Turbulent times call forth powerful magic. Here at Samhain when the veils are thin, we gathered in sacred space to ask our National Ancestors for advice and counsel.
In this election season with heightened feelings, strong emotions, and voices from our national Shadow coming to the surface, we sought to honor those who did so much to create this country, who cared so deeply during their lives that it be a nation of integrity, community, and fairness. We asked our Beloved Ancestors for guidance and support, for ourselves and for our participation in our nation, in the coming days, weeks, months and years, that government of the people, by the people, and for the people — ALL the people — shall not perish from the Earth.
Each living person present invoked one in particular, and shared aloud a quotation from that ancestor.
We weren’t focused especially on politicians or on experts in statecraft. Our ancestors of choice included people of various skin colors and both mainstream genders. They represented all three centuries in which the United States of America has existed. Several ancestors had not been US citizens during their lives, but had been important allies to our nation or to some bloc of its people.
Our individual choices included educators, writers, suffragettes, warriors, defenders of the rights of others, defenders of equality for themselves and for their children.
Having invoked these Ancestors of our Nation, and a few personal ancestors of our own, we then spent time listening for what they might tell us.
We walked a Pentacle of Spirit in which we invoked Clarity of Thought, Clarity of Sight, Clarity of Knowledge, Clarity of Will, and Clarity of Intuition.
Each of us chose a method of divination. People drew Tarot cards, Earth cards, runes, or phrases taken from the Declaration of Independence. Others stared into dark mirrors, veiled mirrors, or ashes, salted water, or flames. At least one person cast coins and read the I Ching.
And then we shared what we had received.
In this election year, when there has been so much toxic namecalling and so much fact-bending (methinks on all sides, though like nearly everyone I have a preference), whoever has voted for a losing candidate is likely to take it hard.
Several of us received messages telling us to act with compassion towards the losers, if it’s our candidate who wins; to act with generosity and acceptance toward the winners, if not; and especially, that we should act with compassion toward one another in what seems likely to be a difficult aftermath, no matter who wins.
Some people reported new insight into their own fears, as well as guidance on dealing with whatever comes.
We were reminded, as John F. Kennedy famously said, to “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”
We were reminded that it’s in our blood to fight, if necessary, for what is right. We were instructed to do what is right, as that becomes clearer, no matter what it costs us.
We were reminded of the power of song, of shared community, of education, of caring treatment. We were reminded of the important generosity of caring for people whom we imagine are not like ourselves.
Some received messages about the art of the possible: Don’t waste your energy trying to solve the big problems overnight; treat everyone you meet as gently and lovingly as you can, wherever you are, whenever you meet them. Take the best local action available in the moment. Make the small choices correctly and let the big results come from that.
Others received guidance to play bigger, take more risk in speaking up more loudly for fair play, equal treatment, justice and equity. Stand tall, hold your political representatives accountable, organize.
Several people spoke directly about injustice, inequality, broken promises, and what we need to do, in the present moment, to relieve or combat or heal them.
In the end, we came away changed.
The Witch stands at the window, looking out at the brilliant stars in the moonless sky.
She asks me what I have learned.
“Trust the process,” I tell her. “Recognize the opportunity to trust, and risk trusting each other.”
She nods thoughtfully. “What do you hear now?” she asks.
Now? Why does she ask what I hear now, hours after ritual? But then I simply listen.
“I hear the trees calling us to care for the life of all humanity, not just those we love or those who agree with us. I hear the water calling us to pay attention to the life of the whole planet, not just human life. I hear the stars calling us to be our best selves.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder, standing with me at the window. She kisses my cheek, and when I turn, surprised, she is no longer there.
It is Samhain Eve. The veils are thin. We listen.
Blessed Be.
— Maggie Beaumont
Samhain 2016
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