Samhain Seance

The time has come to submerse ourselves in the hallowed Holy Day of Samhain, a.k.a Halloween, Hallomas, or the Witches’s New Year. Samhain is rich with the translucency that comes with being in a world between worlds. Now the veils that separate the dead and the living, or the human and faery folk are thinnest. The purple haze that cloaks the world at sunset, making the very air appear misty, shadowy and at the same time filled with magical possibilities, rests upon all our shoulders. Indeed, Samhain is to the year what twilight is to the day. We welcome beloved friends and family who have left to the Other Side with ceremony and altars. We celebrate all we have harvested from Mother Earth in a feast known that honors Summer’s End. We release the past and set intentions for a bright new year.

The weekend preceding Samhain this year happened to bring together the onset of Mercury Retrograde and Daylight Savings. On Saturday, Mercury, the planet of communication, began a three week segment of its ellipse around the moon, which makes it appear to be going backwards to Earthlings. It is merely an optical illusion; however, the energy of communication in widdershins plays out in many comical ways to the light hearted being. Everything to do with communications, i.e., computers, conversations, contracts, and electricity goes haywire in an attempt to shake things up. It offers us an opportunity to take a new perspective, lighten up, relax, revisit with old friends, and basically slow down. Sunday, we gained an hour, so that the hour at two o’clock became a fluid, impermanent time space, brimming with the magic of the season and planetary attractions.

Given these factors, a witch, like myself, felt she only had one choice: have a séance. Since Samhain is such a High Holy Day, I also decided that I couldn’t miss this opportunity to invoke a little intention into the ritual space of the séance. As I meditated on my desires, it became quite clear that what I really wanted was to have more confidence and trusting of my inner voice. Mostly, I am brave and willful, even stubborn and persistent. But when the strong winds of naysayers, or the fearful, or the cavalier seek to undermine my core, I sometimes sway to the beat of another’s rhythm. However, far out of the broom closet I am, I tended to be really accommodating about being a witch in certain circles; because of some horror stories I had heard, like losing custody of your children, losing a job, etc. Sometimes adaptability can be a good thing. But if you play the “be good for others” game long enough, the power of your own unique and beautiful convictions dwindles.

Hours before the séance, I attended a ritual hosted by Crystal at Points of Light in Long Beach, my favorite witch shop. We were all dressed in black and awaiting the start of ritual when I felt I really needed to visit the ladies’ parlor. The shop was closed, so I ran into a local bar to use their facilities. As I scampered passed four or five old men sitting at the bar, one of them grumbled, “What are you doing in here?” “You don’t belong here,” another sneered. I beelined for the back, thinking I must have missed a sign that read a men’s only bar. I found the barkeep where I thought the restroom would have been. When she turned around I realized, as she was obviously a woman, I couldn’t be in a Stag bar. She told me curtly that the restroom was only for customers. Something about her demeanor stopped me from arguing. I walked back through the bar, passed the old men in their plaid shirts and grubby jeans, with their baseball caps perched atop their bald heads. “Yeah, get out of here,” they jeered. I pushed through the black curtain separating the smoky bar from the open doorway and heard them laughing about scaring the witch. Like a thunderclap I understood. I had just passed through a place as backwards and potentially dangerous as the diner scene in Easy Rider. I whipped back the curtain and glared pointedly at the dumbstruck rednecks and their bartender. The entire bar became silent. Finally after I hoped I had put a good scare in them I dropped the curtain and walked away to calls of “Get the crosses.”

Believe it or not that was my first ever deliberate act of prejudice. I mean once a woman in Barnes & Noble scoffed that she didn’t know you could cook witches when she walked by a signing of The Wicca Cookbook and friends have teased me about being a witch because of being comfortable. That was a cake walk compared to the feeling of having just walked in and out of the lion’s den unscathed. Whatever you ask for, you get. I asked for an opportunity to be true to myself and I got it. And for the last six years, since the publication of The Wicca Cookbook, I have feared a showdown just like that. What I learned or remembered was to focus on what I want, not what I want to avoid. If a balls runs out into the street and you tell a kid, “don’t run into the street,” all they will hear is “run in the street.” You need to tell the child what you want, “stay on the sidewalk.” The same is true with the Universe. I am so grateful for those bigots, because now that I faced them, I don’t have to fear the possibility of them.

The séance deepened this lesson. We met a spirit, so mired in his hate and feelings of what should have been, that he couldn’t or wouldn’t step across the threshold to the Other Side. A grandmother came and reminded us not to get lost or stuck in the analysis of our angst, but to accept what has been and keep fluid, keep moving. We talked about how as young witchlings we saw faces or animals or spirits in tapestries, wallpaper, smoke, you name it. Did we always believe in what we saw? No. Were we sometimes scared by what we saw or afraid to admit it to another? Yes. I have compassion for my wavering will as I grew into being. Yet, for me, the time has come to wave my freak flag proudly. I am a witch, and often a loud one. Until last Saturday night, I thought I could hide it in certain circles, and “they” wouldn’t notice, like when a two-year-old hides underneath a blanket and thinks you can’t see her. My friends tell me, I’m not hiding anything – never have been the invisible type, so there’s no point in pretending any longer.

Imagine yourself as a star wearing sunglasses, thinking that because you cannot see your brightness, neither can anybody else. If you have put on extra pounds, thinking that is going to hide your sex appeal, guess what? It comes out in your walk and others think you’re even hotter because you can strut like that when overweight. If you sing to yourself, hum to tunes and try to tell the world that you really prefer extra hours at your cubicle job over taking singing lessons, who do you think you’re fooling and why? We’re all freaky for something. Be passionate and follow your bliss. You have everything to gain. Believe in the reality of what you want to see. Believe in the reality of what you want to be. You are creating your reality with everything thought and feeling. Believe it.