If you’re new to the idea of celebrating Samhain, in the sense of honouring our ancestresses in a gentle, holistic way, rather than buying into the ghoulish commercial hype of fear-based Halloween, why not incorporate these simple ideas.
My favourite way is simply to take a walk in Nature. Here, all around us, is the story of birth, life, death. Nature returns unto herself. The leaves will once again become part of the soil from which they first originated as a tiny seed sprouting.
Breathe in the crisp, cool air. Smell woodsmoke. Listen to the sounds as your feet walk upon the leaves. What can you hear? How do you feel?
A Samhain Altar is a beautiful way to adorn your home with gifts from Nature. There are the obvious things like pumpkins, apples and corn, but you can also add acorns, plump rosehips and other gifts from your walk.
You could make a wreath for hanging over the hearth or at your front door.
Use plant-based or beeswax candles to bring light to the dark nights.
Collect photographs, memorabilia and heirlooms from your ancestors and ancestresses. You might like to include fresh rosemary stems to symbolise ‘remembrance’. I collect fresh rosemary from the garden, but also sprinkle the altar with essential oil of rosemary.
Light candles.
Stand with reverence before your ancestors. Say their names out loud. Express gratitude for their part in your life. The veil is thin at this time of the year. Stop and listen to the messages of loved ones who have passed over, whether or not you know their names.
When creating your dinner, leave a place for them.
This is the end of the earth-based year. Give thanks for all that has gone before. When reflecting on the past 12 months, what can you take from it as you move forward?
Declutter and let go of what you no longer need from your home. Release. Learn from Mother Nature. Let go. Start afresh. This is the time of transformation. Embrace it.
Create a phoenix ceremony. If you have space outdoors, create a bonfire or small fire in a fire pit/cauldron. Write down anything negative that you wish to leave your life. Throw this in the fire and see it being released. Let go. Move forward.
I love this time of the year for divination, and gather around me my many different divination cards as I seek guidance and affirmation for the months ahead.
The only way to counteract all the negativity brought into the world by false stereotypes around Halloween, is to be more visible in your expression of earth-based spirituality.
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2015-10-31 11:56:532015-10-31 11:56:53Samhain for the Soul
The stiff, British upper lip, and that need to be ‘dignified’ during a funeral, may, at last, slowly be giving way to authentic grief. Unexpressed tears become acidic in the organs, and are of no benefit to anyone. Funerals, when done with a personal touch, offer a way to bring family and friends together to share in mourning that is honest and uninhibited.
Template, cookie-cutter style funerals are, bit by bit, becoming a thing of the past as people start to realise that they can create a ceremony which honours their loved one and their beliefs in a way that is true to them. Most funerals last for about 20-30 minutes. It’s no time at all to sum up a person’s life, let alone celebrate it, and yet, in many cases due to the choice of venue, this is what we must do.
Bringing personal, heart-felt ritual to a ceremony is vital if we intend to support the healing side of grief.
A funeral/memorial is a major part of acknowledging that a loved one has died. Gathering with others, we face our grief. A funeral somehow makes the death ‘more real’.
That moment, always so painful, when the curtain closes or the coffin is lowered, confirms what we have been experiencing. Our loved one is gone.
Authentic grief is when mind, body and soul align to understand that our life has changed, and our loved one is no longer here (at least in the sense we understand it, physically).
When we are participants and witnesses in a personalised funeral, we are given space to focus on the loss and start the process of living with the change.
Grieving is a time in which we have to adjust to the change of status, in terms of the relationship we once had with the deceased, to living with memories. One of the beautiful things that can come out of a funeral is the sharing of memories. We each have stories to tell, and when we share these with others, it helps to build a fuller picture of the deceased and how they lived on this earth.
At my father’s funeral, I heard many stories about him that I hold close in my heart. It’s always special to have other people’s insights into a loved one.
As an astrologer, I am interested in Saturn’s recent ingress into the zodiac sign of Sagittarius, for this is the part of us which seeks meaning. This is where we ask the big questions: Why? What is the meaning of this? Why did this happen? What happens after death? Perhaps over the next couple of years, during this transit, more and more of us will be seeking the meaning of life more than we ever have.
I do believe the ‘why’ questions become an important stepping stone for the bereaved.
Having said goodbyes to several people in my life recently, it only serves to reinforce that old calling card of mortality. We are all dying. Some of us sooner than others. Having three friends with major health issues has only amplified this message for me, and the need to enjoy every single day.
Death, dying, saying goodbye. These are as important in life as birth, puberty, graduation, weddings, and so on. If anything, they remind us to hold life as sacred. Being able to grieve authentically, at a funeral and elsewhere, is vital to moving onwards.
