Spirits in Autumn
This is the last in a series of posts reflecting on how my experiences of the spiritworld changes throughout the year. It feels like this is just about the last possible moment I could reasonably have done one for Autumn, but there still feels like something to say. In general I’m really glad to have done this series, because of how it helps me get perspective on the living world around me, and also focus on my own journey through the seasons.
November is, admittedly, very late autumn, and in a real way it feels like winter already, this far north. Especially in a place where what marks the cold seasons in general is a lot of dark and wet. But, even if the season is mostly over, that makes this an okay time to reflect on the experience.
Ecologically, Autumn is a season of change. Leaves turn colors and fall off, other plants go dormant, animals (including humans) prepare for the winter. It’s a time when I feel a lot of pressure from the spirits of the land and the spirits of my tradition alike. “Are you ready?” they ask. “Things are changing, and strenuous times are ahead.” Winter is something that must be endured on a physical level, and on a spiritual level, there’s a lot to do ritually for Fading Fire, Glowtide, and the surrounding observances.
This year I’ve really felt the tug and call of the Wanderers, encouraging me to firm up my community connections, to see what more I can do for them. I’ve also felt more pull from my ancestors, starting to get a deeper understanding of how we can connect. This is of course classically a season where ancestors are close, considering both the traditions of Samhain to the ghost stories of Christmas. It’s been a welcome thing to focus on as the rest of the world gets chaotic and blustery and more than a little scary.
As I’ve gone through this year especially, I’ve started to understand the seasons in a new way. There’s the ’solstice’ seasons, summer with its long days, winter with its long nights, where temperatures reach extremes and invite us to work out how to react to those in their own ways. To me, these are the scenes of the striving Singer-in-Silence. Then there’s the ‘equinox’ seasons, the points of transition where days and nights are equal for only one moment as they change quickly, and the environment works to catch up. To me, these are the seasons of the liminal Dancer-Between.
I find that I have an easier time with the ‘singing’ seasons than the ’dancing’ ones. I love summer; I always find so much to do, and although winter can sometimes lay heavily on me, I value how it calls me to focus, to rise to the challenge of both celebrations like Glowtide, and questions of how to begin a new year. The dancing seasons, as I said, are all change, and sometimes change is hard for me, the sort of challenge that I don’t particularly enjoy rising to. I said the same thing, I think, when I wrote about my relationship to the spirits of spring.
But that’s also why I’m glad this is a time when the spiritworld can feel so present, even so pushy, in this season. I say it every Fading Fire, and it’s maybe never been truer than this year: “In the times we’re moving into now, we’re going to need all the help we can find.” So, tying in with another late-autumn tradition, my thoughts are turning to all the spirits who help me in this season:
I’m thankful to my Ancestors of Fire, and my Ancestors of Water, for calling me forth and giving me life.
I’m thankful for the strong tree spirits who paint their limbs, and then the ground, with the vibrant reds and yellows that brighten my mood.
I’m thankful for the divine family of Sculptor, Writer, and Player, for guiding me in the skills that help me connect and express.
I’m thankful to the rain-soaked mossy river-snake spirit of this land, for being our firm foundation, and giving us a small but lovely harvest.
I’m thankful to the Painter-in-Rust, who reminds us that this too shall pass, and that we can craft our own boundaries, when we need to.
I’m thankful even to the spirits of wind and storm for making me aware of what I take for granted, and giving me an evening’s peace in the darkness of a power outage.
I’m thankful to the Dancer-Between, leading me through this season of change, and all of life’s other transitions.