Ancestor Veneration

This blog has been sorely neglected due to events happening in my real life. I want that to change. A blog is only as good as the content you put into it, and I want Crafty to be good.

I was reading some Samhain material tonight in preparation for my celebration in a couple of weeks. Samhain is arguably a favorite holiday of mine, but I usually say that about all of the holidays. Samhain has particular meaning as it's a time to honor the dead. Recently on a pagan forum I belong to, we were discussing ancestor veneration, which is the spiritual concept of worshiping and/or connecting with those in your blood line that have gone before you. To me, that totally hits home. I was raised to revere the blood lines before me, and taught from a very early age. The folk tales and bedtime stories of my childhood were not only Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs, but also "How Our Family Came to California" and "Princess of Ireland Who We're Related To". Every time Mom would find a new ancestor, she would regale my sister and I with the story of their lives.

Just this week I was helping my new roommate discover her first generation ancestors. Within about one minute's time, I could name several of mine -- but she couldn't confirm even after talking to her parents that all four of her grandparents were born in the US. To me, this seemed foreign, but my roommate didn't even blink.

My ancestors, therefore, have never been out of reach. I have always felt a strong connection with Aofie of Leinster who refused to be promised in marriage, and Sarah Hamrick who traveled across the country by wagon train, and Hugh O'Neall who was kept from ascending to a family seat by unfortunate fates. And the generations I can recall are no different. Those family members who have already passed are constantly in my thoughts this time of year.

On Samhain, I like to light candles for family and dear friends who have died. Part of it is my personal campaign to see death from a different light -- a less scary light. I like the idea that I am keeping their spirits and memories alive in this world. I currently have five candles in my Samhain arrangement: one for my grandfather, one for my grandmother, one for my Uncle Chris, one for my Uncle Jack, and one for a tiny child named Arianna who I was blessed to share some time with before she succumbed to brain cancer.

Tonight in preparation for Samhain, I was reading the Charge of the Goddess, which is a powerful poem that's as popular in Wiccan circles as the Lord's Prayer in Christian Churches. My copy of the Charge is written in the front of a book called The Pagan Book of Living and Dying, which I bought to help me turn this corner and view death as another part of the cycle instead of as a scary ending. I like to read the Charge aloud, because the words spoken have deeper meaning than if I just read it to myself. I came to my favorite part:

"Let My worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are My acts.

Let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.

And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and the yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without."

This part fills me with peace, and joy, and happiness every time I read it. Especially if I read it aloud. I can repeat the words as their own kind of spell, "Let there be beauty and strength..." while I'm riding on the bus or sitting on the beach or eating dinner. They bring me a kind of comfort I haven't found since my days of pouring over scripture line by line. I'm not even sure I had this much comfort and acceptance then; I'm not entirely sure that I wasn't skeptical the entire time. Perhaps hindsight tells a different story than the one that actually occured.

At this time of year, I drink lots of pommegranite juice. I love to let it dribble down my chin and catch it with my hand and lick it off. The taste of it, tart and sweet, reminds me of this season.

I need to pick out new candles for my Samhain celebration.

Lughnassah

It is time for Lughnassah, and though I say this about all the holidays, Lughnassah really is my favorite. The God that the holiday is named after, Lugh, has been involved in my life for many years. Lugh is a fantastic character: of the Tuatha de Danan of ancient Ireland, he was born to be a peacemaker and a king. When it came time for him to face his rites of passage, one was to uniquely identify himself within the community. Though he was an archer and a swordsman, a horseman and an animal lover, a blacksmith and a craftsman, none of these things alone uniquely separated him from other members of the adult community. So he cleverly (because of course he was also clever and witty) said, "But do you have someone who can do all of those things?" and passed his challenge.

I celebrate by making corn chowder, a recipe I love and adore. It has cream and creamed corn, peppers and onions, and little baby shrimp in it. I also make myself a corn dolly which is saved for a lovely candle holiday next February, Imbolc. And though I've been celebrating with a large group in a city nearby recently, I am sitting Lughnassah out. I have written a special chant just for Lugh and I'm going to camp for a night and have a sort of retreat. My personal life demands a pause for spirituality, and that is exactly what I intend to do.