Thinning
unveiling ourselves this Samhain and beyond
As we in the Northern hemisphere find ourselves in the descent towards darker days, heading down into Samhain1, it’s become a tradition of sorts that I spend some time contemplating this idea of the thinning of the veil between the worlds.
Most of us are familiar these days with the idea that at Samhain the divide between the living and the dead dissolves temporarily, giving us an opportunity to contact and honour those on the other side. This corresponds with the seasonal procession of death and decay which starts to gently creep into the landscape around this time. Leaves wizen and curl, dropping from the trees; leaving behind skeletal branches. Mulch builds under our feet. There is rot and dying all around.
Although I’ve often tangled myself in knots contemplating what The Veil really is, this year I’m thinking about the veils that we might hide behind to keep us from seeing what is plainly in front of us.
A veil can obscure; protecting our sight. They soften our vision, making what we view fuzzy and indistinct.
I’m sure you already know that when translated into English, the Greek word ‘apokalypsis’ translates into ‘unveiling’ or ‘revealing’. To unveil is to heighten our sensitivities and widen our perception. At Samhain this unveiling enables us to sharpen our intuitive faculties and feel our dead.
However, I cannot write about this annual rite of death and decay without acknowledging that right now we are witnessing mass genocide in Palestine; an apocalypse of our times. To be blunt, the death toll is rising as we speak. As a funeral ceremonialist who encourages people to feel the grief of loss it would be hypocritical of me not to urge us to look at this.
Can we lift our veils to gaze at the horrors? Can we thin the veil of ignorance and educate ourselves about this conflict (and others)?2 To the continuing ills of colonisation? Oppressive systems are banking on you remaining behind the veil – they don’t want you to sharpen your sight on their harmful ways. I’m not suggesting that this needs to propel us towards frantic action in the face of something so gargantuan and wildly out of our control, but can we just be present to the suffering? (That said, if you would like a short list of ways to support and/or understand what’s happening out there you can find them at the bottom of this article.)
Sometimes we have no choice but to surrender to feeling it all. A dear friend of mine messaged me yesterday to say that it was as if all the pains she had put to one side over the rest of the month (including her feelings on Palestine) were now running like lightening through her as she found herself in Day 1 of her cycle.3 As someone who has paid attention to my menstrual cycle since my twenties, I know that there are veils that thin around my pre-menstrual phase - what is thought of as the menstrual cycle’s Inner Autumn – where I am sensitive to everything. Emotions are heightened; feelings are revealed that have been hidden before. It can feel like I have become the nerve endings of the world. Oftentimes this uncomfortable thinning beckons me inwards to look at what needs to change.
This is both a gift and a curse. Seeing clearly and feeling all the pains, letting them through the veil, both the personal and political, leaves me deliquesced. Softened and puddle-like. This is no bad state to be in - especially if, like me, you can get hard and brittle from resisting the feelings - but without the company, care and love of my dear ones to contain me, I will sometimes be so liquid-y as to run away with myself. I need companionship to let this thinning softly transmute the pain into a suppleness that gently coaxes me back into a more solid form again.
In this way, I wonder if we might also work towards thinning the veils that keep us from connecting from our friends and communities? Dissolve the diaphanous layers that stop us seeing each other in our fullnesses. We are not meant to do this grieving and letting-the-pain-in on our own.4
The paradox of a veil is that it might also let us see clearly by shrouding our sight. Hmong shamans will don a ritual head cover to block out the physical world, so that they can focus more intensely on the spiritual realms. With this ancient technology, they see the unseen. Many ancestral traditions have adopted various forms of ‘eye curtain’ to conduct healing and ceremonial work. These coverings can offer protection from dangerous spirits who might interfere with the work or harm the shaman, but they also enable seership that gives the wearer the ability to hunt down sources of ill health and pain that are otherwise hidden from ordinary view. I like to remember this when my own seeing has become too binary; too this not that. Could I do with a different perspective? To let myself be disorientated by things being obscured and my veiled-self stumble instead of marching up my path of certainty?
Equally, like the shaman, sometimes we just might need the cover and protection of a veil to keep the bad stuff out. I know, dear reader, that as we land in day 24 of attacks on Palestine, many of you will have already been lifting your veils to these atrocities. We are not obliged to make eye contact with the monsters eternally. Perhaps we let the shadowy softness of the veil conceal our eyes - and heart - when things are overwhelming too.
But this whole Veil thing started because of Samhain and thinking about our dead, so let me bring it back once more to the unseen ones. I listened to a lovely conversation between Perdita Finn and Ayana Young on For The Wild podcast yesterday.5 In this episode, Finn invites us to engage with the unseen world for support and guidance during these fierce times. At one stage she said something that really stuck with me; that perhaps when facing these global troubles we need to see through the eyes of the dead.
And so with that in mind I am also hoping at this Samhain – and beyond - to do just that. To let the veil thin that keeps me from seeing through the wise eyes of the dead; to seek their counsel and listen to their insights. I will light my candles, say their names and ask for help - it really can be that simple.
We are navigating a polycrisis. Many right now have no choice in what they bear witness to. Let us count ourselves extremely lucky if we have the chance to engage with our veils in this way.
May we be discerning about when we thin them and when we let them fortify again.
I’m wishing you a soft descent into these darker months ahead.
Welcome your dead. Welcome your grief. Let your tears come. Let your veils tremble.
Lottie x
Sign this petition for a ceasefire now.
If you’re in the UK - A link to a template for writing to your MP (courtesy of Everyday Racism).
Let’s Talk Palestine, Who are Hamas (part 1) - This is a great podcast that explores who Hamas are - I found this really useful.
I enjoyed this history of the conflict with Palestinian academic, Dr Yara Hawari.
A selection of the accounts I’m following on Instagram for news, thought and on-the-ground perspectives: Palestinian Solidarity UK, Jewish Voice for Peace, Plestia Alaqad, Yara Eid. There are way more, but I urge you do your own research and find the voices you want to listen to.
Share this newsletter with a friend who could do with a gentle nudge?
My dear friend Kathryn John of INKLINGS is selling some gorgeous ink work to raise funds for Doctor Without Borders. Beautiful writing here too.
Fully acknowledging here that Samhain goes by different names and takes multiple forms. For my daughter it’s simply Halloween (complete with spooky costumes and too much sugar); in Cornwall it’s Allantide; in Wales it’s Calan Geaef and, of course, there is Mexico’s Día des Muertos. Many folk across the world hold festivals to honour their dead. And let’s not forget that in the Southern Hemisphere we might find people preparing for Beltane, another festival associated with the veil thinning except this time it’s the fae you have to watch out for rather than your ancestors. Unless your ancestors are the fae, but that’s a different story.
For a sobering break down of other conflicts happening, this Wikipedia page is updated regularly.
I’m assuming the majority of you recognise the terminology…but for those not yet versed in menstrual cycle awareness, ‘Day 1’ is when your period arrives.
This is your friendly nudge to call a friend and check in on them or ping a text to tell someone you love them.
I loved reading this, Lottie. Thank you for sharing your reflections, the resources, and for so kindly but firmly pointing out the need for our ongoing awareness and engagement at this time.