When someone we love dies, there can be an inner voice that wants to yell at the world ‘stop! Don’t you know (name) has just died?’ A funeral is one of the few times in our grieving journey when the world, or a small part of it, does stop for a short time…long enough for us to say good bye. Our attention becomes focussed on this dedicated grieving ritual.
When my father was killed in a car accident almost four years ago, I flew the long-haul flight to Australia. I was looking forward, in amongst the pain, to seeing my mother who I’d not seen for years. Although my parents had been divorced for a long time, I knew she’d be there. After all, she had eight grieving children. The only thing was: she didn’t come to the funeral. Her phone went off the hook. It was only after the funeral that she made contact again. My mother hates funerals. She’s not alone there, of course, but she lost a few siblings in childhood in war-time Germany and spent much of her childhood crying. Grief hurts. There’s no denying that. And, to be honest, even the less vain amongst us don’t want to be seen with red puffy eyes and mucusy noses!
A funeral is a way of not only saying farewell, but of welcoming in those in your community so they can love, support and nourish you. Of course, we can never take away another’s grief. That’s impossible. We can, however, say how sorry we are for the loss. We can bake a cake or make a pot of soup. We can bring flowers. We can offer to do housework or errands. There’s no end to the support we can offer. And perhaps, in losing our loved one, we have moments of gaining more love from elsewhere ~ if we allow ourselves to do so. Our broken, wounded heart needs tending, and it is too easy to close ourselves off to the love that is all around us. No one can ever replace our loved one, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find succour in other types of love and affection.
At a funeral I officiated recently, I overheard one of the mourners say to someone, who she was surprised to see there: “What are you doing here?” (The funeral was quite some distance from where the guest lived). Her reply was simple: “I’m here to support you.”
And that is why we go to funerals. To support each other. To symbolically or literally hold another’s hand and say “I feel your pain.”
There is still such a fear and taboo around funerals. The tide is changing, though, and if you ever find yourself at a funeral where it has been personalised and officiated with reverence, you might just come to see how deeply healing and transformative such a ceremony can be.
Tonight, sunset will be an hour sooner. It always takes some adjusting when the clocks go back.
The Sun, now transiting Scorpio, is bringing up lessons to do with letting go, releasing, decay, transforming, digging deep, sexuality, trust, and surrendering. Of all the zodiac signs, Scorpio is the one I have most respect for even though novice (and probably many experienced) astrologers are rather terrified of the sign.
Scorpio has grit. It’s the only sign to be represented by three totems. While Libra is all about charm and diplomacy, Scorpio says ‘to hell with the niceties, I want the truth!’ It’s the detective of the zodiac, and will leave no stone unturned.
A scorpion can go for three days without breathing. It can survive being frozen, and is the only creature to survive radiation. Respect.
In the northern hemisphere, we’ll be wearing much warmer clothes and shoes, and putting on the heating sooner in the day. As I type, my woodstove is on. Its crackle reminds me that there is life in the room. Fire is a transformative force which, when we look at in mythology, gives us the story of the phoenix: the mythical creature rising from the ashes.
We’ve passed the equinox (balance) and are being drawn down into the dark. What do we hope to find here? Not much if it’s not a conscious journey, but oh how rich the rewards are when we excavate the psyche to see what we have learnt over the past few seasons.
While we often talk about spring cleaning our homes, for me it is Autumn which sees the deep desire to pull everything apart and clean. This is the perfect season for decluttering, deep cleaning, and shipping off unnecessary things to charity shops for recycling.
As we watch the beautiful aubergine, mustard, claret and golden leaves flutter to the ground, Nature reminds us that nothing in life is permanent. The leaf knows when it is time to move on. And so should we.
I don’t carve angry or scary faces into pumpkins. Instead, I create a “lantern of love” as an invitation across the veil to the other world. This is a time to acknowledge our ancestors and ancestresses, and to honour that at this time of the year, according to tradition, the veil between their world and ours is thin, and contact is easier with our deceased loved ones. From our family room window, at Samhain, our pumpkin will shine light through those love-heart shapes ~ inviting passers-by to re-envision the season.
Can you feel Autumn wrapping herself around you as she carries you towards Winter? Has she shown you yet that the place of deepest nurturing is in the silence? Like a fallow field, gestation and soul growth occur in the dark. In spiritual circles, we are often applauded for our journey towards enlightenment, but ‘endarkenment’ is just as valid.
Autumn teaches that letting go is also a form of generosity.
Leaves fall, branches are bare. Trees are silhouetted against the Sun setting on the horizon. Nothing stays the same. Autumn teaches us, with her incredible beauty, that you can’t hang on to something that doesn’t belong to you.
