HALLOWEEN

When the Veil Between Worlds Grows Thin

The forgotten meaning of October 31, our ancestors, and the journey into darkness

Every year, as October comes to an end, shop windows fill with skeletons, pumpkins, and costumes. Halloween becomes a competition for the most original outfit, the scariest decorations, and the biggest party.

We have learned to play with death, to turn it into entertainment, and to laugh at something that, for centuries, inspired respect, fear, and wonder.

But what are we really celebrating?

And more importantly, what have we forgotten while turning one of the most symbolically meaningful moments of the year into something to consume?

To understand this time of year, we need to move away from artificial lights for a moment and return to what is happening in nature.

The journey towards the death of the Sun

In the Northern Hemisphere, the days have been growing shorter since the end of September.

Trees release their leaves, plants slow down, animals change their habits, and the earth prepares for winter.

It is as if nature were slowly drawing its energy back inside.

This movement reaches its deepest point around December 21, at the winter solstice, when we experience the shortest day and the longest night of the year.

In different symbolic traditions, this transition has been understood as the death and rebirth of the Sun.

Of course, the Sun does not actually die. Its apparent presence in our sky simply reaches its yearly minimum before the days begin to grow longer again.

But for those who understood life through the rhythms of nature, this event carried an essential lesson:

Life is not only about growth, expansion, and light. It also needs darkness, stillness, and transformation.

October 31 falls right in the middle of this seasonal descent.

It is not yet the deepest point of darkness, but it represents a symbolic threshold: the moment when we recognise that the brighter season is behind us.

Samhain: When the visible meets the invisible

In ancient Celtic traditions, the period around October 31 and November 1 was associated with Samhain, a festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the darker half of the year.

For agricultural communities, this was an important transition, bringing colder weather, uncertainty, and a time of withdrawal.

According to beliefs preserved in folklore, the boundary between the world of the living and the world of spirits was thought to become especially thin during this seasonal passage.

This is where the image of the veil growing thinner between the visible and invisible worlds comes from.

It is not a scientifically proven phenomenon, but a spiritual image that has survived through stories and interpretations of this tradition.

And yet, beyond its literal meaning, this image holds a fascinating reflection.

As nature becomes bare, the noise of summer fades away, and the days grow shorter, we may also become more aware of what usually remains hidden beneath the surface of our lives.

Memories, emotions, fears, forgotten desires.

Everything we pushed aside during the busier months may begin asking for our attention again.

Perhaps the veil growing thinner is not only the boundary between two worlds.

Perhaps it is also the veil between our awareness and everything we have not yet dared to face.

Our ancestors: Remembering where we come from

The connection between this time of year and remembering the dead does not belong only to Celtic tradition.

In the Christian calendar, November 1 is All Saints' Day, while November 2 is All Souls' Day.

In Mexico, Día de Muertos has its own cultural identity, shaped by the meeting of Indigenous and Catholic traditions. Families create altars, prepare offerings, and remember loved ones who have passed away.

These celebrations have different histories and meanings. They are not all expressions of one ancient religion. Yet they show how different communities have felt the need to create a ritual space for memory and our relationship with death.

Remembering our ancestors means recognising that we are not isolated beings.

We are the result of countless lives that came before us.

We carry biological, cultural, emotional, and family influences within us.

Some support us. Others appear as patterns we may wish to understand and transform.

Honouring our ancestors does not necessarily mean idealising them.

It means acknowledging what we have received and learning to distinguish what we wish to keep from what we choose not to pass on.

And perhaps this is one of the deepest forms of personal transformation.

Halloween: When the sacred becomes something to consume

I don't believe the problem is dressing up, having fun, or carving pumpkins.

After all, playfulness is not completely separate from Halloween's history. Masks and costumes have roots in folk customs that existed long before its modern commercialisation.

The problem begins when entertainment becomes the only meaning we can still recognise.

When we fill every space with noise, images, and stimulation, we risk losing touch with what this season could teach us.

