The chilled wind marked a deep change, a harbinger of the first of winter’s frost. Dusk descended earlier than usual, casting long, eerie shadows, and looming twilight played tricks on the eyes. The air hung heavy with the smell of damp earth and burning wood that came from the rising bonfire. Villagers wandered in costumes, disguised in grotesque masks and animal skins. A sense of anticipation — an apprehension of the unknown — filled the air.
The ancient festival of Samhain was upon them, a time when the veil between the worlds grew thin, and spirits roamed freely.
Halloween, or All Hallows’ Eve, is the product of a variety of influences. A significant contributor was the Catholic Church, as the name “All Hallows’ Eve” came from the Christian All Hallows’ Day (or All Saints’ Day). But the origins of Halloween customs can be traced even further back to the pre-Christian era in Gaelic Ireland — to the festival of Samhain (pronounced, SAH-win / SOW-un).
As we take a look at some of the rituals of this festival, of which we will see reflections in our modern holiday activities, we will focus primarily on their underlying psychological instincts that exist in us even today.
I
The Veil Between Worlds
Samhain marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. Between the worlds of light and of darkness. In this liminal period, the boundary between the realms of the living and the dead blurred, allowing spirits to mingle among us. Some of these were mini deities, while others were ancestors who came to visit their former homes.
We are always aware of the world beyond the known. Especially in the hunter-gatherer days, the Unknown was always lurking, ever-present. We placed boundaries to guard ourselves from the shadows and monsters beyond. Most of the time, we succeed in separating the two worlds. But sometimes, these lines are crossed. When they are, how do we deal with what comes through?
Many things are filtered into your subconscious during waking hours of the day. Hopes, fears, resentments — anything you’d rather not, or refuse to, intentionally process. But then the day turns to night, and you go to sleep. The veil between conscious and subconscious blurs, and ‘spirits’ emerge in the form of dreams. Some of them are monsters, others are ‘ancestors’ from past experiences.
They aren’t to be shied away from. They need to be connected with and understood. Much like the spirits of Samhain.
II
Honoring the Dead
Just like its counterparts around the world (like the Mexican Day of the Dead and the Catholic All Souls’ Day), Samhain was the time of honoring the dead. The beginning of winter was a fitting time to do so, the advent of the death of nature itself.
The souls of the dead were expected to revisit their homes. Living family members would set places at the dinner table and by the fire to welcome them, leaving out food and drink as an offering to appease them. They would go to bed early to avoid hanging out with the ghosts, though.
You may think it’s all nonsense, because after all, ghosts don’t exist. Or if they do, they don’t come back to haunt the living. And maybe you’re right that you won’t start finding random objects around the house being moved by an invisible force. But we are haunted by ghosts nonetheless.
Welcoming the dead is the equivalent of making peace with the past. It could’ve been a father who was always angry, or a sister who was gone too soon. They may be absent physically, but they live on in our minds. The day of the dead creates a space for them to be remembered and received, a chance for us to offer tokens of reconciliation that put our souls — and our homes — at peace.
It is also a ritual of community. A reminder that we are not just made up of what exists in the here and now, but that our world is a product of the people who came before. We stand on the shoulders of our ancestors — genetic, cultural, spiritual, and psychosocial ancestors — and we would do well to remember them.
III
Playing With Death
Fear is not to be avoided. It is to be stared at in the face. The celebrants of Samhain understood that, consciously or not. Death lies beneath us all, and it would be unwise to run from it, to ignore it, to pretend it isn’t there. Rather, let’s call Cerberus — the three-headed dog of Hades — out to play.
Costuming was a part of Samhain. People went from house to house in disguise, reciting songs in exchange for food. Young boys would sometimes run from house to house, masked and with painted faces, threatening to do mischief if they were not welcomed or given a treat. This was the origin of trick-or-treating.
The costumes often impersonated the spirits that came from the Otherworld and protected oneself from them. We can see this custom as the embodying of Death. We don’t just appease death, we take it upon ourselves. And we dance with it.
Playing with death takes away its sting. It also opens up horizons of possibilities. First, it is a type of memento mori, to ponder on death. Like exposure therapy, we are encouraged to stare it in the face rather than willfully forget it. The more we look at fear, the more courageous we become. Dressing up as the spirits was thought to protect oneself from them. If that is not a fundamental principle of psychotherapy, I don’t know what is.
Second, when we ‘wear’ death like a costume, it is akin to dying. Like a type of baptism. At Samhain, sometimes two large bonfires would be built and the people would walk between them as a cleansing ritual — much like the Bible’s fire of purification.
Third, it is reflective of psychological integration of the dark, suppressed areas of our souls with the light. What happens when we bring Cerberus out onto the land of the living? That’s what Hercules did.
After killing his wife and children in a fit of rage, Hercules was given his Twelve Labors to atone for his sin. Twelve labors, twelve years, culminating in the final task that was supposed to be impossible — capturing Cerberus.
Hercules did just that. He subdued the three-headed dog in a fight and brought it up to the land of sunlight. He paraded it around the city, presented it to the king, and returned it to the Underworld. His reward? Immortality.
That is the integration of light and darkness, of life and death. The fruit of the endeavor is an elevated state of mind and soul, a more developed and actualized self.
IV
Topsy-Turvy Day
Feast of Fools. Carnival. Mardi Gras. April Fools’. Halloween. All these celebrations share one theme in common: turning the world upside down.
During the Feast of Fools in Europe, the entire institution of the church would be parodied, with false bishops and popes, and fake liturgies. On this day, the higher- and lower-level clergies would switch places.
Mardi Gras is the day of rambunctious celebration and indulgent eating, right before the fasting season of Lent. And Halloween is the time when the dark and taboo take to the streets.
This is the trickster archetype at play.
Human societies have a tradition of carving out space and time when the natural order is turned upside down. When what is usually suppressed is brought out and celebrated. When a fool is crowned king.
These are outlets for energies, libido, and frolicking ‘spirits’ that are kept in check during the rest of the year when daily responsibilities are prioritized and religion is honored.
This is the time to play well past your bedtime, to dance on the tables, to run in the streets. It’s the time when you allow the joker inside you to get creative, and the inner child to laugh at stupid things.
Eat, drink, and be merry. For tomorrow we return to life as normal.
V
Death & Rebirth
At Samhain, death can be transformed into a path to renewal. The winter is brutal. We can only hope we have enough food, and people will die before the ice melts and the daffodils bloom again. The dark half of the year is terrifying, and it could be the end — but it doesn’t have to be.
Sacrifices had to be made to be properly prepared for the winter. Hard work in the fields and prudent storing of resources. During Samhain itself, it was common to survey one’s livestock and slaughter what they couldn’t afford to feed through the season. This is another form of sacrifice. How surprising is it, then, that offerings were made to the spirits of Samhain — of Nature, the Unknown, the Otherworld, and the Unconscious — in hopes of peace and surviving the winter?
Winter is the time when Nature sheds her oldness, rests, and is reborn like the phoenix in its ashes. It is the season when people stop working, when life becomes much simpler, when rest is prioritized. Excesses are shed like snake skin in preparation for future endeavors. To welcome the winter like the Celts is to walk between the cleansing flames of the community bonfires.
In short: through proper sacrifices and the integration of the shadow, death will be but a passing journey to new birth and abundant life.
Stay purposeful.
– Nathanael
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