A moment to honour the ancestors

Samhain, subway rides and the blessing of a memory

Today is the start of Samhain, a Gaelic festival which starts this evening and continues into tomorrow. It is a time when the veil thins, and we can lean on support from our ancestors. It’s a day to honour them for all they went through to get us here. It’s a day to heal those parts of our ancestral relationships that feel difficult or strained. Halloween, Samhain, Dia de Los Muertos: no matter how you look at these days, whether you give them attention or not — it’s worth taking even a minute to think of your ancestors and sink into the knowing that there was a hell of a lot of graft to get you here. And that your life, too, will come to an end one day. And you, too, will be an ancestor. And what a gift that knowledge is. Maybe it sounds a little cheesy, but it’s true — there’s nothing like thinking about the prospect of your own death to give you pause and help you appreciate how precious (and fragile) your life actually is.

October 31st is a day that, like so many other things, has been co-opted by capitalism to make us buy shit (and eat a lot of chocolate). Since I was consigned to a childhood full of Halloween-themed birthday parties with a birthday at the end of October, I don’t have the biggest affinity for fancy dress (but I do still love Halloween). On Friday night, I was on my way home on the subway around 1130 pm. The train was full of wigs, fishnet stockings and a heavy dose of pleather. We stop at West 4th Street, and a guy rolls onto my car on a motorbike (yes, you read that right), blasting an obscure Whitney Houston song from a speaker and singing every word at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in a full leather suit and a Yankees cap. He was not dressed for Halloween — he was just another New Yorker making questionable decisions — but there were customers dotted around the rest of the car who stared at him, eyes wide, knowing that their efforts paled in comparison to this guy. I was right next to him and just hoped he didn’t turn the bike on the whole time he spent serenading our car. Something about the weird shit that happens over this collection of days before and after Halloween really gives spooky season its name. How many ancestors are with us on these trains laughing at the absurdity of it all? How many mad New Yorkers have stepped onto the hallowed halls of the MTA?

When I started to learn about the origins of Halloween as an adult and the more ritual-based practices of Samhain, I felt I finally found something I could sink my teeth into. Traditionally, Samhain was widely practised in Ireland and Scotland, marking the end of the harvest season. Samhain is a cross-quarter day: which means the days are about to get noticeably shorter: we are at the mid-point between the Summer and Winter Equinoxes. We notice the narrowing of the hours of light because it is in shorter supply. The end of the year draws near; we notice what we’ve done with our time. There is a transition, and in the darkness, we are reminded of the transience of time and our lives. If you’re paying attention, which Samhain invites you to, you may be drawn to attune to nature’s death cycle.

I had previously been somewhat suspicious about contacting the ancestors. I don’t know who the hell is in my lineage!!! And if you read my last newsletter, you know I’m not trying to fuck with ghosts who have no business following me around. But as I’ve continued down the path of celebrating Samhain, I have come to deeply treasure this day that honours the ancestors. I like to put out some food on my altar that I know they would have liked (a Milano cookie for my maternal grandmother and a Root Beer for my paternal grandfather). I like to think of what we still need to heal and the cycles of stories we need to break. I ask for their help to do this.

If you have some time today—no matter what you practice or believe, I encourage you to take some time to sit in quiet contemplation and honour those people who have come before you. It’s easy to feel at sea and alone in the story of your life, especially if you don’t come from a culture that expressly asks you to connect to your ancestral lineage. I find that even just the remembrance of certain ancestors: whether I knew them in this life or not, helps me to feel the preciousness of my own life — which can sometimes be hard to click into.

It also helps me to remember that all we have is now, this present moment. No matter how much future tripping you enjoy doing or past regrets you spend time ruminating on, it’s true. The future is not yet real. You can breathe in and allow the breath to situate you in the present moment. You can breathe out and remember the truth of who you are. No matter how overwhelming the circumstances of your life may be, you always have this to return to. It’s not nothing.

The more I remember all I have is the present moment, the less I feel completely overwhelmed by the state of things, and the more it allows me to take compassionate action. The more it reminds me that I am connected to a long line of people placed on this earth to love one another, to bear witness, to break bread, to do more than survive, to make art, to fight, to fuck, to forget their majesty and worth over and over again and to show up in their bodies for however many years — until the light goes out and they’re ushered into the next place, wherever that may be.

May the memory of your ancestors be a blessing on this day.

May you make their favourite food on this day and leave a bit for them to eat, too.

May you play their favourite song and dance to it, imagining what it felt like to listen to it with them.

May you imagine what they did when they were young, and couldn’t imagine one day that they’d be a future ancestor, too.

May you remember their kindnesses and let it envelop you in a warm embrace.

May you remember their shortcomings and let it be a reminder that you make mistakes, too and — you can strive to do better.

May you remember their easy laughter and let it remind you to laugh easily, too.

May you remember how their body created a life with considerate and consistent action, and that’s what you’re doing here too — and may it spur you on. May their spirit support you within it.

May their love be felt through time and space, may you feel it — and send it back.

And for those who feel lost and disconnected from their ancestors, may the simple act of trying to remember help you find your way to them.

And for those with complicated relationships with their ancestors, may the simple act of remembering help you find forgiveness, reconciliation and a way to mend past wounds — even through the pain of it. Especially through the pain of it.

And may their memories be a blessing. And may your memory, one day — be a blessing.