Shadow work & Samhain: Looking into the shadows to find the light

by Lisa Marie Basile, author of Light Magic for Dark Times & The Magical Writing Grimoire

“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”

— Carl Jung

A NOTE ON SAMHAIN & THE SHADOW

Many of us believe that the veil is thin at this time, and maybe it does, but perhaps it’s the time of year we actually pay attention to it?

If we tune in, we begin to notice the shadowy spirits of space and time, memory and the subconscious, come out to play; suddenly the occult is all around us. We start to notice hidden symbols, messages come through in dreams, as if they are unscrambling from the netherworld, and the seasonal cycles ask to make a certain peace with death.

This is the time our shadow selves get comfortable, peeking out from within our psyches, saying, “I can come up for air.” Maybe it’s because everyone is indulging their darkness through archetypes and costumes and horror films and a willingness to confront death — by taking cemetery walks to baking skull cookies. Humans, by nature, are composed of the shadow — but we spend so much time ignoring it.

Samhain is our time, especially as witches!

It is a time of transmuting all the muck and darkness into something that gets us closer to our authentic selves, to truth, to growth. Sitting firmly in Scorpio season, the watery sign offers us an opportunity to meditate on death and rebirth — and transformation. From suffering the phoenix is born. From ash, sunlight. From grief, peace. Unless we can get comfortable in the subterranean, we limit our potential; this place helps us become compassionate, empathic, generous, patient, and self-loving. It helps us create community and be there for others and ourselves. And isn’t that what being a witch is all about? Making shifts, standing in your power, knowing the darkness and translating it — and helping others along the way? Yes!

In the following rituals, you will be offered three Samhain-season, shadow work-focused rituals; they involve writing and poetry (if you have my book, The Magical Writing Grimoire, this is a good time to pull it out!).

One ritual will focus on the concept of birth (a new beginning), one will focus on death (a letting go), and one will focus on transformation (becoming the most authentic, magical, beautiful you).

As is the case with my magic, I believe in accessibility; therefore you needn’t have expensive tools or items. And you needn’t have poetry experience; all you are asked to bring to the experience is:

:: Your truest intention:: A journal, preferably your grimoire or one specifically for magical reflection and workings :: Three candles—votives or anything you have on hand

A bit on wordcraft, or writing magic

“Words themselves are means to emotional control over exterior phenomenon…” — The Crone's Book of Magical Words, Valerie Worth

As a poet and writer — or word alchemist (I believe words have the ability to shift reality, to change the shape of ourselves and our lives), I engage wordcraft as my main magical focus (you can follow me at @ritual_poetica on Instagram for weekly prompts).

The etymology of the word “magic,” may have its roots in the Old Persian word “magush,” roughly translated to “power” or “wisdom.” It may be connected to “Mage,” which is a magician or wise one. All of that wisdom is linked to words. To holy scriptures. If we look at words related to writing, such as Latin’s ‘scriptor” (religious text) or “Abracadabra” (which translates to Hebrew’s ‘I create as I speak’ or Aramaic’s ‘I create like the word’) we can see an intrinsic link between as wisdom, power of creation, and magic. Words are holy things, things that make change, that create our worlds. And we can all tap into this.

Words are spells. Poems are prayers. Written incantations hold an immense weight. And using our own words is tapping into our

deepest power. Writing takes a blank slate and turns it into something new. That is magic; simple.

When you engage with these rituals, be sure to be as honest as possible, taking care to let the words flow — free from needing to make them into words of art, shame, or self-silencing.

Perform them through Halloween, doing each one as you need or see fit, at a date or time that feels right to you. Perhaps you perform one on Halloween night. If you do, be sure to let me know!

🗝🗝🗝

3 RITUALS: DEATH, BIRTH, TRANSFORMATION

DEATH: A writing ritual for letting go of what we no longer need to carry

In Ancient Egypt, Seshat the goddess ruled over writing, books, and eulogies. In fact, she was also called Mistress of the House of Books, where the wisest words were kept. But more than that, she is an ally to the dead — and would see the dead off to the underworld. Her work as a scribe was divine, entangled with magic.

In this ritual, you will tap into Seshat’s energy — and write a poetic eulogy for what no longer needs to be part of your life. You will deliver

it to the underworld. You will mourn it. You will let it go. You will accept the grief.

