home here back in the day and from what we know there must have been one great tragedy.
My husband told me many stories of strange happenings that would come from his apartment, most of which happened when his ex was there, so I have to say I was a bit skeptical of her stories as she was a little crazy, but then...We were laying in his bedroom, on the bed talking. Actually laying across the bed sideways just sharing stories, something we did often when we first started dating. We decided to turn the lights out and continue talking.
About 3 minutes after we did his closet door started to rattle and bang loudly as if someone was locked inside trying their hardest to get out...then all of the sudden it stopped and 30 seconds later across the room his bedroom door started to do the same exact thing. It was terrifying, and the first time I have ever experienced a spirit "with" someone.
Needless to say he jumped up and turned the lights on and we just kind of looked at each other like "WTF?" Silence and then of course aweee.
We just experienced a very troubled spirit trying to "get out." It was overwhelming and frightening because the energy of this spirit is very heavy.
It coincided with the many stories of mystery phone calls, even to 911. Foul smells in closets, doors popping open (this happened while I was making dinner one night - the cabinets would just fly open) and footsteps and door knocks when no one else is there. We never felt in fear of ourselves but more so fear for this spirit.
The room in my parents basement.
The room in my parents basement used to be called "the dance room." It was an extra room that my dad had put a jukebox in, mirrors on the wall and a ballet bar up. When I was little my girlfriends and I would hang out there for hours dancing in my mom's old "Sabre Room" costumes, yes she was a dancer - kind of Las Vegas showgirl style.
But once we were grown and moved out of the house it became the "halfway" room when we need to come home in between moves. So I moved out, and then moved back in before I moved out again.
One night while I was sleeping I woke up feeling uneasy, only to find a dark figure standing over me. It was scary, because it was the kind of apparition society shows you that is "death." You know a dark figure draped in black but you can't see the face. Yep. That was him. It made my heart pound, it happened three nights in a row. Once right over me, once at the foot of my bed and once in the door.
Now this apparition would go away with an open and close of my eyes, so I never shared this story as I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not.I moved.
My sister and her husband moved in, there turn to transit in the "dance room." Low and behold I get a phone call from my sister who has to "tell me a story." She starts to talk and that's when my body shivers, goose bumps everywhere. Yes, you guessed it, same figure, same story, same everything. I freaked and told her my story. I knew at that moment it was real.
We never could figure out "who" or "why" but "he" was definitely there.
Dream Visits
I have had many of these, a lot of them people saying good bye. I couldn't begin to blog each and every one, so I will just blog my most recent.
Three days ago. Nepa, for the first time came to me in my dream.
He was sleeping above my head on our bed (which he used to do all the time) and when I lifted my head to see him he crossed his paws and put his head down all snuggly. I remember thinking to myself "he's here," and I know he was.
For the first time since his death he came to say hello.
It is so comforting these dreams, and so much more than a dream. Believe it, if you have ever woken up from a dream you will "know" if it was a visit or just your subconscious working overtime.
Some people are born with the blessing of 4 grandparents and if they are lucky enough even great grandparents. I was born with one great grandmother, her name was Mary, one living biological grandmother Bonnie, and one grandfather by marriage Paul. This includes Mom and Dad's side.My Mom's Dad died before I was born and my Dad's Mom died before I was born. It seems that these two souls, although I never knew them have taken on different roles in my life of guarding me and even just letting me know I will be okay. Hard to explain, but I will try in "Part Three - Spirit Stories."
Okay. So. Great Gramma Mary.
The one thing I remember about my great gramma Mary was that she used to give us Pringles in a can with $5 under the plastic part of the lid. This was a BIG treat when we were little and probably one of my earliest memories as she died when I was 5. My second memory of her and also one of my earliest memories was her wake. I wondered what happened to her legs (since they were covered by the little curtain in the casket) and kept going up to her casket and lifting the curtain to make sure they were there. (Eventually my Mom slapped me which she will deny to this day, haha.)
I have never felt her presence, but my Mom, my Sister and my Aunt have strongly on many different occasions. My grandmother even said she smelled roses on the night she died, which my great grandmother used to have all around her house. She said when she smelled them, she "knew."
On Samhain, I get pringles and I eat them. They may not have been her favorite food, but they are the one memory I have of her.
