 As a child, Halloween was truly magical for me—a day I eagerly awaited all year. Not only was it my absolute favorite holiday, but it also led right into my November 1st birthday. Every year, we celebrated with a big Halloween party, where the costumes, spooky decorations, and eerie glow of candlelight set the stage for a night that felt enchantingly alive. I kept up this tradition well into my late 30s, savoring every moment. As a Witch, I always held deep respect for Samhain, understanding it as a sacred time to honor the dead and connect with those who had crossed the veil. But for me, Halloween remained a time of joyful celebration—a night where the thrill of costumes and the excitement of gathering with loved ones filled me with a lively energy.
Then, everything shifted in 2020. That year, I lost my father, a loss that felt profound and life-altering. Before that, my High Priest and mentor had also passed, leaving a quiet void in my spiritual life. Soon after, a woman I admired greatly left this earthly realm, followed last year by the crossing of one of my closest friends. With each passing, I felt the veil between the worlds not as a distant, mystical concept, but as something woven into my daily reality. The festivities that once defined Halloween began to feel distant, almost foreign, as I became more attuned to the presence of those I had lost. Halloween, once vibrant and social, has transformed for me into a time of deep, personal reflection. The lively parties and festive decorations that I once loved have been replaced by an urge to honor my ancestors and the beloved dead in ways that feel more intentional, more reverent. My clairsentience, a gift I’ve had for as long as I can remember, allows me to feel peace, even happiness, around spirits. Rather than finding joy in the lively décor, I now find solace in spending time at my ancestor altar. The altar has become a sacred space where I can sit with memories, tend to their energy, and offer them the love and respect they deserve. Living in Richmond, I am fortunate to reside near Hollywood Cemetery, a place I visit often. For me, it’s more than just a burial ground; it’s a sanctuary, a peaceful retreat where I feel deeply connected to those who have passed. Amid the moss-covered gravestones and the quiet shade of the trees, I feel at home and surrounded by a sense of timeless companionship. Spending time there has become a way for me to honor Samhain’s true essence, paying quiet tribute to the ones who have crossed the veil. As I grow older, I feel my perspective shifting, and maybe that’s why I find comfort in knowing what lies beyond this life. Halloween is now less about costumes and decorations and more about this reverent silence. The light of the season now shines on my ancestors, and I honor them not just as part of the cycle of life and death but as part of me.
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I recently experienced my first full trance possession—an unexpected and deeply profound moment where a deity took complete control of my body. Although I’ve entered trance states many times before, such as through Middle Eastern Zar dances or during drum and fire circles, where I connected to higher states of consciousness, I had always retained some awareness of my physical body. This time, however, was entirely different. The deity fully took over, guiding me beyond any mental realms I had explored before.
For context, trance possession is a powerful spiritual phenomenon where an individual enters an altered state of consciousness, allowing an external entity—a spirit, deity, or supernatural force—to take over their body and mind. This often occurs through rituals, dances, or deep meditation, as the person’s usual awareness fades, and they become a vessel for the entity to communicate or act through. Across many cultures, from Haitian Vodou to Santería and indigenous shamanic practices, trance possession is seen as a sacred way to connect with divine beings for guidance, healing, or empowerment. Though often intentional and ritualized, the experience can vary significantly, with physical or vocal changes manifesting as the possessing force exerts its influence. It’s a transformative, sacred act that bridges the human and spiritual realms. Despite the spiritual significance, I was left with a storm of emotions—many of them confusing and difficult to process. To give you a better idea, I wasn’t engaged in any spiritual practice or preparing a sacred space where a deity would typically be invited. It happened completely spontaneously. I did sense Her presence beforehand (yes, it was a She, and while it took me days to fully understand which deity had taken over my body, I eventually realized it was Inanna). I can recall fragments of the possession, but I can't share all the details because much of it remains unclear. What stands out most is speaking another language—my husband said it sounded ancient—and "seeing" him trying to shake me out of it, though it felt as if I was looking through a smoky veil. Beyond that, my memory is blank. I still don’t fully understand why She appeared or what Her purpose was, but afterward, I was flooded with conflicting emotions. On one hand, I felt honored that Inanna had chosen me, for whatever reason. Yet, on the other hand, I felt violated. This wasn't a moment where I had invited or anticipated Her presence. Yes, our home is deeply dedicated to our spiritual practice, and maybe that’s why She felt comfortable manifesting there, but being "jumped" like that was terrifying. For days, I was consumed by the fear that it could happen again. And why Inanna? While I adore ancient cultures and their deities, She isn’t part of the pantheon I usually worship. After speaking