Samhain, All Hallows Eve or Happy Halloween!!!

Today's one of my favorite celebrations--Halloween. Beyond the sharing of yummy chocolates (yes, one of the reasons I love it so!) it's a day with fascinating history and meaning beyond pumpkins, ghosts, witches and the like. Samhain (pronounced Sow-in) as it was called in ancient days, celebrated the end of summer and the belief that on this night the veil between the world of the living and the dead was at its thinnest. For this reason, at its roots October 31 was a day to remember and honor the dead. When the Roman Church entered into authority, "Samhain" was renamed, "All Hallows Eve"; rather than ancestors visiting the living, demons were said to roam the land. Thus our present day Halloween ghouls, zombies, ghosts, witches and the like. To counter the ill-effects of such creatures, a holy day was established the preceding day called "All Saint's Day." According to early church tradition baneful creatures were dispelled when the sun rose on All Saint's Day to the ringing of chapel bells.

Now, as you all know there's a character in history that I absolutely adore, Joan of Arc, so much so that I wrote a novel about her life (Child of God: The Humble Beginnings of Joan of Arc available on Amazon for your Kindle). For me, Joan optimizes the transformational history of Halloween.

While imprisoned her English inquisitors constantly tried to associate Joan with witchcraft, accusing her of dancing beneath a fairy tree, trusting healing properties of a nearby fountain, attributing powers to her ring, banner and sword, communing with the devil, the list goes on. Joan would eventually be charged with witchcraft and sentenced to burn at the stake, an execution reserved for those found guilty of sorcery and heresy.

I'm fascinated with the evolution of Halloween and All Saint's Day and its strong correlation to Joan of Arc's reputation. For almost 500 years Joan was associated with witchcraft. It wasn’t until 1920 that this charge was exonerated and her good name cleared, giving her a title of far different character—that of saint. Joan of Arc, a name demonized for over 500 years, transformed to the title of holy saint. From Halloween to All Saint's Day, from witch to saint; a name is just a name, or is it?

On this day, once reserved for honoring our ancestors, after plowing through the chocolates :) consider saying a prayer of thanks and blessing to all those you've known who have passed on.

 IC Truth #2 states:

"Energy never dies, it just changes form."

Oh yes, so true, so true. Happy Samhain, er...I mean, All Hallows Eve, or... Happy Halloween!!!

An Experiment with Jack Kerouac

I'm taking a Modern Poetry Class online (free I might add!) which has turned out to be absolutely delightful. My two sweetest finds have been Emily Dickinson and Jack Kerouac. Jack coined a writing technique called Babble Flow. It's essentially shutting off the critical, editing mind and allowing language free flow reign in creating the piece. Traditionally there's very little, if any punctuation and editing. Since Babble Flow is often read, the creation is a melodious flow of sound with the listener instructed to let the images appear like snapshots of a photograph versus language and words. Here's an example of Jack Kerouac reading one of my favorite pieces of his, October in the Railroad Earth. He has an incredible voice and cadence, it's well worth the treat. Below is my experiment with Babble Flow, hope you enjoy. Since it's being read by you and not spoken by me, I added additional punctuation to hopefully aid your visual picture....

Full Moon Paddle (an experiment with Jack Kerouac’s Babble Flow)

©Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Written 10/20/13

Battery dead, jump start (I need that too at 5:30pm) drive to the Beacon (will call us home) put battery worry to rest old drunkard struggling to lift his boat, going as we're coming, bright blue eyes in full gray beard sparkle as up on truck another set of hands help sun's last light cross south east waters, push off west across the shadows, past mouth-watering BBQ, music piping, warm lamps burning bits and pieces of conversation, past Valhalla Pier, groom holds his bride up towards twilight kick of manicured foot rustles haloed silk and lace, flashing bulbs portend delicious night, calm peace beginnings of glass, water creatures migrating dots towards inlet Kokanee Salmon struggling against an inner current, birth of life will not stop,

wide wing pattern turns a circle in front of mount Tallac, stark white tail and head feathers confirm avian blessing swooping down upon teaming waters as distant planet holds a constant light we just begin to see pulse above Tallac's cross, kayaks couple for the evening show, opening act takes flight to perch in far off snag, layers fished from dry bags as above begins a symphony

Big Dipper to North Star to Cassiopeia and then main attraction steals the show with ooohs and aaahs, peeks through lowest notch in eastern mountains, necks crane in still coupled kayaks before turning, comfortable banter ceases as devotees gaze: fire orange fullness crests jagged, rises through clear crisp atmosphere, lovers bob, illuminated white swathed liquid night turns silver, thoughtful offering is presented (by beloved boy scout) early Halloween Twix, bump chocolate sticks, touch sweet caramel sacrament to lips, fuel for paddle home as toward night glow we go

past Aspens imagined golds, waft of Kokanee struggle ended, party just beginning, conversations dwindling, Canada Geese, heads tucked and floating, kayaks skim beneath the pier to touch the quiet shores load boats with thick hands, contented sighs as fully charged we arrive safely home.

