The Veil Is Thin, and Apparently So Is My Free Time

An entire week of Samhain, moonlight, magic, and probably another craft project I don’t have room for.

There are people who celebrate Halloween for one night.

They put on costumes, hand out candy, watch a scary movie, and pack everything away on November 1.

And then there’s me.

Apparently, one night of Halloween is no longer sufficient. I’ve decided that an entire week of witchcraft, crafts, rituals, reflection, and possibly rearranging my altar is a perfectly reasonable way to spend my time.

Because I clearly don’t have enough hobbies already.

But this year feels different.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. I love the decorations, the costumes, the spooky movies, the pumpkins, the ghosts, and pretty much anything that gives me an excuse to cover my surroundings in purple and black.

But somewhere along the way, Halloween became something more.

I started learning about Samhain.

And suddenly, the holiday I’d always loved had an entirely different kind of magic.

First, There Was the Moon

This week began beneath the Hunter’s Full Moon, which reached its peak in the early hours of October 26.

The Hunter’s Moon traditionally follows the Harvest Moon. Its name comes from a time when people were preparing for winter, gathering what they needed, and making sure they could survive the colder months ahead.

And while I’m certainly not preparing to hunt my dinner, I appreciate the symbolism.

Preparation. Protection. Reflection. Knowing what to keep and what to release.

Those are themes I’ve been exploring for months through tarot, runes, journaling, and my increasingly ambitious collection of witchcraft notebooks.

The full moon feels like an appropriate beginning to Samhain week.

For my own practice, I want to spend some time looking back at what I’ve accomplished, what has changed, and what I’ve been carrying around longer than necessary.

Maybe I’ll pull a few tarot cards. Maybe I’ll write down some intentions. Maybe I’ll sit quietly with my moon water and pretend I have the slightest idea how to make my brain stop thinking about seventeen different projects.

The important thing is taking the time.

And that’s something I’m discovering witchcraft has been teaching me.

So What Exactly Is Samhain?

Samhain, traditionally pronounced something like SOW-in, is a Gaelic seasonal festival with roots in ancient Celtic traditions.

It marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the darker half of the year.

In many modern Pagan and witchcraft traditions, Samhain is also a time to remember the dead, honor ancestors, reflect on endings, and acknowledge the cycles of life.

There’s also the familiar belief that the veil between the living and spirit worlds grows thin around this time.

Whether someone understands that literally, spiritually, or symbolically is a personal matter.

For me, it’s an invitation to remember that not everything meaningful is something we can hold in our hands.

Love. Memory. Grief. Tradition. The influence people leave behind.

Those things don’t simply disappear.

And perhaps that’s one reason this particular celebration means so much to me.

The Part of Witchcraft That Isn’t Just Pretty Crystals

I’ve spent much of this year learning.

Tarot. Runes. Astrology. Herbs. Moon phases. Symbols. Spells. Folklore.

My notebooks are multiplying at an alarming rate, and I’ve already started planning an entire collection of permanent grimoires because apparently ordinary notebooks aren’t dramatic enough anymore.

But the deeper I go, the more I realize that witchcraft isn’t simply collecting supplies or memorizing correspondences.

It’s paying attention.

To the seasons. To the world around me. To my thoughts. To my emotions. To the things that deserve my energy and the things that absolutely do not.

It’s learning the history behind traditions rather than just copying something because it looks pretty on Pinterest.

And it’s finding ways to make an ordinary Tuesday feel intentional.

I still love the aesthetic, obviously.

If something comes in purple, has a moon on it, or looks like it belongs in an ancient library, I am almost certainly interested.

But I’m beginning to understand the difference between making something look magical and finding meaning in the act of making it.

A Week of Witchy Projects

Naturally, I have plans.

Whether I accomplish all of them is another question entirely.

Witch’s bells and protection charms

I recently attended a witch’s bells workshop and made a hanging charm with a pentagram, a key, and a feather.

It wasn’t quite as symmetrical as I’d imagined, but I’m learning that handmade things don’t have to be perfect to mean something.

This week feels like a good opportunity to give it a permanent home, along with an intention for protection, peace, and positive energy.

A Samhain remembrance space

I’d like to create a small space dedicated to the people who are no longer here.

Photographs, meaningful objects, written memories, or simply a quiet moment can all become part of remembering someone.

It doesn’t have to be elaborate.

