Tag Archives: letting go

A 21st Century Wheel of the Year: Release at Samhain

Samhain.  The time of no time, the time of the ancestors, the time of the wild hunt. The time when darkness blankets the land, the frost covers the landscape, and many things die. Here in the hemisphere, this signals the end of the fall months and the beginning of the long and dark cold of the winter. I always feel like Samhain is when we get our first hard frost. The first frost cuts through the land, tearing through tender annuals like tomatoes and basil, freezing the tips of the last of the aster and goldenrod, and hastening the annual dropping of the leaves.  It leaves a wake of brown and death in its stead, and signals clearly that summer is over and winter is soon to come.

Nature Mandala

In my first post on this series (Receptivity at the Fall Equinox), I made the case that the traditional Wheel of the Year and its themes were developed and enacted under very different conditions than our present age. The Holocene, a period of climate stability, allowed the rise of agriculture, agrarian traditions, and basic assumptions about being able to put forth an effort and reap rewards. Some of the themes present in the traditional wheel of the year simply don’t fit the present age–the age of the Anthropocene. This is where fires, floods, droughts, severe storms, and rising seas threaten our homes and livelihoods. Where animals, fish, birds, and insects are under severe threat from human-driven activity.  Where traditional–and balanced–relationships with the land have been severed. And where each of us has to cultivate a new set of resilient skills to successfully navigate the coming age.  Thus, I argue, we need new approaches to celebrating our traditional wheel that emphasize the skills and vision that will help us not only navigate the continuing crisis but also help us bring forth a better future for our descendants and all life.

Today’s theme is releasing or letting go.  While this is is a theme that some have explored at Samhain in the past, I want to shed some new light on it, given this current age.

Letting go

In Traditional Western Herbalism, stagnation is one of the worst things that can happen to the human body. A stagnant condition is a place where disease festers, where the body breaks down, and where the body loses tone and strength.  Stagnation is infection, it is dysfunction, and it is disease.  It is the same in our mental lives:  stagnant conditions are those that lock us into unproductive patterns: repeated focuses on trauma, living in the past, not allowing ourselves to get out of problematic thought patterns. The key is processing and then releasing this so we can grow again.

Stagnation is also the opposite of what occurs throughout nature.  Nature is always adapting, always evolving, always changing to meet the present age.  We can see this from the fossil records of ages past.  Animals, plants, insects, fish–all life has learned to continually adapt and evolve, taking on new behaviors, new physiology, and new forms to adapt to changing conditions on this planet. I point, for example, to the adaptations that Raccoons have made to live in city environments all around the world as a recent example of how adaptable and resilient nature is.  If nature is disrupted through fire, flood, or human activity–it begins to regrow immediately.  If left to grow, it will go through many adaptations before coming to its current climax environment (which where I live, is often an oak-hickory forest!)

Strengthening our collective vision for the future involves letting go of the past narratives that bind us!

Strengthening our collective vision for the future involves letting go of the past narratives that bind us!

In addition to our individual experience, the other area that we can explore with regards to the Anthropocene is the cultural narratives that bind us–myths that are creating a kind of cultural stagnation.  We know there is a global problem, but the myths and systems in place at present mind us to the same tired and repeated pattern. One set of myths that have been broadly identified is the “myth of progress”, or the idea that civilization is forever moving forward in a growth-at-all-costs paradigm. I don’t think this myth has the power it used to have, say, 10 years ago, but it’s still something deeply embedded in us that absolutely has to be let go of if we are going to thrive in the future and build a new age. Here in the United States, a related driving myth is the American Dream (which is believed by pretty much no one under the age of 30 who grew up in the USA).  Another common myth is the idea that you as a human are disconnected from nature, or maybe, that you can only harm the living earth.  A final myth is that technology will somehow save us from this climate crisis, that we can simply invent a better technology so we can keep on doing what we’ve been doing…These myths have power; they encourage us to see the world from a certain perspective that keeps us as just cogs in the larger machine of progress and industrialization.  But the truth is, the machine is failing, and the best thing we can do is distance ourselves from that machine–and that distancing starts with interrogating these myths. And certainly, we have a lot to interrogate at present.

This, the first step towards resiliency and adaptability–two critical skills for this present and coming age–are being willing to let go of those things that no longer serve us. To recognize when it is time to acknowledge, move on, and heal from that which has bound us to and in the past.

Letting Go Activities for Samhain: Shadow Work and ritual

So let’s look at how this letting go work at Samhain might happen.  I’m not going to lie–what I’m outlining here is extremely difficult work.  Work that takes years, disentangling work where we examine ourselves, our relationship to others, and the core of our understanding of the world. There are two steps to letting go–shadow work and ritual release.

