Fun Stuff/ Research

🔥halloween (samhain) never dies🔥

as i type this, it is november first.

well, technically. it is twelve in the morning, after all.

i love this time. the in between. and so i sit in the darkness as time moves. but i don’t sit idle.
you see, according to the ancient Celts, Halloween or Samhain (pronounced sow-in) was the end and beginning of the new year.

it was the end of their harvest, the end of summer, and they now faced winter. the darkness.

some believe the Celts held this time sacred. a time where the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead thinned.

… don’t worry, i’m not going to delve into a history lesson (as i’ve done in the past because i LOVE this time of year and research is my jam). instead, i’d like to focus on something else. the meaning. the fire. i’d guess you’d say, the feel of this time of year. and how cathartic it has become for me, especially as i work and grow in therapy with my new therapist).

samhain is a time to sit still. to be. to acknowledge the darkness in us. to let go. let die. and grow anew. to honor. to remember.

change always begins inside us. high performance experts, spiritual gurus, therapists, and motivational speakers alike, often direct us to work with ourselves, not against. to tie the new changes we crave, need, and desire to rituals.
and in case you’re wondering – a ritual is any series of things you do in regular repetition in a very specific manner. think morning routine, night routine, they’re all rituals of a sort.
to tie a new change to a ritual and to fill oneself with new healthy somethings, is the only way to begin negating harmful somethings we wish to rid ourselves of.
samhain is the perfect time for this.
it’s certainly something i’m going to work on.

another aspect of samhain is darkness.
darkness isn’t often seen as safe. it is to me. always has been.
it’s where i found safety to look at the pains, hurts, things about myself i didn’t like, questions and doubts, fears, and uncertainties – without fear of overstimulation, begin judged, or feeling too raw or exposed.
i feel like we live very exposed lives these days. anyone can call us, text us, pop over to our home, expect our time, expect to see and know everything about our private life. almost like we owe them front row tickets to our soul…. not a fan. it gets hard to live, to grow, to introspect, to even connect with oneself when we don’t have any time to ourselves.
samhain is the perfect time to draw inward.

i sit and look back at my life. how did i get here? how has the past me grown me into who i currently am?
what have i accomplished, my successes, failures, new experiences, important memories, new relationships, new wisdom, what firsts have i experienced, how have i changed? how did my goals and plans turn out? what’s changed? what do i need to allow to die? what newness do i desire to bring in?

i absolutely love symbolism. (shocking, right? that a writer loves symbolism?) i think this year i’d like to look specifically into the questions, prodding’s, and lessons of the Death and Hanged Man tarot cards. maybe that’s what i’ll do tomorrow.

i’d like to sit in darkness and meditate.

to set some new healthy boundaries, intentions, goals, and healthy daily rituals.

samhain is a time to honor contrast. to celebrate it.
life and death
death and rebirth
old and new
ancestors and living love for them
darkness and hope

i’ve already begun something new. something beautifully personal but wonderfully mundane to honor and think about the relationships i had with my deceased loved ones. samhain is the perfect time to remember them.
to grieve them. after all, “where there is deep grief, there was great love”. i don’t know who wrote that quote but i’d like to reword it from ‘was’ to ‘is’. because there is no extinguishing love. it doesn’t go anywhere. it lives on forever. and no matter how cliche or trite that sounds, it is no less true.
its also a time to grieve what relationship i didn’t have with those who i could have.
a time to look at my current relationships with new perspective and vow not to take them for granted. tomorrow is never promised.

an ancestral altar is always a fun, creative, personal, and emotional way to physically do something about your love, grief, and deceased ancestors and friends.
i find physically doing something with my emotions is much healthier for me. i want something to do about what’s on fire inside me.
you can do it however you’d like. but it is simply bringing mementos of theirs that you keep out of love, photos, and warm memories. light a candle and allow yourself to feel. we don’t do that much anymore. its tremendously healthy.

and please, for the love of all that is holy, have fun.
be true to who you are.
spend time with yourself and spend time with your loved ones.
make choices for you.

halloween never dies.
it lives within you, within me, within all of us, always.
we are all made of duality. ebbing and flowing. changing. in light and darkness.

