Holding space for the mystery 🕯️
On grief, the thinning of the veil, and the nothingness of November
Hello, you.
The waves of grief come and go. There are moments I forget and moments that my face is soaked with tears. Pretty much all of the time, though, I cannot grasp that my dad has passed on. This world seems different to me now. And I can’t wrap my mind around that he just stopped existing.
Stay with me, now. I promise this isn’t going to be a long letter of me pouring out my heart and processing my grief to you. Though, we don’t really do enough of that with each other in the western world, do we?
But, I did need to start this Sunday evening letter to you with my context. You know, where I am coming from, what’s coloring my thoughts and inspiring my words. And, that context is: My dad died a little over a month ago. It’s the mystical, liminal month of November. And the holidays are quickly approaching.
I have found great comfort in the changing of the seasons this autumn, in the midst of my grief. It has felt like such lovely timing - the earth ending its life cycle and settling into winter’s rest, just as my dad experienced the same physical endings. To have the the surrender of nature and my dad’s journey intertwined during autumn has given me such peace and has given me a chance to really flow with the rhythm of the seasons.
Now, I am way down in the deep, dark days and nights of November. The daylight is gray and misty. The nights are long and rainy. And, the feeling is mysterious.
All Saint’s Day
In the beginning of November, just after Halloween and Samhain, I always celebrate All Saint’s Day. It is an old tradition, linked to Samhain actually, that I believe carries us through the entire month.
In many countries, people gather in churches, light candles for the people who have passed during the last year, and sing hymns of hope and eternal life. Others, visit gravesites and leave tiny symbols and trinkets.
All Saint’s celebrations in Sweden are powerful. It’s not a very church-going country, but pass any cemetery and you will see lights and candles twinkling on headstones, in the grass, and in memorial gardens where loved ones have been laid to rest. To head out on All Saint’s night and walk through a cemetery is holy and magical in Sweden. It is breathtaking and filled with people milling about, reminiscing, weeping, and laughing.
My wife and I headed out last weekend and joined in this solitary, yet communal, celebration. We walked in the dark, damp, raw November night air carrying a candle and a lighter. This year, this remembrance would mean even more to me.
We found a spot that we thought felt right. Lit the candle, added it to the others, and then just stood there. Missing my dad. And grieving the loss of our baby a few years ago. It felt surreal and sacred.
The veil
Many people and traditions across the ages have said, with either their words or their actions, that November is the month when the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead is the thinnest. That it is possible to reach through, to feel the connection to ancestors and spirits and the other world. I suppose many people think that is spooky or dark. But, I truly think that it is simply a way of saying that this is the month, more than any other, that we take the time to quietly and secretly allow ourselves to ponder endings, death, and our own mortality.
I think nature calls us deep into the mysteries of November with her foggy grayness and dreary, misty weather. She provides a mystical atmosphere that calls us to gather in our homes, sit beside the fire, break bread together around the table, find moments of quiet and calm, and think all the thoughts and feel all the feels. Not to mention, November falls between the bright, golden energy of October and the twinkling, festive feeling of December. November is a month of, well, nothing. So we might as well settle in.
The nothingness of November
Of course, if you’ve read my previous letter you know I don’t believe that. November is not nothing at all. It is filled with magic and mystery and some of the deepest wisdom of the year. It is an opportunity to pause and feel and listen.
November is a month for ancestral remembrance and honoring those who have passed. It is a time to embrace the complexity and messiness of our personal and collective grief. And do it in whatever way speaks to us and brings us closer to our ancestors and loved ones.
Often we don’t give ourselves time and space for grief. Instead, we just keep going. And we should continue to move forward after a loved one passes away or we are faced with an ending. But, it is also healing to pause and to remember and to feel.
I don’t know what is going on in your life right now, dear friend. Whether you have recently lost someone you love, or whether you are experiencing a painful ending. Or whether you are feeling grateful for a time of deep contentment and joy. Wherever we all are on our journeys this November, if we want to tune into the rhythm of the seasons, then this is the perfect time of the year to pause and ponder the past.
Who are the souls that have gone before you? Who are the souls around you -living or dead?
How have they made you who you are today?
Use these dark November nights to dare to listen deeply. Explore. Write. Question. Share stories. Feel. Connect - with those on earth, and with those beyond. Do whatever you need, in whatever way brings you peace and comfort and hope during this dark, difficult time of the year. But, I do beg of you, to try to sit with it. To try to allow all of the mysterious things swirl around you and let the unanswered questions just be there.
Hold space for the mystery.
xoxo. liz.
“If you have a way that helps you bridge the incomprehensible gap of what was and what’s gone, if it truly eases that pain, then do it. Believe it. Reach through the veil.” - India Rakusen
This was really beautiful and poignant to read, sending you so much love in this very special November xx
Thank you for this