Samhain and Winter Nights: Crossing the Threshold Between Worlds
- Maire Durkan

- Oct 31
- 2 min read

“Limina” is Latin for “threshold”—the space in between. During Samhain and Winter Nights, we stand on that boundary, a time when the veil between worlds thins and life's usual pace slows. This season isn't for distraction or rushing; it's for pausing, listening, and remembering.
In this transitional space, awareness becomes more profound. The atmosphere seems to resonate with memories—the aroma of smoke and earth, the rustle of leaves, and the heaviness of the darkening sky. We focus on the ancestors, those who came before us, sensing their presence more strongly. Honoring them means recognizing our role in the vast continuum of life and death, understanding that we are part of a story that started long before us and will persist beyond our days.
This journey into remembrance reflects Carl Jung's concept of “soul work," which involves the psyche descending into the unconscious depths. Jung explained that true transformation requires us to confront hidden parts of ourselves, including the shadow aspects we tend to avoid (Jung, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious). During this season, when nature retreats into darkness and stillness, we are called to do the same: to confront what lies buried inside us, mourn what we've lost, and peacefully sit with the mysteries of death and rebirth.
This process isn't morbid; it's sacred. Engaging in soul work means recognizing pain, fear, and sorrow as parts of the human experience. We understand that descending doesn't mean despair, but rather going deeper. From that quiet, dark foundation, something new can emerge. Jung proposed that after a descent comes an ascent—what he called “spirit work,” where the psyche expands upward toward renewal, integration, and joy. Spirit work is like the rising light after a long night, symbolizing hope's return after loss.
The runes exemplify this cycle beautifully. Dagaz, the rune representing transformation and dawn, marks the moment of change—the point where darkness and light converge, neither dominating the other. Othala, symbolizing ancestors and inheritance, connects us to our roots, reminding us that the wisdom and gifts of those who came before persist in shaping our lives. Collectively, these symbols lead us through the transitional period of Samhain and Winter Nights: Dagaz guiding us toward transformation, while Othala keeps us grounded in remembrance and gratitude.
To honor this season is to embrace the rhythm of going down and coming up, involving both soul work and spirit work. We grieve, and we celebrate. We remember the dead not as distant or gone, but as companions walking with us in unseen ways. In doing so, we discover that the threshold—the limen—is not just a doorway between worlds, but a place of transformation itself.
As the year fades and comes to an end, may we find moments of peace. May we honor what is hidden and unseen. May the quiet, inner work of the soul prepare us for the renewal that lies ahead beyond the veil.

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