"Poppy" ~ My Mom's Dad. All I know of my grandfather, all I have ever heard of my grandfather was that he was a wonderful, loving man who was the life of the party, loved to dance and loved film. This is a complicated one because there is a little mystery around his death. He was found in Lake Michigan after being missing. People say he was depressed, and his death was ruled an accident, although my family is convinced he committed suicide but somewhere in my heart I am just not convinced, I may be the only one.I do know this.
I am drawn to him. His story, his pictures and his spirit. He has visited me, twice that I know of...(spirit stories coming in Part Three).
On Samhain I bring pizza and fried chicken to the table for him and a few other deceased relatives, I got so many I had to combo their favorites ;)
*10-26-09
My Mother just told me this wonderful story after reading my blog. See when you bring out the spirit of those you love who have passed...there love and memory gets spread around. My mom wanted me to know this story of her father to pass down to my children...I say with pleasure.
He hated the overwhelming smell of flowers since he was seven years old. That was when his mother died at age 30. She was waked in the home they lived in. That smell always brought back the death of his mother and the great loss he felt. That is why he always joked and said ,"when I die don't send me any DAMN flowers, all I want is a BIG FAT CHOCALATE CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!! Everyone had heard him say that one time or another.
The day he died , I talked to Katie and she said to me, Carol remember him and his chocolate cake wish. I said of course. Then and there I was determined to do it, no matter what people thought.
So Aunt Cathy's mom had the cake made at the bakery she worked at.. This was placed at the foot of my dad's casket (on a plant stand), with an index card holding the quote from him. On the day of the funeral, we had the directors put the cake into the coffin with him.
*So on this Samhain I will actually be eating chocolate cake in honor of my grandfather. I mean 5 days before Samhain I find this out, I think that's what he is in the mood for!
Gramma Hilda - My Dad's Mom If you have paid attention to Rita's or shopped through my Etsy, you probably already know all about my Gramma Hilda. But if you are slow (ha,ha) I will give you a recap. Along with my grandpa Poppy, I have never heard one bad thing about my gramma Hilda. I only know of her strength and love...from everyone. She raised 4 of her old children and a foster son while enduring an abusive relationship with my father's father.
She was also a witch. My Dad hate's talking about religion because he thinks it's "taboo" and neglected to tell me the stories of my grandmother's "rituals" and "tarot readings" until years after I was practicing. When I found out I almost fell off the chair. My Dad just casually said to me one day "did I ever tell you about...." Um NO.
Needless to say from that day forward I felt a strong connection to her, and I know that she too has visited me at least once. But I also know that she is with me all the time, and I feel proud to have found a way to honor her through Hilda's House Juju Products and spread her love. I only wish I could have met her just once before she died.
She was an expert at throwing together whatever she had in the cabinet, my Dad calls it "goolash" so on Samhain I just throw a little something extra together on the table for her.
Grandpa Paul
He was my "granpda" since I was born. He married my Grandma (Mom's side) shortly after my grandfather's death. He was the only grandpa I knew. He was quite a character and although he could be difficult and moody he had a good heart.
What I can say about my grandpa is that he was one of my biggest "cheerleaders." Anytime or everytime I talked to him he alsways made a point of saying "I am so proud of you," or "you guys are gunna make it," or "you are so talented." He loved making waffles, he was a herbalist obsessed with natural medicines and he loved my gramma. Until the day he died he called her "his beautiful bride," one of the most endearing sentiments I will always remember.
He fought a good fight at the end of his life and when he passed we spead his ashes over "Superstion Mountain" per his wishes...I still have a tablespoon of his ashes I keep in the west window of my altar. I guess I feel like I still can hear his support by having him so close.He ate like shit. He loved all food. Really.
So Pizza and fried chicken do him just fine on Samhain.
Relatives.
I have dealt with a lot of death in my life. In some weird way I guess maybe that is why I am not afraid of it. My family is actually fairly small compared to most, and maybe that is because we lost a lot of love early on in life. Unlce Mart
He loved me. He loved little' girls because he had all boys, 4 of them. I remember this because he would get mad at me if I did not go and give him a kiss and a hug at family functions. He actually got mad at me once for ignoring him. He loved trains. He also loved burnt chocolate chip cookies.
Guess what he gets on Samhain? Yup. Aunt Eleanor
I loved her. She was so fragile and delicate and loved sitting in her really small kitchen. She also loved beer. I don't think a day went by that I did not see her with a beer. The last memory I have of her was hugging her goodbye in her house, she was very sick and her bracelet went all the way up to her shoulder. Her death really got to me when I was young, and I remember feeling her around for a bit.