Shadow Work: Understanding the Unconscious and Collective Unconscious

Jung’s extensive writings in philosophy and psychology explored the role of the unconscious and the consciousness within individuals as well as broader collectives, and it is well worth delving into if you are going to do this work. On the most basic level, our consciousness is everything we are clearly aware of, while the unconscious is everything that is not.   Jung also recognizes that there is a collective unconscious, the realm of the driving myths and archetypes of any culture or age. The unconscious has tremendous power and often drives our actions, decisions, and beliefs and yet, for many, is a vast and unexplored region.

Shadow work, as a whole, represents that work that we do to understand our own unconscious–including our darker nature–and come to terms with it.  It involves us carefully examining our own assumptions, subconscious and semi-conscious actions, the ways in which we respond or hurt, and all the semi-invisible stuff we carry with us.  There are parts of us that are shaped by our past experiences. Understanding ourselves and our darker natures is a lifetime of study, but we can certainly do good work in this direction with dedicated effort. You have to fund a productive way into this work, and you have to be willing to change and understand yourself.  One of the methods that I have been taught and that has been very effective is to understand your darker nature–what is within yourself.  This is the stuff where you often act subconsciously in response to something–when you feel hurt, or you compare yourself to others.  You can also look back on behaviors that you did that hurt others, particularly those that you did subconsciously or without even thinking about it. And then consider where those things are rooted in–and what you can do to mitigate or understand this self better.

Shadow work in the age of the Anthropocene should also examine our relationship to the collective unconscious, those big narratives, and myths that guide much of what we think and believe about the world. Culturally-focused shadow work involves really starting to disentangle the cultural narratives the have driven this world to the brink of ecological collapse. This is not easy work; some of which I have outlined above.

Thus, when we think about letting go, any of these things might be helpful, particularly in the context of this age:

  • Letting go of the cultural assumptions that guide us
  • Letting go of assumptions about how we can use nature, take from nature, or own nature
  • Letting go of assumptions about humans’ relationship with nature (e.g. I can only do less harm or less bad)
  • Letting go of the expectations about what our lives could be; the lies culture and corporations told us
  • Letting go of external understandings of what we “should” do and who we “should be”
  • Letting go of expectations of others
  • Letting go of old pain and deep wounds; finding power in forgiveness and moving on

This work can be done through meditations, talking with others we trust, journaling, and just a lot of self-observation and evaluation.  Take one small piece at a time: examine yourself, your past behaviors (particularly those that you did “without thinking” and then later asked yourself,”why did I do that?”), deep-rooted insecurities and emotions, and see where you arrive at.  A lot of this work happens in a cycle–you do a certain amount, and then you rest and do other things for a while, and then you come back later and deepen your understanding over time.

Elemental Letting Go/Releasing Ritual

Fires burning

Fires burning

Once you’ve done some of the above, you can also consider ritual means for releasing. Letting go rituals are generally pretty straightforward-first, charging an object that will help you release, and then, actually releasing it in some way through ritual means (a fire/air ritual, an earth ritual or a water ritual).  You can actually design a ritual that is tied to a particular element. Step one is to have some object that represents what you want to let go of.  This object is focused on, where you meditate or direct the unwanted feelings/assumptions/emotions into the object.  The object is then released and nature is allowed to do her healing work.  So let’s look at three versions of this:

The Air/Fire Releasing Ritual

You can perform an air/fire ritual in a few different ways.  One way is to open a ritual space and start by writing down what you want to release beforehand, crumpling that up, and then building a fire around those materials.  Then, you light the fire, let it burn down, and the work is done. In an alternative, you would prepare a fire and then open your ritual space.  Light your fire, then cast your releasing materials into the fire and let it burn down. This is useful for group activities, where everyone is going to be releasing whatever they feel the need to release.  In either case, you light the fire, allow the powerful energies of fire and air to help you let go, and move forward.

A Water releasing ritual

Water is another good method for releasing and letting go.  Ideally, you want either a large body of water (a big lake, an ocean) or a moving body of water (like a river). Begin by making an offering to the body of water, and see if it is willing to accept from you things for release (if not, offer gratitude and find another body of water).  Now, find a stone or a stick along the edge of that water, and pour into it the emotions/feelings/experiences that you want to release.  Take your time in doing this.  Speak our intentions for this work aloud as you do this.  When it feels “full”, fling it into the body of water as far as you can.  Consider a verbal release (like a shout), as you release this.  Then, thank the body of water and turn your back and walk away.

An earth releasing ritual

Earth is a final method for releasing and letting go.  Ideally, you will want somewhere that is not your own home/land for this; or some place far from your home.  Use your intuition to find an appropriate place.  Begin by asking permission of the earth to help you with your releasing work; make an offering and offer gratitude.  If you have an affirmative, continue, and if not, find a different spot and ask again.  Once you have found your spot, dig a small hole, working hard not to disrupt anything that is already living there.  Take a stone, stick, or other object (that is safe to put into the land), and hold the object in your hands.  Pour all that you want to let go of in the object. Speak your intentions aloud, and take all the time you need to do this.  Finally, place the object in the hole and cover it up.  Thank the earth again, and then walk away and do not look back.

