Spiritual Journey Thursday: November Post

Jone Rush MacCulloch is hosting our gathering this month and provided this prompt: "You may have heard the word “Samhain” in connection with Halloween. It’s Irish Gaelic for November and “summer’s end” in Scottish Gaelic. Since November 1 is All Saints’ Day, our November SJT is about remembering those who have left us." Stop by Jone's blog to read reflections on this topic from our community.    I adore this focus on remembering those who have left us. I often save poems on this topic. I'll share a few and return tomorrow for Poetry Friday to share one more.   The first one that popped into my head is in Janet S. Wong's anthology, Night Garden: Poems from the World of Dreams.  I delight in waking up and remembering the visit of a loved one in my dreams. Janet has the right idea... "pull and gulp it down,/swallow hard,/ and those sweet memories/will stick/like cotton candy."   "Haunted Houses" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow speaks of the ways the dead inhabit our world. Haunted Houses Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807 –1882   All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table than the hosts Invited; the illuminated hall Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, As silent as the pictures on the wall. The stranger at my fireside cannot see The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is; while unto me All that has been is visible and clear. We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates. The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. Our little lives are kept in equipoise By opposite attractions and desires; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, And the more noble instinct that aspires. These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star An undiscovered planet in our sky. And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd Into the realm of mystery and night,— So from the world of spirits there descends A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss. (This poem is in the public domain.)   Check out this podcast episode by Crista Cowan that I listened to recently (just 22 minutes).  A Person Dies Twice: How Family Stories Keep Us Alive I am an avid ambassador for family stories. I love collecting stories and photos of my ancestors. I encourage others to record their stories by participating monthly in a memoir writing group. We respond to a monthly prompt and share our stories.    In closing, I'll share this new-to-me Wendell Berry poem "The Loved Ones" shared on Instagram following his recent death.            The Loved Ones    The loved ones we call the dead depart from us and for a while are absent. And then as if called back by our love, they come near us again. They enter our dreams. We feel they have been near us when we have not thought of them. They are simply here, simply waiting while we are distracted among our obligations. At last  it comes to us: They live now in the permanent world. We are the absent ones.                   - Wendell Berry