She's dying. Each breath is labored, as if her lungs are lifting the weight of the earth in order to expand and fill with air. The light in her eyes has begun to fade, the memories of sunlight and laughter, of days shared under the trees and beneath the stars slowly winking out, one by one, like candle flames before a strong breeze.
All around us, our world is scrambling to fill the void she's leaving behind, that life that she hasn't quite released but that is slowly and steadily slipping from her weakening grasp. I watch as many of those who are watching her die hurry to gather her cherished possessions close to them, tokens to remind them of the warmth of her touch once she's gone. Others celebrate in the bounty they reap from her passing, celebrating the abundance of her passing.
But I'm not among them.
I walk with those who know her well, who grow more quiet with each passing day. As she slowly leaves she takes the best parts of our world with her. We'll miss her touch. Her laughter. The joy and light that she brought to our world. If only her death was quick. If only she would let go of this world and let the wheel continue to turn without her. But she holds on, drawing another breath, another day filled with her fading smile, with the light that slowly fades from her eyes.
Until, at last, she's gone.
Her spirit has slipped away, leaving only a discarded husk that refuses to grow still, her chest rising and falling, the life gone, her body moving only out of habit. Outside, I'm stoic, strong, holding myself together to be a refuge for those around me who are falling apart, crumbling under the weight of their grief. But inside, I feel her loss deeply, as surely as if a hot knife had cut through my soul, the wound deep and cauterized, promising it will never heal.
Her name?
Summer.
She dies every year as the Wheel turns slowly to Autumn, as one season follows the next in an endless dance.
Each year, starting with the first new moon in September and continuing through the first new moon in October, I hit a dark and melancholy place in my personal world. It's not depression or Seasonal Affective Disorder. The shift in mood and perspective doesn't alter my world, it merely flavors it. Looking back over the course of my life (I have clear and vivid memories stretching into very early childhood) I've always been this way at this exact time of year. Even my close, long-term friends have noticed it and mentioned the period to me. The shift lasts for a single lunar cycle. Magickally speaking, things get really intense for me around Samhain then I magickally drop into a "dead zone" between Samhain and Winter Solstice. Almost immediately after Solstice, something shifts and I'm back to my bouncy, jovial, overly optimistic self.
Patterns that appear to us in our daily lives, within ourselves, or along our spiritual paths can be approached a couple of different ways. Under ideal circumstances, we'll honor both approaches to what the pattern reveals in our world rather than looking at it as a crossroads where we need to choose one path over another.
To Honor and Cherish
In a couple of weeks I'll be sharing at article titled, "Why I Don't Believe in Karma," which will offer another perspective on what we witness as the manifestation of cause and effect in our personal lives. Part of that perspective is that we create or participate in the creation of each moment that we experience. These experiences, which we label "good" or "bad," whether we have the ability to see how they fit into the bigger weave of reality or are blinded by their immediacy, are one of the fundamental reasons why we incarnated into this lifetime.
Because the simple concept of "experience" is so important, it's critical that we learn to honor the sacredness of the place we're in and how that energy manifests within us. For instance, if we're scared, we need to learn not to focus on the event or vulnerability that frightens us, but on the simple concept that it's okay to be scared and that the way that fear manifests within us is a sacred thing, not only because it's part of creation, but because it also acts as a roadmap of our inner selves and the lessons that are presenting themselves to us.
In the same way, it's important for me to honor the fact that I enter a dark place at this time of year. It's inappropriate for me to wallow in it or use it as an excuse for behavior that I wouldn't normally manifest if I wasn't experiencing the darkness. One half of the equation is to give myself the same amount of love, nurturing, and understanding that I would extend to a dear friend or loved one that was going through a similar period. The other half of the equation is to realize that it's a time to test myself in the face of adversity, to hone my strength against the challenges that I face and my own weaknesses and vulnerabilities that surface during this time.
Mirror, Mirror On the Wall
One of the concepts that shamanism teaches us is to honor the Dreaming. This is typically taken as giving importance to our dreams (commonly referred to as the Dreamtime) and the symbolism they contain, but in practice, goes much deeper than that.
Shamanism also teaches that everything - including intangible concepts like the energy of an interaction - is composed of Spirit. After going through several levels of shamanic philosophy (concepts we'll explore regularly as we go down this path together) we find that there isn't any difference in the energy of a Dreaming and the energy of our everyday world.
While this may seem like a simple bit of philosophy at first glance (it's pretty easy for most of us to understand the concept that we're all composed of Spirit) the core of the concept holds what may be a surprising implication - that because everything is composed of Spirit we can apply the same tools to interpret the flow of our daily lives that we use in interpreting our dreams.
Approaching my period of personal darkness in this manner, we find that it not only mirrors the change of the seasons here in the Northern Hemisphere, but that it also mirrors the journey of the Oak King as taught in mainstream Wicca.
While I don't consider myself Wiccan (just a simple ol' shamanic witch), we may often find that the symbolism in our dreams can mirror paths other than the one we call home. I dreamt of Runes years before I began studying them and have had dreams of cultural symbols and paths that I wasn't exposed to until long after the Dreaming took place.
At it's core, there are two different interpretations we can take from this - one, that my personal practice is fundamentally light and that it's appropriate for me to mirror the energy of the Oak King all the way around the Wheel of the Year. This mirrors the need to treat the space we're in as sacred. The second interpretation is that my personal practice is out of balance and in need of some darkness to balance it, a process where I would set aside the mantle of the Oak King to don that of the Holly King.
How will I know for sure? The easiest way is to remember that dream interpretation is an intensely personal matter. Fundamentally, I should simply have a feeling that one interpretation is correct. Sometimes I know this without assistance, sometimes it comes out when I'm presenting the scenario with a close pagan friend. If this fails to clarify the situation for me, it's often useful to look at the broader flow of my life. What themes have been manifesting in my dreams, my own inner work, and the daily events in my world? There should be parallels and hints on numerous levels. If I can't see them, sometimes it's helpful to talk with a friend or loved one about the personal growth I'm going through. Sometimes it's necessary to simply wait until clarity presents itself.
However things unfold, it's important for us to remember that we're here to learn and grow, that we manifest our own reality, and that this is our life, uniquely woven to aid us in our paths. As we've identified ourselves as pagan, many of our lessons will unfold to assist us with our growth on our chosen path. What may seem as an issue of personal growth, will often address boundaries and blockages that keep us from wielding energy and moving deeper into the spiritual aspects of our path.
Because life is ours to live, we'll find our lessons presented in our interactions with other people. We'll find them in our own reactions and responses. We'll even find them in the turning of the seasons as we look into the mirror of the natural world around us.