What have you outgrown? That is what Autumn wants to know. She is leading the way, and showing you through her graceful dance, that letting go leads to another type of beauty. This is imperative to spiritual transformation.
Change is in the air. I can smell it on the wood smoke, geese on high, early sunsets framing the old sandstone church. Even the rain feels different. Consciously, I choose to let go of anything that doesn’t serve me.
Our ancestresses understood the real significance of Autumn: Nature teaches us that seeds must ‘die’ before they can grow. This is symbolic of our spiritual potential. Alchemists would see this as the divine fire, and destroying the ego.
Most ancient myths symbolise the descent into the underworld prior to the spiritual ascent. As we move towards the cave of Winter, we can go down deeper, deeper, deeper into the underworld. It is only our reluctance to do so that makes life difficult.
The death which Autumn teaches us about is much like the movements of a woman’s body in labour ~ it is preparing us for a new beginning: a birth.
What can you let go of? Relationships, job, clothes, bad habits, fears, worn-out excuses, procrastination? We all know, in our hearts, what doesn’t serve us.
Consciously Celebrating Halloween
At this time of the year, shops are filled with fake spider webs, witches’ costumes, cauldrons, rubber frogs and an assortment of ghoulish items from jelly eyeballs to skeletons, and the ever-essential candy. For many children, Halloween is associated with knocking on the doors of strangers and receiving sugary sweets. This ancient festival has become a time to ignite people’s fears about the Underworld.
Halloween, however, was traditionally a festival which honoured the wise grandmother, otherwise known as The Crone. The Goddess is honoured by her three aspects: maiden, mother, grandmother. At Samhain (Halloween) it is the Grandmother (Crone) who takes centre stage as she demands that we use this time of year to look back over the year and go inwards to learn what will make us a better person in the coming year. It is a time of reflection, transformation and renewal. As befits the season of Autumn, it is a time to let go and release anything that does not serve us.
What was beautiful and symbolic of the great feminine, such as the Crone’s cauldron representing the womb of the Great Goddess, has been bastardised into witches on broomsticks casting evil spells. In Britain, the tradition of children trick or treating originated with asking for donations to help the poor. In Celtic tradition, Hallow’s Eve (renamed as Halloween by the Christian Church) is the time which signifies the end of Summer (Samhain; pronounced sow en). For Celts, this is the beginning of the New Year. The Saxons called it Winter’s Eve.
Our ancestors were honoured at this time of year, and it was believed by many cultures that the ‘veil’ between this world and the next was thinnest and therefore an ideal time for communication between the living and the dead.
How can we teach our children to celebrate this tradition in a way which is symbolically rich and meaningful beyond the commercialisation of modern-day Halloween?
There are many ways, such as making a special meal and serving a plate for the unseen guests. It could be gathering unneeded items from the home, such as outgrown clothes, food staples, toys, and giving them to charity (the cycle of Scorpio is a perfect time for letting go).
Making a small altar with photos of your ancestors, and lighting a candle, allow yourself to create a focal piece in your home. I taught my children, when they were young, the origins of the carved pumpkin: Irish immigrants used turnips, and introduced this idea in the USA in the 18th century.
The law of attraction is very clear: we become what we focus on. Do we teach our children about fear and negative energies, or do we demonstrate love, and that death is a doorway to another world and that there is nothing to be frightened of?
We can educate our children (and friends) about the history of Halloween, and how it began more than 2000 years ago as a way of honouring the Crone as well as the end of the harvest season. Her archetype, after all, is that of: you shall reap what you sow. She asks us, our wise grandmother, to take responsibility for our actions.
A Samhain Altar
There are countless ways to bring Samhain to life in your home, but beginning with a simple altar is a great way to start. Use colours and symbols of the harvest season, such as orange and black. Those of us who celebrate earth-based spirituality, use black because it represents the cape of the Wise Crone, and the waning Moon. It is symbolic of the dark Earth―the underworld, a type of womb―in which seeds will gestate during the long dark Winter.
We make full use of harvest foods, such as apples, acorns, rosehips, pumpkins and corn, pomegranates and marigolds. On our altar you will find beeswax candles, a cauldron, and Autumn leaves. Our mugs are filled with apple cider or warm honey mead.
On your altar, you can add photos or heirlooms of your ancestors, and invite them to meet you at the veil. Of course, in some homes the ancestor altar is on display all year round.
Sharing the Feast
When creating your Samhain feast, include a place for your ancestresses. Just a spoon of food and a mouthful of beverage will suffice. It’s symbolic.
Some families leave a bowl of porridge by the hearth, or a candle in the window, while others place an empty chair by the woodstove. These acts are said to guide hungry ghosts to comfort, and that humans will be blessed by their interactions with these wandering spirits.