Aunty Elle, Beer.
They had two sons die before them, my cousins, Bob and Roger. I really do not remember anything from them but Roger's funeral. He played the drums. I remember the carnations in the drum wreath that was thrown onto his casket. Months after his death his wife Debbie died in a car accident. They left three small children behind. Years later one of Roger's sons would die from inhaling scotch guard. It is a sad story of cousins I never got to know.
Uncle Larry - My Mom's Brother
Oh Uncle Larry. Uncle Larry was probably the kindest most gently soul ever. Uncle Larry loved people. It's true. he loved to talk to you about anything and everything he would read or watch on TV. He was a history buff, a Discovery Channel junkie, animal lover and the guy you definitely wanted on your team in a game of trivial pursuit.
BUT if you got Uncle Larry mad, you knew it. But he wouldn't get vengeful, he would just get to the point. Like one time there was some frustration over potato chips, you know typical family BS "so, and so doesn't bring enough, or ask to bring, or blah blah blah." and they way he would deal with it is to bring you enough chips to last a life time, you catch my drift?
He was awesome in that way to.He was a big kid, so he was a lot of fun. He would take me and my friend to the zoo, sit on the roof and watch fireworks with me, look the "other way" when he would babysit me as a teenager, go fishing etc. He had tatoos. First one in the family and the cousins, mom and I followed in his footsteps.He struggled with diabetes but ultimately died of a heart attack, alone. It was very sad and devastating to the family.
We could all learn a lot from Uncle Larry and most of us did, his is a spirit that was strong and is strong in his after life.
Again he visits my sister I think the most and then maybe my mom. (more spirit happenings from him in Part Three too!)Forever I bring chips in his honor, he gets it, we get it, it is now tradition on many different levels.
Uncle Blaine - Poppy's Brother Uncle Blaine, my grandpa Poppy's brother. This was definitely a spirit bond. You see my family really didn't talk much of my grandfather unless asked, sometimes probed, mostly I think because it was just too painful of a subject. Over many years I have gathered information because I felt so drawn to him. I also thought it odd that he had a brother and a sister that pretty much disappeared after he died, more or less for no reason. My Mom I think kept in touch here and there throughout the years but not on a regular basis. Then one day I got a bug up my ass. I got my Uncle Blaine's address from my Mom and wrote him a long letter. I explained who I was, how we were related and that I was seeking more knowledge of my grandfather, Fenton, his brother. I really had no expectation of anything, which is probably why what happened next was so wonderful.
I received a hand written, 6 page letter complete with 7 photographs of my Uncle and my grandfather back in the mail. I was like a kid on Christmas morning when I opened my mailbox. This was the beginning of a pen pal relationship that turned into a Sunday afternoon phone call each week. He would talk to me for at least an hour each time I called, and through him I was able to feel my grandfather and know who he might of been if he was still alive.
The relationship I formed with my Uncle was such a gift, one that I will treasure forever. He was saavy, clever, sarcastic, intelligent and kind hearted. Willing to share heart, home and family history with me honestly and openly.
I feel compelled to start here, which makes me feel he is around. He is not the first to pass through my life, nor the last, but his presence and death was a profound one on many different levels.
Mark. Mark. Mark. Mark was a smart ass, a prankster, and sometimes a total asshole. (He is laughing at me right now). But it's true. I first met Mark at Neo nightclub in Chicago, many of us did. He was one of the infamous "door guys" there or "security" if you will. He flirted, we flirted, everyone flirted with Mark. He drank, we drank, everyone drank with Mark. He was THAT guy, I think pretty much everyone loved that asshole, even the guys.
I think I met Mark somewhere around 1992. At first he was just the door guy I would flirt with to get into Neo for free. I would buy him the occasional drink, he would handcuff me to the bar, you know the usual, he hated us "goths." I moved away for a couple of years and came back and he was still there. This time more than just security but "assitant manager" and gave me my first job there "telemarketing." Oh yes.
