Describing a good friend is like holding water from a mountain stream in your hands. You can touch the essence, you can cradle the wonder, you can even sip the clean majesty of the transparently authentic – but the experience is fleeting, it humbles any effort at definition, and it leaves the soul with a unsteadying sense of impermanence.
I first selected the word “steadying” rather than its opposite. Only when I let myself recall the recent sensation of releasing a lifelong friend from a departing hug did I recognize how profound a feeling it is to let go of something which cannot be held. Despite the unwelcome aura of separation, and the visceral acknowledgment that moments of grace move through us like rain descending in an autumn morning, there remains an acceptance of the unstable, a peace inside the impossible, a safety nestled in the tingle of connections which always will be.
Can there be security found in the inherent wobbliness of individual being? Is the ricketiness of difference in some way an entree into the groundedness of the universal?
The Celts believed that the portal to the spirit world opened on or near November 1st. And so they celebrated Samhain (pronounced sah-win), a celebration of “summer’s end”, the harvest, and the transition to winter and eventual renewal. They were not alone; many other cultures have marked this time of year as one of magic and mystery, a time to remember those who have passed before us, an annual opportunity to remind ourselves that the threshold between the physical here and the mystical there is less impenetrable than we like to think. The Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos), All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, and, yes, Halloween are all traditions across peoples and belief systems dating back to early human consciousness and our desire to know, to revere, to seek certainty and protection. And, of course, to have fun. The costumes that have become part of annual All Hallows’ Eve parties, trick-or-treating, and other festivals are meant to honor those who have died but also to poke fun at the living. Tonight is a night to dress as someone else. It is an evening to laugh at or with death – but to do so in a gentle, sometimes superstitious, and often respectful way. Because there is a liminal quality to the air every All Hallows’ Eve, a saturation in the colors, a special way we light the edge of the encroaching night for northern hemisphere winter. We may smile. We may mark the evening with candy, sweets, and small bonfires. We may even go to great lengths to paint faces and wear the markings of the past or the mysterious or the sometimes scary and macabre. We still feel, however, the ritual rise of the small hairs on the back of our necks. We still reflect, if asked, on the passing of those we have loved. We may even still say a small prayer for the souls of those who have departed and for the lives of many who still physically remain.
This year, I will be thinking about people I have been fortunate to know as friends. In the spirit of my Celtic ancestors, I will be remembering the embrace we have shared, whether last week or last century. For this 2021 “summer’s end”, I will remind myself how blessed I have been to have, hold, and experience the kindness that is possible in a world open to beauty and mystery.
And there it is. How remarkable! Already I feel the unsteadying comfort of life beyond my own physical boundary. Like a taproot for an aging tree, there is always moisture within reach, even if I cannot see the source.
Lovely. ❤
Nicely written!!