This is the perfect opportunity to teach your children about their family tree and ancestral history. If you have letters, photos or books from your ancestors, share them and talk about what they mean to your family. If you don’t have any items, you can write the names of ancestors on paper to place on your altar.
To contact your ancestresses and ancestors, close your eyes and be mindful of your breathing. Use this time to ask yourself: who am I?
We are a collection of cells passed down from many, many people in the family line. We have their strengths, their weakness, and we house their failures and their dreams. The Festival of the Wise Grandmother is a time to honour the past and the present.
I am the daughter of Angelikah and Albertus, and granddaughter of Minna-Marie and Liselotte. I come from a long line of people who lived in the cold of Northern Europe: Vikings, shipbuilders, seafarers, mothers, craftsmen and musicians. I come from men and women, some whose names I do not know, but I do know they were: strong, pioneering, loving, creative, and held family as sacred.
Keep speaking aloud, telling your family story. If there are stories you know, verbalise them. You can ask the ancient ones to guide you on your life’s journey, and to protect you and your loved ones.
If you feel you’re carrying family wounds, ask to be freed from them.
If you wish to be instrumental in healing wounded archetypes in your lineage, then ask how you can experience and release these stories so that you and descendants may find and write their own script.
Not everyone in our lineage is someone we wish to be connected to, but with love and forgiveness we can move forward, and in doing so, we free the energy of that person, too.
Use this time to think about your life, and what transformations you’ve undergone. You might choose to meditate, use runes or practise divination with tarot cards. Perhaps you’ll write down your dreams, or take a solitary walk in the woods and listen to the night owl beneath the moonlight.
A phoenix ceremony goes hand in hand with any celebration of Samhain. Review, release and let go. That is the message from the Wise Grandmother. If you have a patio or garden where you can create an open fire (even in a cauldron or small contained pit), use this to write down old habits or negative things from your life to release.
Be clear: Samhain and Halloween are not meant to be negative, fear-inducing or about black magic, but quite the opposite. Perhaps those who were instrumental in changing its pure meaning were afraid of empowerment and the strength of women.
Do feel free to share your positive Samhain and Halloween experiences. Perhaps you could invite friends to take a mindful walk in woodlands near your home. You could make a journey stick, collecting seasonal items from nature, to share the story of where you’ve been.
Costumes are a popular part of the modern-day Halloween. According to Samhain tradition, to wear a costume or mask during this time would help to distract wandering spirits from calling you to the Otherworld before your allotted time. Tradition also suggests that it was a way of conferring the strength of the creature you were imitating. It was common, too, to make noise using hands or drums to interrupt daily noise. This created a portal to the Otherworld which enabled spirits to make contact and whisper messages to the living.
As a family, you could visit the local cemetery (even if you have no loved ones there), and leave an offering, such as water, herbs, flowers, seeds, bulbs or gemstones.
With your family, you can offer a prayer of gratitude: Thank you dear Earth for all that you have given us so bountifully this season.
We open our arms to the Sacred Darkness.
Take your spicy mead or cider, and make libations to Mother Earth, as symbolic of the Wise Grandmother.
“We have gathered the harvest, and Winter is coming. We give thanks.”
If you have a Goddess symbol of the Wise Grandmother, place it on your altar. You might like to make ink art or create dreamcatchers as part of your Halloween celebrations.
At the heart of any ritual and celebration which honours the Earth, is the use of fire as a symbol. Samhain and Halloween are no different. Fire reminds us that we’re in need of light and warmth. It invites introspection as we draw nearer to the flame.
Celebrating Samhain with Mother Nature
Make a Samhain wreath using grain stalks, nuts, apples, leaves, conkers and rosehips, and place it on your front door.
Ensure your garden is tidy before All Hallow’s Eve so that it may rest peacefully for the Winter.
Honour the darkness by lighting candles or celebrating with a bonfire. The light of fire is enhanced by the sheer darkness of night. The light reminds us that there is life in the Underworld.
Press flowers in old books.
Plant bulbs. As you bury them in the dark, moist and fertile womb of Mother Earth, offer a prayer to the Goddess of the Underground. Write your wishes on paper, and bury them with the bulbs.
Harvest your produce, and store well.
If you are celebrating Samhain with friends, hold hands and stand in a circle around your bonfire. Invite the ancestresses to be with you. Feel the power as each of you verbalise your connections to the Otherworld.
Wear black during Samhain to celebrate the season and all it represents.
Make spirals from seeds and nuts.
Sit outside at twilight and listen for the voices of your ancestresses in the wind.
Take a solitary walk at night time to feel the sense of the season.
Practise ecological awareness, and give back to the Earth rather than using products made from crude oils or ancient sunlight.