with my Mambo (Vodou High Priestess), she too was unsettled by the experience. Spontaneous trance possession can be dangerous—what if I had been driving at the time? Everything I’ve read about deity consent emphasizes the importance of inviting a deity or spirit before possession occurs. In many spiritual traditions that involve trance possession, such as Voodoo, Santería, and ceremonial magick, deity or spirit consent is considered essential. These practices involve inviting deities or spirits to temporarily inhabit a practitioner’s body. However, this invitation must be met with the spirit’s willingness to "mount" or possess the individual, a form of divine consent. In traditions like Voodoo, the spirit’s acceptance of the invitation is a sacred moment, and possession only happens if the spirit chooses to enter the practitioner. Similarly, in ceremonial magick, practitioners invoke deities or spirits with great care, understanding that these entities cannot be coerced—possession must be voluntary and intentional. But this led me to an important question: What about the practitioner’s consent? During my research, I came across some insightful writings by Ember Voices on trance possession, particularly a post where she discusses the challenges of relinquishing control of one’s body to a deity. One line struck me deeply: "It’s weird to think of developing the ability to get out of the damned way and let somebody else use my body as an accomplishment." Yes, yes it is! It’s also terrifying, whether that surrender is voluntary or, in my case, involuntary (I would have much preferred for it to be voluntary!). Now, I find myself at a crossroads. I’ve realized I’m capable of trance possession, and I’m left wondering: should I pursue this ability? Should I hone this skill, learning to control it within a ritualized, safe environment where I know exactly who will take over and when? While the experience can be unsettling, it’s also undeniably spiritual and potentially exhilarating. Drawing Down the Moon is not an unfamiliar concept, though I’ve never attempted it before. I’m contemplating whether it’s time to embrace this path with intention, discipline, and reverence. If I am going to move forward, I need to make one thing very clear: I will not allow trance possession to happen without my permission or during times when I’m unprepared. This is my body, my sacred space, and consent—on both sides—is essential  If you are like me, you enjoy walking through old cemeteries-especially at this time of year. In my book “Grave Spirits” I have several photos of cemeteries that I have visited across the U.S... Currently, my favorite haunt is Hollywood Cemetery here in Richmond, VA. It’s spacious, beautiful and spooky. However, whenever I go to visit the places of the deceased, I never go empty handed!
Cemeteries have long been places of reverence, reflection, and mystery. Among the headstones, one often finds small offerings—pennies, flowers, and even bottles of alcohol—left by visitors. These offerings may seem simple, but they carry deep significance. Rooted in cultural traditions, spiritual practices, and personal beliefs, these tokens reflect humanity's enduring connection to the deceased and the unseen world. But why do people bring such offerings to the graves of loved ones, historical figures, and even strangers? My favorite to bring—pennies! Pennies, and sometimes other coins, are commonly found on gravestones, particularly in the U.S. The tradition of leaving coins on graves has its origins in several sources. For military graves, especially those of soldiers who served in wars, pennies can symbolize the act of paying respect to the deceased and acknowledging their service. The type of coin left can vary in meaning: A penny: indicates that someone simply visited the grave. A nickel: signifies that the visitor trained with the deceased in boot camp. A dime: shows that the visitor served with them. A quarter: means the person was present when the soldier died. Beyond military symbolism, leaving coins can be a universal act of remembrance and respect. In ancient times, the practice of leaving coins with the dead was linked to the belief in paying Charon, the ferryman who carried souls across the River Styx to the afterlife in Greek mythology. While that belief may have faded, coins today can still represent an offering to the spirit, a connection to the past, or a wish for the deceased's peaceful journey. Moreover, alcohol, particularly in the form of libations, has been used as an offering to the dead for centuries. Across cultures, the act of pouring alcohol on graves or leaving bottles behind serves multiple purposes. In some traditions, alcohol is thought to nourish the spirit of the deceased, allowing them to partake in a communal act they enjoyed in life. For example: In Vodou and Afro-Caribbean traditions, rum is commonly offered to spirits as a way to honor ancestors, deities, and the dead and in Mexican culture, during Día de los Muertos, families may leave tequila, mezcal, or other favorite beverages of the departed on altars or gravesites as part of the celebrations. These offerings symbolize the continuation of life and the idea that the spirits can return and enjoy the things they loved. Alcohol offerings can also serve as a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms, acknowledging that the dead are not truly gone, but remain a presence in the lives of the living. Likewise, in many cultures, bringing food and flowers to cemeteries is a long-standing tradition. Food offerings, particularly those placed on graves during special occasions, festivals, or anniversaries, serve as a gesture of care. In cultures like the Chinese Qingming Festival or the Hindu Pitru Paksha, food