Momma Moon

I've been watching the moon closely the last few nights, feeling her move toward full. I recalled a poem I wrote some months back, commemorating my favorite moon--the 3 day moon (waxing or waning, I love the crescent). When I read this one, I'm reminded to resource, resource, resource the natural world. I certainly do so with the lunar gift of light. Enjoy....

This Morning’s Moon
written 1/28/13
©Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Thank you for your enduring light,
shining through cold dark till morning.
I am devotee, as again I feel my heart turn,
translucent in the face of your familiar opacity.

You, the faithful one,
present through all phases of life:
quarter, waxing, full,
waning, crescent, new….

Eve after eve, hanging in night sky, seemingly unchanging,
as down below I bore the early years of clouded chaos;
and still, a growing, pulsing light
as I moved thousands of miles from my beginnings.

You, ever shining one, remained
while I searched a foreign land for tranquility,
until, I finally stopped, stood still
and emptied to your fullness.

Now, you turn toward dark,
reflecting, allowing,
separating like dross,
knowing gold will be more precious for it.

I sense the waning inside.
I’m yet to understand this diminishment,
but I have learned to trust a wisdom beyond
and yet encompassing my own knowing—

Every single thing, even you,
Dear Constant Moon,
grows full only to empty
once again.

"She's a brick-----house. Mighty, mighty, just let'in it all hang out!"

I few more interesting tidbits have come to my attention about the body's energetic anatomy.  By energetic anatomy, I'm referring to the body's heart, mind, and nervous system, all electrically driven functions of the body which we can resource and use for our health and healing. 

These cool factoids also support Inner Constellation Truth number 1:

Everything is energy, the body is the interface.

OK, here's the amazing, invisible brick---house tidbits:

• the brain produces enough current to power a 15-20 watt light bulb
• the heart is the most powerful electrical oscillator in the body, influencing over 1400 other systems in the body
• scientists have confirmed that injury or trauma occurring to the body causes a disruption in the body's electrical flow measurable via the skin, called Current of Injury (COI)  
• scientists have also confirmed that many individuals display what's called electroreception, meaning they mirror the electricity of others around them (as shown on ECG and EKG equipment) as well as sense energy field shifts of the earth. This can account for animals who sense earthquakes before they occur and other natural disasters and have been observed high-tailing it out of areas before disaster strikes. Institute of Heartmath have done their fair share of studies in this department.

Our bodies are indeed mighty, mighty..."shake it down, shake it down, now!" 

I don't want your stinkin' compost, thorns, dirt or roots, just give me your flowers!

Yesterday afternoon I was out harvesting Rosehips while saying prayers for family and friends who had lost a young loved one in a tragic accident. As I was picking fruit from the thorny bushes, Momma Nature wiggled her way into my heart as she is wont to do, and I became very aware of a metaphor playing out before me:

Here grew a Wild Rose, the beauty of summer blossoms having passed, and I was gratefully harvesting its fruit to make tea (the fruit is sweet, yummy and high in vitamin C). At no point did I curse the dirt that grew the Rose, nor did I stomp my feet at the roots below the surface or the thorns that sometimes pricked my fingers. I accepted all these things and even the tiny little pile of poop that a rabbit had discarded at the base of one cluster of Rose bushes. I wouldn't think to look at the Wild Rose and say, "I don't want your stinkin' compost, thorns, dirt or roots, just give me your flowers!"

Yet, in life, when we're given dirt and thorns, how difficult it can be to turn our mind toward the Roses and trust there is always beauty, even in the face of tragedy: beauty in a life lived fully, beauty in the impact that sweet life had on those around him, beauty for what that life created.

Thank you, Wild Rose, for imparting comfort and wisdom from the neutral source of nature herself. Love and care to all those who have lost beautiful friends and loved ones.


If you enjoyed this blog article, you might enjoy another I wrote some time ago expanding on a quote from one of my favorite books, The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett:

"Where you tend a rose...a thistle can not grow."