October/November 2005

Volume 46, Number 2

Loss, Darkness, and Renewal

by Marella Colyvas, STC RMC President

Greetings, fellow technical communicators.

By the time you read this article, daylight savings time will be a thing of the past in the United States. The sunlight is fading earlier, and many of us leave for and come home from work in the darkness.

Several of my friends and acquaintances have recently experienced the death of a loved one. Others have faced the loss of a job, a relationship, or financial security. And even though the sun is shining and the temperature is mild in the Denver area, we all know that the cold of winter can strike at any time and bring rising costs to heat our homes.

One member of a writer's group I belong to wrote an essay and expounded on her confusion about the popularity of Halloween, which according to one study, is celebrated by 86% of US adults and is now the second biggest holiday in the United States. She likened past rituals of "driving kids to various neighborhoods to collect [a multitude of] candy" to "a way of teaching kids how to behave in the adult world." She figured that "some of these kids went on to work at Enron and helped make our corporate world what it is today."

I've noticed something different, though. The roots of Halloween come out of the Celtic tradition of the last eight days of the Celtic Wheel of the Year. Samhaim (pronounced SOW-in) is the last of those eight days. For this reason, it is often considered the beginning of the New Year. The word "Samhaim," likely taken from the Irish word "Samon," means "summer's end." Samhaim marks the end of the growing season (Irish Gaelic "gam") and the beginning of the dormant season (Irish Gaelic "sam").

In ancient Ireland, Samhaim was observed as a three-day festival that culminated on October 31, when all the fires in Ireland were put out and re-lit from the fires of the festival. Also, in the religious traditions of the ancient Celts, the veil between the seen and unseen worlds, or between life and death, drops on Samhaim; thus come the stories of ghosts. Mix these stories with those of the early Christian church that, in an attempt to obtain converts, often used scare tactics like conjuring images of lost souls being pursued by demons and burning in everlasting fire, and it is easy to see where the scary goblins and ghouls come from.

Samhaim also marked the beginning of the reign of the "Caileach," (KAHL-yuhkh), which means "veiled one." It is she who embodies the harsh elements we experience during the cold, snowy, and dark times of winter. It is during these dark times that the earth, in part, dies and surrenders to an inner world to rest, rejuvenate, and clear in preparation for new life to come. Depending on the legend, in spring the Caileach is either reborn as a young maiden or turned to stone to release her hold on the earth.

I think that the preoccupation with Halloween today has less to do with wanting to scare ourselves or eat candy than it does with an ancient connection to the change of seasons and our culture's lack of ritual recognition of it. Changes that come during or at the beginning of the "dark time of the year" somehow hit us hard. At my company, people still talk about a large layoff that occurred several years ago on October 31st as "the Halloween Massacre."

It is no accident that the "new year" is celebrated around the beginning, middle, or end of fall in many traditions: the Jewish New Year and the Muslim Ramadan come easily to mind. Even the traditional Catholic and Episcopalian Church Years begin on Advent, four weeks before December 25. And the "new year," like anything new, cannot occur without the darkness of preparation.

All this brings me back to my first thoughts of loss—darkness coming with the loss of sunlight and the coming of the cold; the pain of loss, no matter what it is. But what would happen if, instead of trying to get out the darkness, we embraced it, went within, released that which needs to die, and delved into our own inner world to rest and rejuvenate, even just a little? An inner resolve to honor the darkness might be just enough to change our attitude about whatever is bothering us right now—whether it be a serious loss, the hectic rush of a new job, incredible deadlines, or the impending holiday rush.

I challenge each of you to take 10 minutes a day to slow down and relish the change of the season. You might be surprised at what you find.

¹ Freeman, Mara. Rekindling the Celtic Spirit. Harper Collins, 2000, p. 297