Dumb Supper at Cold Antler Farm

How to Host a Real Pagan Ritual to Bring The Dead Back to Life

(pssssttt: the audio is worth a listen if you rarely hit play)

It’s Halloween night: In town children are laughing in colorful costumes as they run door to door. Through warmly-lit windows, adults gather around punch bowls and watch the moon rise through bare branches. Young people across the nation are out dancing, or waving from parade floats, or voting at their favorite bar’s costume contest. But here at Cold Antler Farm things are different.

The farmhouse is silent, save for the sigh of a dog and the low tones of the heavy wind chimes swaying outside. The energy of anticipation is in the air. Soon guests will be arriving for dinner. Days of cooking, cleaning, and planning are behind me, and there’s nothing left to do but wait for friends to knock on the door. Beside the glow of a wood stove, a cat is curled up in a basket of my sheeps’ wool. The dining room table is set for a feast, with polaroids of memories surrounding the centerpiece of flowers and candles. Tonight is Dumb Supper; a silent meal held in memory of the dead and lost. It’s easily one of the most beautiful traditions of the year.

I’ll teach you how it is practiced in my own hearth tradition, and the timeless ritual that truly does brings the dead back for the night, but not like you think…

In case anyone is nervous; this is not a scary story. There are no crystal balls, Ouija boards, or necromancy. This is wholesome, and to some, even holy. Samhain has a reputation for being something it never was supposed to be, because death shouldn’t be something we fear.

Unfortunately, today it is. Halloween has become a mockery of death, complete with horror franchises, pointless consumerism, and flat out debauchery. But it started as something entirely different, and that is what is observed on this mountain farm come Summer’s End.

Let me tell you about it? It means so much to me.

But we do need to start at the beginning.

The History of The Holiest Night of My Year

Samhain (pronounced sow-in) is observed between October 31st and the early days of November. The name translates from old Gaelic to “Summer’s End”.

Samhain is the old New Year, since it’s the end of the growing season. My European ancestors lived and died by the agricultural calendar. Back then, This time of year was not about Trick or Treating or slutty nurse costumes, it was complicated. A bittersweet window of time between abundance and comfort and lack and starvation.

By November 1st the year’s harvest was in, stocked for the long dark winter ahead. But everyone storing hay and firewood and packing cellars with roots and apples knew that there was a chance people in their family would not make it to spring. That was the cruel reality of the time, as it was possible that food grown all summer and fall wouldn’t last long enough for planting, especially if winter weather lasted late into the spring. The elderly and sick could pass from a long winter’s hardship. Survival came down to the work you put in, your constitution, and random luck you didn’t get an infected wound or eat some bad fish. Which is why the ancient Gaels saw this holiday as a time to understand mortality, prepare for it, and honor it.

Over time this ancient Pagan holiday was adopted by Christianity. The Catholic Church has always held the motto “if you can’t beat ‘em, join em”. So instead of squashing the holiday and deeming it unholy, they simply switched the reverence from departed friends and family members to their own Saints. All Saint’s Day replaced Samhain on November 1st, but the energy was the same. A day to remember the holy dead. Only for the church it had to be the dead they deemed worth remembering.

As you can imagine, this didn’t go over well. The country folk had mostly converted to Christianity, but they still wanted to keep their traditions of going into winter remembering their own losses, not just the statues in churches. So the church made the following day, November 2nd, All Soul’s Day. A day to pray for the faithfully departed, and those lost in purgatory.

All Saints Day was also called Hallowmas, because it was the mass for the Hallowed (saints). You are used to this phrasing with Christmas (a mass for the birth of Christ). Words are neat. People always say follow the money, but when it comes to religion, follow the etymology.

The history of our modern Halloween is simple. It’s a nickname for October 31st, the Eve of All Saint’s Day. Another name for saints was the Hallowed (Holy) and All Hallow’s Eve became the “Christmas Eve” of the memory holiday.

But unlike Christmas morning, which is a celebration of life and light - All Saint’s and All Soul’s were somber and even sad. People can only take so much heartache at a holiday. So, like Mardi Gras before Lent, All Hallow’s Eve became a party night of sorts. The day before the Big Heavy. A chance to reflect on your lurching mortality. And out of this necessary exhalation came autumnal traditions and recipes that were the seeds of our modern Halloween, jack-o-lanterns and soul cakes, door-to-door visits. Since the dead were on everyone’s mind - it was like they were back.

All Hallow’s Eve became Hallow’s Eve, which became Hallow-’en, which smooshed into the one-word mashup of Halloween. No different than saying y’all instead of you all.

Few people still observe the somber Samhain traditions, but enough do that even around here people still gather for bonfires and baked apples and Dumb Supper. I think it’s one of the most beautiful rituals of the year, and I welcome anyone of any faith to practice if it’ll bring you comfort and strength before the long dark. We all need more of both. Especially those of us uncertain we will make it to spring.

