『No Kings The Voice of The Ancestors Cry Out a Samhain Reflection』のカバーアート

No Kings The Voice of The Ancestors Cry Out a Samhain Reflection

No Kings The Voice of The Ancestors Cry Out a Samhain Reflection

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 The veil thins. Candles flicker in windows, pumpkins grin like little guardians of light, and the wind itself seems to carry whispers. On this night of Samhain, the air is crowded not just with ghosts and shadows, but with memory. The ancestors are near. They gather around us not as specters of fear but as companions in the long struggle for freedom.They murmur their old refrain: No Kings.It isn’t only a political cry; it’s a spiritual declaration. No kings over conscience. No kings over the sacred spark in each soul. No kings over the earth that belongs to no one and to everyone.And yet, empire still rides: headless, hungry, searching for a new crown to wear.The Headless Rider of EmpireEvery age has its horseman. Ours rides draped in flags and algorithms, clutching power with a grin that never reaches the eyes. Empire doesn’t always look like soldiers on horseback; sometimes it’s the dull hum of propaganda, the endless scroll of outrage meant to make us afraid and divided. Fear is the tyrant’s favorite sacrament. It is how empire keeps us bowed.But Samhain teaches another kind of reverence, the courage to face the dark and discover that we are not alone in it. When we remember the ancestors, we remember that empire has fallen before, that courage has survived worse nights than these.As we light our candles this year, we are not warding off ghosts. We are calling them in.The Communion of the Courageous DeadTo honor the dead is to remember their unfinished prayers. Our ancestors were not perfect saints; they were human beings, flawed and luminous, stumbling toward freedom. Some resisted tyrants with sword or song. Others sowed seeds, healed wounds, or hid the persecuted in their homes. Some were themselves entangled in empire’s lies and it is ours to set those wrongs right.Their presence tonight is not sentimental. It is strategic.They come to remind us that the fight for freedom is ancient and ongoing, that our bloodlines are braided with courage. Every generation must reclaim liberty from the jaws of fear. The dead lend us their memory so we can stand our ground without trembling.So when you feel the chill tonight, do not recoil. Let it steady you. It is the breath of all who refused to kneel.The Spell of FearEvery empire survives by casting the same spell: Be afraid, and obey.They conjure phantoms of scarcity and strangers, they whisper of purity and order. They tell us that power is safety and obedience is peace. But fear is a liar.Samhain breaks that spell. It invites us to laugh at death, to dance in the graveyard, to mock the old specter of control. In every carved pumpkin grinning against the dark, there is an act of rebellion. Every costume is a playful reminder that masks can liberate as much as they conceal.We can take the tyrant’s favorite tools, fear and spectacle and turn them inside out. Make them ridiculous. Make them lose their power. Empire cannot stand when its priests of fear become the butt of the world’s laughter.This is holy mischief. Sacred mockery. The ancestors knew it well.No Kings: The Theological HeartWhen we say No Kings, we echo both the prophets and the mystics. The Hebrew scriptures warned Israel what kings would do: take sons for war, daughters for labor, and the fruit of the land for greed. Jesus of Nazareth refused a crown and washed feet instead.To walk the Christopagan path is to remember that divinity does not enthrone it indwells. The Holy is not found in palaces but in the gathering of people who love one another enough to live free.Every tyrant dreams of being worshiped. Every mystic knows that worship belongs only to Love.The Work of Ancestral HealingTo honor our ancestors is not to whitewash them. Many of us carry lineages tangled in empire’s violence colonizers and enslaved, oppressor and oppressed. Healing that wound begins with honesty.The ancestors cry out, not to defend their sins, but to urge our repair.In Hebrew mysticism this is called tikkun olam the mending of the world.Our task is not to make the past pristine but to fill its cracks with gold, like kintsugi pottery. To make beauty from brokenness. We do this through truth-telling, solidarity, and mercy.We the LivingWe are the living continuation of their courage. The blood of resistance runs in our veins. We, too, must stand in our time as they did in theirs against tyranny in every disguise: political, ecclesial, corporate, or psychological.But take heart. The ancestors are not trapped in dusty graves; they walk with us in every act of conscience, every laugh that punctures fear, every community that chooses cooperation over control.When you light your Samhain candle, whisper their names. But also whisper your own. You are part of the lineage now.Practice: The Circle of Memory and FreedomCreate an Ancestral Altar of Resistance* Gather tokens of courage. A photo of an ancestor who stood up for justice, a candle, a stone from the earth you walk on, a symbol of freedom a feather, a ...
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