Letting Go to Writing a New Story

Letting go is a critically important part of moving forward with a new vision and story for the future–a vision of a healed world in balance with the living earth. Thus, Samhain helps us to let go of that which no longer serves us, and that which hinders our ability to move forward, grow, and heal.  Letting go is powerful work, and can be done at all levels: physical, mental, emotional, cultural, and spiritual.  And I think it’s really necessary to work for us as we seek to develop resiliency, adaptability and embrace the change and challenge that is before us.

Once you let go, you see things from a new perspective.  Your judgment is less clouded by your own internal narratives nor those of the broader collective unconscious.  You are free to vision a new world, a better present for yourself and your loved ones, and most importantly–a bright future for all of the earth’s inhabitants and our descendants.  That, my dear readers, is worth striving for.

 

PS: I will be taking several weeks off from blogging. I’ll return before the Winter Solstice to resume again!  :).

 

On Letting Go of Your Land and Leaving Your Homestead: Lamentations, Joys, and the Way Forward

A scene from the land...

A scene from the land…

I’m in the midst of a major life transition. After six years of living in South-East Michigan (with five of those here on my homestead), I have made a big life decision to take a new job at a new university and return to my beloved mountains and forests in rural Western Pennsylvania. The pull to return to my homeland, to my family and beloved forests, has been growing stronger each year I’ve been gone, and was part of my decision to return. When I left Western PA at the age of 22 to go to graduate school, I had no idea if I’d ever return.  Now I’m 34, and 12 years have passed. In those 12 years, the landscape of my homeland has been desecrated with extensive amounts of fracking and logging, in addition to the mills and mines which were already so prevalent and destructive. I’ll be moving deep in the heart of fracking territory in Western PA. The fracked lands are my home lands, the soil where my ancestors lay, the trees that taught me this path, and I will not abandon them. My future work on every level: professional, homesteading/personal, spiritual, artistic, herbal, community building lay among these beautiful Appalachian mountains.  And so, I now face the difficult challenge of letting go of my land here in Michigan.

 

This post is part lament, part joyful, and part how to let go.  I’m sharing my process with you, dear readers, because you also at some point may have a decision to make, land to leave, a new path to follow.

 

On being one with the land.

The longer you are with a patch of  land–the more that you become reflections of each other. As I built sacred spaces, butterfly gardens, brought bees and chickens, established a huge garden, and began to do incredible amounts of reskilling, I was undergoing inner transformations and initiations at the same time. As I healed the land and transformed it, the land transformed me. I wrote about this blending of inner and outer work extensively two years ago–one thing it really taught me was that one can live in a sacred manner always, that each action and interaction can be sacred.  It taught me that we can set aside sacred time, build sacred space, and be one with our setting.

 

The same scene in the wintertime....

The same scene in the wintertime….

When you live on the land in the way that I have, there’s an exchange of energy that is difficult to put into words. When I started obtaining a yield from my land, eating what is grown on it, I began to take the land and its nutrients into myself.  My physical health and vitality improved as well. The land physically sustained me in the same way that the physical earth allows me to walk upon it. And I brought nutrients back to the land each season. When I made medicine from the land, the medicine healed me, becames part of me. When I toiled on the land, and I dripped sweat, the soft earth drank it up and my sweat become part of it. When I cried next to the pond upon making my decision to leave, my tears dripped into the water and became part of it. When I breathed out carbon dioxide, the plants breath it in and gave me life-giving oxygen. Every interaction, every action has a response, even if its not visible to the naked eye. The process of homesteading, of herbalism, of spiritual practices, of  inhabiting a landscape that you depend upon for survival ties you so innately and closely to the land that you feel like one entity. This is what I experienced in the five years on my beloved homestead. The question becomes–how can one possibly let go?

 

On the Power of Ritual in Decision Making

Imbolc Spiral

Imbolc Spiral this year on the pond.

What I have found through this process, and other vision quests and vigils that I have done as part of my spiritual path, is that decisions like this cannot be made in our “normal space” and time, where the demands of life press deeply and urgently upon us and cloud our inner vision. In “normal space” we are in a certain frame of mind, and that is often the mindset of immediate action and reaction rather than contemplation and mindfulness. In order to make such a monumental and life-changing decision, we must set aside sacred space, healing space, space to simply be, reflect, think, cry, feel, breathe….space that allows us to have a new perspective on the decision at hand. For those that study the tarot, the Hanged Man card (or in my tarot deck, the Inverted Tree) exemplifies this–hanging oneself upside down is a sure way to gain a new perspective.  And since ritual can provide us with that altered perspective through the use of ceremonial actions and intention, it served the purpose I needed it to–that of creating a space to ask the land about my decision.

