Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" The veil is growing thinner, and the spirits of our ancestors are seeking us as the year comes to an end. This year I am feeling the sad.
The other night I had a very vivid dream in which my father and I were descending the slope from the car park at our farm on Polish Mountain. There was snow on the ground, and I looked down and saw critter prints in it. Dad was behind me; I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there.
When we got to the door of the farmhouse, I looked in through the screen porch, but I knew we couldn't go in. I said, "Oh, Dad. Our farm. Our farm." And I started to cry.
Which of course meant I woke up crying.
I hope Dad goes back to playing with the faeries and forgets about the fields where he played when he was on this side of the Veil. As for me, it is still winter time in my soul.
Last evening I was frying up some green tomatoes the way Grandma did it. I could feel her there with me. And once again a deep sadness stole into the room. Grandma loved her little farm house, her flower garden, her view of two states.
Well, the house and the view are still there. Can't keep a spirit away. Still, I wonder if she wants to go there and see strangers bustling about ... hunting ... four-wheeling ... smoking. The cigarettes would drive her berserk.
This Samhain I must come to terms with the fact that I moved out of Appalachia to seek my fortunes elsewhere, and thereby sundered my ties to the region. As the previous generations have moved to the other side, I can no longer feel the kinship ties to the mountains. My grandchildren will not know them at all.
A very sober Samhain awaits. Spare is at school in the city. Heir is grown. Decibel shed her cone of shame for four hours and promptly re-injured herself. Worst of all, my ancestors are sad. I'd almost rather the Gods be bored.
9 comments:
It must be the day for tears. I've had a sad, sad day too.
-Pam
The only constant in life is change, as they say. Some changes are harder than others, though, and sadder too.
There's work to be done this Samhain for you, no doubt about it.
Much Love,
Terri in Joburg
*hugs*
The memory needs to be turned around and made a happy one - You obviously spent many happy hours in the hills.
My grandparents had a big field out back of the farmhouse in New Hampshire they retired to (from the city of Boston) and I recall to this very moment, the feeling of the warm summer sun on my face while the scent of wild strawberries wafted through the air near the moss covered granite stones that formed a jumbled walled. So far from the "madden crowd" and feeling safe, secure, well-fed with homemade foods, and much loved.
You should treasure the positive side... what was had... and not the what might of beens..
I'm weeping for you and with you..Goddess bless.
heh, am sure that all the Gods and Goddesses are chortling about what us humans do to each other ..
however, much love from this human on this side of the Equator.
(mmm, would like to invoke the spirit rainbow serpent to invoke love and community - but guess that that might be a difficult concept for the Northern Gods).
Anne, you will always carry your ancestors and their home in your heart. They, and it, are not gone, just passed, and you have carried the foundation they gave you to a new place, just as your daughters will with the home you have given them.
When my great dane kept re-injuring a cut tail, I discovered the medical usefulness of duct tape. I'm not sure just what Decibel has done to herself and if this is useful information at all, but Target sells duct tape in an amazing variety of colors and patterns.
I know that feeling, but I jsut had to add you have not severed your ties to the region of your Ancestors.
As long as you draw breath, and dream, it's very much a part of you. Perhaps not on paper, but it is in you still.
As a wise man once said:
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
That outlook is just what the doctor ordered. :)
(hugs anyway, because I know what you mean and agree its tough sometimes)
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