Working there of course we grew closer. We would go to breakfast at 4 and 5am to the Golden Spoon down the street from Neo (or Golden Coin? Cup? help me here people?), whatever, we would eat, talk, laugh, sober up...it was our ritual for awhile. Then I began waittressing. This is where Mark became my great protector and brother. Any guy grabbing my ass, stiffing me, harrassing me, or fucking with me would meet an untimely beat down that usually consisted of being walked out in a choke hold "accidentally" hitting several posts or walls along the way. Yes, this was what Mark did. He was my "hero" on many occasions. Then I began bartending, yes along side this asshole. (I say asshole in THE most loving way, those of you who knew him, hear my tone). This is where I got to know the "prankster" Mark. Would you like a shot of Rumple with a "coke" back? Sure only the coke would be Jager. Would it be the busiest night ever and my cash register drawer won't open? Of course because there was a matchbook stuck in it, thanks Mark. Does the first sip you take of your drink taste like tabasco? Yup, Mark. Is your straw tied shut? Duh, Mark. Is the bar on fire? It better be, Mark. The list is endless, as were the laughs and the punches.
Mark was the only person who could break his foot twice, really doing nothing, and have the cast on for what seemed to be 6 months at a time. For a short time I also lived across the street from Mark. Who had to make sure to sabotage my walk way in some how at 5am, or bang the door down to have someone take a picture of him and his dog with Barney who he randomly found walking down the street. This was Mark. Who Mark was to me, my Mark. My brother. I am not going to go into details of this next part. Those of you who read this and knew Mark know what happened next. For those of you who don't I will simply say that at the young age of 26 his life ended.I will say this on the night before he died, I was mad at him and he knew it, but before he left he said "come on, I don't even get a hug?" And I gave in and hugged him...to this I say "Thank you Mark. Thank you for making me hug you and letting THAT be the last thing I did the last time I saw your face. I love you."
Mark's spirit was so strong after his passing. I mean the pranks started up within days of him being gone and my soul keeper and friend, Margot, and I would share our "ghost" stories of him many a nights after the bar closed or even experience "things" as we worked. We felt him strong. I felt him strong, in places like the ladies room where I know he would watch me pee (yes, it's true) or on a certain street I would bust out crying and say "Hi, Mark..." and continue to talk to him - only to find out once upon a time he lived on that exact street. He was there.
On Samhain I toast him with a Guiness or a Rumple shot, as those were his favorites, and one Samhain in particular I know he came for a visit. As I layed in my tub getting ready I started taking to him - for me I feel the souls who have passed are there when out of the blue you feel the need to tell them something. After I got out and walked through my house I noticed my front door was open, which was odd as I had just locked it right before I drew my bath. It's true. Right then, I knew then he was there.
For several years now I have not felt him around and on Samhain his candle has burned fast and furious - a tribute to his life, part of me thinks he may have finally moved on, or at least onto watch over someone else.
But today as I write this I feel him here. Even if it is just in my head for the moment, I smile fighting a tear.
Call it what you will, but come October 30th thru November 2nd the celebration of the dead and a new year begins. I can already feel the presence of spirits wandering about as they are popping into my head and around here and there in strange ways.
I have decided that I am going to honor them in more ways than one this year, and since I have already told you about my precious Nepa Kitty, now I will tell you stories of the other souls who have passed. Hopefully even inspire you to honor the dead souls who have passed in your life and share their memories with others too.
Okay to back track for a minute I will give you a quick low-down on the holiday(s).
Samhain means "Summer's End" - old skool it was a festival to mark the end of the season dedicated to the final harvest and the dead. It is when the "dark half" of the year begins a "new year" in celt tradition. It is a time when the boundaries between the world of the living and the world of the dead become thinner, allowing spirits and other supernatural entities to pass between the worlds to socialize with humans. It is the time of the year when ancestors and other departed souls are especially honored.
Samhain in particular is a time when offerings, sometimes elaborate, are made to the spirits. Day of the Dead altars are one example of these elaborate offerings. I often make my beloved deads favorite foods, one of my favorite traditions, and eat it, being sure to leave an offering plate out in the night for them. Other traditions are to set a place for them at the table, sing traditional songs, recite poetry and perform dances to entertain them. A door or window may be opened to the west and the beloved dead specifically invited to attend. Many leave a candle or other light burning in a western window to guide the dead home.
Divination (scrying, tarot readings etc.) for the coming year is often done or you may even be inclined to commune with the deceased. Since it is a time when the veil between the material and spiritual worlds is thin it is a time to gain insights about our past and future.
So this will be the begining of several long posts about the souls that have passed through me in this lifetime. Some guard me, some pop in and check on me, some have moved on and some I just long to feel as I miss them terribly.
what you would like to replace them with.
