Hello, you. How are you doing? It’s been a rough week for many. So, let’s gather here together for a few minutes and let it all be. Whatever we are feeling, wherever we are. Let’s just be together right now. Grab a cup of something warm and settle in. Now, just breathe. Long and deep. We’ve got this.
I’m gonna start with a pre-letter to this week’s letter. Because I need it. Ok?
If there’s ever a month that I feel a deep sense of loss, then it’s November. And this November isn’t any different. In Sweden, we have already experienced the loss of the growing season. The golden and amber colors of autumn have given way to the gray, dark, spooky skies of November. We are losing more daylight with each passing day. And, we entered this month by remembering the loss of life, as we honored the saints and beloved ones who have passed on to the other world. The feeling of loss is evident.
And, now, there is a collective loss that I believe many of us feel this November, after this week’s election in the US.
I was literally plunged into darkness this past week, feeling the heaviness of loss all around me. No wonder people want to hop straight from Halloween to the Christmas and winter holidays. I get it. We need some cheer, something to distract us from the shitshow that lies ahead.
But, as I said last week, I am here to double down. I am stubbornly determined to stay in the melancholic, dark energy of November this year - even after this heartbreaking week filled with loss. A loss that I didn’t see coming. Oh, I knew it was possible. But I just couldn’t fathom how it would come to pass. But, come to pass it did. And the US has elected a convicted felon to the office of the president. How in the hell did that happen? And what does it mean for the future - for all of us? Because I am certain that this will have global impacts.
Wednesday morning when the news broke and it was official, I was burning with rage and consumed by fear. I was devastated, disheartened, and numb all at the same time. And my initial response was to shut down. To become apathetic and unengaged.
It has been a wake up call, to say the least. A shock to my system. And has replaced energy, inspiration, and hope with anger, fear, and apathy.
But, I am so glad this has happened in November.
It is a challenge and a call for me to, as I said before, to double down on the melancholic darkness of this month. To sit with it. To feel it. And to learn from it.
And what I am learning, what I realized almost immediately, was how much time and energy I have placed in following the media, the news, and all things election-related.
Because I care. And because I do believe that it is important to be informed and engaged.
But, somewhere along the way, I became engrossed by the news cycles and lost sight of what’s really important.
And so now I understand I need to double down on life. On being present in my life. Of scaling back and stepping away from the news. Of finding a couple of unbiased, different perspectives in which to get my headlines, scanning them once a day, and then putting the weight of my focus on what is happening around me. What is right before me and within my reach.
My focus needs to be on what I can do in my life, how I can foster and manifest and create hope in my daily life, in my community, with the people around me.
It is a return to simplicity. To earth-based, everyday spirituality. To true community.
It is time for me, in these gray, dark days of November, to lower my gaze, focus inward, and turn back to my life.
And, with all of that said, let’s turn to the week ahead, which I believe can actually guide us in dealing with all of the haunting losses of November.
The veil is still thin
Hallowtide is the October/November portal that celebrates of the mystery of death, the ending of the life cycle, the last turn on the wheel of the year, and the remembrance of our loved ones who have passed on. It is often said that during this portal the veil between the physical world and the spirit world is thin, that the spirits and ghosts and loved ones of those who have died are close by.
I tend to think that this portal, that the season of haunting and the thinning of the veil, extends well into November, however.
November’s atmosphere lends itself to spooky, dark, mystical vibes. And I feel the desire to allow the spirits to dance around me a a bit longer. This is the season for gathering and storytelling, so it is natural to remember and share memories from the past. (But more about that in next week’s November letter).
For now, I want to continue to be open to the invisible, mysterious energies that I feel close by. I want to take longer than one weekend to honor and remember my loved ones. Because I feel that November is the perfect atmosphere for an extended spooky season.
Honor and remember. Listen and learn.
If I allow myself more time and space this month for honoring and remembering the saints that inspire me and the loved ones that guide me, then I am certain that I have much more to learn and discover - about myself, about the world, and about the deep wisdom that my ancestors have been keeping for me until a time such as this.
So, this week, I intend to set aside a bit of time to write down a list some of the beloved people who I miss and the old saints/ancestors who inspire me. And, then, I will search through photos, read their words, and journal my thoughts. I may even pull some cards and see if any messages from beyond the grave rise up from within me.
The simple intention I have for this week is to make time and space to get quiet, listen, and learn. To unearth and discover the wise ways of my ancestors and those who have gone before.
Part of a lineage.
I remember and honor and listen and learn because I am a descendent. I am the one living on earth at this time and in this place. I am the keeper of the stories. I am the torch bearer. I am the one to carry their hope and wisdom into the future, leaving my own legacy behind for when I am gone.
My ancestors have been spiritual leaders, simple folk, travelers in search of the freedom to live and worship as they believed. My most revered saints are also spiritual leaders. Women and men committed to living their beliefs in the midst of their everyday life. Dedicated to inspiring the souls and lives of others. Breaking through norms and expectations of their day in order to share messages of equality and hope.
I want to spend this week with all of them. With my beloved dad, my inspiring grandfather, my fun-loving grandmother, with Christian mystics and social activists. All of them guide me in knowing the old ways, the deep ways. They whisper truths and wrap me in love. And they remind me that I am part of something so much bigger than I realize. That my life extends way back through history and forward into the future. And, most importantly, what I do, here and now, makes a difference.
Power from the past to move us forward.
We are the descendants of all who have gone before us. And that, my friend, inspires me. In fact, that is where I find hope.
As the melancholic, dreary days of this November weigh heavy on me, I am reminded that my ancestors, my loved ones, the saints of the past are all around me. They guide me onward and encourage me, by the lives that they lived on earth, to reach deep down into my own power and to be a spark that lights up the dark. To carry the torch. To light the way.
While I may be disheartened, exhausted, grieving losses, feeling hopeless, and uncertain of the future, I have power. I am part of a long line of people who have carried their own torch, who protested and fought and lived their everyday lives with simplicity, truth, carefree abandon, dedication, and deep spirituality.
And that, my dear friend, is all we are called to do. To live our lives right in the middle of the dark, gray messiness of November. To listen to the voices of the past, to feel the presence of the spirits and ghosts around us, supporting and loving us. To reach back into the wisdom of our ancestors to inspire us for this day, this time, this world that we live in. I have the power. And so do you.
There’s an adage a historian once called ‘a law of history,’ true of every society across the ages. The adage is: ‘Only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars.’
I know many people feel like we are entering a dark time.
America, if it is, let us fill the sky with the light of a brilliant, brilliant billion stars—the light of optimism, of faith, of truth and service
- from Vice President Kamala Harris’s concession speech. 6 October 2024.
Until next week, dear friend. Stay strong. Stay soft. Listen to your loved ones, especially those who have crossed through the veil. Remain in the haunting mysteries of Hallowtide a wee bit longer. Trust that hope is still alive. And will be made manifest through you and me, as we carry the torches of justice, peace, love, and equality onward, right in the middle of our simple, everyday lives.
xoxo liz.
Soundtrack of the week
The veil is still thin. Ancestors, saints, loved ones remain close by on these long, dark November nights. Honor and remember them. Find inspiration by listening to their wisdom. Learn the lessons they teach us. They will guide and support us as we carry the torch onward.
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