As the eve of Samhain draws ever closer and the superstitions of old Celtic ways focus themselves on us as much as we them, I am reminded where I have been and all I have seen. From the formless nothingness that is literal death, the sense of being which exists in a place beyond direction, distance, or time as maybe the universe it’s self once did before it came into life.

I’ve heard it said that during gestation we mimic all the forms evolution has taken from a single cell onward. I wonder if this journey originates much further back.
The visions of An Morrighan and her Wolfen pack. Who in an act of perhaps “tough love” had stripped a stripe of flesh from my body which extended from the right side to the left. Just as she had done Cu Chulainn in times past.
To the long twisted faces and bodies of those beings I associated with the pain. Their complexion the dark red color of muscle and blood, never far away before, during, or after a debridment or wound-vac change. The visions of an ancient temple, a Mayan type pyramid and the bronze Native American Goddess with flowing raven hair who lived there.
The out of body experiences which at times would involuntarily separate me from the physical agony. To this day it dumbfounds me to wonder who those two doctors were who helped me back to my rack? I can remember thinking, “You’re not my doctors, you’re taking me to the wrong place.” I sure wished they’d have let me wander around a while longer lol.
Lastly – how can I forget the vision of Death’s own face, smiling back at me as if to say, “You win for now, but time is on my side.” Like positioning yourself between two mirrors and watching your reflection trail off into infinity. Becoming lost in the places where one reality seamlessly becomes another.
So many things – the sights, sounds, smells, sensations, and the lack there of.
I have said in other posts, blogs, and articles, that Samhain, like it’s mirror opposite of Bealtaine is a time and place existing betwixt time and place. Neither winter or summer, as dusk and dawn dwell in a place and time which are neither day or night. As a doorway is neither one room or another.
This little blog idea came as I was brushing up on some old Irish texts. Ever notice the times of day, or year when they’re given? Especially when the event being described is a big one, like a battle, death, or even a birth. More often than not, I think you’ll find these are betwixt times and places like the afore mentioned.
We are a species who is naturally fascinated by the unknown. This becomes evident when celebrating holidays like Samhain,  Dia de los Muertos, or what ever the case may be. When watching a group of teenagers play with a Ouija board, or seeing people go to “mediums”. Unknown where our loved ones have gone, where we will go etc. and with such mystery comes fixation, belief and mysticism.
When you’ve had experiences that help others shed light on their own questions of the unknown people tend to become very curious and want to be your friend. They want to know where you’ve been, and what you’ve seen. Where is the land of the Dead and it’s Doorway? What’s it like? Where were you? What did you see?
Prior to this post I’ve never made a real effort to answer this question, as I’ve never really been able to nail it down so to speak, but here, on this blog dedicated to the season of death I will try.

When you’re in a deep sleep and you begin to wake, neither asleep, nor awake. When the fluidity of the dream and the solidity of reality overlap and you find that you’re surrounded by neither one or the other but in a limbo teetering between the two. Just before what is consciousness truly begins to tighten around the subconsciousness like a constrictor around it’s prey.

That is the doorway, that is where I was, where I once lived. That is what it was like. It’s a threshold, a doorway from one room to another. A day between seasons, defiant of distance, direction, or time where all triads meet and separate. A swirling spirit river flowing from the powerful Phantom wolf woman into the mouth of the great sky horse! Where land meets sea as sky surrounds.

Power of An Daghdha and An Morrighan be in you this season.

Beannachaí Oíche Shamhna!
I am the Fool Coyote.