 

Since Imbolc is the time of renewal and the first holiday of spring and occurred right at the time I needed to make the decision, I decided to use the ceremony to help me figure out the way forward. I walked the spiral that we had created as part of our ceremony out on the pond with some fellow druids, and thought much about the land, the beautiful land, woven into my soul. As I walked the winding spiral, I recounted about the gifts the land had given me, the tremendous gifts. As I lay in the middle, I opened myself to the land, asked its permission to go, let it feel deeply my feelings, know my thoughts. As I walked the slow walk out, I recognized the peace and blessing the land was sending me–and how the work is never done, and others will continue it here in Michigan, in their own way.

 

On Letting Go.

The one thing that has given me great peace through this process is this: I am leaving this land in such better condition than I found it. I am leaving it as a nurturing, healing, and bountiful place where many have come to seek rest, rejuvenation, and connection. Where the trees literally sing in the wind, where the stones hold the energies of the space, where the bees and butterflies thrive and grow. I’ve had multiple friends tell me that when they drive up my driveway, they didn’t feel like they were in Michigan anymore–they were somewhere else, somewhere sacred. I realize that this is such a gift, creating and honoring the land in a sacred way. When I arrived, as I detailed in this post, I found heaps of trash, pollution, and general disregard for all life on this property. But now, there are fruit trees, sanctuaries, abundance, fertility….and we’ve honored the land with ceremonies recognizing the passing of the wheel of the year.

 

I realize that this land has imprinted itself on me, that my very body has been nourished from its nutrients.  That even when I leave, I will leave a piece of myself always here in this land.  The land will remember me long after I am gone.  And I, too, will always remember this land–and it will still be here, long after I pass beyond the veil.  So I take comfort, in understanding while my years here were short, they were certainly meaningful.

 

I will miss this place so much!

My amazing garden….

And now, this beautiful homestead is ready for someone else to learn and grow–and they have a great start to doing so, since I’ve laid the foundation, preparing the rich soil, planting many trees, awakening it in a spiritual sense, and loving this land as best as I could. I am eagerly awaiting meeting the new caretakers of this land, whoever they may be, and sharing the secrets of the soil.

 

Realizing there is somewhere new, waiting

I know that out there, somewhere in Western PA, new land is waiting for me. I have been feeling its pull for several years, and now, it is pulling even more strongly by the day. Michigan is not my home–it is not where my ancestors are buried, it is not the land that birthed me, nor where I first heard the voices of the trees. I realize now that Michigan was meant to be a place where I would learn some of the deep mysteries of inhabiting the land, of being tied to the soil, and hearing its whispered secrets in the wind. It was meant to be a place where I had so much opportunity: to learn from some wonderful teachers and mentors in organic farming, natural building, herbalism, food preservation, permaculture design, and much more.

 

And the knowledge I have and the experiences I’ve gained are not common or much established where I am going…so I will have knowledge to share, knowledge that is wanted and needed. I’ve learned so much while being immersed in a great community here and living on my homestead. I’ve already been asked to share my knowledge of herbs and plants and have been told by many they are excited to have me come–and I expect so many opportunities will emerge in the coming years to share what Michigan has blessed me with.

 

Sacred Land, Unsacred Times

A friend who lives about 10 miles from here is also selling her property–she is getting older, and the property is getting too much for her husband and her to maintain.  Like me, she has worked spiritually with the land, hosted rituals, even built a kiva on her property for ceremony.  And so, like me, she has sacred, awakened land.  We had a long conversation about it–how does one sell sacred land?  How can one make sure the right people buy it, honor it, and love it?  This is the challenge we face–but there are many tools to make this happen.  My inner senses tell me that it will work out perfectly for both of our properties, but there is still the worry and concern.

 

How I will miss you, dear homestead!

How I will miss you, dear homestead!

The Way Forward…

Now that I’m leaving, I’m trying to spend as much time as I can out on the land, appreciating it, observing it, taking in these final memories before the property is sold and I am off on my next adventure. While I had felt, on some level, this transition coming for a number of years, I had no idea when it would actually arrive, and I realize that I’m working through some serious grief and feelings of loss.  As much as I have grief about moving, I’m also excited for the new opportunities this process brings–and the new experiences and energies that will be present. My home will be on the market and officially for sale in the next week, and I am already in the middle of making the transition to PA.

 

So, part of this journey and the upcoming focus of my blog will be my transition from a 3-acre homestead to renting again (and what sustainable and spiritual activities can be done in that situation) And part of the story will be finding that new land to call my own, and the story of my work on that land, deep within the heart of the Appalachian mountains.
And so I hope, dear readers, that these upcoming journeys are as rich as my last six years in Michigan have been. Thank you for walking by my side, for learning about this land…and for your companionship on the journey that still is to come.