This letting-go process is a liminal state; it’s the state of moving forward while also looking back. It’s the state of saying, “you were part of me, and that’s ok, but there’s so space for you now.” It’s a space to let go of shame and self judgement, because being human means straddling many spaces and selves and eras — and that it’s natural to outgrow experiences, traumas, and pains. We needn’t carry the albatross, but it’s not your fault if you do. And if it is something you are carrying, you have the autonomy to let it go, or to at least start the process.

Be sure to have something on hand that helps to ground you — a crystal, a cup of water, anything that feels safe, as you may need it. (Writing, of course, is no replacement for therapy — but this ritual may work in tandem with therapy and other healing mediums).

● Create a sacred, clean, quiet space — smoke cleanse, use salt, or create a circle if that feels right to you.

● Light a single candle (black preferably, but optional) and stare into its flame. Allow its dance to merge with your consciousness; follow it, become fluid, let the world around you soften and fall away. Become receptive.

● Write a poem to what you want to say goodbye to — be as clear and concise as you’d like or as metaphorical as you want. Your language choices are the topic layer; your honesty is the foundation. The poem is a eulogy, so it should speak about what

the thing has done to you, what it has taken from you, and where you are casting it to —out, away, into the shadows of time, into a box. The thing can be tangible (a toxic relationship or bad job) or not (self-doubt, feelings of unworthiness or self-criticalness due to chronic illness or body image). Write it twice — once to burn, once to keep. This process is arduous, but it is part of the way we build power. Focus on the letters, the ligature, the swoop of your pen. (Keyboards are okay if you have hand arthritis like me!).

● Take note of the roof of the thing; has it become a demon because it was cruel? Or was it too painful? Or was it something that never meant to be put upon you, like childhood trauma? Acknowledge how you have carried it, its roots.

● Read the letter aloud. Focus on every word. Use a fire safe bowl or perform this near a sink; burn the edge of the first copy of the poem and let it burn away until you submerge it safely in water. If you typed it out, read it aloud; you may still burn a piece of paper that symbolizes that which you are letting go of. You may choose to write one word on the paper — the thing you are saying goodbye to.

● Sit in silence looking into the flame; envision your delivering the thing to the underworld; you are encased in divine shimmering light and it cannot harm you. Meditate on what your life will look like without the thing as your albatross.

● Close the circle, smoke cleanse again, or do whatever your practice calls for to the end the ritual.

(See the end of this guide for examples of magical poetry).

BIRTH: Manifesting wishes & planting hidden seeds

Samhain is a time to play in the darkness, of course. But that doesn’t mean we can’t also embrace the light that comes when we emerge from that space. When the Pagans celebrated Samhain, there was festivity and games, food and dance, storytelling and fun — to ward away spirits. Today, we dress up. We eat candy. We decorate our homes. We honor that spirit.

This ritual feeds on that celebratory energy; it asks you to have fun, to fill your life with good, to drink a cider and eat great food, to listen to your favorite spooky music and dance, to sit out on the porch and stare up at the stars while laughing with friends. On a night that feels right to you, you will conduct this ritual, for the elated state is what will power the spell.

● Create a night of joy — for yourself and a few friends. Be thoughtful about it. Dress up in any way that makes you feel joyous — and add the flare of a head piece or fun makeup colors. Embrace glamour as a way of paying homage to the tradition — and “scaring away the spirits.” Kick up the fireplace (or set a digital one up on YouTube!). Brew some herbal elixirs on the stove (place cinnamon sticks and lemon in a pot of water and let it simmer!). Light some candles. Play some of your favorite music. Open the windows and let the dark, cool night air swirl in. Hang up your lights, turn on your smoke machine, start a bonfire in your garden, pull out your spell books. Create an altar for the dead and leave bits of drink or food upon it. Drink wine

or tea or any concoction that makes you feel warm and alive. Bake cookies of the dead. Make an ancestral meal.

● As you embrace the night, feel that celebratory, excited energy. Acknowledge the air and the candle’s flames. Speak to the spirits in your abode. Speak to your altar. Call upon spirits or archetypes or guardians to help you celebrate. Feel the festivity in everything that you do.

● At some point in the night, when the feeling strikes, write your wishes onto tiny pieces of paper. What do you wish for? Be explicit. Be honest. Believe in it. Use the potent Samhain season energy as a reminder that we are alive right now, that we are here, that we are above ground and we are still making and doing and alive and capable. Write them in present tense. “I have strong friendships” or “I have a successful business that makes me happy and allows me to earn my keep.”

