Here Lughnasadh is a pure light holiday; the sun is still high and hot, temperatures are broiling, and we swim in a dammed creek. Samhain is a dark holiday; the temperatures are cooler, the days are shorter, and we hold the vigil through the night. But Mabon, Mabon is something in the middle. The temperatures are still brutal, but dawn comes a little later each day.
Hecatedemeter has an eloquent Prayer for Mabon, and Mabon is a time of resistance, where we say there is a place at our table. But Mabon is also when we choose whether to resist the Dark or to freely fall into it knowing we’ll eventually fall out into the light again.
The Dark of the Year, the Dark of the Earth, the Dark inside ourselves, the Dark inside others. All of these are facets of the same jewel, but it’s a jewel you can’t explore without knowing yourself. For if you cannot find the strength within you, you will never find it without. To have a nerdy moment in a meditation, it’s a bit like the Devils Snare in the first Harry Potter movie: the more you fight the Dark the harder it holds on, but if you relax into it, you fall through to the next floor. (Before we go there, yes, I’ve read the books. Yes, the books hold an incredibly dear place in my heart. But in this case, the movie has the better visual.)
Last year I chose to get a divorce at Mabon, that was my Dark that I was fighting for years and my marriage had become a choking force in my magickal, and mundane life. I could feel myself dying. I chose to fall into the Dark and the crucible last year, and I’ve come out with a few more scars but definitely a more refined and freer being. After all, what do we say to that which impedes our higher being? Not today.
Again, this year I’ve chosen to fall into the Dark again. I’ve fortified myself at the Witches Thanksgiving: with cornbread and collards, cheese and ale, turkey and turnips. I’ve stocked my larder with mead and cider, wheat and pumpkins, cherries and chestnuts.
And I’m ready to fall again.