Last night, beneath the glow of crimson light and ancestral flame, David and I stood before the Samhain altar — crowns upon our heads, hearts open, and spirits ablaze. It wasn’t just a costume or a celebration. It was a homecoming — a remembering of who we are and why we’re here.
The air shimmered with the presence of those who came before us. The veil was thin, yet what came through wasn’t fear or sorrow — it was recognition. I felt my grandmother Bunny beside me, my father smiling from beyond, proud that I’ve found my path. Together, we shared the sacred offering of coffee and a jelly doughnut at dawn — a gesture of gratitude, sweetness, and remembrance.
As the candles flickered upon the altar, every flame told a story — of grief transmuted into wisdom, of endings that give rise to beginnings, of love that never dies. This is the essence of Samhain: a time to honor death as a teacher, shadow as sacred, and memory as medicine.
Standing beside David, cloaked in red and gold, I realized how far this journey has carried us — from Salem’s haunted streets to the Temple Within. The crowns we wore were not symbols of superiority, but of sovereignty — of reclaiming our power after lifetimes of silence.
We are the Flamekeepers now — tending the light through the dark half of the year.
We are the ones who remember.
We are the bridge between worlds.
May every spark from our altar ignite the sacred fire within you.
Blessed Samhain, dear souls. 🌕🍂🕯️
Love,
Mainely Mystics
Mainely Mystics 
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