Experience the sacredness held within the voice and tradition of Irish oral storytelling. Enjoy at your leisure - maybe curled up with a warm cuppa tea or held within the wild embrace of the magical natural world that surrounds you.
Mo ghrá go léir / All my love,
Erica
As we find ourselves at November’s end, it seems fitting to share a third and final Stories of Samhain tale.
At this time of year, we look to the North. Towards the direction of our ancestors, an Cailleach, and the season of winter. Here we are reminded that we, too, are made of the element of Earth - to which we’ll all return. One day.
As we honour our loved ones who’ve gone home, Samhain invites us to consider the sacredness in death. Not as finite ending; but maybe as spiral towards a new beginning. For, just as the trees shed their leaves, they will find a new place tucked close to the heart of Mother Earth - under a blanket of fresh fallen snow.
Here, snuggled into the breast of winter, we too can find nourishment, rest, and pause for potential — if we’re open to surrendering into her wise and wild embrace.
This is the story I bring to you today. One that dances between the worlds of beginning and endings, while sacredly held by the ancient ones who stand betwixt the veils.
So, until the Eastern sun of Imbolc warms our face and Brigid calls us to emerge once more, let us relish in this season of the wise and well spirits who keep us company along our winter journey.
So with that…
Rachaimis ar thuras le chéile.
Let’s take a journey together.
Being of Irish and French ancestry, I continue to be reverently grateful to the traditional spirits and keepers of the land [past, present, and forth-coming] of the unceded and unsurrendered territory of the Algonquin Anishinabeg People; where I was born and currently reside.
Culture, language, and stories run within the rivers and are held within the stones of landscapes. Míle buíochas, a thousand thanks, for the opportunity to share stories alongside you.
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Buíochas ó chroí / Heartfelt thanks,
Erica
