Without death, there would be no Ancestors to revere. With death
comes grief. Ancestor practitioners spend so much time playing crossing guard
and messenger that we need to have a tool box of ways to work through, accept,
and integrate grief.
At Samhain, I tell people not to call on those who have not been
gone for at least a year. That is partly so we do not hold onto spirits who
were ready to move on. But it is largely an act of self-care. We humans need
time to process our grief before being able to experience our friends as part
of the slipstream of Ancestral Dead.
Some people need less than a year. Some people need more time.
There’s no golden rule. It’s natural to fear and struggle with death. Humans
cling to our science for answers to give us comfort. Death is perhaps the
ultimate mystery for which there can never be any concrete veritas Truth. So we
gather our personal truths and experiences with death in an attempt to flesh
out the hidden image.
I have a simple but potent magic I use when I have a personal
grief that sits heavy in my heart. I make a Grief Poppet.
They are not Voodoo dolls, although I consider Voodoo dolls to be
a kind of poppet. Use of poppets in folk healing is old and crosses cultures.
When I make a poppet for healing, I make the figure of it similar to the being
it is meant for. They’re usually human silhouettes but I have also made
cat-shaped dollies.
I always use cotton fabrics, something that can be burned or
buried without further harming the Earth. I cut two shapes and put them wrong-side
together, hand stitching them. While sewing, I focus my thoughts on happy
memories of the one I grieve. I leave an opening in the head so I can fill it,
then turn it inside out. This is poppet magic 101, for all poppet workings. Now
I have a shell for the magic.
I use flaxseed as the base herb for grief poppets. It adds a
weight to the fetish that feels good in my hand. I add lavender and rosemary
internally for scent. I recommend investing in lavendin for grief purposes (not
to be cooked with). It is a hybrid of two strains that produces more essential
oil and has a potently soothing aroma to it. If my grief has sharp edges I add
some nettle for protection.
The key piece of magic happens when I add the heart stone. I often
use a piece of resin incense, sometimes a lotus seed, sometimes a small bean,
or a small chip of a gemstone. The important part is that it is meaningful to
the person I am crafting the poppet for.
Then I finish it off with an invisible stitch. I make it small
enough to fit into a pocket but large enough to be weight in my palm. I carry it around with me for as long as I need. It is not a cure for grief. Grief is not a thing to be abolished or denied.
The depth of our grief is a reflection of the depth of the love we
felt, lived, and lost.
Part of what makes the emotion difficult is the intangible quality
of it. The poppet is something I can finger in my pocket. It’s less permanent
than needing something to remind me of my lost loved one on a daily basis. It
becomes a conduit for that grief. It becomes a container but it does not contain
it. It takes in the excess but does not retain it. I use copal for grief poppet
heart stones because it is a cleanser and purifier.
The nature of time is to lessen the hurt of grief. I will carry
the poppet through my workings this Samhain, and burn or bury it at the next
one (if I am ready), sending the remnants of that love back out into the world. Love is something
death cannot take away.
Love is something death cannot take away.
When grief ebbs at your heart, feed it love.
Feed the world love that none will be hungry for it.
Honor the dead by caring for the living.
Be a good ancestor now.
Be a good ancestor now.
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