Walk the Labyrinth
The ancient Celtic shamans would walk the medicine wheel, otherwise known as a labyrinth. If you are lucky enough to live near a labyrinth, use this to enhance your Samhain ceremony. A labyrinth offers healing and psychological courage and strength.
A finger labyrinth can give you a way to put your question or intention to the Universe. Begin with a focus, then using your finger, make your way around the labyrinth. When you make the outward journey, do so in trust that your answer will be revealed to you.
If the finger labyrinth doesn’t appeal to you, you can make one outdoors with stones, candles or sandbags.
Veronika comes from a long line of white witches: the ones they were never able to burn! www.veronikarobinson.com
Day in and day out, the vast majority of people in our culture are participating in what is known as ‘the rat race’. Essentially, it equates to living a life of enormous stress in the process of trying to get to some mythical place. I mean, has anyone actually ever won this race, and if they did, what was the prize?
This full Moon in Taurus (Tuesday, October 27th at 12.05 UK time) highlights the need to remember the simple pleasures of life. After all, the quality of life is to be found here not in the ‘big events’.
Pleasure is what nurtures our senses. What makes our eyes swoon? Or our taste buds go ‘yum’? What appeals to you when breathe in deeply? How do you like to be touched? What sounds nourish you?
This journey through life is based on individual days. If we’re racing through them trying to keep up with the Jones family next door (who the hell were they anyway?), incurring unmanageable debts, feeling frazzled with the children, and taking on too many commitments because of our inability to say ‘no’ to others instead of saying ‘yes’ to ourselves, then we’re highly likely to miss the details.
It is in the small moments that the exquisite beauty of this glorious life can be found. You can not experience it in any way that is deeply fulfilling if you’re speeding through life. Slow down. Learn from the bull archetype of Taurus: walk through the wildflower meadow, and breathe.
Ours is a culture which doesn’t value silence, stillness, slowness or quality pleasure. Hell, we even have speed dating!
In all this hustle and bustle, there’s very little we need do to connect with the food we eat: ready-made meals to go. Heck, you can even buy mashed potato (gag). What has become of us that we don’t take the time and pleasure to make meals from scratch? Seriously, how hard is it to peel a potato or chop some vegetables? (Injuries withstanding)
The simple pleasures of life are all around us. They haven’t disappeared, but we’ll miss them if we don’t pay attention.
All around me is a world filled with wonder. The huge holly tree outside my writing room is rich with red berries. They’ll adorn our festive celebration this Winter Solstice.
The oak tree in the centre of my village is wearing a crown of mustard-coloured leaves. Nearby is a purple beech. Together, the colours are magnificent.
Geese fly in a v formation across an apricot-hued sky.
The cat purrs contentedly in my lap.
Woodsmoke tells me Autumn is here.
My garden offers up Autumn raspberries and plump blueberries. It’s almost November, and I’m blessed with sunflowers in my front garden. Each morning, I start my day by burning incense in the lounge room. It’s a little thing, but it nourishes me deeply to have my home smell of this delightful scent.
Throughout the day, my husband stops to hug me, kiss me or simply to look in my eyes so he can tell me he loves me. It is a love I can believe in. Pleasure.
I pick up a novel, snuggle on the sofa by the woodstove, and read. Pleasure.
A friend phones to chat. Locked away in our little psychic sound chamber, we laugh. Pleasure.
Hot steaming peppermint tea soothes my senses. Pleasure.
I rip fresh basil leaves to go in the tomato salad. Pleasure.
Lying in bed watching the starlight and waxing Moon, and feeling my connection, my rightful place in this incredible Universe, is bliss. Pleasure.
Having a friendship circle of people who are kind, honest, loyal and wise. Pleasure.
Hearing my daughters laugh. Witnessing them creating their lives. Pleasure.
My mother’s lyrical voice on the answering machine. Pleasure.
Listening to my intuition. Pleasure.
Creating a pot of delicious soup. Pleasure.
Walking barefoot upon the grass. Pleasure.
I water my houseplants, grateful for their beauty and ability to remove toxins from the air. Pleasure.
Essential oil of eucalyptus swirls up in the steamy water as I mop the kitchen floor. Pleasure.
Conditioning my hair with rosemary. Pleasure.
I light a beeswax candle, and surrender to the mesmerising light. Pleasure.
Noticing the peace lily, my friend Clare gave me, come into bloom. Pleasure.
Moving barrows of firewood and knowing we’re going to be warm. Pleasure.
Slow down. This is where life is.
Celebrate the Full Moon in Taurus by honouring all the ways in which you can bring pleasure into your life. Soak in a hot bubble bath. Buy yourself some flowers. Go for a walk in the woods. Bake a cake! Nibble on that dark chocolate. You deserve it.
