Embracing Early Winter’s Darkness: Finding Joy & Connection Through Ancestral Traditions
Here’s how I'm using my hand, head, and heart this month to find warmth, joy, and connection in this cold, dark season.
November. Leaves are falling. Temperatures are not as cold as usual but the call to snuggle down and take of myself and those I love has never been stronger. Its a time to keep warm - physically and emotionally.
A time to wrap a warm scarf around the neck and shoulders to stave off chills.
A time for warm and nourishing soups and stews.
A time for warm baths with warming herbs.
A time to sip on hot teas that contain warming spices such as ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon.
A time to laugh more, hug more, give thanks often, and listen more.
Warmth is more than just temperature. It’s the presence we bring to those around us, the thoughtfulness and love we extend, and the care we put into creating spaces that nurture.
This dark season is also about introspection, acknowledging where I need warmth and gentleness for myself. As the light fades earlier each day, there's an invitation to slow down, reflect, release, and reset.
I’m especially aware of my ancestors right now. They are always with me but even more so in November. There is a heightened awareness of those who came before me and the legacy they left behind. Something about the darker days invites them closer. My ancestry feels a bit like a reflection of the USA experience: mostly European, lots of farmers, and stories filled with struggles, challenges, adversity, hardship, contributions, reinvention, and hope.
I know the names of many ancestors. Different lines have different lengths - the longest is 15 generations; the shortest is 3 generations; and, most are between 6-8 generations. I only had myself, my parents, 1 sister, 2 grandmoms, 1 granddad, and 2 aunts, 3 uncles, 11 cousins when I started down this path of finding everyone 30+ years ago. Now, I have so many names (9181, to be exact) and so many stories that cross so many states and countries. I feel so fortunate to have found each of them, and to connect with people who were hidden from me due to time and memory.
I am tormented by those who remain nameless or story-less. These are the ones I spend so much time thinking about. The ones who lack identification, lack voice, all because of the USA experience.
Invader. Invaded. Immigrant.
Silenced. Voiceless. Forgotten.
Theirs are the stories I long to know. To bring them back to the light, to honor them, to give them the recognition and gratitude that they deserve. Without them I would not be here. I may never know their names, much less their stories, but I feel their energy within me. The energy they’ve passed down lives on in me, a testament to their lives and their journeys. They are the foundation—silent yet steadfast—holding up all of us who followed.
My ancestors play a daily role in my life. They are always with me, in blood and bones, and in the daily actions of living. They provide comfort, guidance, support, protection, and wisdom. They are with me when I cook, when I garden, when I care for my family.
They are also with me for the big things.
When I am overwhelmed by all I have to do: I draw on the strength of all of the grandmothers who raised children and kept homes in far more challenging conditions than I.
When I enter into tough conversations or situations: I draw on the grandmother who fought for a divorce and the right to keep her home and property, and won both in a Spanish colony, to remind me to strengthen my voice, speak truth, hold resilience, and love.
When I see someone struggling to find their way: I draw upon the grandmother who fed anyone and everyone at her home during the Great Depression and the lost grandmothers to help me provide support so they feel valued, important, and loved.
When the world seems out of kilter, destructive, hate-filled: I draw on all of my ancestors and am reminded of the dark historical times they lived in, the body parts they sacrificed, the lives they lost, the strength they found in their daily work and rituals to support each other and those around them. They remind me to nurture and love even more deeply because love is an act of devotion, a choice to care deeply, consistently, and selflessly, even when its hard; after all, that is when it is most necessary.
In return, I endeavor to play a role for my ancestors as well. Healing. Recognition. Remembrance. The telling of their stories. Honoring one’s ancestors is about recognizing that, while every detail may not be known, their essence is woven into our own lives. It doesn’t take special tools or things or words. It takes an open heart and a willingness to remember and then speak. The ways to do this are as varied as there are people.
For me, it means that throughout October and November our ancestor pictures and tokens that represent them are placed on our 36-inch Tree of Life. I also visit the cemeteries leaving special flowers for our loved ones.
To reach all, especially those who are more distant and those who are unknown, next to the Tree of Life:
I light a purple candle to connect with their wisdom and stories and to show our love.
I burn an incense blend I make that includes juniper for abundance, protection, and shifts energy, lavender for calming, roses for healing and love, cinnamon for warmth and love.
I enjoy a tea that I blend to bring pleasure as well as a healing heart.
I meditate.
At the beginning of November, on All Souls, we enjoy family favorites for dinner and we leave an empty seat at the table for our ancestors. Candles are lit and invocations/prayers/thanks are given. As we head to bed a glass of whiskey, a glass of water, and some bread are left on the table, just in case someone journeys through.
Here’s how I'm using my hand, head, and heart this month
Here’s how I'm using my hand, head, and heart this month to find warmth, joy, and connection in this cold, dark season.
