The Threshold Between Worlds In October
October arrives with a hush. The days grow shorter, the air sharpens, and the world shifts toward shadow. It is during this season that witches, mystics, and seekers often say the veil thins—the invisible boundary between the living and the dead, the seen and unseen, becomes more permeable. But why October? What makes this time of year feel so profoundly liminal, so alive with both endings and beginnings?
Nature’s Descent Into Darkness
October marks the deepening of autumn, the tilt of the earth carrying us closer to winter’s long nights. Each evening, darkness arrives a little earlier, stretching its fingers across the land. In this growing darkness, we are invited inward—toward reflection, memory, and the unseen.
Ancient peoples noticed this shift and honored it with festivals marking the end of harvest and the coming of winter. As the physical light waned, so too did the boundary between this world and the next. Darkness, after all, is a canvas upon which spirits are easier to sense.
Ancestral Festivals Of The Dead
Across cultures, October and early November have long been associated with honoring the dead:
- Samhain (Celtic Tradition): A fire festival marking the end of harvest and the Celtic new year, believed to be the night when spirits and ancestors walked most freely among the living.
- Día de los Muertos (Mexico): A vibrant celebration of family ancestors, where altars and offerings welcome souls back for a brief reunion.
- All Hallows’ Eve (Christian Tradition): The vigil before All Saints’ Day, adapted from earlier pagan observances of the dead.
These traditions reveal a shared recognition: autumn is not only a season of dying leaves and final harvests—it is a sacred threshold where ancestors draw near.
The Energy Of Transition
The thinning of the veil also speaks to transition. October embodies liminality, the in-between state where two realities overlap. The earth transitions from life to dormancy. We transition from outward action to inner reflection. In these moments of change, the veil is naturally more porous, just as twilight blurs the boundary between day and night.
Spirits are drawn to thresholds—doorways, crossroads, liminal times—because these are spaces where worlds touch. October is one great threshold, a season suspended between what was and what is yet to come.
Why We Feel It So Deeply
Even if you’ve never studied folklore, chances are you’ve felt this thinning. The chill in the air carries whispers of memory. Cemeteries look different under October skies. Our dreams grow more vivid, our intuition sharper. We instinctively gather around candles and fires, creating light against the deepening dark.
This is not just superstition—it is sensitivity. The soul recognizes what the mind may not: October hums with otherworldly presence.
Closing Reflections
The veil thins in October because nature, spirit, and memory converge. The earth sinks into shadow. Humanity recalls its ancestors. The air itself brims with transition. This is the month of remembrance, of communion, of mystery.
As the wheel turns toward Samhain, we are invited to honor our dead, to listen for whispers in the wind, and to recognize that life and death are not as far apart as they seem.
So when you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin during an October night, pause. You are not alone. The veil is thinner than you think.
By Candlelight,
HN Staples
October drapes the earth in gold and gray, a hush falls deeper with each shorter day. The wind carries whispers, soft yet clear, as shadows stretch—spirits drawing near. The veil between worlds begins to part, a shimmer felt in the bones and heart. Candles flicker, the air grows still, the unseen presses close with will. Leaves crackle like voices long untold, ancestors stirring in the autumn cold. Dreams grow vivid, the night feels alive, thresholds open, the spirits arrive. So gather your courage, your lantern, your song, for October remembers where souls belong. In the thinning veil we find our kin, a circle unbroken, where worlds begin.
-HN Staples