Witchvox Article

Author: Lady Abigail [a WitchVox Sponsor]
Posted: August 29th. 2010
Times Viewed: 3,118

There has always been something mystical about a late summer evening for me. It is that time of day which is no longer day, yet not quite night. It was the time my Great Grandmother called, "the spiriting time." It comes as the scorching heat of a summer day finally begins to give way to the evenings cooling magick. You can see it as the bright fiery red sun begins to slowly sink behind the horizons of our childhood memories.

As a child, I was raised to know the mysteries of the old ways, of stories and spirits, and of catching dreams while watching faeries dancing at sunset. Even to this day, I remember how my heart would leap with excitement when I realized it was going to be one of those evenings: an evening of memories and magick with my Great Grandmother.

There was no air conditioning in my Great Grandmother's small wooden home, just a small metal fan that sat on the kitchen table rotating from side to side, moving the hot air around. There were times it was simply too hot to cook or be inside the house. So, we would relax on the front porch swing watching the evening grow. For dinner, my Great Grandmother made us a southern feast of cold biscuits with ham, pickles, coleslaw, and of course, iced tea. On those slow evenings, watching the night begin to blanket the sky as we listened to the katydid�s singing their summer songs, I could not imagine anything more wonderful or magickal in my life.

We watched as the long evening shadows gently reached across the ground as if they were going to swallow the yard. The rays of the setting sun faded, glistening away through the trees. With twilight, the air cooled and a misty fog began forming just over the fields beyond the garden. First, you could only see a faint haze from the hot summer day. Then slowly, the haze would turn into a vaporous gray mist slowly moving above the ground like spirited shadows dancing within the veils of time.

I was never afraid of spirits or ghosts. I had been taught that they were merely beings of people, animals or spirits born and unborn, passing between the veils. My Great Grandmother would tell me stories of these energies and spirited apparitions moving within the mists and vaporous forms inside the veils. So I never learned to fear those things just beyond reasonable understanding but to be excited by the possibilities.

In my Great Grandmother's traditions, there were many stories of spirits visiting from across the veils to bring messages, warnings or communications to loved ones and others. Sometimes they would appear as a spiraling gray haze, as sparks of light or as animals that had the power to speak. They might visit in dreams or appear beside you as you walked along a stream. It didn�t matter, for it was a great honor and only those gifted with visions or site could see beyond the veils.

This night was strange, still and prickly hot as we finished our dinner. I couldn�t keep from watching the mist above the fields. It seemed to be growing thick and heavy as the evening darkened. My Great Grandmother, looking out across the yard, stood up to light the kerosene lamp hanging on the hook outside the doorway. Just as she struck the match, a cold breeze rushed up from the ground circling her apron around her and putting out the match. Then, again it was still with only the night sounds to be heard.

My Great Grandmother slowly walked down the porch steps of stone, being careful since it was dark and she had not tried to relight the lamp. The moon, full and big, was beginning to glow and shine across the misty veil like streaks of silver on a dark cloak.
She went down the path to the middle of the yard and seemed to be waiting for something. I was so entranced in watching my Great Grandmother, I wasn�t even aware that I was no longer setting on the swing, but slowing making my way down into the yard.

With each step I took I could hear drumming soft and steady, growing louder and louder. I watched as my Great Grandmother held her hands high into the night and called to the spirits of the mist, of the veils. Like streamers of light the vaporous clouds were now filling the yard. They seemed to dance in and gently swirl around us. My heart beat so hard with excitement that I was sure it would burst from my chest. As I looked into this mist growing all around us, I began see people of all kinds, animals and creatures I have yet to see in this life. But I was never afraid. I could hear voices and songs not all of words I could understand, but still I was not afraid, because I knew this was my family, my history and who I was.

Before long I was looking up through the high silver-lined white clouds. The stars barely showing in the bright moon's light. My Great Grandmother was holding my hand, smiling at me as she knelt down and asked, �So, how do you like your family, my little one?�
I know that was not the first time I saw those within the veil; spirits, ghosts, you know, dead people. But it was one of the most spiritual nights of my life. I knew, without question, there was no reason to fear what lay beyond the veils, death. I most certainly am not in a hurry to get there, but when I go, I have all those who have past before me to see, including my Great Grandmother, who filled my life with truth and magick.

Many of us live beyond ordinary consciousness, yet some are afraid that others may become aware of their gifts. Television shows have made reality into fantasy and unfortunately, fantasy into reality, on the subject of death and spiritual beings. Many religions have taught that death is the end or a punishment for life. Therefore, ghost or spirits cannot exist within this world unless they are evil or seeking a way out.

Death, as many have been taught, does not exist. It is a veil; for lack of a better word, a �shroud� we put between that we see and that we will not see, out of fear. We exist eternally and life is many endless journeys. We should not allow others to define who we are by one single lifetime. How sad for those who believe that death is the end of life, for life is a journey that never ends.

I do not know what is beyond life or what is hidden within death. No one really does. But I do know it is not a place of punishment or retribution for our existence in this place and time on Earth. I was raised to see it as a great changing; a place beyond thought and imagination, that holds endless and universal possibilities within Her great light; life that never ends.

So shall it be forever.
Lady Abigail
High Priestess Ravensgrove Coven
Copyright � 08012010

Copyright: Lady Abigail
High Priestess Ravensgrove Coven
Copyright � 08012010

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