Samhain is truly a Pagan holiday. Some people still equate pagan with Satanic or Evil. This is silly, because Satan is a Christian deity/mythology that didn’t even exist to the ancient Celts. It’s like calling the inventors of the chainsaw, Leatherface?! But there is nothing Satanic about Samhain or Halloween—it’s still what it’s always been—hicks that don’t go to church missing our grandmas. You don’t have to make it weird.

How To Host a Dumb Supper

The House Altar by the window, The antler crown used to be my neighbor Maurice’s. It was in his barn and the current caretakers of his estate at the time let me take it home. He was also gay and an author, and his memory is honored here.

Up top, let’s address the name. Dumb isn’t an insult. Its original definition was “incapable of speech”. In the past people that couldn’t hear or talk where known as the “deaf and dumb”. Since the entire dinner is a collective moment of silence, held in communion with other mourners, the name fits. No one has updated it, far as I’m aware.

In my house Dumb Supper is a potluck. But unlike most potlucks, you do not share your dish like at a community picnic. Everyone is bringing an individual serving that reminds them of the person they are honoring, something special to the loved one they lost. The Samhain dinner table could have spaghetti and meatballs on one plate right next to someone eating two strawberry Pop-Tarts and mashed potatoes. Everyone’s memories are different, so are the foods.

That said, the meal we prepare isn’t just for ourselves. An empty plate is set at an empty seat the table in honor of the lost. Before the meal officially starts, everyone puts a small portion of their dish on the plate. The plate for the dead ends up looking like a wild banquet platter. Everyone’s people are together in that visual metaphor, as if they are all with us again at the empty chair.

When everyone is sat, food on plates, and drinks poured the ritual begins. I always eat the meal by candlelight. The darkness around us is unknown, but the table of friendship and nostalgia is the light.

Usually, the host rings a small bell, to note the start of silence. Everyone eats quietly. It’s a little weird at first, only hearing the silverware and chewing, but I always play music that matches the holiday. The adopted carol I associate most with Samhain is Dead Man’s Will, it’s always on the DS playlist. If you want to know what Halloween means to me, it is that song.

Tip: ask your guests in advance to suggest gentle songs that remind them of their loved one’s. It makes for an emotional meal sometimes. It’s not uncommon for a Dumb Supper to be interrupted by laughter or tears, as music and food are true magic. That’s what ritual is folks, a prayer in 3D. And it doesn’t matter if it’s holy to someone else or not. We make the meaning that gives our life purpose.

When all silverware is set down, guests sated, the host rings the bell again. This means the silence is broken and anyone who wants to raise a glass and share the story of the meaning of their meal and their person can talk.

No one has to, but most folks do. Together we hear about the little league games and the heartbreak. We hear about the first time they saw them and the last time. We hear about the diseases, the accidents, and the decay. We also hear about the times we laughed so loud we couldn’t breathe. We talk about love that made us see colors differently, shaped our lives, and made us who we are. We talk about the people we lost because that is how the dead come back for one night to be among the living. That is the magic of Halloween to me. That is the meaning.

You can hold this dinner however you want. You can rent an AirBnB by the sea with your closest friends and family or sit quietly alone in your apartment with a ballpark hotdog your grandfather always got with you at a Mets game. All that matters is you take time to remember those who are gone, and then take a deep breath, and keep trying to live a life good enough that will leave people tell your story when it’s your turn to be sitting at that empty chair.

Halloween is a secular holiday I can give or take, but Samhain will always be holy me. It will always be a time of gratitude and life-affirming change. Being reminded you only have a limited number of heartbeats is precious, and being reminded around raw and beautiful moments is the entire reason we invented rituals in the first place. I don’t care what you believe or what your religion is, the one thing we all have in common is we only have so much time left and we don’t want to be forgotten.

I wish you all a fun and safe Halloween season, and to those who observe, a Blessed Samhain. May the love you lost stay close. May you be brave enough to keep living. And may your coming years be a harvest of joy, health, and prosperity.

Happy New Year.

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Farm Update:

This farm and my livelihood is entirely funded by what I write, raise, grow, draw, make or design. There is no savings. There is no credit line. There is no spouse, checks from family members, inheritance, trust fund, or plan B. This farm is and always has been a dream that has taken all of me and all I have and is very much in danger.

Soon the farm will be three months behind on the mortgage if I can’t manage a payment in two weeks. Right now, it isn’t looking promising as the farm has only made three sales all month. Your support is so appreciated. It is what has kept me and my work safe for over a decade.

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And if you do not subscribe to anything, but would like to support the farm in others ways there is a pork share available I need to sell fast, as the person who reserved it for next year is moving. I would be honored to feed you and yours.

I also make homemade soaps, illustrate, draw pet portraits, design logos and graphics, teach music, copy write, and offer public speaking on creative endeavors and downright stubbornness. If there’s something I can grow, make, say, or be that can get me to November, I am asking to be hired, please.

This is my website for more information

Thank you again for your time, readership, and interest. Wish me luck. It’s been a really, really, hard couple of years and this substack is my first light in so long. I am grateful for anyone who is willing to become a part of it.

Thank you, darlin’