All Souls Day

3 Responses

  1. Bernie Bell says:

    I’ve only just learnt how to do this….this is something I sent to someone, this year, around the time of ……whatever you like to call it…………………

    I’m angered/saddened/ annoyed by what Halloween has become in popular culture. The whole ‘boogy-boo’ idea, is against what I know of those who have passed. Just because a person is dead, they don’t immediately become ….horrific. If they were horrid in life, they are likely to be horrid in death, until/if they learn to be otherwise.
    When I was a child, and a young person, we used to bob for apples, and have little parties, in our houses. The whole ‘trick or treat’ thing is an American import, which has got completely out of hand in recent years.

    I dislike both how the original meaning, has been perverted by popular culture, and also, this modern business of trick or treat rather than marking a celebration of a time of change, of life passing and renewed life, which is what it means, to me.
    Trick or treat, didn’t used to be so bad. When I lived in Wales, the local children would call round, and I would give them sweeties. Now. It’s seen as a licence to be naughty, and destructive, and that’s not what it is.

    And……………………….written early November, 2011

    The weirdy Samhain stuff, yes, well, …………………………
    The stuff about looking back at my life, and peoples lives, life as it is now, and looking ahead to what’s, possibly , to come. I’d been very much aware of it not just being one night ( Halloween), but more a time of year.
    A lot of stuff, went on, around what’s called Halloween, this year, for me, which gave me a stronger awareness of what this time of year, is about. Even what I found myself doing, in the garden, fitted, though I wasn’t really aware of it. We’ve had the meadow, strimmed and mown, and ‘put to bed’ for the winter, just waiting to burst into life again. I’ve been planting daffodils like nobody’s business, daffodils, little bits of sunshine that they are. We went to the Rendall Harvest Home on Friday – end of the harvest, end of the ‘light’ time of year, going into the ‘dark’ time of year. Only dark, in terms of shortage of light, nothing else ‘dark’ about it, at all, a wonderful time. Last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself going out just as the light goes, and wandering around the garden, and just standing and looking around me, at how all the different places and pieces of the garden and landscape, fit together. Lovely. Taking in the feel of it, the light, the smells, the sounds, watching all the birds, wheeling about. Brilliant. It’s all there, for those who keep their eyes and ears and senses open, all six of them!
    Thing is, also, the festivals are often seen as Celtic, whereas what I was feeling, felt like it went way, way, back, before the Celts, same times of year, same significant day, or days, but the folk then, would have called them something different. I just go with the flow, go with what’s happening, don’t worry about putting names on it. It all felt very odd, and I didn’t know why, but I just work with it, and see what comes out of it, and through it, in this case, a greater understanding, for me, of the time of year.
    Times of our life, Pam, times of our life, and Times of Life, and ALL SORTS! Isn’t life just a GAS?
    Here’s to Good Times, and clearer heads!
    One love

  2. Em says:

    To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

    It’s not easy though is it. 🙁

  3. Dave evans says:

    Churches (and graveyards) are wonderful places to go. I have always thought that even if religion was banned, they should still keep the churches so you can go and contemplate in them. Graveyards are just wonderful, they make laugh, cry, sigh, chuckle and feel ashamed all in one go.
    I was supervising community payback with a bunch of lads once cleaning a graveyard and it was inspiring. They turned up surly and resentful, but by the end of the day they asked if they could come back and work the same graveyard. Little babies and their mummies died in childbirth – how sad – you can’t contemplate it. An 11 year old girl – murdered. An 80 year old man, served proudly as legionnaire in the French foreign legion – imagine him doing that slow march singing le boudaine! A spitfire pilot died 1941 aged 21 – wow – one of the few here beneath our feet.
    An old woman aged 90. A loving wife to Fred, Albert, and Albert – God, she’s seen off 3 husbands!! – I wish I could have drunk in the same pubs as her!!
    Graveyards are fun!

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