Sometimes remembrance is as simple as making room for someone in your thoughts.

A little autumn crafting

I’m thinking paper decorations, dried leaves, handwritten intentions, or something involving my ever-growing collection of craft supplies.

Nothing requiring a hot glue gun if I can help it.

We have a complicated relationship.

A seasonal grimoire entry

Obviously, there must be notebook time.

I want to write about Samhain’s history, symbolism, traditional customs, and the ways modern practitioners celebrate it.

And perhaps document what I actually do this year so that future me can look back and either appreciate the effort or wonder why I gave myself so much homework.

The Rituals I Want to Try

I’m not planning one enormous, elaborate ceremony.

I’d rather make small moments throughout the week meaningful.

One evening, I might do a tarot spread asking what I need to release, what deserves protection, and what I want to carry into the darker months.

Another evening might be dedicated to writing down something I’m ready to let go of, then tearing up the paper as a symbolic release.

I want to spend time with my altar, rearranging the things I’ve collected and reflecting on why each object belongs there.

And on Samhain itself, I’d like to take a few quiet moments to honor those I’ve lost.

Maybe that means looking at photographs, remembering a favorite saying, or simply allowing myself to miss someone without feeling like I need to do anything about it.

There are traditions involving bonfires and candles, but my own rituals tend to be decidedly flameless.

Battery-operated candles are wonderful inventions.

The spirits, should they be visiting, will simply have to appreciate modern fire safety.

Making Room for the People Who Aren’t Here

This is the part of Samhain I think I’m going to find the most meaningful.

Losing someone changes the way you experience holidays.

There are memories attached to certain dates, certain foods, certain decorations, and certain little traditions that you don’t necessarily realize are important until the person connected to them is gone.

My dad has been gone for several years now.

And while I don’t need a particular holiday to think about him, I like the idea of setting aside time specifically for remembrance.

Not because I believe I can summon him into my living room for a conversation.

Although, knowing him, he’d probably have a few things to say about the number of notebooks I’ve purchased.

But because remembering is its own kind of ritual.

It’s an acknowledgment that someone mattered.

That they still matter.

That the people we love continue to influence who we become, even when they’re no longer here to see it.

And I think that’s a beautiful thing to carry into Samhain.

The Witch I Didn’t Know I Was Becoming

A year ago, I wouldn’t have imagined how deeply I’d become involved in all of this.

I might have bought another Halloween decoration, watched Hocus Pocus for the hundredth time, and called it a successful holiday.

And to be clear, I’m still doing those things.

There will always be room for the Sanderson sisters.

But now there’s something else.

There’s the research. The notebooks. The tarot cards. The questions. The rituals. The growing understanding that spirituality doesn’t have to look the same for everyone.

I practice alone, at my own pace, learning what interests me and deciding what feels meaningful.

Some days that means studying an herb’s history and properties.

Some days it’s writing rune pairings until my hand hurts.

Some days it’s pulling three tarot cards and having a surprisingly revealing conversation with a deck of illustrated cardboard.

And sometimes it’s simply looking up at the moon.

None of this has magically solved every problem in my life.

I still get anxious. I still get frustrated. I still have days when I question what I’m doing with myself.

But it’s given me something that feels entirely my own.

Something to learn. Something to create. Something to look forward to.

And perhaps most importantly, something that reminds me I can continue becoming someone new.

And Then Comes November

Samhain is often described as a turning point, a threshold between seasons.

And I rather like that idea.

Because November 1 falls on a Sunday this year, I’ve decided to make it the beginning of a new tradition: a monthly witchy reset.

Regular Sunday chores, a little tarot, some grimoire time, reflection, and setting intentions for the month ahead.

Nothing too complicated.

Just a way to bring some of the meaning I’ve been finding into everyday life.

Because that’s what I want this practice to become.

Not something reserved for full moons and holidays.

Not another enormous project I start and abandon.

Something that belongs in the quiet spaces of an otherwise ordinary life.

So this week, I’ll celebrate Samhain.

I’ll make things, study things, remember people, pull cards, and probably create at least three more projects for myself.

I’ll enjoy the Halloween decorations and the spooky atmosphere, but I’ll also make room for the quieter meaning underneath it all.

And when October ends, I won’t be packing the magic away with the pumpkins.

Because I’m beginning to realize that the magic was never just in the decorations.

It was in what I chose to make of the season.

And what I choose to carry forward.