TML Gatherings - Reflecting on Samhain
What can I say? I’m an emotional gal. I have always been moved easily by the emotions and energies of others. By the perseverance, the courage and passion of others. By the injustices of the world, and public creative expressions from brass bands in the street to ballet performances on a stage, poetry spoken aloud to impassioned speeches on any number of themes. Beauty and art move me. Humanness moves me. So my emotions are pretty regularly and easily, stirred; but catch me at just the right day of the month and I’m basically a walking faucet with a leak and a missing ‘off’ switch.
You can imagine how that worked out for me then when I woke up Sunday, the day of the Samhain Gathering, and realised all the stars had aligned in favour of a hormone-driven day of emotional release. From the very first person telling me about their deceased friends as they added their photos to the remembrance altar straight through to people sharing in the open mic, I was pretty much a sobbing mess the entire night. The only reason I was able to show myself grace through it all was due to the number of people telling me how grateful they were to learn they are not alone in their inability to control their emotions in public. Apparently, I was leading by example. The mantra frequently quoted on This Mortal Life’s website and event marketing reads ‘come as you are’.
Regardless of my emotional state, the evening was nothing short of magical. The remembrance altar glowed with lights, candles, flowers, photos, hand-written notes, symbols and tokens of remembrance and as we added our own items, we read the names of those being remembered. As we were remembering our own loved ones, we were also bearing witness to the loved ones of others. There’s something quite special about communal grieving…I can remember my grandfather on my own, of course, but it’s only through communal remembrance that others see his photo, say his name, ask me about who he was to me and I can, for a moment, remember out loud, allowing his memory to come alive again.
And the food! A wonderful vegetarian/vegan feast so lovingly prepared by so many, nourished us as we chatted about life with the strangers next to us. We connected over questions about our pasts, presents and futures and listened as people shared reflections, poems and stories in the open mic. It was a beautiful evening of connection, and for me, it felt like it was solidifying that I was on the right path with my aims for This Mortal Life: creating space for authentic connection.
I had written the below intro for the evening, which includes some commentary on collective grief and the importance of acknowledging the grief we are all carrying. It’s something I try to always make space for at gatherings and events, so some of these are words you will likely hear me say again and again, should you come to future TML events and gatherings. This introduction, though I struggled to read it myself (thanks to Emma for stepping in) was written to set the tone for the evening, so I thought I’d share it here with some (*not great quality) photos of our first Samhain Gathering for posterity.
*my digital camera broke…another reason for tears on Sunday!
Samhain Gathering Introduction
This is the second of a series of events that will run through the next year as we follow the Wheel of the Year to mark the seasonal changes. Each event is centred around sharing a community meal and creative reflection activities. If you enjoy this evening, and think you might be interested in following this journey and coming along to future events, it would make my heart happy if you would join my mailing list. I send out an email once a month to let everyone know about what's happening with This Mortal Life. Please come speak to me at some point this evening or sign up via the website thismortallife.co.uk.
Now that I'm done plugging This Mortal Life...
Before we move fully into this evening together, I’d like to invite us to pause, to take a breath, to ground ourselves in this moment, and to arrive fully into this space together. Are we all here?
Samhain marks the turning of the year’s wheel toward darkness, a time when the nights grow longer and the veil between the living and the dead is said to grow thin. Across many cultures and traditions, this season has been one for honouring those who came before us: our ancestors, loved ones, friends, and even beloved pets who have died.
Taking time to remember matters. In a world that often asks us to keep going, to move quickly past loss, pausing in this way allows us to honour what has shaped us, the people, stories, and experiences that live within us still. Marking these seasonal moments gives us a chance to notice what is changing, what is enduring, and what we wish to release or nurture as the year turns.
And as we breathe into this place together, we also carry the weight of the wider world. We live in a time where the window into human suffering is always open. We see images and hear stories of people facing violence, displacement, hunger, and loss. These truths exist alongside our daily lives, and it can feel impossible to reconcile the ordinary rhythms of work, family, friends, and routine with the knowledge of such suffering.
So before we turn our attention to this beautiful meal and the conversations we’re about to enjoy, I want to make space for our collective grief, for the grief of what is happening in the world, for the grief that touches our own lives, and for the ache of trying to live with open hearts in a time of constant crisis.
Let us not turn away from this grief, nor let it harden us. Instead, let us breathe it in together, acknowledge it, and place it gently in the circle with us. May it remind us of our shared humanity, our interconnection, and of the need for compassion for ourselves and for each other.
Tonight, as part of our gathering, we’re building a Remembrance Altar, a shared space where memories, photos, and small offerings can rest together. This collaborative altar will be short-lived, existing only for the hours we share here, and as you leave later, you’ll take your items with you. Slowly, the altar will return to being an empty space again.
This brief, shared creative act allows us to make visible the connections that endure beyond death. As the 19th-century English novelist Mary Ann Evans, or better known by her pen name George Elliot, once wrote, “We are only living for as long as we’re remembered.”
And now, grounded in both sorrow and gratitude, may we walk together into this evening’s activities holding the truth of the world with us, but also making space for reflection, connection, and hope.
As we share food and conversation, let us remember that these rituals of remembrance are as much about the living as the dead. They are opportunities to tend to our community, to make space for showing up as we are, and as we are not.
So let us take our time, there’s no rush here. Enjoy the food, enjoy connecting with new people, and enjoy this space we’ve created together.
I want to thank everyone who attended, as it was truly the many contributions of everyone who made the evening so special.
Everyone has a story; everyone has their individual motivations for being drawn to these kinds of experiences and we never know who we’ll meet or what kind of experience we may have when stepping into the unknown. It takes courage to show up and interact with new people, but in my experience, it’s always rewarding. One of our attendees has written about his experience of the evening, which I, of course, found quite moving. I hope you will give it a read here.
And I hope to see you at our next Gathering on Sunday, 21st December to mark the Winter Solstice. The WSM-based venue for this event will be announced soon and then we’ll begin taking bookings. For now, save the date!