Hand: Martinmas, November 11th
I love the time from Michaelmas (9/29) to Candlemas (2/2). Martinmas is the middle point between Michaelmas and Christmas Day. Each year we reflect upon the story of St. Martin, celebrate with our lanterns, and enjoy a Martinmas Spice Cake.
Martinmas is a holiday that is rooted in awareness of and following the cycles of the Earth. It was a popular festival across Europe during the Middle Ages. Falling at the midpoint between autumn and winter, it focused on the end of the harvest season and preparations for winter, including the slaughtering of animals to ensure a supply of meat for the cold, dark months.
As the St. Martin legend goes, while serving in the army at Amiens, Martin met a poor man at the city gate. The man was half-naked and cold. Martin drew his sword, cut his warm coat in two, and gave one-half to the man. The following night, Christ appeared to Martin, dressed in the piece of coat that Martin had given away. Martin recognized the divine light in the poor man of Amiens and gave him the protection of his coat.
Our family’s approach to Martinmas focuses on the seasonal change, Martin's generosity and concern for the well-being of others, and nurturing our own inner light to help it shine brighter than ever.
When our kids were very young and attended a Waldorf School, there was a beloved tradition of making lanterns and going on a lantern walk. They made their lanterns during the school day and families were invited to come at night to participate in the lantern walk. Once it was dark, the lanterns were lit, and the procession began. The kids sang songs and recited poems as they walked through the campus and the woods.
The lanterns give protection to our own little “flame” that began to shine at Michaelmas, so that we may carry it safely through the darkness. It may only be a small and fragile light - but every light brings relief to darkness. (pages 163-164, All Year Round by Ann Druitt). We enjoyed this tradition so much that we have continued to make lanterns and go on a walk even though our Waldorf years are well behind us.
Light is infused into each of the celebrations we honor at this time of the year. Whether its as candles or lanterns or rings all are designed to help us see our own inner light and how it is powerful enough to drive away darkness. We are reminded that light brings love and the more the world is flooded with light and love the more we are able to conquer darkness where ever we find it. Just imagine the impact if we bring all of our little lights together and shine bright as one.
Head: Books that capture the essence of the season and ancestral connections
Once the weather turns cold I can be found sitting in front of the fireplace, soaking in the warmth from the fire and reading a book or knitting.
This month I am reading Chasing Fog: Finding Enchantment in a Cloud by Laura Pashby. What a beautiful book! Laura takes the reader from the Dartmoor to Wales to Scotland to Ireland and even to Italy in a quest for fog and for experience, and to tell fog’s stories. Her words and photos capture the mystery and magic that she encounters along the way. It is the perfect book for these in-between November nights. For more of Laura’s writings, you can find her on Substack at
.Once I finish Chasing Fog, I’ll be moving on to The Painted Drum by Louise Erdich. This novel is the story of a priceless Ojibwe artifact and the effect it has had on those who have come into contact with it over the years.
From the publisher:
“While appraising the estate of a New Hampshire family descended from a North Dakota Indian agent, Faye Travers is startled to discover a rare moose skin and cedar drum fashioned long ago by an Ojibwe artisan. And so begins an illuminating journey both backward and forward in time, following the strange passage of a powerful yet delicate instrument, and revealing the extraordinary lives it has touched and defined.”
Heart: St. Andrew’s Day, November 30th
In Kashubia, Advent is a time of penance and asceticism. Nobody dances, nobody makes music, and nobody gets married. The women do not mend or sew, and the men do not work the fields. It is a time of reverence, with the singing of devotional songs, praying, and fasting three times a week (Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday). Therefore, St. Andrew’s Day is the last opportunity to have fun before all the seriousness begins.
This fun includes a big feast. Kashubian youth participate in St. Andrew's dances, usually held in taverns. The day is filled with fortune-telling, prophecies, and divination.
Some examples of divination for St. Andrew’s Day:
Pouring wax into a bowl of cold water (through a skeleton key hole) and reading the shape of a solidified mass or the shadow it casts to reveal the appearance of their future partner or something about their character.
Placing the shoes of the gathered people one by one, starting from the center of the room towards the door - the one whose shoe crosses the threshold first is the first to marry.
Writing down the names of the unmarried people on pieces of paper, placing them under the pillow and in the morning, pulling one out at random to reveal the name of their future partner.
Peeling an apple so that the peel is as long as possible; then throwing the peel behind and over the left shoulder. The letter that appears from the peel shape is the first letter of their future partner’s name. (I remember my mother endeavoring to get the peel as long as possible and teasing me with this!)
This November, I’m taking a lesson from my Kashubian ancestors—to find the fun. On November 30th, we’ll have dinner, play games, and maybe even do a little divination by the fireside. Opportunities to find more joy and fun are out there in this dark season, and I plan to discover them. Fun lifts our spirits and helps us feel connected to others. Ultimately, fun is one of those ways to infuse warmth into the dark and cold months, both physically and emotionally.
This month my hand, head, and heart practices provide an opportunity for me to do just that - to find warmth, joy, and connection in this cold, dark season.
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