The following is an account of a Grove’s Samhain rite, 2006
When we gathered to plan the rite we all felt exhausted by the ongoing autumn, we craved the cold and ice to kill things off and create space in our lives for winter’s stillness. We were all out of kilter, worried by the unseasonable warmth and the changes in climate we were experiencing, everything felt unpredictable and chaotic. We felt responsible as humans for the climate chaos. The rite we decided would call to the ice gods and acknowledge and honour the chaos, in the hope we could begin to understand and learn to live honourably within it without encouraging more chaos.
We gathered together in the early evening and watched the dark fall around us. As the grove gathered into a circle within the circle of stones, we called to the spirits of place and the ancestors. Four members of the grove walked out wide to beyond the boundaries of the stones and called all at the same time, in wild loud voices to the spirits of the quarters. The sound was spectacular, their voices overlapping, rising and falling, the energy of it rippling across the circle raising the hairs on our arms. We smiled darkly at each other – chaos would certainly be present here tonight.
Once our circle was cast each member of the grove honoured the spirits of place, bringing their awareness to the moment and voicing their experiences; of roses still in bloom at the end of October, of outdoor tomatoes only just ripening, of not yet needing their hearth fires. So much similarity within the experiences of the grove, the unease and fear the strange warmth was causing, the unending autumn and the craving for winter’s dark stillness.
Our grove mother stepped forward, leading the rite into an understanding of the chaos around us, the changes in climate, the effects across the globe and our role in it. As she spoke to acknowledge and honour the forces of chaos, the fire was lit and we burned the chair we had made for death at Lammas. Then suddenly an explosion, and another and another! Gun shots? Fireworks? Huge loud explosive bangs from behind us! Some in the grove complimented the grove mother on the timing of her magic – but she looked startled – then from the darkness a mans angry voice rose in challenge – “Oi! What are you doing here? Get out! What do you think you are doing here?” Out of the darkness the man was coming closer – now we could see he was huge and angry. Our grove mother tried to speak to him but his shouting overcame her voice, none in the grove spoke to explain or defend our presence and the meaning of the rite, many faces were fearful and unsure. As minutes passed the stranger’s anger abated and people began to speak up for what we were doing and the screaming ceased. Some grove members had already realised that he was a part of the ritual (a member’s husband), but now all began to understand as he revealed himself to be an embodiment of darkness, winter, death: the force of Samhain’s chaos. “What have you done with my chair?” he yelled. We told him of why we were here and what we honoured and he vanished again into the darkness.
Our grove mother pulled the group’s focus together again – bringing us back into the shattered circle and turning our minds inwards to face our responsibility for the changes and chaos the planet was experiencing. Making us think about how and why our actions drive climate change, about our responsibility for our actions and their consequences. As she spoke, her words weaved through our awareness becoming a challenge to live honourably. Each of us decided to make a pledge. Each chose something we would change or give up, so that our impact on the planet was lighter. In one word we offered our pledge and tied a knot in the string or thread we had brought with us. Each knot a powerful symbol of our intention and each one witnessed by the community of the grove.
In silence the circle was opened and in silence we progressed to the indoor space where we would complete our rite. As we made our way into the dark building we gathered again in a circle – inside it was absolutely dark and silent. Our grove mother spoke of those pledges we had offered and the strength of our collective witness. We had each brought a length of string, ribbon or cloth, and in the darkness we tied our strings together, binding the thread to whomever was standing next to us in the dark circle. Each knot had to be tied using just one of each of our hands, so we had to work together to create the knot, and slowly the many threads became one long thread joined into a circle. We each held a part of the new circle feeling both the strength of our commitments and the strength of our grove, our community.
We laid the circle on the floor inside our circle. We acknowledged the death’s chair that we had just burned, and the need to make a new space for death within our grove, lest she take one of us to create her own space. We laid the circle on the floor and offered it as a space for death, acknowledging and honouring her festival.
Then the circle was consecrated with ice, one of the grove carrying a bag of ice walked inside the circle and rubbing ice onto each person, giving them each a piece to hold on to. When each of the grove had their ice, they were invited to be with it, to feel it, to call for it and to call to winter. When they could stand the pain of holding it no longer, the ice was put onto the altar in the centre of the circle, and each person lit a candle in honour of their dead.
Once all prayers were said, and the ancestors, spirits of place, chaos and ice were honoured, the rite was ended following the grove’s usual form of thanksgivings and farewells, and the circle was opened. The feast was blessed and shared between us.
Louise, 2006