is offered to the spirits of the dead to ensure their well-being in the afterlife and to foster a continuing relationship between the living and the deceased. Flowers, especially in Western traditions, are another popular offering. While their presence beautifies the cemetery, they also serve as a symbol of life, love, and the fleeting nature of existence. Different flowers carry specific meanings—roses for love, lilies for purity, and marigolds for remembrance—connecting emotions and symbols with the act of honoring the dead. Aside from the more widely recognized offerings, people often leave personal items on graves—notes, photographs, toys, or trinkets. These objects represent intimate memories and personal connections to the deceased, allowing loved ones to continue communicating with the dead in a tangible way. Whether it’s a sentimental item or an object tied to the person's identity, these gifts keep the memory of the departed alive and offer comfort to the living. For those who practice witchcraft, occultism, or other spiritual traditions, leaving offerings at graves may hold deeper ritualistic significance. Graveyards are often seen as liminal spaces where the boundary between the physical and spiritual worlds is thin. Practitioners may leave offerings to spirits, deities, or ancestors to request guidance, protection, or favor. Items like alcohol, coins, or specific herbs may be used in these rituals to honor the dead and seek their blessings. In many magical practices, acknowledging and respecting the spirits of the dead is an important part of connecting to ancestral wisdom or ensuring that one's spells or workings are successful. In all its forms, the act of bringing offerings to cemeteries is about remembrance, respect, and connection. Whether a coin left on a grave, a libation of alcohol, or a bouquet of flowers, these gestures remind us of the continuity between the living and the dead. They allow us to honor those who have come before us, reflect on the impermanence of life, and affirm that, in some way, the dead are still with us. At its core, the practice of offering these tokens speaks to humanity's deep desire to stay connected to the past, even in the face of death. Whether stemming from religious traditions, personal sentiments, or spiritual practices, these offerings are symbols of our enduring relationships with those who have passed on, ensuring that their spirits remain honored and remembered in the world of the living. So---do you have a penny for the dead?  Happy Octoberween!
Although the veil has been thinning for some time, it feels like the spirits become especially restless as October approaches, eager to break through! If you’re sensitive like me, this time of year can be challenging. Spirits surround you, either seeking to communicate or simply making their presence known. It can often be difficult to distinguish between your emotions and theirs. My emotions are a whirlwind right now. I’m excited for Halloween, yet I feel sluggish and weighed down by feelings that aren’t even my own. The energy can feel chaotic, and I can shift from intense euphoria to utter pandemonium in just a few minutes. Navigating this time of year as a sensitive, medium, or empath can be quite challenging. However, there are effective ways to separate your energy from those around you, including spirits. It requires time and consistent practice, but the more you engage in this work, the easier it becomes to "shut down" when needed. With practice, you'll also find it easier to open yourself up whenever you choose. Here are my top six ways of separating your emotions from those seen and unseen: 1. Boundaries: The first and most important step in working with spirits is to set clear boundaries. Empaths often absorb the emotions and energies of those around them, which can be overwhelming. It’s essential to define what is acceptable for you emotionally and physically. Don’t hesitate to say no when necessary. I often speak aloud to the spirits or energies, saying things like, “I’m not ready to communicate with you” or simply, “Leave me alone.” Being assertive helps establish and maintain your boundaries. 2. Visualization: When you’re out and picking up on the emotions of others, visualize yourself surrounded by a protective circle. If you’re Pagan or Wiccan and have a specific phrase you use when casting a circle, recite it in your mind. I often use this technique, as circles can take on a cylindrical shape as well! Once I’m inside my cylinder, nothing can enter that I don’t wish to allow. 3. Grounding: Engage in grounding exercises like walking barefoot on the earth, meditating, or visualizing roots extending from your feet into the ground. These practices can help anchor you and provide a sense of stability. One of my favorite grounding methods is to sit in a quiet space with some incense and soothing music while savoring a piece of my favorite chocolate! 4. Limit Exposure: Most empaths (not all) that I know are introverted and avoid large crowds. I am one of them. If certain environments or people drain you, try to limit your time with them. Its ok to leave an event or party early if you feel like its to much for you to handle. 5. Use Crystals and Talismans: Crystals like black tourmaline, obsidian, hematite, or amethyst can help with protection and grounding. Carry or wear them to provide comfort. Also, if you have a favorite necklace use it has a talisman to help you ground when you feel to the energies are too much 6. Art: Lastly, get creative. Channel your emotions and feelings into artwork! Writing, drawing, painting or dancing can allow you to ground the energies you have picked up and help to recenter yourself. |
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