Samhain is traditionally regarded as the end of Summer -- the beginning of the dark half of the year. It is often regarded as a time when the veil between this world and the Otherworld is especially thin, making it a common time for divination and remembering ancestors. It is often referred to as the Celtic New Year, because of the Celtic belief that new days (and, by extension, presumably new years) begin in darkness. Often Samhain is considered a time for new beginnings.
This year, I focused on the turning of the seasons from light to dark. With daylight savings time starting this past weekend, the nights suddenly felt longer and darker. As such, I celebrated my Samhain as soon as possible after this change. To wait much longer felt improper. I've come to believe that it is important to celebrate the turning of the seasons as they are appropriate for the climate, regardless of when the "official" date of celebration is.
I also focused my celebrations on my ancestors -- most particularly, my grandparents, all of whom are dead. The last living grandparent died when I was a freshman in college, and so I have often felt as if I missed something by losing them so early in my life.
My celebration this year had as its central section, the traditional Tuatha de Brighid ritual outline. It was framed by two important events, though. I began the evening by lighting my hearth-fire (a symbolic candle next to my stove) and my altar candles. I then spent a short while meditating on the ancestors I wished to remember -- my grandfather, my grandmother, my mama (grandmother on my mother's side), and my great aunt. Since I remember all of them for their wonderful cooking, instead of having a ritual supper, I had a "ritual cooking". It's somewhat hard to explain, but mostly I baked two harvest loaves (a traditional cake-like dish my mother and I often make around this time) while remembering pleasant memories of those I invited to join me.
After the loaves were baked, I performed the Tuatha de Brighid ritual, modifying the words to accommodate my already-burning altar fires. I mostly followed it as written, although I also added a call and offering to the Morrigan, for both personal and seasonal reasons.
After the main portion of the rite, and before the ending portion, I symbolically extinguished my fires. I snuffed the altar fires, the hearth-fire, and turned off all the lights in my house. I sat, in the darkness, for a couple of minutes, recognizing that I would see a great deal of darkness in the coming months. I then relit my hearth-fire, relit my altar candles from it, and turned on all my lights again. After that, I did the traditional closing. I went to bed shortly thereafter, leaving my windows open as a traditional gesture to the ancestors.
It's hard to explain the feeling, but the relighting of the fires was an extremely important moment - the ritual became "real" then, and I honestly felt as if I had shifted from the summer world into the winter world. Although the days are still reasonably balmy here in Texas, I awoke this morning with a distinct feeling of being in a different season. Something crystallized with last night's ritual.
I also enjoyed ritually remembering (and cooking with) my ancestors. I don't know if they were actually present or not, but my harvest loaf turned out pretty well, and I felt much more connected with my past by the end of the evening. I'll probably begin including more recognition of my ancestors in my other rituals.
I suspect I'll do a similar ritual next year -- I tend to structure most of my rituals around the Tuatha de Brighid outline already, and I found the additional elements that framed that ritual to be extremely helpful. I may replace the ritual cooking with either the more traditional ritual meal or some other device, depending on which ancestors I'm honoring.