Micro Stories · Shadow Poetry

i act like i need it

I stared at the words written on the wall for hours without ever seeing them.

The warmth of the day bloomed in me until all I knew were the leaves above in their muted dance.

And my lips recognized the lyrics before my thoughts did. Paint splashing against the wall of my heart. Your voice reverberating through the hollows of my dreams.

You follow me into the empty. Crushing colored glass under my toes in paradise, some sense of you leading me forward.

I can feel you breathing beneath my skin, I see you speak every time I close my eyes.

And there’s this buzz, deep in my flesh. Past the marrow and into the atomic darkness, hidden where the dancing lights of misery and joy fight. It puts a gun in my mouth one second. A love letter the next. Because I remember.

I have to feel it. So I wake up.

And you’re not there.

Shadow Poetry

Remember Me

Little moments.

Remember me as these little moments where my true self shines through this disease caking my pores.
They’re all I get.
These little moments.
Shuddering gasps of air, touches of soothing peace and mercy.
They’re not enough. They hide behind eternity now, growing farther away.
Bare slits in the bag over my soul, leaking until I can see the sun, for a brief reprieve.

And I give them to you.
Little notes. Filled to the brim with what my tears can’t communicate.
Before I crumple back in on myself, alone and suffocating.
I know it’s not enough.

What happens when that’s all I am? Scraps left behind.
As the void reaches through my skin, wrapping it’s charred claws round my heart?
The silence is breaking me.
All these little moments, huddling together in the dark, begging for more.

Just a blip on the screen of the body that was stolen from me. I am running out of time but I’m not the one using it all up.

Shadow Poetry

every wild animal

love has teeth

slides deep

leaves a mark

breaks in

with a noose

in the dark

in the rafters

hangs your

every enemy

sweeps out

the rug

easy remedy

clears out

your closet

in full, before

before they can

break down

your door


for your dirt

in the garden

because love


won’t pardon

love is

a rose

soft petals aplenty

but her thorns

they don’t spare


she’ll take


of you

you’ll pay

in full

her due

when they

come to


she’ll dazzle

with passion

and wonder

touch a

soft petal

of yours?

they’ll find

what it means

to be hers

love is




at night


love will

slit their


stand there


til they bloat

hate doesn’t

protect like

love does

claws to

open bellies


you don’t

you don’t


what love does

her war



to your chest

blood soaked


love has teeth

don’t touch

what’s hers

every wild animal

every wild animal


Shadow Poetry


do you ever lose a moment

to the ever present night?

only to realize too late

it was swallowed by the light?

i think we have it wrong

i think we’re quite confused

it’s never the dark that takes

it’s the bright lights that use

they hide behind their masks

and pretend to hold a flame

what we all new was truth

and never could quite tame

true light in the darkness

when real, is well and good

but nothing teaches better

than being lost in the abyss would

and don’t we feel all alone

in the cold light of day?

instead, a warm embrace

for which we all pray

you don’t need a crutch

you need to learn to see

when you squint against the sun

moments lost to eternity.

Shadow Poetry


i always remember

how the darkness

touched your tongue

when they forced you

into the light

your shadow drowned

their malice, their deceptions

found the fissures

dissolved your color

now you’re dull

on their pedestal

made of gold

but i’ll always remember

how you were ablaze

moon kissed and warm

Micro Stories

hushed tone

whisper into the hollow

and forget yourself

until every spark ignites your soul

they’ll fight through the thicket

trying to drown the light


what are you saying?

words whispered

lips parting against

somebody’s neck

what are you saying?

when they’re not watching

etching tendrils of magick into being

was it a noose

or did you let down your hair

to save them?

press your palm

into all your wet intentions

take it back and they’ll remember

your name

is it dripping gold

or blood?

Shadow Poetry

act none

i think i heard the last one

i think i heard it falling

but every time i look

there’s a blinding light calling

they said i shouldn’t try

i’d only taste more pain

i really did attempt

but i simply couldn’t refrain

now there’s a naked procession

a broken crown on the floor

an empty throne down the hall

and it’s not so cold anymore.

by Daphne Shadows