● Hide the scrolls within your house — in drawers, in the couch cushions, in your medicine cabinet, wherever you want. Where they are put makes no difference — but the goal is to fill your home with the energy of the wish. Samhain is the time of the occult — or hidden things. Here, you will be honoring that spirit. You will be burying your wishes deep in the ground to fertilize, to grow, to bloom, to be born.

TRANSFORMATION: A journaling practice for self-exploration

According to the University of Rochester, journaling can help us manage and reduce depression, anxiety and stress. As mentioned before, it’s a great healing tool — but is not a quick fix.Starting or tending to a journaling practice in October is extra magical; Samhain, or October 31 falls on a full moon — a hunter’s moon, which is a time when we hunt and gather for the winter ahead. Use this energy to start a journaling practice — to “gather” all that you want to create, heal, or focus on in the dark of the winter.

As nights get quieter and cooler and darker, we go inward — creating cozy homes, reflecting on the year past and the year ahead, and storing our energy. We heal. Rest. Try to cope. This is especially true this year. On October 31, preferably in the morning, set out your journal —take note of the energy of the crisp morning air. Describe the leaves, note the death in the air, describe your feelings, the birds you see or hear, the shift in energy, the feeling of the veil.

Make note of your plans for winter. The healing work you will do. The art you will create. The time you will spend talking to family and friends online or over zoom. The deepened connection you plan to make with books or meditation or cooking. Think about the fabric of your life and what makes it beautiful, important, and meaningful — and you will infuse sacredness into your everyday life this winter.

If you do not journal daily, turn to it each new and full moon — to revisit your goals, to make notes on what you’ve accomplished, to share your feelings, to send love to yourself, and to remind yourself of

your hopes. You may choose to do this by candlelight, or at your altar. You may choose to call upon your guides or create a sacred circle.

Journaling needn’t be decadent nor climactic. It is a process, a check in, a reminder that magic happens when we write our words into being, when we tend to our own growth. It is an act of living in season. The magic is the writing. It needn’t be more complicated than that. Your words are your spells.

We are the seasons. We are the earth. We are the bud and the bloom.

Journal prompts:

● I reap what I sow. I sow: ● What have I feared this year — and how fear transformed me,

strengthened me, or held me back?● What are my weaknesses in the cold and dark?● What are the things that bring me joy and help me tap into my

personal magic?● Who are my archetypes and guides in the winter — and how can

they help me?● What have the spirits and the dead taught me about living?● What pain is ready to be healed?● What are the ways I can prepare for next year?● What are the things I must reflect on as I turn inward?

● How can I make my home a space of sacredness?● How can I embrace silence and reflection — rather than fear it?

Am I at odds with slowing down?● What does my magic need to survive and thrive?● What sort of daily ritual can I incorporate into my life for clarity,

inspiration, and divine guidance?● What aspect of shadow work am I excited for — and what do I

resist (and why?)● What lives in my shadow self?

🗝🗝🗝

My poetry — examples of writing magic

A poem of goodbye from ritual 1, which is a letting go of childhood pain. This poem was ‘channeled’ as I looked into a candle. I spoke it into my voice recorder at the time, letting it fall through me; if you feel a poem or statement ‘come through’ a voice recorder is a good way to quickly capture it — and so is writing it down.

I let go of the vulture of childhood who picked at my smallness

until I have retreated

You cannot have me. You cannot make me small.

The truth is I parted the seas & become the seas.I called the sirens and become the siren

my dark wound is needing to be loved,always shushing myself.

but my fight is quieter, is alchemical, is temperedbecause my waves are too strong.

I let go of your spit, you narcissus, you dead weight. & and the dove in me rejects the deadness in you.

the perpetual thieves of light,want so badly to be seen.

but I see through all things.

how I crawl toward prayerwhen I am already the prayer

how even in this sea of wound,

I am transfigured.

I see you, Nothingness. And I give you nothing but this poem.

Example 2 of magical poetry

2 poems written to death itself — as a way of saying, “you cannot hurt me.” This is also from ritual 1.

I am fixing a crownupon the head of death

you say my hands are prophecyI call it grief

that we wilt upon blue tile,that day comes a day late.

Tell me why you are here.is it because you have died?

come at this doorway;let me know your face

--

death,I unname you

you cannot fragment me

I would curse youbut you do not exist

you have loved me into the seaand you have bled the black pig

and we have feastedand our mouth is so wide

A note:

If you feel like you’d like to share words or images or ideas about the ritual, you can tag me @lisamariebasile or tag #HalloweenWritingRitual #WitchWithMe.