(Day 4 in the Samhain Series)

“Darkness yields to light, and light to darkness again — such is the law of the land and of the heart.”

As the last harvest fades and the mists rise, Samhain draws us into the shadowed season.

The veil thins, not only between worlds but within us — between the familiar and the unseen, the past we carry and the future waiting to bloom.

Standing at that threshold, wings black as midnight outstretched, is the Morrígan: goddess of battle, prophecy, and transformation.

She is not easily defined. In one breath, she is one; in another, three — Badb, Macha, and Nemain. She is the foretelling of death and the promise of renewal.

She is the cry of the crow over the battlefield, the hush of wind in bare branches, the pulse in your veins that quickens when fate stirs. She tests us, stripping away illusions so only what is true remains.

The Battle and the Prophecy

After the Second Battle of Mag Tuired — when the Tuatha Dé Danann faced the Fomorians to free the land from their cruel tax — the Morrígan proclaimed her prophecy.

Her words, recorded in The Book of Leinster, carry the rhythm of the seasons themselves:

“Peace up to heaven, heaven down to earth, earth beneath heaven, strength in every one, a cup very full…”
(Gray, 1982)

These lines are not a warning of doom, but a map of balance. The Fomorians’ defeat restored sovereignty to the Tuatha, just as the land renews itself each year when the harvest ends and winter begins.

The Morrígan’s prophecy reminds us: endings are necessary for beginnings, darkness for light.

Sovereignty and the Self

In Irish myth, sovereignty is not about domination but relationship — the sacred bond between land, people, and the cycles of life. The Morrígan embodies this principle.

She grants the crown not through conquest, but through worthiness: the ability to face the shadow without flinching.

At Samhain, this speaks directly to us. What parts of yourself demand release? What old stories, worn-out fears, or inherited patterns must die so that you may step forward renewed?

The Morrígan asks honesty, not fear. She is the cutting wind that clears what must go and the fire that shows what remains.

Walking With the Morrígan

As the veil thins, she walks beside us. The circling crows, the whispering wind, the chill in the night — all remind us that death and renewal are intertwined.

On Samhain, we honor her by acknowledging endings and claiming our own sovereignty over what remains. Light a candle — black, red, or even deep purple — and leave a small offering: apples, cream, or water.

Speak your truths aloud, or simply listen.

Time bends in these moments. The Morrígan does not need words to teach; her lessons come in shadows, symbols, and quiet knowing.

To walk with her is to stand at the edge of the familiar and face what is coming — not to be afraid, but to awaken.

Reflection for Samhain: Walking with the Morrígan

Take a quiet moment this Samhain to sit with yourself. Light a candle, feel the shifting season around you, and let your pen wander across the page.

The Morrígan’s presence whispers that endings are sacred — and that what you release makes space for what is ready to bloom.

Use these prompts as a guide, or let your own questions rise from the shadows; the important part is to honor the cycle and your place within it.

Release & Let Go:
What patterns, habits, or fears no longer serve you? How can you honor their ending without judgment?
Shadow Work:
Which parts of yourself have you hidden or ignored this year? How might acknowledging them bring clarity or strength?
Cycles & Change:
What endings in your life are mirroring the natural cycles of the year — the harvest, the falling leaves, the retreat of light?
Guidance from the Morrígan:
If the Morrígan were to speak to you tonight, what might she ask you to release, surrender, or transform?
Seeds for Renewal:
What intentions or new directions will you plant once you’ve let go of what’s ending? How can you nurture them in the coming season?

Join me tomorrow when as we step into the heart of Samhain itself — to the Hill of Tlachtga, where the fires blaze, the night wolves stir, and the gates to the Otherworld swing open.

And as always, my friend, take care of you.

Melody