Full Moons bring light to the dark: they provide revelations.
The Sun is now in Scorpio, shining its light on that zodiac sign’s themes: debt, death, sex, endings, transformation, loans, taxes and so on. It is the area of life where we have to ‘share’ with another if we expect to be truly intimate.
The Moon in Taurus is all about pleasure, wealth, riches, resources, damn good food (be careful not to overeat on comfort foods), massages, and anything else that nourishes the physical body. Taurus rules the throat, so if you have thyroid issues use this full Moon to seek guidance on how to heal this. For example, have a daily intake of kelp.
Draw down the Moon, and send your blessings and wishes out to the Universe.
You can ground yourself with the energy of this full Moon by acknowledging the Sun and the Moon, and their messages. This is what it means to live in balance. This Moon will make you aware of what it is you VALUE.
You can also use this energy to find a way to take ‘what you love’ and earn an income from it.
Use this energy to re-evaluate the areas of your life to do with the themes of Scorpio and Taurus: debt, credit, wealth, poverty, struggle, pleasure, passions, fears, joys, intimacy, traumas, beauty, values, self worth.
Embrace all aspects of your life, and you’ll find yourself empowered.
Authenticity comes from honesty within and without. This can be achieved by being conscious of your thoughts and actions. To understand what might be locked in your subconscious vault, look at what patterns keep appearing in your life. The full Moon is a great time to shed light on this. Find a balance between the deep emotional world of Scorpio and the physical world of Taurus. Manifest what you want by improving your self worth.
For as long as humans have walked this earth, I have no doubt they have created ceremonial spaces which included an altar. Many people in the modern world probably associate an altar as the front table in a Christian church. Others, still, consider an altar to be some sort of weird spooky tool used by bad-ass witches and others who wish to sacrifice something to a deity.
As a white witch (you know, the good sort), and celebrant, I see and use an altar as a sacred space: a focal point for my daily life, or for a specific ceremony or ritual. If I was officiating a ceremony for someone, there would be an altar involved. This defined space features items which would have meaning to the person, or items symbolic of the event they are honouring.
An altar may be used to honour your ancestors and ancestresses, or it may be as a way to focus on improving your health.
It may be because you’re pregnant and using it to visualise an ecstatic birth.
Your altar may be a general one for a beautiful life.
For three years after my father was killed in a car accident, I had an altar with his photo and items that were significant to him. Each time I passed this altar, I would bow my head and say ‘hello’ to my dad. I do believe it was a vital part of navigating the murky world of grief, and deeply healing. It allowed me to hold him close while at the same time letting him go.
An altar may be created in your garden as a way of honouring Mother Earth.
How about an altar in the kitchen? This can become a focus for divine energies to infuse your cooking with love, devotion and care.
My altars generally feature the four elements: earth, fire, water and air.
Earth can literally be dirt, or items gathered from nature such as crystals and gemstones. Or it may include items grown from the earth.
Fire is generally a candle, though it can be an incense stick or even a picture of fire.
Water can be contained in a vase with flowers, or perhaps a small bowl.
Air can be signified by a feather.
The beauty of an altar is that it is unique to the person who creates it, and is an expression of their inner vision. It can be as small as the tiniest shelf or nook, and as wide as the beach.
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2015-10-03 08:08:332015-10-03 08:08:33The Altar: a visual expression of an inner desire
At those times when our outer life accurately reflects our inner terrain, we experience spiritual grace. This may be seen when our days claim synchronous happenings.
People and events turn up at just the right time, as if by chance. We see signs and symbols everywhere we turn. These seeming coincidences are, in fact, confirmation from the universe that you are in alignment. Smile, and cherish each one.
Autumnal sunshine tempts me into the garden, my bare feet soaking in the long, dewy grass. Blueberries, purple and plump, hang in cascades from the crimson-leaved branches, urging me to pluck them. I have watched them grow all Summer, and now they’re ready to harvest. And me? Have I grown all Summer? Is there anything to harvest? Plenty, it would seem. Inner work isn’t often obvious to the untrained eye.
The afternoon grows lazy, wood smoke hangs in the air, and geese give a cursory nod as they head south. Against the apricot-hued skyline, apples cling to the trees. Don’t they know? This is the season for letting go.
The tenth month has rolled in like the thick fog girdled around my cosy cottage. “Gather in,” October whispers to me.
By the hearth, I snuggle beneath a woolly blanket, sipping spicy Chai tea. Day’s end brings me here. The woodstove, containing an orchestra of spit, crackle, hiss and sizzle, is an inviting touchstone as the nights draw in.