We live in a society that constantly encourages us to produce, buy, display, and consume.

Even moments dedicated to spirituality sometimes become another opportunity to do more.

Another ritual to buy.

Another object to own.

Another experience to show the world.

And yet, the direction nature offers us at this time of year is almost the opposite.

Simplify.

Slow down.

Listen.

Let go.

Not everything valuable needs to become something we consume. Some experiences are simply meant to be lived.

Protecting your energy: What does it really mean?

In spiritual traditions, times of transition are often accompanied by cleansing and protection rituals.

Fires are lit, aromatic herbs are used, and sacred spaces are prepared.

These gestures can be understood as symbolic ways of creating a boundary between everyday life and a moment of deeper awareness.

But I want to spend a moment on the word protection.

Protecting ourselves should not mean living in fear of invisible entities or believing that this season is necessarily dangerous.

For me, protecting our energy means, above all, learning to recognise what truly belongs to us and what simply passes through us without needing to become ours.

It means observing how much space we give to other people's emotions, conflicts, constant demands, and outside expectations.

It means knowing when we need silence.

When we need rest.

When a relationship, a habit, or a situation no longer reflects the person we have become.

We do not always need to build walls against the world.

Sometimes we simply need to find our way back to our own centre.

Entering the darkness without being afraid

Our culture often associates light with everything good and darkness with everything negative.

But when we observe nature, we realise how limited this division is.

A seed begins its journey beneath the soil.

A baby develops in the darkness of the womb.

Sleep allows our bodies to recover.

Night is not a mistake made by nature.

It is part of its balance.

Within us, too, there are seasons that ask us to turn towards what we have been avoiding.

In Jungian psychology, the shadow symbolically represents those parts of ourselves that we struggle to recognise or accept.

Meeting our own shadow does not mean feeding suffering. It means developing a more conscious relationship with the complexity of who we are.

Not everything needs to be solved immediately.

Not everything needs to become a lesson.

Sometimes, listening is enough.

Darkness is not necessarily where we lose ourselves. It can be where we finally stop hiding from ourselves.

A simple ritual for October 31

This year, I would like to invite you to experience at least part of October 31 differently.

You don't have to give up celebrating. You can simply choose to make room for the quieter, deeper meaning of this day.

Find a peaceful place in your home.

Light a candle safely and allow yourself a few minutes of silence.

If you wish, place a photograph, an object that belonged to someone you loved, or something representing your roots beside you.

There is no need to summon spirits or attempt to contact the invisible world.

You can experience this gesture simply as a symbolic moment of remembrance and gratitude.

Then ask yourself three questions:

What have I inherited that I want to preserve?

Which story, fear, or pattern am I no longer willing to feed?

Which part of myself deserves more care during the darker months?

You don't need to find the answers immediately.

Allow these questions to stay with you over the following days.

You might also write a letter to someone who is no longer here, silently thank those who came before you, or simply sit in stillness for a few minutes.

It is not the complexity of a ritual that makes it meaningful.

It is the quality of presence we bring to it.

True transformation begins when we stop running away

Between October 31 and the winter solstice, a symbolic space opens that we can use to look at our lives from a different perspective.

We don't need to fill it with practices, obligations, or spiritual expectations.

Perhaps we can simply allow the season itself to teach us something.

Trees do not hold on to every leaf.

The earth does not produce endlessly.

Nature does not see rest as failure.

Why should we?

Perhaps this year we can see Halloween not only as a night of masks, but as an invitation to recognise the masks we wear every day.

The ones that protect us.

The ones that limit us.

The ones that were once necessary but no longer reflect who we are.

And while the world prepares to celebrate fear through costumes and decorations, we can choose to do something far more courageous:

Meet ourselves without a mask.

Because, for me, the deepest meaning of this passage is not about celebrating death.

It is about understanding that every true transformation also requires the ability to allow something we no longer are to symbolically die.

marilü

A space for awareness, personal transformation, and intuitive exploration through bodywork, symbolism, and conscious presence