The Final Harvest
Hail to the Dead
Who we honour at The Final Harvest
That which is remembered never truly dies.
Hail to the Beloved Dead
Those we kept close during life
Those who filled our hearts with love.
Hail to the Lost Dead
Those we never knew
Those we will never know due to the distance of Time and Place.
Hail to the Forgotten Dead
Those who have been lost and forgotten
Those whose names we do not know due to treachery and loss.
Hail to the Glorious Dead
Those who fell in combat
Those who survived and lived with the scars to pass later.
Hail to the Innocent Dead
Lost children and babes
Those who did not take a breath, or very few.
Hail to all those who have gone before us
The Veil is all but gone this night
We hear you and remember you.
-Angela Kurkiewicz, Samhain 2016
Dreamt of a pair of long haired German Shepard’s. One male, one female. The male was named Invictus and was my protector? Guide? In the dream the pair were supposed to be staying at my former employer(a doggy daycare) but had for unknown reasons could not, so they came to stay with me. Once I had them at home I felt the need to make sure they weren’t dangerous. I played roughly with them, they both barely batted an eye, essentially just stood and took whatever I doled out. By the end of the dream it was made clear that the female was not important, she didn’t have a name, was more of a shadow, and faded as time went on. It was Invictus who was/is important. He kept by my side and though I can’t remember all the details now, he kept me safe. I have not dreamed of him since but I have felt him near, both in the incarnate realm and dream time. He seems to have great affection for me. He is most definitely not a Divine being in another form but a Spirit of some sort.
I asked for clarification on my path/studies the day before yesterday. I have since dreamed of literally going down into darkness for the third time. Last night I dreamt of being a “death talker” and the dream involved “taking in” the Spirits of the Dead so they could speak. There were also dogs again in the dream about going down into the Earth, into Darkness. Last night while poking around Pinterest when I couldn’t sleep I had suggestions for Nantosuelta and Sucelles. On Facebook this morning I came across a photograph of mushrooms growing from a deer skeleton. Will need to ponder a bit before I take any actions in regards to the Dead. Will be poking into Gaulish things and say hello again to The Mother of Rot.
Comments from the page Magic Mushrooms that posted it:
Interesting… It looks like whatever this deer was eating, most likely plant matter of sorts, had mushroom spores on it, ended up germenating inside the deers stomach, then fruited after the deer had died and decayed.
Photo courtesy of Lain Haigh.
This might also be of note, a couole weeks ago I first noticed that White Wings was back in the area. She(could be a he for all I know) was born or appeared about three years ago. I’m not sure if I don’t see her during the warmer months because she actually goes somewhere or if I’m just too busy to actually see her. She is a crow with white flight feathers and a mostly white tail. I managed to get some pictures, not the best quality but not too bad in regards to cell phone pictures.
That moment you realize that that the two Gods you thought you were married to have morphed into one. Or maybe They’ve always been one and your little mortal brain couldn’t quite grasp it without seeing Him as a duality first. Of course it once again all comes down to The Horned One. Shaman and King. Man and God. Water and Firmament. Deer and Dolphin. Hunter and Hunted. You’d think this would make things a bit easier but right now it feels more complicated. Good times. I must admit though, having the familiar face of the Stag back is very good.
Today is a heavy day for me. The whole six months of the Dark Half of the year is hard for me but today is particularly hard.
In this incarnation alone I have countless blood relatives who joined the armed forces. Those are just the ones I have found paper work for. My mortal father just retired from the armed forces last year. I lived with my maternal grandfather most of my life. I grew up spending regular time with The Seaforth Highlanders of Canada(my father’s regiment). I have seen and felt first hand the effects of war here on the material plain and through the stories The Dead tell me.
As I’ve gotten older the casualties of war have also worked their way into this day. The Innocent Dead. Military is the focus of the day but civilians and those left behind are also remembered.
Being married to a God of The Dead also makes this day important. I feel His grief acutely today. His sorrow, His rage, His frustration, His exhaustion. He is The Centurion, The Soldier in my Vision today. Dark hair slicked back with sweat and blood. His armour is dark matte metal and leather, the blood drying on it adds a shine. He smells of blood, horses, war dogs, leather, fear and pain. He pulses with energy that I can’t quite explain.
Physically and mentally I am exhausted from day to day life but I take His emotions as well because that is part of my promise to Him. To hold space, to bear witness, to remember.
Hail the Beloved Dead. Hail the Glorious Dead. Hail the Innocent Dead. Hail the Victorious Dead.
That which is remembered never dies.
He whispers to me of madness. He comes clothed with darkness and death, the heavy scent of musk and leaf rot. Fresh death in His eyes. There is rage just below the surface and it seems to short circuit every now and again. There’s palpable tension and the colour of His eyes will flicker, to darkness and back. He keeps His distance…sort of. Right now He moves in silence mostly, not because He doesn’t speak but because it’s as if someone has turned on mute. I catch flickers of sound, as if the silence is a wind that dies down. There is the scent of fire, the heat from the bonfire in front of me and behind Him. He wears…robes? And skins and bones. Almost like a Shaman; The armour that I always associate with Him is there underneath but the metal has turned to leather. His…mojo?…is building, He is getting ready.
I apologize to the owners of the images, I don’t have the spoons to get each link. I searched “the wild hunt” on Google Images.