Little altars around our home become a focus for this colourful season: maple leaves, burgundy rosehips, marmalade-coloured pumpkins, hand-carved wooden bowls of lush blueberries, and shiny conkers.
With wind in our hair, and a chill against our skin, October shows us that the Libran scales of justice stand firm. Truth will win. But before the month is over, Scorpio, zodiac sign of decay, letting go, and transformation will bring new lessons.
It is interesting to me that this season of letting go is generally the most colourful one. Could it be, like human life, that it is at ‘harvest time’ that we become our most colourful, vibrant and dynamic?
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2015-10-03 07:14:532015-10-03 07:14:53Bewitched by October
“Your daily life is your temple and your religion.”
Kahlil Gibran
Yesterday I asked myself: “Who is the most spiritual person you know?” I was rather surprised when no obvious person came to me, but had to laugh out loud when I saw Azaria’s face. For those of you who don’t know Azaria, she’s the main character in my novel, Sisters of the Silver Moon.
I modelled Azaria’s physical characteristics on this lovely Danish hairdresser. I adore her open face.
I pondered our cultural notion of spirituality, and also why I’ve heard from women who say they want ‘to be like Azaria’. I was intrigued, but not surprised, that a fictional character was held up as an archetype of ‘spirituality in action’.
As a writer, I adored watching Azaria unfold. She’s 56 years old, and has four adult daughters. Her husband died some years ago in a storm. She lives in an old homestead in the mountains of Colorado, and spends her days tending her beehives and growing/harvesting herbs. Without doubt, she’s well-loved and respected in her community. But she’s not perfect, and that’s part of her charm.
The more I think about this character (and certainly where she’s heading in the sequel, Behind Closed Doors) I can understand her magnetism. Although she’s a fictional character, she does represent something to which we can aspire. And isn’t it interesting, when you look at the Latin roots of words, to see aspire and spiritual both containing ‘spir’? As a metaphysician, I also see it as ‘to breathe in life’. Indeed, to breathe in the Divine.
Perhaps you or someone you know meditates regularly or goes to church. Maybe they or someone else burns incense or keeps a gratitude journal. Maybe their temple is Mother Nature herself. Perhaps they’re avid readers of spiritual or person-growth books or the Bible. Maybe they regularly consult divination cards? Do these things make us spiritual? No, no more than hitting a piano key makes you a pianist. All these things, and more, may well be integral to our daily practice, but spirituality is about the outer experiences of our life reflecting and being congruent with our inner values.
So if we breathe in the Divine, then surely we must breathe out the Divine, too?
Do our interactions with friends, family, colleagues and strangers mirror our inner values?
The character Azaria shows us that everyday we are learning, and every day of our lives is an opportunity to be congruent. When our outer life truly reflects our inner values, then life has a way of flowing harmoniously. And when Fate brings unexpected life-changing events our way, we do have the spiritual tools within to ‘breathe in the Divine’. More than anything, I believe she teaches us that when we love and accept ourselves, then loving others is easy. And isn’t that at the heart of spirituality? To recognise that we are all one? All drops of the same ocean?
https://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.png00Veronika Sophia Robinsonhttps://veronikarobinson.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/logo-1.pngVeronika Sophia Robinson2015-09-17 08:01:412015-09-17 08:03:42Inspired: the art of channelling life
I guess our dining table is more than 100 years old. How many meals families have eaten around it, and how many celebrations they shared, I’ll never know.
The wood is old and worn, and the way it feels under my hands satisfies my sensual self. I know my mother, who loves tablecloths, would want to cover it in fabric. I prefer to see the wood, and to connect with the history of this antique piece of furniture.
In my home, and in my heart, I consider the dining table to be a sacred space designed for flowers, candles and meals made with love.
It’s also a place we can gather, at the end of the school day, with a cup of tea while we chat and catch up.
Indeed, the dining table is a ceremonial space, not just for birthdays or Christmas, but for every meal. As with other ceremonies, I light a beeswax or plant-based candle, play music, and express gratitude. Doing this changes a meal from being a source of fuel to something sacrosanct. It takes little extra time, but it does take a change of attitude to bring consciousness to each meal.
Love From My Kitchen: kale and polenta fingers. Photograph by Veronika Robinson
This morning as we sat together, enjoying breakfast in each other’s company, we talked of ethics and philosophy; about fate, free will and determinism. Conversation included past lives and dreams. Taking time in our busy lives, to ‘break bread’ with our loved ones, is one of the most important rituals we can have as a family. It slows us down. It encourages us to take notice. It says ‘I’m showing up for me, and I’m showing up for you’.
Love From My Kitchen: peppers stuffed with ragout. Photograph by Veronika Robinson
As a family, there can’t be many topics we’ve not discussed in one form or another over the years. What I truly value about a dining table is that each person gets to face another. There can be real heart-to-heart connections, even when you eat in silence. It brings a family together, and when we recognise each meal as a gift, a celebration, and the opportunity to commune with our loved ones, the dining table takes on hallowed significance. Indeed, for me, it is one of the most important pieces of furniture in our home.
Love From My Kitchen: courgette and cranberry cake (gluten free). Photograph by Veronika Robinson
From when my daughters were born, they joined as at the dining table; long before they ate solid foods. They grew up learning the ways of this family, and what values we held. Gratitude for our food was as much a part of a meal as was the eating.
Our prayer was:
Earth which gives us this food Sun which makes it ripe and good Dear Earth, Dear Sun, by you we live Our loving thanks to you we give.
In more recent times, we’ve included another prayer of gratitude.
Thank you for the food before us Thank you for the family (and friends) beside us Thank you for the love around us
Yesterday I was writing a scene in my novel, Behind Closed Doors, whereby the family gathered to share a meal. I felt right at home around that old farmhouse kitchen table, listening to the laughter, enjoying the meal. I hope that my passion for such a daily ritual is reflected in the way the characters share their stories. How different an experience to share our days in this way than eating on the run, or standing at the kitchen counter because you don’t have time to eat. Don’t you think?
Tell me about your dining table? What family rituals do you have around meal times?
Love, Veronika xxx
PS Do sign up to my mailing list if you wish to be notified of when Love From My Kitchen (my next recipe book) is published.
On Friday, 18th September at 3.49am UK time, Saturn will ingress into the zodiac sign of Sagittarius. It’s an interesting mix, as Saturn is all about structure, responsibility, karma, legacy, discipline, restriction, hard work, focus, and doing things properly.
Sagittarius is the philosopher (at best), and at worst, it exaggerates. It’s the most expansive sign of the zodiac, that’s for sure. It is all about freedom, exploration, seeking new shores, and having ‘as much of everything’ as possible. Sagittarius is optimistic and sees the bigger picture.
What this means for us culturally, and individually, is that for the next two or so years, as Saturn works its way through this sign, we will have to take responsibility for all things that carry the Sagittarian theme. Obviously, this will show up in different ways for different people. It could manifest in landing that publishing deal you’ve always wanted, or buying a horse stud or competing professionally in horse events. Maybe archery will feature in the news. You might become a university lecturer, or a travel agent helping others to discover foreign shores.
These are just a few examples. Sagittarian ruled people (those that carry this sign on their ascendant, or have Jupiter there, for example) tend to carry weight. This transit might finally give them the discipline they need to shift unnecessary pounds.
When Saturn navigated Scorpio, a lot of stories of sexual abuse by famous men came out of the woodwork (Scorpio rules sex, amongst other things). Saturn asked us, collectively and for those involved, individually, to take responsibility for our past actions.
As Saturn ingresses Sagittarius, we will look at the stories we tell ourselves (and others). As this sign rules foreign affairs and foreign cultures, I suspect that we’ve only just seen the tip of the ‘refugee crisis’ iceberg. When we look at those desperate souls seeking a new, safe life in other countries, we must look at the whole story: these people have been displaced by war. Wars that we have been involved in because of the people we have elected to power.
We, as a culture, must ask ourselves why we don’t want them here. What are we really scared of? Why isn’t it possible for us to put ourselves in their shoes?
Rather than thinking of karma as good or bad, we will need to reframe it as: taking responsibility for our actions.
But how about on a personal level? Every moment of the day we tell ourselves (and our life broadcasts it to others) stories. The thoughts we think. The beliefs we hold. The worries we harbour. The joys which fill us to bursting. We are walking books!
Saturn will ask us to examine what goes on behind our tongue. Where do those stories come from? Is that what you really believe, or are you just regurgitating something you learnt from school, church, your parents or government?
What stories are you sharing with your children? These are all important questions that we will be forced to confront in one way or another.
At the heart of well-functioning Sagittarius energy we find strong ethics. Saturn will examine what this means for us. Perhaps there’ll be new scientific discoveries and experiments that will leave us questioning (as did the stem-cell, cloning and test tube eras) just how far we can play God.
We may find ourselves asking ‘why is it ethical to kill someone in war, but not in our own backyard?’
We may question why more refugees go to other countries, such as Germany, but are strictly held back in the UK.
The next couple of years are a time for asking: is that my belief, or is that yours?
The beauty and blessing of this important transit is that we get the opportunity to really ask of ourselves and others if we value the stories we hear. Saturn will show us that we will need maturity and responsibility to stop the script; and that we can do so at any time, and write a new one.
Can you sense areas in your life where the script needs rewriting? Why is that? What would it take to change it?
